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Whenever I’m talking to women with small children, we spend a lot of time swapping stories about what our littles are doing or things that we’ve done recently with them. When I talk to guys with small children we spend a lot of our time talking about things that we USED to do.
I USED to do a lot of things. I own a kayak I’ve used a few times in the past several years. A mountain bike I’ve used less. Wednesday nights used to be spent playing for an 8-ball billiards team, Thursdays were 9-ball. My most recent Wednesday night out consisted of me sitting cross legged on a faded rug listening to these guys tell stories.
I admired what they were doing and that’s my kid dancing in the front row, but it reminded me a little too much of these guys telling stories.
With the weather finally turning I’ve been reading a lot of Facebook and blog posts about how happy people are to finally be able to get back to running. About how good it feels to be back participating in an activity that is “for them.” A little time away from the family doing something they enjoy. I don’t fully understand the appeal of running without somebody actually chasing you, but the idea of some “daddy time” sounds pretty good to me.
There is always a long list of things that I hope to accomplish during the toddler’s three hours of school time. Things such as cleaning the bunny cage or clearing leaves off the pool cover that seem to go much smoother without a “helper.” My plan yesterday was to get a little more painting done on the back deck, a project that began in September.
Instead I played nine holes of golf. There was enough of a light rain falling to justify not painting and the fact is that we all DO need some time for ourselves sometimes. It might not be cool to say out loud but parenting is a real pain in the ass sometimes. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, but it’s a pain in the ass.
It was pretty cold and windy. I played alone and I played poorly on a course that I really can’t stand. But I didn’t throw any clubs and for a two hour period I worried about nobody else but me and occasionally the guys in the next fairway my ball seemed headed towards.
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This post was previously published on www.thirstydaddy.com and is republished here with permission from the author.
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Photo credit: Shutterstock
