Nothing without her

I spent a few hours last night reading through many of the archived posts on this site. That was a difficult thing to do for me, emotionally. I discovered some old posts about our not-so-little-anymore children from when they were little and unearthed some buried feelings about other members of my family. I had forgotten about the site altogether and it has sat dormant for a couple of years.

And what a couple of years.

Where to begin... Well, the last time I wrote we had five kids. Now there are seven. When last I updated things regularly (Oct. 2013), I was just starting my job as a sportswriter for a local newspaper. Now I'm getting set to enter my fifth year there and I've added a new duty: I'm the mayor of Delphos. Yeah, that's pretty crazy. I'm also a full-time student once again, having enrolled at Bluffton in five semesters ago. I'll graduate in May. All of that is just was has happened to me, it says nothing of the changes I've undergone as a person, nor of the lives my children have experienced in three or four years.

That's a lot to cover in one update, so I guess this will have to turn into a few posts once I get going.

Let's start here, though: I'm the mayor.

I didn't really have any intention to be the mayor, but I did apply for the job. When Mayor Gallmeier resigned due to health reasons, the Democratic Party asked for resumes to be appointed to fill his seat. I sent mine in expecting only to introduce myself to some city and county officials so that, in the future when I wasn't so busy (full-time job, full-time student) I could run for city council or something. I guess the interview went better than I expected because here I am, having been sworn in only last week and facing an election in November against three opponents all salivating to finish the term (through 2019). If I don't win the seat, my term will be less than five months long. So we'll see how that goes, I guess.

Part of the reason I didn't expect to be appointed (apart from the whole I have zero experience or qualifications thing) is that I am, apparently, a historically-bad interviewee. I mean I had three interview for a job at P&G and couldn't land it and that's just one example. Any time I have interviewed for a position that could be filled by anyone that can pass a drug screen, I've been passed over, and NOT because I couldn't pass a drug screen (I could, and did). 

Valerie says that's because when I interview for those jobs, at factories or the like, the hiring managers are worried I'm coming for their jobs. She says they're intimidated by me. A few months ago, we were talking while i was driving, and I don't even recall how the subject came up, but she told me there were three types of people, and you'll have to envision her physical movements for this part. She says there are people who are down here (as she waves her hand in a circular pattern near her waist), there are people who are about here (waves her hand at about shoulder level), and people who are up here (above her head). She told me I was up here, and that other people could see it.

This is going to sound cocky, but I had often suspected the same. Given my relative lack of success in life, however, I had long since begun to doubt myself. Valerie's admission was the first time in our near-10 years together that she had said anything like that to me, but I instantly felt validated. It made sense.

I have spent a lot of time over the life of this blog investigating myself and my feelings and emotions. Even as I have left the posts unwritten, I have continued to explore those ideas and thoughts. But here is the ultimate truth of everything you will find here and everything you'll find if you get to know me at all: I am who I am today because of the woman who agreed to marry me. That's it. Without her, I wouldn't have the motivation to improve. Without here, I wouldn't have the patience I have worked hard to develop. Without her, I wouldn't have the perspective I enjoy now, I wouldn't be as... kind isn't the right word... less abrasive, maybe... as I am today. I wouldn't be in college, I wouldn't be carrying a near-4.0 GPA, I wouldn't be a year away from a career as a teacher, and I wouldn't have ever considered trying to be the mayor. 

Valerie gives me the courage to do things I could never have done before. She gives me the courage to push past any self-doubt. She, alone, is responsible for the new-and-improved John. "Thank you" just doesn't seem like enough when someone gives you everything.

Amity and the PTBNL

Tomorrow, my baby girl will be two years old. She's been battling a fever for the better part of a week now, and that's lead to plenty of lost sleep for her mom and me. Last night, I took a trio of little ones to have dinner with their aunt and uncle. Amity was in high spirits there; the fever no longer a factor. She ran and played and ate well and jabbered up a storm.

I spent a very long time being quite certain that I wanted no part of being a dad. I could barely afford to take care of myself, I reasoned. They'd be annoying. I'm too busy. Funny thing about that, though, is that the priorities just seem to shift all by themselves when they need to. There have been things I'd like to do that I no longer can, but none of that matters at all when I come home from work and immediately have at least two kids draped around my legs welcoming me back to their lives.

Amity and Leyton have only seemed to grow closer over the past few months. Now that she can articulate her thoughts a bit better, she always has to make sure that whatever she has, that Leyton gets one, too. It's not unusual for the two of them to randomly hug each other and one is always asking the other to play. It reminds me a lot of when Lillian and Sebastian were a bit younger; they did many of the same things. I wonder how that dichotomy will change once the Player To Be Named Later* is born.

*Actually, my wife and I have already settled on a name for the new baby, but Player Whose Name Is To Be Revealed Later doesn't have the same ring to it, does it?

Speaking of... that PTBNL is in no hurry to greet his older siblings. Valerie has made several appearances at her doctor's office and the progress little baby boy Parent has made seems minimal at best. I told my Dad on March 5 that I was quite certain he'd have a new grandchild before St. Patrick's Day, now I'm just hoping that Amity and he new little bro don't have to share a birthday. Technically, the due date isn't until the 30th, but it can't really go that far, can it?

We've been having quite a bit of fun at Lillian's expense recently. It's driving her nuts that we won't divulge the baby's name, but Valerie did tell her it began with an "A". We've spent the last couple of months referring to the PTBNL in conversation by different "A" names (Anthony, Arnold, Alvin, etc). In one instance, Lillian was convinced we slipped up and revealed the name and she swore she wouldn't tell. It took her all of about 45 seconds after she walked into her grandma's house to unburden herself of that information far too juicy to keep secret. honestly, I can't recall what name it was that Valerie had casually used and Lillian took as gospel, but the true name it wasn't.

We have wooden letters that spell out each child's name. They hang on the walls of their rooms. We've kept the "A" sitting around in the open since Valerie gave that clue and two days ago, we agreed to leave another letter visible. Lillian immediately took the bait and we spent an hour or so trying to guess the name. I had both Lillian and Sebastian guess which letters they thought would be included in the name and wrote each one on a separate piece of paper. Lillian then shuffled them around to try to name names. Didn't work. The best she could come up with was "Aiden", but that's not the name, either.

The waiting game has taken control of our lives, I think. We haven't done laundry since last week sometime. I think we both just expect everyday that tomorrow the baby will and then tomorrow comes and he's not here and we expect it will happen tomorrow. In the meantime, we simply pass the time as quickly as we can and wait for tomorrow to come.

"See You Later" Feels Far Too Much Like "Goodbye"

Before I start, I should probably explain a little about my family. I was born in 1977 and my parents divorced in 1981, so the vast majority of my life consisted of my mom and older sister living in one house and my dad living in another. There were a couple of additions along the way; my mom re-married, had another baby, then re-divorced. My dad re-married a woman who had a son already (so I had a brother for a few years), then they got divorced. When I was nine or ten, my dad re-married again and he and my step-mother have been together ever since. This marriage brought another sister, Jennifer, into the mix, who came via Vickie's (my step-mother) first marriage. So I have one sister, one half sister, and one step-sister, plus a mom, a dad, and a step-mother. Now that I've laid it all out, please understand that those titles will no longer be used. As far as I'm concerned, I have three sisters and a dad, a mom, and Vickie (who has always been very much a second mom to me, but for whatever reason she never got that title; she's always just been Vickie).

Growing up through the 80s and 90s, most of my friends came from "traditional" households where their parents were still married. Nowadays I'm sure my unique family is more the norm than that of the people who have remained married and raised their children together. I don't know the exact reason that my parents ever divorced, but I honestly don't much care. It was always normal to me that mom lived here and dad lived there. Everything was fine and I assume that I'm fairly well-adjusted (whatever that means). Dad and Vickie have been married for something in the neighborhood of 25 years now and they have always, always been there whenever I needed anything.

Last night, Dad and Vickie met us in Lima to take us out to dinner; it's something that happens semi-regularly. They get to spend time with the kids, Valerie and I get to sort of "take a break" from being the only set of eyes on the four little ones. Plus, we get to eat for free, which is always nice.

Unfortunately, last night's gathering was very much bittersweet. About a year ago or so, they (Dad & Vickie) told us (my sisters and I) of their plan for the future. They were going to buy a travel trailer and spend time moving around the country, living in campgrounds, while Vickie worked as a traveling nurse. Dad's company, where he's spent 40 years, probably won't be around in a few years and in order to protect his stocks, it's best he gets out sooner rather than later. I don't think any of us actually expected them to leave.

About eight months ago, they bought that trailer and moved to a campground about 20 minutes away. Dad was still working, as was Vickie, as she was unable to land the job she desired. I would get occasional updates about why they hadn't left yet and a few weeks ago, Jennifer told me Dad and Vickie had made plans to move back into their house. It looked like they would be sticking around, at least through the winter.

Not two days later, I got the call I was dreading. Dad told me that Vickie had landed a position in Richmond, Virginia, and that they would be leaving in two weeks. Last night's dinner gathering was the last time we will see them for a minimum of 13 weeks. By that time, it will be early December and they will likely head further south to avoid the harsh Ohio winter.

The dinner was normal. There was no sense of dread or even a sense that this was the end of a life that I had considered normal for so long. That is, normal until we left the restaurant. We all stood in the parking lot for what must have been 10 minutes, just talking and whatnot. Finally, it was time to say goodbye. I swear, until I heard my dad, my hero, sobbing uncontrollably as he hugged the kids and hugged my wife, it didn't even occur to me that this really was "goodbye". I was holding our youngest daughter and Dad reached over Valerie's shoulder and put his hand on my back. He gave me a quick squeeze, without looking at me, and he turned and walked off, obviously trying to compose himself. That was his goodbye to me. It was all he could do. (It took me a very long time and at least a few tissues to write this paragraph)

After they left, we put the kids in the van and Valerie and I stayed at chatted with Jennifer for a while. Valerie was and is quite upset about their departure. My kids have several sets of grandparent, but Dad and Vickie were quite active in seeking out time to see the kids. My in-laws live in town and they watch the kids for a few hours each day before Valerie gets off work, but the other grandparents can't be bothered most of the time. Dad and Vickie were always there for these kids, just as they were always there for me.

Now, they're gone.

I get it, it's not like they've died or anything. They have raised their kids and now it's time for them. They want to travel and move around from place to place. They've certainly put in the time and paid the dues; they should enjoy life while they're still young enough and healthy enough to do so. But understanding why they're doing what they're doing doesn't make it any less difficult for me, or, I'm sure, for them. And it doesn't make any of the emotions that Valerie and I are feeling any less valid.

It really didn't hit me until this morning and while I understand what's going on, I don't like it. I'm happy for them but at the same time I'm a little bit angry and a lot sad. Growing up, I had a very close relationship with my grandparents and I credit those relationships with building much of who I am as a person. I worry now that my children won't get the same benefits I had. Even though I understand the motivations, they just got these grandchildren, their only grandchildren, less than four years ago and the youngest is not yet two. No matter how often you skype with someone, it's not the same as being there. You can't attend a soccer game or take the family out to dinner, or have us over for a cookout, or come to birthday parties from a telephone. You just can't replace the personal contact that enriches lives.

If things go well for Dad and Vickie, if they stick to their plan, they'll come back to Ohio every once in a while. The kids will see them at Christmas, I hope, and maybe once more each year. That's not enough for the kids. And it's not enough for me. Will Amity even know who they are when they come home?

I know this is sounding more angry than I intended it to, but I always try to be as honest as possible on this site. I'm in no way trying to guilt them into changing their plans or anything like that. I have accepted what's happening, but I wish it wasn't happening. The kids need them in their lives. I need them in my life. But I'm also proud that they have the courage to start something new.

Hurry home you two. I already miss you too much for you to be away, and you haven't even left the state yet.  I know we don't ever say it, that it's simply understood, but I love you both very much and you are missed greatly. Godspeed.