So much catching up to do….

A Short Conversation:

Me:  Habibi you are so smart!

Habibi:  I am not so smart…I’m not as smart as you.

Me:  Well you are 3 and I am 38, so I’ve had a lot longer to be in school and learn things, but you are very smart.  You know,  someday you’ll be 38 and you’ll be so smart, and you’re going to do such good things!

Habibi:  (Just hugs me)

I think the two kindest things anyone has ever said to me are:

“Would you like to give him his bath?” and “I’m not surprised.”

Both, of course, were about Habibi.   The first was not long after my ex-wife and I had separated and we were working out how I was going to spend time with him.  He was so tiny.  He is so big now–almost 4.

Why was this so nice?

Because it set the tone for me to do normal parent things with him.  As much as I love taking him out for adventures, it is the normal parent things that mean something to me.  Someone once gave me a book about being a divorced father, and there was a section in it about not falling prey to the quality time trap.  We are allowed to have normal time together–it is a gift that all started with my ex-wife suggesting that I give my kid his bath.

“I’m Not Surprised”

Someone who I have not seen in years, in way too many years, suggested that my parenting was quite good and followed it up with that addendum.  Wow.  Complimenting a parent’s parenting (or child) is the best way to comppliment them, of course, but suggesting that there might have been even an inkling of that present so very long ago…wow.

I have been telling Habibi a story.

Really a series of stories about a set of characters who are, frankly, none of your business.  Prior to him, I really only told one person stories, and it was a long time ago.  It is actually incredibly difficult, and I don’t know that I’m particularly good at it.  But the thing is, and this is the thing: he loves this story and these characters something fierce.  Do all kids love having their parents tell them stories?

I will be, perhaps, more attentive to this thing now.  I am still looking for a job.

Wow

…do I ever want a cigarette.

Habibi was in a terrible, tired little boy mood today. This, for him, doesn’t mean a tantrum, but a kind of sad little shutting down. He just wants to go home. No park, no ball, no monkey bars–just home. And then…for me, the terrible feeling that I may have done something wrong. Have I failed as a playmate–or (far, far) worse, as a parent? When I picked him up he wanted to go back to my house, but now that he and his mom have moved there is no time for this. At 4:30, with traffic, it would take close to an hour to get from where they life to where I live. This just isn’t working. I’m going to have to move, but of course, with the layoff, I can’t right now.

Kate was in town today

and, as usual, she said something really wise. Actually she said it about something else, but it fits here, too. She pointed out that I had mentioned accepting the pain of letting him go as part of our time together. The pain of adjusting to every new part of his life: his growing, his new school, his living further away, all of these things are just aspects of my life as his father.

Habibi reminds me of the Amidah, or maybe the Amidah reminds me of Habibi

the first prayer of the Shemoneh Esreh begins by stating that God is the God of the Patriarchs (and Matriarchs), and then discusses God’s might, mercy, and redemptive power. The Patriarchs and Matriarchs were not perfect–check Genesis out if you don’t believe me–and neither am I as a parent. The best I can do is accept that the difficult times are part of the whole. And…maybe I can accept that there is some order to the world through that.

Who knows?

I’ve been thinking…

Saturday morning I was sitting in services, being given not the once-, not the twice-, but the THRICE-over

by an ex-girlfriend’s fiance. It was really funny. Really. Habibi’s mother’s fiance didn’t make such a show of checking me out when we met (and I didn’t check him out at all–we just shook hands and talked about toys), AND I’ve known Habibi’s mom for 20 years, AND I am the father of her child. Apparently this guy (the one from services) gets awful jealous. I learned this when I received and apologetic email from my ex-girlfriend. She felt I might have been uncomfortable. Not so much, really.

It’s been way too long since I’ve posted anything.

Over a month, to be precise. My mezzuzah seems not to be bringing me so much overt luck, exactly. For instance, I was laid off. This is not lucky. Funny, though–I am not exactly in a spiral over it. The cool yoga instructor I used to work with suggested that I should look at it as an opportunity. She said I should get a job as a teacher. I am looking into it. Who knows? Things happen, and we have to deal with them.

I also started therapy again. What what a great thing therapy is. Yesterday, we spent almost the entire hour talking about Habibi’s mom and her family (she got married this past weekend). I should have given myself more permission to be upset about that. Because, well, I am. But…it’s regret mixed with happiness. If I loved her and probably still do, I need to recognize that her new husband makes her happy. And–get this. I can tell that he does, because she’s actually being warm towards me for the first time in years.

Still. Sometimes I’m just downright nervous. That other shoe is up there somewhere.