[The Brazil Times nameplate] Light Rain Fog/Mist ~ 56°F  
High: 64°F ~ Low: 48°F
Saturday, Apr. 30, 2016

In search of advice

Sunday, March 27, 2011

As winter draws to a close and signs of spring are all around, I find myself in a bit of a fog.

Our household was full of sickness for much of the winter.

Both Merry and James David battled illness for much of the winter. At times, I wondered if it might ever end.

I managed to escape the sickness.

Until now.

As the temperatures started increasing, my sinuses began to wreak havoc on me.

Ears are popping randomly. I'm going through more tissue than I have in a long time.

My head feels like it could explode at any minute, as the pressure is numbing.

And yet, there is so much do to and so little time to get it done.

With this in mind, I feel like I'm burning the candle at both ends, with no end in sight if one end will stop burning or not.

Waking up every morning to get ready for a day at work has never been a problem for me.

Waking up every morning to take care of a family is definitely something new.

Something I need to do a better job with.

It's easy to wake up, take the shower, drink the coffee, jump in the car and head to the office.

It's not as easy to be a family man.

And I'm learning this as each day passes.

It's probably too early to refer to myself as a failure in this department.

But I definitely can do a better job.

I have always been my worst critic.

When mistakes happen in the paper, I take it to heart.

It bothers me. Sometimes, I dwell on those mistakes, even after the day has concluded and I'm at home, preparing to relax before slumber.

I have to pay more attention to my family.


This is a greater responsibility than any I've ever encountered.

My job, in all reality, never ends.

But neither does my job as a father or as a husband.

Being a parent is the most difficult job anyone can undertake.

Again, it's something I'm learning as each day passes.

I hope James David understands someday I'm only trying my best to make sure we have a roof over our heads. That we have food for the table.

But he also needs to see love from me.

At times, I find myself just sitting there with him, not really saying anything, but just staring at him, completely dumbfounded that I helped create something so magical.

Moments like this are when I can't help but think of my father and how he dealt with these feelings.

What did he do?

How did he handle it?

Then I'm reminded of how he's like to this day.

How when we drive over to visit, he always asks that we call them when we get home.

Being a parent and handling situations like these never really ends.