I was really stressing about working so much and worried I wasn’t being a good dad. My wife just stood there with a smirk on her face, wearing the all-too-familiar look that tells me she knows something I don’t. As you can imagine, it’s a look I’m well accustomed to at this point. When I asked her what her deal was, she hit me with something completely unexpected. “He’s playing you,” she said. [...]
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This blog is not just another "daddy blog." Sure I write about my son, but these pages are a record of my life. I don't just highlight the fun milestones like first steps, I also chronicle the "other stuff." The fights, the torment and the doubt that inevitably come with being a husband and father. It's not always puppy dogs and rainbows, but it is very real. And often there is beauty in the sadness, redemption in the struggle. Thank you for checking me out, giving me a try and sticking around for the journey. If you'd like to contact me you can email aaron_gouveia (at) yahoo (dot) com. |
And somewhere in the middle of this tempest of misery and heartache I’m stuck in traffic either on my way to or from work. I can’t move. All I see are brake lights. I’m hemmed in while my son grows up without his beloved pets, without his friends and with a father he sees for an hour a day. The roof over his head isn’t even one I’ve provided. If I’m not providing enough financially and I’m not providing enough emotionally and I can’t give him the things he wants and needs…well, then what exactly am I doing? [...] When I think of all the mistakes I’ve made “on the job” it’s mind-boggling. I’ve put diapers on backwards (on Will, not on myself), put his shoes on the wrong feet and one time almost drove off with him on the roof of the car in his infant carrier. And some days you make so many mistakes all in a row it feels like you’re never going to do anything right ever again. So when you get into the zone and everything goes right, you need to relish it. [...] I expect a well-behaved boy who’s happy to see me and wants to drop whatever he’s doing to spend precious minutes with me. But what I get is a whiny, normal 3-year-old. The only problem is I have no tolerance for the whining anymore. I’m never around it and so I’m very thin-skinned now. That means I come home, he whines, I get frustrated and yell at him, he yells at me, I give him a timeout, he gets more pissed off and soon it’s time for bed. And I’ve spent my 30 minutes of father-son time yelling at him and disciplining him. [...] |
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