(#papablogga – column one)

Tangled To-Do’s


Anymore, the writings of this writing father centers around time, and how I have none of it anymore.  No, that’s an exaggeration, I have time, it’s just harder to come by.  The babies this morning, leaving the house with me later than usual, after 8:30 if I remember right, me coming home and heading out for a run, not being able to shake how little time I had to run while I was running.  So that was in my head, disabling me from pushing self to the desired 10+ miles.  Just finished first class, now I’m here in the shared adjunct office, or ‘cell’ as I always call it, trying to get an article done.  But I only have so much time.  Time, time, time…  What if I just said NO to time.  I can’t do that.  Okay… what if I, then, uh, don’t put as much stock into it, or not be a slave to it.  What if I have time on my time instead of the reverse?  There’s an idea.  Not quite sure how I do that, but it’s a thought.

After my shower this morning I took a quick swig, more a gulp, of my coffee that I somehow found time to get at the Starbucks on Hopper, and burned the senses right out of my tongue.  Think that’s where today’s mood started.  Parents, we’re always in a scuffle of some kind.  And right now, mine is with the clock.  It’s been like this for years, but now that I have two babies and they age quicker than I want them to, I see time making advances that I can’t repel.  So then what—  I’ve cited a problem, great, what’s the solution?  Who says there is one?  There has to be one.  That sentence, the one before last, was the cynic’s voice.  Forget him.  I can beat the relevance right out of time, utterly have it in my palms and navigate it how I wish.  How… uh…..  Let me get back to you with specifics.  First, well, to plan every minute of all days.  Do so realistically.  Unrealistically would be for me to write something in the journal like, “Leave house with Jack and Emma by 7:30.” Yeah, not happening.  I actually made myself laugh writing that sentence, and I think some passing instructors heard me, started saying something to each other like “What’s he doing in there?” or something.

The writing in my articles I hope will be about victories as a parent.  Being the type of writing father that only ascends.  Yes, turbulence in the climb’s to be expected, but I was constant nose-up.  Another adjustment to be made is with this writer’s attitude, mood.  It always—and yes I mean always, everyone—must propel in a yay-saying quake.  No negatives, ever.  And yes, EVER.  NO head shaking.  Only nodding, only smiling.  What can Time do then?  Nothing.  Exactly.  that’s the point.  To be free of time’s tentacles.  I will be soon, just gonna take a little work.