Daddy Blog (7/19/11)

July

By: Danny Thomas

july…

summer

sunblock and bug spray

popsicles and bike rides

wet

hot

steam and sweat

the ice cream man

ice cream sandwiches

hot dogs

bonfires

late nights

s’mores

Frisbee

soccer

shorts

sandals

barefoot

sunburns

eyes that sting – from sun, and chlorine…

days filled with games and play and arts and crafts

thunderstorms

melon

taco salad

bike rides

and music outside

camping

bar b q’s potato salad and chips

daycamp

theatre camp

pool time and water play

squirt gun fights and water balloon wars…

itchy skin from grass and sweat and sunshine…

picking strawberries

boat rides

some of the things that

–and luckily even with all the busy-ness that comes from

moving, and working, and being in theatrical productions–

my wife and I have been able to provide for our girls…

I find it strange how it becomes important to expose our kids to some of the things we had, and how we don’t want them to be exposed to some of the things we experienced, and how we discern that… and how they will find their own way, no matter what, and be exposed to things we can’t imagine, but some of these things, these summer things, just seem to make up the fabric of my character and it makes me immeasurably happy to be able to experience them again with my kids.

Blogger Daddy Strikes Again

Home is Where the Heart is

The Next Family
By: Danny Thomas

In my last blog I explored the tired expression, “it takes a village to raise a child…” This month a different platitude has permeated my consciousness. “Home is where the heart is” – especially potent because we are moving… again…

As I spent last Sunday morning sweeping, scrubbing, and clearing out a porch, I was pondering, what is it that makes a home? While my mother-in-law and wife scrubbed and painted inside, I swept sixteen layers of dust off the porch and the reality of once again uprooting and replanting ourselves began to hit.

All. the. stuff.

Moving is hard, sure, but this time, compared to last year, should be a breeze, in so many ways; we are only moving across town, not 1200 miles, we have about a month to spend doing it, we know where we are going…

But it’s never easy is it?

I fantasize about being the kind of person who can carry everything they need or want on their back, or of having a clean, clutter-free house, ergonomically outfitted and streamlined. Not like a motel room, obviously. It would be cozy and comfortable, but there would not be a size six pair of underwear on every flat surface, I would not trip over a pair of shoes around every corner (admittedly, usually my own). The stacks of paperwork would not grow exponentially in corners of basement closets.

But that’s not who I am, that’s not my family. And it’s really okay, it’s more than okay, it’s home.

I am worried about the new house, it’s old, it’s shaped weird. There are parts of it that will never be clean… I don’t know how we are going to fit ourselves into the awkward spaces, and make it feel right.

But something amazing has happened in this process, this time. While expressing my worries to friends and family I have gotten, repeatedly, an astounding compliment, “Oh, you guys always make your place feel like home, it doesn’t matter where you are, you guys always create such a comfortable atmosphere.” (that’s paraphrasing a few people). Well, I couldn’t be prouder.

Now if I could just master the nose twitch like Samantha and zap everything over to the new house in an instant, we could skip all the hard labor and life would be perfect.