I kind of wonder right now if I’m a crappy dad. At least some of the time.
I mean, I think I’m a really good dad. Most of the time.
I have constant quality time with my kid. I teach him. I love him. I devote my life to giving him the best life possible. I’m dedicated to setting him up for the best chance at a successful life in every part of his life. I support him. I encourage him. I play with him. I wrestle with him. I laugh with him. I take him on trips near and far. We snuggle together. We sit together, filling my bed with popcorn crumbs, and watch movies way past bedtime just because we love it so much. We read together. We dance together. We plot our next sneaky pranks we’re going to play on the Farmer’s Daughter together.
And, sometimes, I cannot wait for him to go back to his mom’s house.
That’s how I was feeling last week as I typed this.
Which makes me feel like I’m a bit of a crappy dad. Sometimes.
I mean, Noah is a good kid. And sure, he tests his boundaries, and he pushes his limits when he wants something, and he has the occasional melt-down, and he can take two hours to eat a couple of chicken fingers. But he’s a good kid.
So good, in fact, that I can honestly say he is one of the best kids I’ve met. He is kind, and good-hearted, and obedient, and helpful, and respectful. Most of the time. Being with my kid is a real pleasure. So much so that by the time his time at Mom’s house is coming to a close, I cannot wait to see him again.
I get to missing him so much that I’ll go sit in his bedroom and just tinker with some of his things while he’s gone. I’ll put together some of his LEGOs. I’ll even flop onto his bed from time to time and think about my kid and how much I wish he was there.
And still. Sometimes when he is here, I cannot wait for him to go back to his mom’s house.
It’s not all the time or every time. It’s just sometimes. And as I write this, it is about as bad as it ever gets.
Which really makes me feel like a crappy dad.
Last week I sent him to bed. He gave me a huge hug. He ran and jumped straight into his bed when I told him to, without a single contrary word. He yelled “I love you!” as he did it.
And all I could think right then was… Ahhhh. Some time to myself. Finally.
He went back to his Mom’s house on Friday. And all I can think is… Ahhhh. Some time to recharge and get some work done and spend a little quality time with Sarah. Finally.
And that makes me feel like a crappy dad.
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