straight lines, clean edges

Back in Vienna, back at work, and tonight, back at the English Cinema Haydn (to see Hancock.) Back in my comfortable little ratpath. Everything where it should be, my desk in order, everyone at home and at the job seemingly satisfied with my performance. I feel...in place.

Which feels...funny. For the last four months, I was on a half-time schedule at work and a half-time schedule as a papa. So in the living room and at the office, everything felt half-done, hurried, hectic. Now after three full days back at the job, I feel like I'm back on top of that game (thank gawd.)

And everyone at home appears to be okay with me being a working guy and not being around so much.

So why do I feel out of step? Why do I feel a little too light on my feet now that I finally have a night off for myself?

Anette was recently reading a book by an American mom, about how American moms do everything for their kids, and then still feel like bad, neglectful parents. I got pretty smug when she told me about it. But now I think I can understand that conflict. As a father, one spends so much time, in one way or another, trying to keep the train on its tracks. Picking up one kid at kindergarten, taking the other one to meet her biological mother. Working a job to pay the bills, picking up the Legos, chopping the vegetables, changing the sheets. I rarely get everything done, so when I do it feels like I must have missed something. Or forgotten to tell Adinah or Anette or V. how much I love them.

Anette is more tireless, and much better at running the trains. I know I've never spent so much time thinking about other people and what I need to do for them. In the first 35 years of my life, I knew love and family was important to me. But I still acted, talked, thought, worked and played for myself. I was Team Blashill.

Now I play for Team Blashill-Baldauf. I guess that still startles me.