Cake or Death

Killian organizing the snacks

Beck getting tired of the camera in his face all the time

     Sunday's are the hardest for me to get through.  Monday's I have Beck and Killian, Tuesday through Friday I have work.  Saturday's I spend the morning getting ready for the boys to come over and then I have the boys during a four hour block filled with laughter in the afternoon.  All of the changes taking place in my life seem to come crashing down on me during the one day that I really don't have anything going on.  On Sunday the house is empty of their laughter.  I miss them.  I see all the toys that are not being played with.  I remember where they set things down, the things they said the previous day.  The place on the floor where we wrestled.  The spot on the speaker Killian was organizing all the Tupperware and Mom pointing out that she thought he got that from me.  I even miss watching the Cars tactoe (tractor) scene one hundred times in a row with the sound turned up full volume.  Sunday hurts.     
    When I knew that Madame X and I were not going to make it.  I began the internal debate of whether it would be better to stay and be miserable, or leave and not spend a lot of time with Beck and Killian but be a happier father.  Was I being selfish.  Would it help the boys to be raised in two happy households or one miserable house.  For a long time I had no desire to have children.  I didn't think I was cut out for fatherhood.  In such a short amount of time these boys had become part of my very soul.  I felt that I existed to make their lives a better place.  To take care of them and protect them.  I was now faced with a decision that had a bad outcome with either path I took.  It was like getting to pick how you die.  Sure you can make sure you don't die by fire or drowning.  But in the end, you still die.
     There are days I feel like giving up.  Like I am a babysitter a couple of days a month.  Days I feel that spending thirty two hours a month with me wouldn't make a difference in their lives.  The boys wouldn't every grow close to me during that time.  They call me Daddy, but I think that is just a name to them.  The boys don't really know what it means yet.  I hope in the future when they read this, they feel like I made a difference in their lives.  I hope they are glad that I didn't give up.  And that they know what calling me Daddy means.  I love you Beck and Killian.  I promise not to give up.