Days 10 and 11

 By all accounts I've lost track of the days. This isn't the sort of vacation (*cough*holiday*cough*) that gives a steady supply of highlights. All the moments with the kids are precious, giving the contradictory feelings of both urgency to document in its entirety and to remain present with them. I tend to err towards the ladder, looking to this trip as a way to cement memories in the children and forge a feeling of trust between us. Nothing is less appealing than the uncle who continuously goes into his notes to jot down the funny moment that just occurred, treating them as if I were making a nature documentary.

That being said, I could use a bit more discipline in quickly getting things into writing as they happen. I may be excusing my lazy behavior for something more noble. In reality, I'm starting to lose a bit of balance.

The way out is through, though with a bit less thicket. I'm not keen to rehash the last few days beat-by-beat, since in a lot of ways they are starting to look the same and I bore even myself with the details. Instead, I'll go over what I remember as I remember it, mostly to keep myself interested in the process of writing at all. This is for me first and foremost - not for the kids when they are old enough to read it, not for their grandparents who make up 50% of my readers, not for anyone else. I've been losing the intrinsic value of this blog, in part to exactly what I feared, which is knowing that people are reading it.

If you read this, great. Keep it to yourself, even the kind words.

Anyway, a few things come to mind from the last few days. Lenny had gymnastics again, this time when it was rainy out so it got a bit too hectic for my taste. I tried to participate while the kids filtered into the back room but quickly got pushed out, mostly from the noise. I've been hearing quite a lot of noise lately. It's tolerable when it's from loved ones, throw in some strangers and it becomes quite unpleasant. I go into a separate room and FaceTime Rebecca for the half hour stretch. I'm excited for her to join us here. We've been keeping in touch plenty despite the time difference. It's going really great.

The kids finish and we head back to the house, the fatigue is starting to get to me. I'm not sure why but I'm not able to generate the same energy as the first couple of days. Maybe the novelty is wearing off, maybe its the allergies, maybe the poor sleep from the night before. I'm looking for a reason but there's no single thing - There's a lot going on, I'm a human being, and sometimes you just don't got the juice.

How do we know when we need rest, when we need exercise, when we need something drastically different or when it's a small adjustment? I tend to get frustrated when I have a good streak of days that inexplicably gets sent sideways. There's just too many factors to pinpoint what's different. Routine is important for this reason, I suppose. When 95% of our day is the same, we can look at the 5% change to see what changed, and to what end. Since I'm so outside my routine it's all a crapshoot, for better or worse. All I can do is try to keep on top of things, pay attention to what I know works (writing, exercise, sun, water) and get myself to do those things as much as possible. 

It's vague and boring, I know. I'm almost thirty. These are the types of things that thirty year olds think about and it makes us all feel stupid. "Oh, so I'm supposed to sleep for more than five hours EVERY night? I think I'll try to do that going forward!" Inspired. Next you'll tell me all about dryer sheets, I reckon.

Here's the rub - it takes more than a day to have these types of things make us actually feel better, sometimes. A good night sleep can really change the vibe, sure, but what about the times that it doesn't? Yesterday I woke up after almost twelve hours of sleep: 7:45PM until 7:30AM. I didn't feel tired, but I didn't have my spark right away. It took more silence, more rest, some sunshine and cooking dinner to get back to that homeostasis. Will I get to a point where I'll know for certain what I need to get into my groove again? Is that what being an adult is, a stronger level of understanding over our own mood? Or will this always be a confusing, jarbled, generally-dehydrated labyrinth of emotions? I like to think I'm an optimistic, happy fella; will I get better at being in bad, tired moods? 

Sometimes it's not the feeling sour, it's the guilt around the sourness. This is particularly potent around birthdays and vacations, I find. I have all this time off, I'm meant to be relaxing and enjoying myself, why can't I just get into a good mood? Why am I so stiff, tired, restless, impatient, or snippy today? Of all days! Can't you just enjoy yourself? Don't you appreciate where you are? Most people would kill to have this time off, don't you know? 

Wherever the source of this insecurity came from is beyond me. I like to think this is universal to some degree. Every vacation has a rough patch, every birthday comes with the risk of the blues. What I'm facing now isn't quite that, part because my birthday is in July, and part because this doesn't quite feel like a proper vacation. I never meant for it to be a vacation. Originally I was planning to work, but three weeks before I was set to leave I was fired, giving me a rare *opportunity* to spend six weeks abroad with virtually no responsibilities, obligations, or structured time. I'm allowed to do whatever I'd like. It's up to me to take charge of my own life and mold it into whichever way I see fit. Fucking kill me.

Back at home, Lenny takes his marble toys out and tried to configure it into something satisfying. Called a "Marble Race" this toy lets the child put together a colorful, tall structure with loops, bends, and traps for marbles to race down. The boy is a bit too young to make anything of note. Jacki gives him a fair opportunity to make his own race, about three minutes, before stepping in to give him some help. At this stage I'm feeling a bit out of sorts, so I'm on my phone looking at nonsense and feeling nothing. The Doomscroll. Not restful, not enjoyable, difficult to escape from. I need sleep but don't know it, kept awake from my iced long black like a prisoner in a gulag. Eventually Lenny gets put to sleep and the adults throw on another episode of Boy Swallows Universe. Things are starting to heat up.

I want to skip forward a bit - This all happened Monday, and in my mind I skip straight to Tuesday. After picking up the boys from school we head straight to the reject shop. It's just a dollar store, more or less, and I let the boys pick out one thing that I'll buy them. That's an uncle move, huh? I don't have a kid, I have no expenses, go buy some junk on me. They don't know the value of a dollar, let alone five, all they know is that they don't have fuck all in terms of cash, and Uncle J has that good good credit card. Huxley gets a plastic sword, Callan gets some strange goo and a pack of fruity mentos. They manage to touch every single toy in the store before we leave.

For dinner I make a spaghetti Lasagna, which is basically baked spaghetti with meatsauce topped with mozzarella and ricotta. Excellent dish, super simple, one for the back log for sure. Callan eats some and he likes it, thank god! This is all enough to lift my spirits back to an even keel, and getting to bed at a reasonable time helps as well. 

Golf tonight, I can't wait. Hope the damn rain stops, though.