One of the catalysts for me taking this sabbatical was the hope/opportunity to be more fully present with the kids. More emotionally rested and focused on them. And for 3 weeks that’s exactly what happened. It was awesome. The transition from employed to unemployed was really smooth. It truly was like one door closed and, boom, I was only focused on being a dad and a husband. I got the boys dressed in the morning, shared breakfast together and then walked them to school. While holding hands. My goodness it was great. 6 short hours later I was back at their school to pick them up and so enjoyed hearing about their day (and Oliver’s grievances from said day) as we walked home. It was everything I dreamed of (and confirmed my fears that I was missing out on some great stuff while toiling away in front of 6 screens each day). 

That’s now gone. It’s been replaced by, perhaps, a worse version of what existed while I was still working. Disruption is now our daily companion. Melissa and I are packing up a house we love, blasting through the 10 years of crap with hourly bursts of wistful nostalgia (or thriftiness: “we can’t just throw this stuff away, right?! Surely we can donate that to someone in need!?”) all while the kids are left to sort things out on their own. I am most certainly not emotionally available or present. The daily calculus of what to throw out, what to sell and what to pack is exhausting. All this is going on while I stress about the status of the boat and the complete lack of any progress on its preparation. Additionally I know that decisions must be made now to ensure a smoother experience for us in November and further out. But instead I’m dealing with undone chores from 2016 or sorting through paperwork from 2018. 

While I know that we shall persevere and this will come to an end soon I’m beginning to have doubts about how present I will be once we depart. Clearly my current lack of preparation is one component of my worry, but I can picture a scenario where I’ll be so focused on making our way south and keeping the family safe that I won’t have much time to do what I wanted to do in the first place: be more present and spend more time with my family. It’s one thing to be on a boat together physically, but can I get us there safely (and all that entails) while being emotionally present as well? I’m sure there’s tons of books/podcasts that can tell me how to do this…if only I had the time to consume them. Here’s hoping I figure it out. Soon. 

I’d also be remiss if I didn’t mention that Melissa is handling all of this like a fucking champ. Those of you that know us well won’t be surprised by this. I’m sure she’s got her worries as well but you’d never know it. The woman is strong and calm. Meanwhile I’m…well…I’m probably making things harder than they need to be.