6:18AM. Jackie comes to get me first thing, 

img_7191as yesterday morning he was at his Grammy’s house.. “I miss you, Dada,” he said, ordering me awake when all part of me wanted to do was sleep but the other part only wanting to be a Dada.  So we play with cars, no interruptions or intersections with anything that could take us off-course.  Jackie plays and lines them up, stacks them atop the other then changes the arrangement as he wishes.  I study his patterns and motions as to how he wants them arranged, he lectures as he moves but I’m not at his level yet, it’s apparent.  So I make coffee, just watch and note here on the laptop as my son entertains the reality of cars, their classifications, from color to model.  How he knows so well the type of car is beyond my mental holding.  My mood sinks, though, as I’ll be at work all day, and our time together is thin, and rapidly emaciating as I type each letter.  I frustrate, try to elevate my mood by focusing on him but it’s a futile gallop.  The more I enjoy my time with him only reminds me how brief it’s to be.  Thinking to myself, “Why can’t I have weekends off like other parents?” All day at the winery yesterday young families coming in with their babies, or toddlers, and me thinking of what my babies were doing at home, what were they playing, what were they learning, what was Jack was teaching nearly 10-month Emma about cars and how to line them up, the sounds they make…  How much am I currently missing, have I missed?  But I can’t do this to myself for too long.  I can’t be in this type of mood around Jack—  And why didn’t I get up at 4?  Tomorrow I will run for 10+.  That should get me back to a condition for the ‘half’, one week from today.  My mood is fragile this morning, wandering, in a punitively bent trot, I’m sure one of those dad moments that so many fathers, and mothers, can relate to— just wanting to stay home with your kids.  I will soon have more freedom in my work life and schedule to where I WILL be home with my babies on Saturday, Sunday, be able to play with Emma, Jack as he lines up his Porsches, Mustangs, Indy Cars…

Drinking my coffee as Jackie eats his cereal and watches Ninja Turtles.  “Daddy, I think you gave me to much cereal, I don’t think I can eat all this.” I respond assuring him it’s not a big deal, “Just eat what you can and Daddy’ll eat the rest, okay?” He insists we turn off the lights so it feels like a movie theatre.  My disposition’s repaired, and I’m more or less ready for the day but if I truly had my way, I’d be home.  “Soon,” I tell myself, “soon.” And I hope so, ‘cause I don’t want to miss too many more mornings or car workshops or anything of anything too many more times.  Time’s just growling by me, as if to punish me for something.  Odd, as all I want to do, really, is be Dada.