Over the past year, there’s been plenty of change in my life, both professionally and personally, that has contributed to me ending up in a place that I’m not overly comfortable with, proud of or even aware of (at times). I’ve shifted positions within my career, which has caused an entirely unforeseen tsunami of chaos. Suddenly I’m forgetful, distracted, scatterbrained. And while plenty of folks see these are extensions of their normal personality, to me they are regretful expressions of my time and attention being stretched thin, and my inability to control professional stress that is causing fractures in an otherwise composed personality. My entire life I’ve been “together,” and lately I feel as if things are quickly disintegrating. I keep searching for balance, for the middle ground that’s safe, but every time I feel like I’m making progress the variables change again.

I’m at a complete loss as to how fathers–or parents in general, but I can only speak from a father’s perspective–are able to maintain a balance of Mr. Professional (dedicated, trustworthy and loyal employee) with Dad (engaged parent able to spend time and nurture his children’s growth) and Husband (attentive, supportive teammate). I know the stakes. I am aware of what’s required. I know that I’m more than competent at succeeding at each role’s requirements. What I’m continually stumped at is how to fit it all in, how to keep all the proverbial juggling balls in the air concurrently.

Everything comes with a tradeoff, an opportunity cost. I get that. I’m willing to sacrifice bettering my own health and forgo an hour workout in favor of taking 60 minutes to fix healthy, nutritious dinners for my wife and children. But there aren’t enough hours in the day to keep the kitchen at a socially acceptable level of cleanliness, walk or groom the dog, mown the lawn, pay some bills and file receipts, prepare things for the next day and fix Liam’s toy that broke. A normal day in our household sees 90 minutes where we are all together, 90 minutes of frenetic movement, cleaning, crying jags, obnoxious musical baby toys blaring, appliances failing. And after that hour and a half when everything must occur, the clock resets and we start all over.

I desperately wish I could sit down and teach Liam familiarity with the piano more often than once every two months. I wish I could sit and draw with him several times a week, as he’s showing true talent. I’m fearful of good weather returning to Kentucky as it will undoubtedly bring about pleas for a backyard playmate each night…not because I don’t want to, but because essential, operational things what will be neglected in lieu of it. Maybe at the end of the day I’m simply bitter that I have to choose between my family and everything else. I know I’m not alone, and I know I’m lucky that I only have one job to work to support my family instead of two or three like many Americans.

This won’t be solved magically, or in an unexpected epiphany in the wee hours of the morning. I can only hope that my current rate of failure at balancing work and family will eventually course-correct itself after umpteenth times of sucking. Perhaps in five years I’ll have a better handle on how to contain the stress and chaos of work, the accountability to my employees and to my coworkers, as well as my familial obligations, desires and responsibilities.

I want nothing more than to be a good father. I just need more time to get there.

Yosemite HD from Project Yosemite on Vimeo.

More info at the website. [projectyose.com]

Six Months

This won’t be the typical, overwrought “where has the time gone?” post. Or maybe it will, because honestly I’m not sure how the ever-constant march of time seems to increase in velocity with every passing year. When I was younger, hearing adults grumble about how quickly times moves seemed like a generic conversational segue, something all big people could agree upon, like the weather or the sorry state of the local sports team. I suppose it’s just that I’m too wrapped up in career and family life to notice just how quickly this train is moving.

Six months ago, our family dynamic shifted dramatically. Liam never exhibited the expected whiplash, toddlerish behavior rooted in jealousy or frustration. It takes quite a bit to make me lose my words, but watching Liam come home from daycare at night and kiss his baby brother on the cheek, softly asking how his day was makes me mute. He’s the perfect big brother, dealing with constant nagging from us to be quiet or be more gentle. And Rory could not be more smitten with his older brother. All else ceases to exist when Liam wanders (or thunders) into the room. Truly, Liam could read the phonebook to Rory and he would just laugh and giggle and coo. I pray that this bond that seems so strong now will stand the test of time (and adolescence).

Bathtime buddies

So as the milestones tick by, first teeth, rolling over, first solid foods, it all feels so familiar, yet simultaneously so distinctly different. I still struggle with just how different the experiences of raising two kids can be. Shared genetic data, yet so fundamentally unique in demeanor and personality. It goes to show just how little I understand in this world.

I’m confident that in July I’ll have the same deer in headlight sentiments, confused at how he’s already turning one. I expect that. I just hope that I’m able to hold on to even a few of the yet uncreated memories between now and then.

1. New Software System for Realistically Adding Objects Into Photos – Prepare to have your mind blown. Or panic. Either, really.
2. Rugs by Linus Dean – I’d love one of these rugs for my office, especially the Melbourne.
3. Coffee Made Me Do It – Inspiring work of Hyper Island student Simon Ålander
4. Beautiful Cabins – I’ve always wanted a small, humble, one-person cabin in the woods somewhere. Photos of these make me drool [via]
5. Michael Winslow of Police Academy fame covers Led Zepplin with his voice – This guy is nuts. He came to Xavier when I was a freshman. He’s hilarious and talented.

That couch, my bed, was as uncomfortable as it is ugly.

The Tuesday before last, we added a fourth member to our little family. Rory Oliver Faust was brought into the world (with a shocking amount of hair for a Faust male), and a tongue wanting to taste food less than five minutes after birth. He’s the spitting image of his older brother, but with this mother’s complexion.

After several sleepless nights in the hospital remembering just how dizzying it all is, we bumbled our way home in record heat and collapsed in an exhausted heap on the couch. The entire experience thus far has been the complete opposite to our inaugural voyage into parenthood, with everything going smoothly. Eerily so. But don’t get me wrong, there is no room for complaint here. It’s just amazing how far a little experience will get you.

We’ve had our bumps and 2am arguments. We’ve had newborn meltdowns and toddler tantrums. But as a family unit, it just feels right. It feels complete. And most importantly, it feels much less intimidating and overwhelming.

Even after The Wife™ and I are long gone, they will still have one another.

On Sunday, while The Wife™ caught up on some much-deserved sleep, Liam sat on the couch with me to help feed Rory. Jonas threw himself dramatically at our feet, never wanting to be left out of anything. As we sat there in the early dawn sunlight, Liam crawled into my lap to get closer. He’s fascinated with Rory, the concept of being a baby and not knowing how to do things. He loves his little brother far more than I ever expected he would. And as he sat snuggled in my right arm, holding Rory’s bottle so that the little one could eat, he looked up and me and said in all earnestness, ” Daddy, when Rory gets bigger I’m going to show him how to watch a movie, and ride bikes outside, and play soccer!” It touched my heart. Instead of being the expected jealous, angry oldest sibling he is in love with his role as helping hand and big brother. Instead of rejecting the newest member of our family and attempting to earn love and attention from otherwise distracted parents, he is embracing him.  I feel an overall sense of peace in him–even if that doesn’t quite make sense. He has taken everything in perfect stride.

I know the newfound love will fade a bit with Liam, especially once Rory is old enough to steal toys or call him names or any of the other annoying things that little brothers do. But it gives me tremendous hope knowing that my sons might just grow up to be friends with one another, that they might be good people who focus less on what it’s cost them and more on what they’ve gained. Even after The Wife™ and I are long gone, they will still have one another. That counts for a lot.

We picked Liam up from daycare on Tuesday as a foursome for the first time. Upon learning that Rory was in the backseat riding next to him, Liam visibily cheered, jumping up and down. He was overcome with joy that he and Rory were going to ride together in the back of the car. And as we drove away towards home, Liam proclaimed, “Now we’re a square mommy! We make a square now!”

Yes, we do.

I woke in a panic last night, bolting upright and gasping in a way that is entirely uncharacteristic of me. The burning feeling of acid in my stomach–having become my constant companion these past few weeks–churned and kept me blearily awake for awhile. I had been dreaming of something that I couldn’t quite pin down, but really I know it was the familiar feeling of falling that had jolted me out of sleep. I’m not ready for this.

In a bit more than 24 hours from now we’ll be upping our baby quotient by one. Our small unit of three will now be four and the sleepless nights spent rocking and soothing will return, and the zombie-like days of panicking over college funds and daycare costs will set in. I’m really not ready for this.

Do most parents come apart this much before the arrival of their second? Gone is the giddiness and anticipation of the unexpected that accompanied Liam’s birth. Knowing what’s coming (and when it’s coming) this time is killing me. This is the split second after you lose control of the steering wheel, before you hit the guard rail, when you’re floating through space and time magically slows to a crawl. Having time to contemplate things makes it infinitesimally worse. Am I ready for this?

When Liam was a baby, with every new developmental milestone he would acquire it and file it away. He learned how to roll over and having mastered it, never did it much after that unless it was purposeful. I realize now that he’s like me. I bumbled my way through the rough parts of early fatherhood, figuring out just enough to keep things going and now I see that I packed all of these emotions and mindset away in my mental attic since Liam has graduated to toddlerhood. Dusting off these feelings is terrifying because I forgot just how scared I was when I first became a father, the apprehension of failure looming over my head. I didn’t think I was ready then, but things were fine in the end.

Last week after I had picked Liam up from daycare he was sitting at the table at home and announced, “When I grow up I’m going to cook food.” Stunned, I looked at him and asked if they had been talking about jobs at ’school’ and he said yes. The Wife™ chimed in and asked if he meant that he would be a chef and he said, “yea, I’ll cook food like Daddy does.” It was then when I realized just how much impact you have on your children, that they watch what you do for them even when you think that they don’t. The entire gravity of fatherhood came rushing in to smack me in the face, reminding me just how important this fatherhood thing is.

I’m ready for this.