Wanting it to work
Hoping it will work
Trying to make it work
Longing for it to work
Before realizing
It’s not supposed to BE work.
Not like this at any rate.
Not in a way that leaves me waiting
For the good part to come
For the joy to reveal itself
Having to heal myself
From missunderstandings and accusations
Red herrings
False expectations.
I’m supposed to feel that joy
Even in the harder moments.
It’s meant to infuse and define
The entire process
Leaving me feeling more
Not less.
I’ll confess to the part that’s mine
It’s taken far too much time
For me to learn what life’s been teaching
I’ve actually been over-reaching
In attempts to deal with holes to fill
Thinking every hole an ill
Not being able to clearly see
That the holes are those that define me
And if I want to take command
I need to understand more of my own map
Not search for solutions in another’s lap
And when others come into my sight
I must resist with all my might
The urge to be someone’s white knight
Or someone’s dark horse, unpolished diamond
Not a sight on someone’s distant horizon
Need to understand there’s more for me
To wait for someone to adore me
Someone whom I adore in turn
Who’s there to share not make me learn
Their lessons unnaturally
But someone who fits comfortably
Where I don’t wait for joy revealed
Where there’s so much joy it can’t be concealed
Where the love feels like a blessed gift
And even the work gives me a lift
Where stumbling’s accepted, not judged
Not critized and begrudged
We all make mistakes
I need someone who takes
Those things in stride
Not a force to be defied
But whose eyes light up
In love and kindness
Where each day serves to remind us
That we are better off together
And whether that will come along
I can’t be sure
But a love that pure
Is the only one worth taking
Till then
I’ll be making my own way
Living my life day to day
And being finally able to say,
Without a doubt to linger at
I’m actually okay with that.

The guilt of the working mom

I’m sitting in the hospital waiting room and The Today Show is playing on one of the TVs.  The ladies are discussing the “guilt of the working mom,” whatever the hell that means.  Maybe it’s because I’m a guy, but I don’t understand why women would feel guilty about working and not staying home with their children.  I don’t mind dropping the boys off and heading to work.  In fact I could drop them off permanently and come back when they are fully-developed adults.  Okay so that’s a bit extreme even for me.
Still, I don’t think anybody should feel guilty about providing for their children’s future.  But perhaps it’s different for some people, they feel like they will miss some major milestone in their child’s development or something: their baby’s first step, spoken word, ad nauseum; if they are not in their child’s life every nanosecond.  I did get to experience both those things and I can honestly say they are overrated.  Now that I think about it, I don’t even remember what my firstborn said.  Luckily moms remember those kinds of things.

I don’t really have anything against these people, I just feel like women in general need to give themselves a break and know that they are good mothers and that leaving their children for a few hours is okay.  These ladies talking about guilt are not doing anybody any favors and might even make women feel worse about themselves.  Just my 2 cents…

Whatever. Let’s have a fucking lunch meeting.

At 12 ‘o clock I was literally on my way out of the building when Jonas informed me that we’re supposed to be having a lunch meeting. Oh great. My favorite kind of meeting. The Big Boss (the one that everybody hates) had come down all the way from Stockholm and wanted to discuss last week’s interviews with the school inspection people. Okay. Sure. Fine. I guess we absolutely have to do this right fucking now.

I was having such a great day at work too. Some of my colleagues and students and myself had spent the morning painting one of the school walls with different motifs and quotations, and having a really good time doing it. This was one of the student counsel’s projects. They wanted to decorate the school and got permission to paint a few walls. We worked on it until lunch time and then I got ready to leave since I had worked my scheduled hours for the day.

I was pretty eager to get the hell out of there too, since it was past my normal lunch time of 11:30 and I didn’t have time to eat any breakfast this morning. When this happens it’s usually not a big problem because I can grab a piece of fruit or something from the conference room and then have an early lunch around 11 or 11:30. Not today, however.

With my stomach as hollow as the Grand Canyon, I sat down and proceeded to watch everyone else eat lunch for the next hour. We each had to tell the Big Boss precisely what the school inspectors had asked us and what responses we gave during our interviews. He had all the English teachers go first so I was done after about ten minutes. I then sat there for the remaining 50 minutes not able to concentrate on what anyone else way saying (in Swedish, naturally) because I felt like I was about to pass out from hunger.

Then they wanted to have an after-work session at 5 ‘o clock later on and they wanted me to go. I said that I was only scheduled to work from 8 to 12 so I was going home. Yeah, but after-work is not considered part of working hours, they said. Duh. No, I said. I’m not coming back for that. Then when they started to press me further, I informed them rather loudly and irritably, that I really needed to leave because I hadn’t eaten yet and I REALLY NEEDED to eat.

I then stormed out of the building and headed home. Of course I had just missed both of my normal short cut methods of transport (bus and ferry) so I had to take the bloody tram. It doubles the time it takes to get home. When I got to where I change trams at Brunnsparken, I bought myself two doughnuts and gobbled half of one down immediately.

When I got home I ate the rest of the doughnuts and cracked open a Bacardi Breezer, even though it was only two in the afternoon. I’m feeling okay now. Doughnuts and booze did the trick.