White Lightning Axiom: Redux

Not much in the event calender to make note of. Standard stuff. Work, Meetings, Swimming, Chores, Karate. Add to that the general malaise induced by not getting any shopping for Christmas done, well, it's pretty much the same story as every one else's. I've got a load of edibles I need to ship off to Minnesota that I have yet to package up. At this rate, I'll have to dig though the basement and wrap up random objects as gifts. I'm sure Jake always wanted a box of nails and a hammer. Alexis has been begging for a feather duster. Really! At this age though, you could wrap up some rocks and they would be thrilled just to open the package. That reminds me, I need to buy some coal. It's a parenting thing ... if they see the coal, they'll reconsider proposed coups in small South American countries till after Holiday Season. I'm getting weary of all these unscrupulous fellows carting off truck-loads of arms to the A&J Conquest LLC satellite offices. They always seem to leave dirt and shell casings on the floor. Don't even get me started on all the damn polonium-210 pills all over the kitchen counter.

As I drove away from the Day Care/ReEducation Complex this morning, I looked in the rear-view mirror to see the kids waving me off. It made my heart ache just a tad. I know that in the modern age, it is 'acceptable' to abandon your children to the beastly jungles of non-parental care. It just feels a bit awkward to me. I'll be missing so much of their lives that the meager 4 hours I get to spend with them each day will not bring this remorse to surcease. Alas, it is what it is and I'll do my best in the minutes I have available. I'd like to think that thus far, I've done as much for them as expected ... and a touch beyond. In the wisdom of their middle-ages, they will probably recognize this as I have with my forbearers. The longing to toss my modern life into the dust-bin and start home-schooling has come up more than once. This half baked idea would require a bit more effort, patience and discipline that I have for it though. The Mrs and I are on a path we planned out long before the children came along but not before they were considered. Sure, deviations will be considered and alterations have been made and the goal remains constant. Though, with such a narrow path, there is always doubt. A seemingly impassible rock wall on one side, a deadly plummet to the shattered rocks of catastophy on the other. It is doubt and mistrust of our vision that will trip us up. Doubt through what has failed to work and suspicion that future failure will come to pass. I just need this little reminder, posted to the wall next to my seat of internment at work, to remind me that there is no time for indulgences such as self-doubt and foppish, lackluster efforts. So no, I'll gleefully leap to my battered legs in the morning when the alarm beckons me forth to fetch my wards and provide them with all the physical, intellectual and spiritual nutrients I can muster. That said, I still feel rotten for leaving them every morning. I guess an extra present (not socks or underwear) under the tree for them might make it up to them and ease my troubled conscious.

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