I look up to a world of chatter. Of flashing screens and enticing things. Questions bombard me until I am a question mark. Demands and needs of others shower me, but it is not my desire to feel the rain. I do not disdain the world, but I fold inside to turn off the outside.
I look down.
I look upon my world, the world to me. On a plate just the right size, no more than I can handle. I bite off the pieces I care about, as I choose to care about them. The world is mine, I am not the world’s. I keep it as simple as controlling what I see. What I view and what I care about. I control me.
I write a single thought before it is forgotten. Before it becomes another afterthought.
I judge parents. I judge them all the time because I’m a parent and it is impossible to not compare.
I don’t always say my criticisms, but I am thinking them. Who here is really able to control that? I internally shake my head when you try and befriend your child instead of parenting them. I mumble to myself when you wonder why little Johnny is always getting hurt because you never use the word “NO” to your little angel. I judge your home, your actions, and your inaction. I am a parent and I can’t help but judge you by the standard I hold myself to.
People sometimes wonder if other parents or adults are criticizing them mentally while they struggle with their kids. We are. We all are. The ones that claim they don’t judge are only saying that because they don’t need to judge you anymore, they already have.
Have you ever seen a parent use the word “please” in a million different ways? Please means no, please means please, and please also means “I’m serious this time.”
Please… if you don’t get upstairs and do what I told you now! You’ll learn what please really means!
I’m glad I don’t have a son. I would have been incredibly hard on him because as a parent, I am here to parent. My kids can make friends at school. They can make friends with cool uncles, aunts, and grandparents.
I’m a father. I’m here to parent and not to be your best bud. I don’t use the word “please.” I tell them to do things because that’s what you have to do to be a real parent.
When the wife and I were dating and I was still in Cheyenne I found my favorite smell. Previously I would have said fahrenheit was my favorite smell, but then I found a bottle of Lucky Number 6.
You know those smells that take you back? This smell takes me back to a red 2006 Mitsubishi Eclipse, sun on our faces, and no cares in the world. For me it was a time of zero fucks, finding myself and losing myself at the same time.
And then I met her and everything changed. Cheyenne became Denver and hills formed into mountains.
Mountains became a home and there appeared our memories. Two of them.
We became more than just friends and then in the end I smelled it again.