Should I greet you?
Communicating over the Internet has always truck me as slightly surreal–you’re there but you’re not there. I’m invested in what you’re writing, but I have no idea who you are behind that screen. Maybe that’s why I’ve hesitated until now to start a blog.
I guess I should get over it.
After all, the basis for this blog is an account of All Things Between, especially the weird stuff that happens only in those transitory places.
I got a taste of that yesterday, when my eldest Godson Dozer came to ask me if he could get on his computer–in the hopes of circumventing the parental edict that there was no computer use before two PM. “You know perfectly well that you have to ask your parents to use your computer.”
“But Pod, you ARE our parent.”
Whether or not my dear sweet (manipulative) Godson told me this purely to get an extra half-hour of “Spore” time or not, his sentiment was sincere. I’ve been a third parent to he and his younger brother for the last seven years, in spite of the fact that we are not technically related. I’ve shed blood,sweat, and tears for my family, going so far as to drop out of college once to keep a roof over our heads when money was tight. Since I came back to school, however, my role as parent has become diminished per the demands of my role as a student. This is an endless source of dilemma for me, particularly since the birth of my Goddaughter–they are the breath of life in my lungs, but finding time to surface from my studies to see my family means making time.
Over the break, I decided that since so many of the people I tutor are parents, it was time for me to step up. Sure, I’m the parent that’s never home, but that’s the joy and the pain of being a Godparent; you’re supposed to be a little removed from the situation. The trick is drawing the line at how much priority you’re willing to place on family and how much you must place on your other responsibilities.
I figured I’d answer this question with another question:
What can I do that my sister and brother-in-law don’t already do for their boys?
The answer lay with my education. My sister, while a mathematical genius, is severely dyslexic and my brother-in-law works construction and is usually exhausted when he gets home. I’m not only able to get the boys to hold still long enough to let me read to them, but I’m able to help them read to me.
I showed up to Christmas dinner with about twenty children’s and young adult books and promised, “Every Friday afternoon from now until I go away to grad school, I’ll come and read to you boys.”
Now I’m obligated by my word to be more involved; there’s a special hell for people that break their promises to their kids.
My point in this long and seemingly un-related tangent is that I navigate the space between worlds regularly in my material life, no matter how surreal it gets–and the whole point of this blog is to talk about it with a reader who, for me, exists similarly in a space between.
It’s nice to meet you.