…my kids still want me around when they’re scared.

I get annoyed by it too easily. But it’s probably not going to be too long before they stop asking for sleepovers, hugs, and snuggles, and instead start yelling at me for being in the same room when they’re breathing.

Last night my youngest wanted me to hold her like a baby before she would climb up her bunk bed. In the moment I was mad that she was stalling. But she fell asleep in my arms for the first time in years, and quite possibly the last. At least I was able to make a note of the time for posterity.

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…I finally got that stuck hose off the bibb.

Part of the long term damage of living in a fixer-upper is that you develop an intense fear of leaks. At our last house we had three separate issues with freezing / bursting pipes and now I’m morbidly obsessed with water damage.

No bursts at our current house… yet. I’m determined to keep it that way, so I’m trying to take winterizing seriously. This also explains why I’m rapidly becoming a boring 80 year-old.

Anyway, I hadn’t been able to winterize the rear hose bibb on our house because the hose was stuck. After two years of worrying about it I finally cut the stupid thing off.

Yup, boring responsible me wins again. Because reckless me can’t afford another fucking plumbing repair.

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…I’ve never been cool.

Every now and again I panic that I’m getting less connected and less relevant, and I fear I’ll just be a confused old man soon.

Then I remember that I’ve never understood a goddamn thing about popularity. And everything’s okay again.

Nobody’s ever liked my music or my clothes or pretty much anything else that kids link to identity. And yet I still like what I like. Go figure. Turns out getting old is just another number I don’t have time to give a shit about.

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…my kids still think I’m cool enough to hang out with.

I don’t know how much longer I’ll get to ride that wave. The affection is going to dry up eventually.

I’m too goddamn busy. Yesterday they wanted me to go on “an adventure” with them and I had to cut it short in order to wash all the laundry that had been piling up while our machine was fucked up (see this week’s prior posts). Life’s really cruel like that.

Today I’ve got some time to bask. We’ll probably just mess around with Lego and cartoons. I hope that’s what they remember most when they get old enough to choose whether or not I stay in their lives. And I hope I’m wise enough to just trust them instead of projecting all my fears of irrelevancy and failure.

I think we’ll be okay. They like Lego, and I have literally never been cool. I’ve got no ego to boss me around.

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