Ok, gang, it’s my birthday, so I’m going to show you guys all my favorite treasures!
The Force is strong in this one.
That time I filled a chest with treasure, buried in the yard, drew a map and took Gabriel on a treasure hunt the next day.
Adelia our baby girl!
This is @rosehillenart, the love of my life!
Here’s a newborn Gabriel! (he’s 3 now)
I usually post a picture then share to social media, changing the caption for each picture, erasing the previous caption. I’m going to try just piling the captions on each other to preserve them and you’ll have to try your match up the old captions with their pictures.
Raising children is hard. It’s draining in a way that isn’t apparent, no pun intended. It’s not like heavy lifting all day, although there is definitely some of that. It’s the constant attention demanded of you, the rituals you must perform, even if you don’t understand why, (my 3 year old likes to hold the Olvaltine can before I make his chocolate milk… Is he weighing the difference from yesterday, does he just want to feel involved, does he want to shake it, because he doesn’t always? I just know he wants to hold it.) There’s the life threatening situations occurring on a daily basis. They seek them out. Child proof my home? The only child proof home is the one without a child in it. There’s the cleaning up the same toys over and over, the squirmy diaper changes, the endless attempts to get them to eat something. God forbid they eat the same thing twice.
I’m not afraid of hard work. I’ve worked at myriad jobs for thirty years. All day every day. I’ve dealt with problem customers, cooked fast food, worked with complicated machines, and dangerous chemicals. I’ve worked nights, I’ve been the boss, and I’ve been the low man on the totem pole. I’ve worked in creative fields and manual labor. Nothing I’ve done is as difficult as it is to raise children. Nor has any of my various jobs been anywhere near as satisfying.
My children are the most important thing in my life. I love them more than I ever thought was possible. It is an honor and a privilege to be the stay at home daddy. It is the most meaningful endeavor that I have ever undertaken. It is also the most enjoyable. We have fun, we play, we go to the park. We learn together, we draw, we have music. I am so lucky to be in this situation, I can’t be it.
But, man, I am tired at the end of the day.
I always fall sort. I fail myself, my expectations, and my family. I will never not fail. Not every time. Just occasionally. It’s unpredictable. It is very difficult to accept. Yet I am enough. I try my best. I will fall short. It will have to be enough. That’s why we have family; to carry each other when by ourselves we fall. It is my shortcomings that make me need others, and my shortcomings that make me feel unworthy of others.
My fearless 18 month old girl dances every chance she gets. An ad jingle, a sitcom themesong, anything will do. She puts her whole body into it. She’s smart and brave, and loving and kind; she’s assertive and positive and quick to smile and laugh
Here are some of the sketches I’ve done of my children. Mostly they are done from life, or in the few moments I steal at night when I am supposed to have gone to bed. They are, therefore, mostly done quickly. Generally, I start with a sketch with a fountain pen, and then rough in some water soluble, brush tipped markers. Then I blend the markers with wet brush, after which I have to fix all the disasters that causes. The finished product resembles a quick watercolor and that is basically what it is.