Soccer Sunday

It's soccer season and in a family with five children (three of them old enough to play), that means nightly trips to the soccer fields. We have one playing on Mondays, on on Tuesday and Thursday and one on Wednesday. Every team in every division plays a game on Soccer Sunday, however, and that's when team photos are taken as well.

What that means for us, as a family, is that we had to get to the fields at 1130 in the morning yesterday and couldn't leave until after 430 in the afternoon.

Needless to say, my shaved head is a wonderful shade of purple today, it is so burnt. Even just arching my eyebrows causes pain.

Leyton is an active player, which is a start. In his age group, it's really nothing more than partially controlled chaos. He runs, but I'm not sure he knows why he's running. He seems interested and his attention doesn't wander on the field, which is far more than I can say about many of his teammates.

Sebastian scored two goals in a scrimmage the other day. Those are the first two goals scored by one of my kids in the combined five seasons of play. When they put the uniforms on for the first time, however, it was as if he had never even seen a soccer ball before. Sebastian should be much better at this than he is, and he has improved, but something just doesn't click with him and soccer. He's a step or two behind everybody else.

Lillian's team is in the 8-10 age group and you can see a big difference in the play. There was an actual pass, on purpose, to an open teammate that lead directly to a goal. I had never seen one of kids' teams run a play before. As Brittany noted, it will probably be until the boys get into that age group that I'll see one from their teams. Still, Lillian did some good things and she ran hard and seemed to have an idea of where she should be. You can tell that for the first time, there is a deeper thinking put into playing the game; it's not just about chasing the ball anymore. So that's cool. Makes for a far more entertaining game.

It was a long day in the hot sun and I certainly wasn't the only person to suffer the effects. But it's behind us now for another year. Now, we get shorter, but more frequent doses of youth soccer.

Are you there, God? It's me, John

I spent some time in prayer last night. This is something that doesn't happen often.

It's not that I don't believe in a higher power per se, it's that I have a lot of questions and I have been unable to find satisfactory answers.

When you consider that the Bible is a book several centuries old and one that has been copied by hand thousands of times, and translated into dozens of languages, each time by a different translator, oh, and that every time a new King took over in England, the Bible was altered significantly, I think a little skepticism about the contents is not only rational but responsible.

While I may not blindly believe all of the stories I've been taught, I am fairly certain that this existence isn't just a collection of randomness; there has to be some grand design, doesn't there?

With that in mind, and when considering all of the decisions that had to have been made exactly how they were in order for any of us to wind up where we are, it's terrifying to think where we would be if any one of those decisions were made differently.

So, on occasion, I do direct my thoughts at this higher power. I wanted to make sure last night, as I was thinking about the good things that have happened lately, that I gave at least some credit to that grand design. Too often, I think the only time "God" is brought in is when there is blame to be assigned or in times of desperation. That's not fair, is it? If he exists when you have no where else to turn, he'd darn well better exist when you do.

There is no real conclusion to be drawn from this post. It's more just a thought that came over me and I decided to write it down.

Incognito

If you are reading this, you are one of a select few who have been alerted to the new url (or you're handy with a Google search). Count yourselves among the most trusted in my inner circle.

I discovered, through the publishing of my thoughts at my old url, that several people got offended every time I would post. So, I was faced with the decision to stop writing altogether, which I didn't want, to write only heavily-filtered content, which doesn't seem at all authentic, or to start a new site. Fortunately, I was able to keep everything the same but change the address and here I am.

There is a great freedom in being able to write without any filter whatsoever. So much has taken place in recent months and I've kept most of that held inside. I don't only mean that I haven't written about it, I mean that I haven't even dealt with it myself; processed the turmoil in my head.

I was demoted by FanSided last month. After devoting four-and-a-half years to the network and positioning myself as "next in line" for full-time employment (their words, not mine), I was not only bypassed by two other people, but told I was no longer being considered as a member of leadership in any form.

Ultimately, I was offered, and accepted a different role within the company. I did this so I could keep the meager earnings they throw at me every month. In many ways the new role is satisfying, but it's difficult to accept that the network bosses were so tired of the help that I was trying to offer that they moved on completely. Instead of having an indirect influence on the progress of the network, I now edit copy for a couple sites.

That alone has been eye-opening. We have a few terrible writers. We have a lot of good ones, but some of them are absolutely painful to read.

So, I'm still dealing with that. There was an email chain today that went in a direction away from where I would have liked it. I felt great frustration in knowing that I didn't have a voice in how that decision was made. Why I'm still included in that email chain, I have no idea.

Outside of my hobby/career as a writer, though, I'm actually feeling pretty good in the last couple of days. I've slept better and yesterday I was in a good mood all day - like seriously all day. I realize this is something most people say as a throw-away line. They don't have to give it much thought because I assume most people are generally happy (or ignorant enough to not notice that they aren't). The world is made for people who aren't cursed with self-awareness. Someone famous once said that. I'd look it up, but it doesn't matter who said it, really; the point is that it's true.

I am, unfortunately, self-aware. As such, I spend time over analyzing things in my head to the point where I squeeze every ounce of joy and fun out of a given scenario and am left with only the worst-case, which is what I expect to take place. Man, that's a miserable way to exist.

I have children. Small ones, and many of them. Those tiny people don't always see things the way I see them, nor should they. I have softened a bit in being around them so often. I don't know if my wife would agree, or the kids for that matter, but I know it's happened; I've seen it. I've noticed the times where the reactionary answer is "no," but I pause before speaking and say "yes." It still doesn't happen often enough, but it happens more than it used to.

I suppose it's true that life is a constant evolution. We are all, at any given point, in a period of transition. My transition is maybe a little more noticeable that others, if only because it currently involves tangible things like employment.

Whatever the reason, and I have my theory, I'm a little more comfortable with the world. I've accepted and am adjusting to the FanSided thing. I'm enjoying the lack of real responsibility there. I'm hopeful that I'll be able to land full-time employment as the sports editor of the Times Bulletin, which should be decided within a couple of weeks. I'm excited to cover sports on the local level rather than the national stage. I'm enjoying my wife, my kids, and in-laws, which is the only extended family I really have anymore. All in all, I'm fairly content amidst my turbulence.

Things always seem to have a way of working themselves out. You just gotta trust it.

When Sleep Won't Come

I'm in a bad place.

I can't sleep, I more irritable than normal. I've been eating pretty much non-stop. I have a very short fuse lately.

Things have to turn around sooner or later, don't they? You'd think. But everytime I think we're back on the upswing we find a new low. "We," an interesting choice of words. I'm really only talking about myself here. The royal "we" I guess.

The details aren't important or maybe they are and I just don't want to type them all out. I already re-live them every night when I try to sleep. My mind doesn't have an off switch. I'm only even writing this because I went to bed an hour-and-a-half ago and wound up back downstairs, again unable to find the calm needed to drift off.

I don't know what to do or how to get things going again. We had been holding the family finances together by threads as it was and now have lost the rental income and are down nearly $400 per month in income. That's a lot of money.

Meanwhile, in May I thought for sure I'd have my pick of two lucrative jobs. Instead, I somehow wound up getting offered neither one. Any pipe dream I had of working for FanSided, the network I've devoted nearly five years to, is dead.

So last week, my mother-in-law showed me a classified ad that a local newspaper is hiring a sports editor. Finally, a job that I not only want, but am actually very well qualified for. I cleaned up my resume, wrote a dynamite cover letter, even got a letter of recommendation from FanSided. I emailed the Editor-in-chief, attaching all of my information and then dropped hard copies in the mail to him in case the attachments wouldn't open for some reason. For me, it was only a question of whether or not I would screw up the interview.

Instead, the ad still runs in the paper every day and no one has called me. I am starting to lose confidence here.

So between the rental house being vacant and for sale, my lack of a job, our rapidly dwindling financial reserves, and the daily pressures of family life, I'm in a pretty good funk here.

I don't know what to do, but I'm looking all around this tunnel and I don't see even a flicker of light.

Not So Fast

So Bio-dad is back. When last we spoke, I detailed how he had given up and we had begun the process of adoption. That plan lasted all of about six weeks. The day before we were to meet with our lawyer to draft the paperwork, he came calling.

I won't bore you all with the details, but it's been a couple of months now and he really seems to be a new man. According to reports, he's given up drinking and smoking. He moved back in with his parents and he's been the ultra-attentive father he should have been all along.

I am extremely happy for the kids. This is exactly what I had always hoped would happen. I certainly wish he hadn't waited so damn long to embrace the idea of having such wonderful kids, but he finally seems to be manning up. Good for him and good for them.

Of course, there is the other side of that tale.

I don't know if this will come off as selfish and I'm not sure it matters. But, if my kids are to someday read these words, as is my intention, I do want them to know how disappointed I am that I don't get to give them my name and make them legally mine. I have been the one man who has been there for them every single day for the past five-and-a-half years and still there are people who call me a "step-dad;" a mere fill-in for the real thing. Meanwhile, he shows up yet again and all of a sudden all the shit he put those kids through for the past five years is forgotten.

Yeah, that hurts a little.

At the same time though, I am so happy for the kids. No one should ever have to go through life wondering why their father didn't want them, why he didn't love them. I certainly am not accepting his reformation as permanent at this point; he's got a lot of negative equity built up he'll have to overcome first. But I hope he can do it. I hope he can stay on the straight edge. I hope he'll be the dad he's supposed to be.

I'll be okay with that because it's the best thing for my kids.

And if he's not up to the task, I'll be there. Just like I always have been.

Blending the Blended Family

It's been five years since Valerie and I moved in together. Five years since I met Lillian and Sebastian, who were then not yet three and two years old.

At that point, I was nothing more than a stranger to them, and I had no idea how to interact with these two little kids. There was rarely a comfortable moment for me, as I always felt I was doing something wrong with them. These weren't my kids and even though I had moved into their house, I really had no clue how to raise them, or even how to talk to them. To say this was a foreign experience would be the understatement of the century. I may as well been dropped into a strange household in China.

I'd like to tell you what a great time this was for me and for all of us, but that's just not the case. I couldn't be happier in my marriage and with my family today, but things were more than a little difficult at the beginning. For all of us.

In the beginning, bio-dad was still very much a fixture in our lives, so much so that he would come to our house to watch the kids each morning while Valerie went to work instead of her having to wake the kids and take them to him. That part stopped when I moved in, of course, but it may have been the last time he was really a dedicated father. I guess when I showed up, he no longer felt he had to be. I don't know.

Over the years, he's been less and less reliable. There is always an excuse as to why he doesn't show up, but those excuses are generally saved for the days or weeks after he disappears. On the odd occasion he actually does pick up the kids for his weekend, he coops them up in his apartment while he takes naps all day, only to return them to our house shortly after he wakes up. Most of the time, if he has them for five hours in his 48 hour weekend, he's done a lot.

More than once Valerie and I have openly wished he would just go away for good. Not having him at all would surely be better for the kids than constantly being lied to and having their hearts broken.

Last week, bio-dad announced via an unprovoked text message to Valerie that he was ready to sign the papers. He didn't want to keep being their dad. Lillian read the text before Valerie did.

Well, apparently signing over your rights as a dad isn't really a thing, at least not without an adoption. Of course, I was always going to adopt them if it ever came to it. I just didn't expect it ever would. And while I'm thrilled to be able to give these two my last name, my heart also breaks for them. I couldn't imagine ever having to try to figure out why my dad didn't want to be a part of my life. It's sickening to do that to another human being, let alone to your own flesh and blood.

He says it's the right thing to do. No, you selfish piece of crap, it's not. The right thing to do would be to put your children ahead of yourself. The right thing to do would be to spend as much time as possible, not as much time as convenient, being a real dad to your kids. And I'll give you a hint, you don't have to take 'em to the zoo or to get ice cream every day; all you have to do is show up and spend time with them. Hang out with them. Talk to them. Be a part of their lives. That's the right thing to do.

This isn't going to be easy for either of them. Of course, Valerie sat them down and explained what was going on. There were plenty of tears and both are dealing with a lot of emotion right now. Lillian stays strong on the outside, but I don't think you can just turn off a rejection like this. Sebastian has been a staunch supporter of bio-dad forever, always sticking up for him and making excuses for his behavior. Now he too has to face reality and he's always already been so emotional that adding what can only be the most difficult thing in his life will be even harder.

The process, from what I hear is expensive. It's not unlike adopting a child from outside the home, I guess. We have to go see a lawyer, Valerie and I both have to be fingerprinted and have background checks done, which is odd because she's their mom no matter what, but I guess that's the way the law is written. We also have to have an in-home study done by a social worker and there is a stipulation that the kids must live with me for six months from when we start the process. I guess they ignore the past five years. That means this process will take at least six months, but we've been told it could be up to a year. At the end of it, the kids will get brand new birth certificates that list me as their father. It will be as if bio-dad never existed, legally anyway.

The likely cost is somewhere in the neighborhood of $4000. And that doesn't even factor in the loss of child support. All in all, this is an expensive undertaking. We had earmarked our tax return to put siding on the house. Looks like that will wait another year. That's more than okay by me. The kids are a far better investment, anyway.

The other day we took the whole crew to Ft. Wayne to Build-a-Bear. Everyone had a blast of course. When it came time to fill out the birth certificates, however, we encountered a problem. They wanted the kids' first and last names. And here we were in the middle of a store swarming with happy, loud kids and suddenly we were faced with our oldest son and daughter having to choose whether to list their current last name, or the one they would be getting. They both handled it smoothly, but the moment struck me, probably more than it did them. That's not a decision any person should be forced to make, especially not at six or seven years old.

Last night they went out to play in the front yard. Shortly thereafter, they summoned Valerie to see what they had created. In sidewalk chalk, Lillian and Sebastian covered the front porch, the walkway and the sidewalk with "the Parents" over and over again.

We've come a long way in the last five years and since I got to know them, I have always considered those kids to be my own. I'm excited to be able to make it official. And I'm even more excited that both of them seem to want the same thing, even as hard as I'm sure this process is for them, and will continue to be.

A Different Kind of Writer's Block

I miss writing.

For those of you who don't know, as a hobby I spend my free time scouting and recruiting writers to join the FanSided sports network. Before a few months ago, my primary function at said network was as a writer. In order to devote more time to the non-writing stuff they need me to do, I gave up the writing.

Sure, I still have this humble forum, but I fear it has become something I never intended it to be. It's now a place where I can't write freely without worrying and over analyzing each word to see if it can be misconstrued in some way or another. People have been getting angry with me over what I write here, regardless of my intentions. This site was only supposed to be a way for my kids to look back on me one day after I'm gone, to get to know their dad and who he was; his inner-most workings.

Unfortunately, too often I've felt I need to apologize to the others in my life who also read these pages, though rarely has there been malicious intent. I guess I'm not allowed to be honest here, and if I can't do that, then there is no point. I don't want my kids getting a false impression of me.

So, I don't write at FanSided and I don't feel free to write here. But I do miss the writing.

I may have to start covering baseball again  or perhaps I can start a new site and just keep the link to only myself. Of course, then if I were to drop dead or get hit by a bus, my kids wouldn't find it, so I guess I should tell someone where it is. Maybe just my wife.

Of course, if she were to be hit by the same bus that would do no good either. But if I tell more people than were back to the problems I have here.

I guess I just wish that people who know me would realize that I am, and have always been, direct enough to address any issues I have with them. I don't often talk in code (though I am doing so right now) and I don't mince my words. I certainly wouldn't openly write a piece calling someone out without actually doing so. I mean, look at the pieces I've written about Bio-dad. Sure, I don't mention his given name, but I'm not exactly hiding who I'm talking about. And those pieces have been hyper-critical.

This is all very frustrating to me, because I don't feel I've done or said or written anything that should have been taken the wrong way; nothing I should need to apologize for. Yet I don't think I can keep writing here without causing more drama.

I don't know. I'll think on it and see what happens I guess.