Being A Dad

Fatherhood has taught me a couple of things:

1. I am going to be tested, at every moment, at every point in the day.
2. I am going to lose my mind, or my hair due to these children.
3. I love these children.


I never knew how great being a dad was/is. The moment my little girl came into this world, I knew she was something special. I remember being the first to hold her. Not my wife, or any of the other common traditions with a child. It was me. My belief is that my wife needed to focus on the after birth portion of things so they gave my daughter to me. Or I was just in their way so they handed the baby to me. Either way, I held her first.

It's the same thing with my son. Knowing when they were born and just being there.

So the question for my readers is probably pretty simple: what the hell does this fathers day blog have to do with a rant? Read on.....


To give you some insight as to why I cherish fathers day so much, I have to take you back many years. Back to when I was 5, and some earlier.

For some reason, I remember early dates in my childhood. I remember being at a pool with my father and for some reason, I slipped out of his hand and into the pool below. Probably couldn't have been more than 3 feet deep. I didn't understand what was going on, but I didn't breath. I felt my fathers hands pick me up from the pool and back onto his shoulder.

That's the only "good" memory I have of my dad.

My dad is an alcoholic. His need for beer, ruined my childhood. Parts of those first 5 years still haunt me today. There are even parts that I hope to get to in this blog that still hurt.

I remember one day when I was young (5 or earlier). And just a side note: the reason why I know about this being the first 5 years is because my mom left my dad at the age of 5.
Anyways, back to the first sentence. I once came out of my room in our trailer and saw my mom and dad folding laundry together. As I got closer I realized they were watching a nightly porno show where the women would dance together and do choreographed stripping. My mom identified me as watching the show and told me to go to bed.


My dad got pissed. I remember the "Get in your fucking room" to this day. I asked for a hug. My dad got up, took his belt off and chased me to my room. For some reason I had a bunk bed, but my sister didn't sleep in there. I climbed on top, attempting to get as far away from him as I could. Unfortunately his belt and it's slap, met me and my face. I was mercilessly beaten for that incident. Trying to cry to get him to stop. It was scary. His final words to me where: "go to fuckin' bed. I had better not see you until the morning". He slammed my door and walked away. I cried, scared and alone that night.

But it only got worse.

My mother took a beating too. I watched it. I remember one night my dad called home and asked what was for dinner. I don't remember how I know that it was a call about dinner, I just remember that my mom said dad is coming home. She was making spaghetti. I think we were out of noodles or sauce or something like that. But my mom couldn't make spaghetti. So instead she made BLT's. He got home, saw that spaghetti wasn't made and threw the plate at the wall. Slapped my mom in her face and then left for the bar. I remember my mom crying. It hurt.

But the pain didn't stop......

In fact...it got worse. One night, my dad was complaining about not having enough money for beer. I think my mom's job at the time was still a certified nursing assistant. I don't quite remember. What I do remember was that the day in question was pay day for my mom. Back in the bedroom, my mom and dad got into a fight. I think my mom got slapped. I remember the words "Bitch" and "Cunt" being used, but I don't remember the whole fight. I hid next to the table hoping my dad wouldn't come out from his room and find me in my room and beat me.

Sure enough, he came out and looked for me. I was hiding. He called me but I didn't answer. Finally, he came out to the kitchen where I was hiding and looked around. Not seeing anyone, he reached into my mom's purse and took all the cash she had. Slowly sifting through the purse, the time seemed to take forever. He took out many items, but was only looking for cash. After depleting my mom's purse and leaving everything else on top of the fridge, he left for the bar.

That night, I fell asleep. Thankfully, that was the last night I would ever have to endure from this man.

He came home from the bar and he was looking to start a fight with my mom. He threw his wedding ring off and said "fuck you bitch".

My mom must have known what was coming. She grabbed my sister and her clothing and told me to get as many clothes as I could. I didn't know what was going on and she didn't have time to explain.

We had a wood furnace that kept our trailer warm. He was putting fire wood in it. I remember him saying "don't you turn out to be a little bitch like your mother". It was almost as if he didn't want anything to do with me. I didn't understand and began to cry. I told him I loved him and I didn't want to go. I didn't understand what was going on.

I was trying to figure this out, but my mother grabbed me and ran as far as she could down the drive way. Our driveway was probably 100 or 200 yards long. The cars were at the end. She had my sister in one arm and my hand in another. We sprinted. I told her I didn't want to go. Angrily, she told me it was time to leave. We needed to go. She never swore at me before this night, well that I knew of at least. She said "shut up and get in the fucking car".

In the distance I saw my dad. He was heavily intoxicated. He had taken a whole bunch of news papers and lit them on fire. He threw them on the porch and celebrated by dancing. I was so scared. This image is burned into my mind forever.

But my life has changed since that day. I now have 2 children of my own. I love them very much and I could never see myself abandoning them. I miss them when they are at school.

Watching my daughter grow up has been heart breaking. She went from being so tiny, to such a little fire cracker, to now having her own friends. She has her own life. I miss her toddler years. They were long and didn't afford me much sleep. But looking back on those days, I miss them.

My son is still pretty young. I'm trying to wrap myself around having a son. It's something truly special.

The point of this blog is: treat your children right and learn to love what they give you. Whether that is a colorful paper they drew with crayons, or a piece of your garden that you just planted. They love you, and will only figure out hate from you.

Nearly a Year!

It's been nearly a year since I wrote anything down. That's a stark contrast to how I opened 2015. I wrote for the first six months and then gave up.

Oh well, sometimes mental thoughts and written explanations are best for describing a mood.

The question is, what is my mood. Can I define it? Can I see it? Can it see me?

These are all things that every day people come across in their lives.

I've been to from the east coast, to the middle east. I've seen open German farms, and surface to air missiles stashed in Iraqi Orchards. What do the owners of these properties have in common? It's emotion. The German farm owner is likely happy. Enjoying the good life. While the Iraqi orchard owner is likely pissed because a local force put heavy weaponry in his place of food creation.

But how are these people different than our presidential race? For that matter, how does mood change based on race?

I can tell you I've seen quite a bit of information on the web lately regarding race. It feels like our country is imploding. When I turn on the news, I see how divided our country is. It's a horrible feeling to see a young man, born in this country, having to picket fences and attack authority to make a point that his way of life isn't the same.

Did I earn this life? What did I learn?

I learned from the school of bad shit. The school that teaches you what happens to those who grow up with little to no money. I learned what it's like to only cause trouble because your single mother parent cannot afford to take you to swimming lessons, or baseball practice.

I had nothing. I lost my thought. REMIX!!!!!!

Now while I'm poppin off, and singing songs, I feel the beat of my favorite fog. It's in that moment, that I begin to believe that I might have a chance at HI--STORY.

Yeah I wrote a little. Maybe too much. But how do you kickstart a conversation in a new direction.


I don't know.