I am quite the melodramatic fellow, with a hearty dash of doom and gloom and pessimism thrown in to boot. I’m noticing this trend and I’m making some gains in nipping this kind of negativity in the bud. One way it manifests is in my perception of other families and the quality of life for the children.For the longest time, I’ve been saddened when I think of the kids who end up in the OHL, playing hockey in a city far away from home. I could only think of those boys being away from their moms and dads for months at a time, and how lonely that must be. Of course, I’m really projecting my feelings about the idea of Max being away from  me, which is a little premature since he’s only 3.

As I was watching a Knight’s game last week and babbling on about this to my buddy, I took a moment to stop and look at it from a better perspective. Instead of focusing on the distance from hometowns (and for the Russian players, the language barrier), I realized how much of a positive experience it was for the kids. They get to work on their skills and live with other hockey families as they expand their horizons and play the game they love.

And last night, I was overly emotional and sad over my very myopic view of one of Max’s friends home life. I had weaved a sad-sack narrative that I needed to spend a lot of time with him to improve his quality of life, when in actuality, his home life is fine. Just because his parents handle things in a way that I wouldn’t, it doesn’t mean that I need to swoop in a rescue the boy. His parents love him, and they’re giving him a fine upbringing without my butting in.

That isn’t to say that I don’t believe that my parenting style is better. You have to believe your parent-fu is strong, to do a good job. It’s all subjective, and there are a million ways to raise a kid, but I am very happy with the way we talk things through and work together. I like listening to Max and giving him a say in how we accomplish our goals.

This was the perfect working holiday for me today. My wonderful wife took the little dude over to his friend’s house for a play date and a fun lunch at McDonalds. I know, we can all tut tut about the nutritional value of the food there, and that is a valid concern, but he eats so little of it right now that it’s a non-issue. He’s too excited to go play in the playland area to eat any real amount. So he had a great fun time. And, while they were out, I finally got a good chunk of editing done on my novel.

I had been stalling, beating myself up, and generally being a sad sack for the last few days. I was trying to kick myself in the butt to get things done, but I don’t handle that very well. Instead of getting more motivated, I get frustrated at what I can’t achieve and I then descend into a mopey pit of malaise. Last night, I gave up on pulling the stubborn mule that is my mind. The wife gave me the night off to relax and feel better, and I did just that. When this morning came around, I was ready to focus and get some work done. That’s a second ‘thank you’ I owe my wife.

A big part of my problem is that I look at other professional writers and I compare what I accomplish day-to-day with what they do. What I didn’t understand until today is that, even though I now see myself as a professional writer, I still have the hangups and challenges I had before seeing myself as a writer. I won’t magically shed my existing issues just because I’m following my dreams. That is the important part to keep in mind, though: I am living my dream. I get to write, without any real worry about money. And I get to spend my days with my little dude as he grows and learns and becomes more amazing with each day that passes.

I shouldn’t spend any time or effort worrying about what people might think of my parenting. Firstly, I’m fairly awesome at being a dad. By this point in the game, I’ve got a good skill set, a surplus of patience, and an overwhelming love for the little dude. And logically, anyone watching how we interact and get through the day would be impressed with us. There’s also the ridiculousness of thinking that anyone is watching in the first place. I’ve always been overly concerned with the perception that hypothetical other people might have of me, which is silly.

There are a few moments, thought, that I still can’t help but imagine how a person wandering by could misinterpret what they saw or hear, like I’m living a sit-com. Two examples:

1)Max is a fan of being nude, like any kid. One day while getting dressed to leave the house, I dove under the covers stark naked  and hid, because I thought it would be funny. Max climbed in after me and we hung out, just two nudies in the bed. How was I supposed to know that he would want to keep having nudie time every day for the next few weeks? I try to focus on the ‘healthy body image and comfort with the human form’ element of the whole scenario, but I’d hate to have to explain it to a passerby.

2) He’s currently a fan of running a circular loop through the living room, kitchen, and hallway, and he gets pretty jazzed when we count the number of laps he’s doing. Were someone to hear me asking how many laps he wanted to do this time, they might incorrectly believe that the running is part of some strange training regimen or disciplinary action. I swear it’s all his idea and he loves doing it. He did run himself into a stitch in side today, which was a novel experience. It took about 12 consecutive laps for the stitch to happen, and it cleared up after a few minutes of rest. His explanation was that he was ‘too full of potato chips to run anymore’. That may be, my boy, that may be.