Drained

May 19th, 2012


My torso is stretched out on my leather lounge chair. Both my arms are stretched back above my head but they are bent at the elbows and my hands are tucked under my head. The softness of the chair back cushions my forearms from the pressure the weight of my head is exerting on them. The rubber lining hiding beneath the leather folds and stitching, is molding its self around my appendages.

I close my eyes to rest. The computer screen that is resting on the arm of my throne is bright. The bright light emanating from the screen projects itself onto my eye lids penetrating the thin layer of skin and reaching my corneas. I am too tired to move too relaxed to care.

I am so drained.

I revel in the quiet of my house. The kids have finally fell a sleep. They produce an energy that can not be matched. They are their own power plant. Their silence is golden but eerie. The only sounds I hear are the ticking of the clock, an occasional car driving down my street and the wind kicking some poor shrub that happens to be too close to the window.

My week was long. The mornings are getting harder and harder for me to get up because I stay up late to enjoy a little time to myself. My motivation in the morning is that I look forward to my Redbull that I love to sip on the drive to school. I use to wait until I got home from dropping Nico off to his waiting teachers that stand patiently at the curb side, but Christopher won’t let me enjoy it in peace anymore. He wants constant attention. He is truly the baby.

It is utterly exhausting taking care of two toddlers on a daily bases. It is something that should never be taken for granted. They need to be attended to in every moment. The luxury of “time to yourself” cast aside.

I spend time looking for small amounts of simple pleasures, like closing my eyes for a moment. Only to pry them open to find out what new things my children are discovering and mischief they found, always seeming to find the things that will be forbidden before I can designate that it is off limits to them.

To get through my days I block out the thoughts that I have that reminds me that I still have to get child care on a permanent bases for my young ones, even though the reality of it is I have to. It drains any energy I have when I think of it and can change my mood in an instant. So now, I just take my days in twenty-four hour increments. Leaving the next twenty-four hour's up to what the previous twenty-four gave me. Well, something like that.

To prevent myself from being totally drained I try to find things that will occupy the boys time without much physical input from me. I’ll shuffle through the same movie play list that they have begun to be bored of.

Allow them some leeway like playing in the shed. Which is now their clubhouse.

Make an indoor tent utilizing the bed sheets. Until the real fun begins when they tear it down, like a sand castle at the beach, laughing all the while they do it.

Such awesome laughter that can melt the thickest ice. And I am no exception.

I am sitting here in my chair and watching them and their destruction of sheets that formed their tent. The giggles float in the air, like music notes, and travel to where I am, my ears capturing it, enjoying their tune. The sound is intoxicating my senses. The pure joy they are having in the most trivial of things is bringing them normalcy to an otherwise abnormal situation.

I can only wonder what its like to find such innocence in bed sheets when most of our adult life innocence is lost in-between the sheets.

Ultimately they want dad to be in their mix of fun and games. To share their laughter, to enjoy their enthusiasm..

So I find myself obliging their wants and needs by engaging in their childhood by tapping into my inner child that I thought eluded me decades ago when my brain was altered like a drug and gave way to puberty and the angst of being a teenager.

It’s funny, so many of us try to forget what its like being a kid but attempt to tap into the inner child within ourselves, when we long for a time that seemed easy and carefree. Its amazing how our children make us yearn for such a moment.

So I reach in deep into my energy reserves, knowing full well they will be totally drained, but for the needs of my boys it is a sacrifice I am more than willing to make.

I chase them around the backyard, like a game of tag, but instead we're on the prowl for the ever elusive lizard that has been the latest fun for them. Like searching for the Easter eggs we never found last April, the lizard hunt always starts out the same.

“Lizard, lizard.” Nico announces as he walks to the bushes and searches the cracks and crevasse.

I join in.

“Lizard, oh lizard”, I say singing it out loud.

Not to be out done Christopher joins in the paleontology fun searching for the closest of cousins to the dinosaur.

“Where are you lizard”, Christopher announces as he follows behind me while Nico leads the way.

"Hello!" Nico announces, dragging the final O in hello, until he's out of breath.

The search goes on as discovery's are made and others areas need to be explored. This goes on throughout the day. This is their worry, their need to find a lizard. My reserves wind down and I head for my hanger to recharge my battery until the next time they beacon me.

Nico senses my need to rest and he follows behind me as I walk though the back door and straight to my lounge chair. When I sit down in my chair I instinctually reach down with my right hand to pull the plastic handle that will extend the foot rest in the up position. But this time I am met with resistance. He had knelt down beside the chair and as I went to extend my feet he pushed my hand away. He pulled the lever himself. Showing his dad he appreciates the time he spent with them. All I can do is smile.

I stare at my oldest son as he looks up at me. I smile at him and reach my hand out running it through his hair. My energy may be draining to empty, but my love is always on full. I glance over to the television that’s mounted on the wall. But my peripheral catches Christopher walking in and he has a little dance to his step. He is happy. My smile gives way to a snicker of excitement because I have them.

They are the only fuel I need. They pick me up when I am down more so then I do them.

Like a tub drain draining the water so goes my vigor. It’s a constant battle to find the right mixture of fatherhood and well being. I go on pure vehemence and vitality.

Like an oil well I pump out every once of childhood I have in me until the last drop in order to give my kids there own childhood free from the worries of adulthood. Carefree living is the way for them to live and just as my son put my feet up to help me relax, I will put my feet down to help them play.

I will find my energy through them even if it's draining away.


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Christopher Fusaro. The author of Captain Imperfecto.

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