Thursday is culture shock day in my life. Itís near the end of a long week, not my worst work day but as close to a second Monday as I care to come. The only reason Friday isnít worse is that itís Friday. I mean, come on. Friday.
On most Thursdays I have dinner with Tammy and David and their boys. I go from my quiet country retreat where I hardly see or talk to anyone to the controlled chaos of a house with three children, the oldest of whom is five. Can you imagine what this is like for me? I love it, but I sometimes find myself a little dizzy from all the energy and activity.
And sometimes the ďcontrolledĒ chaos doesnít seem all that controlled. To me. Obviously Tammy and David know what theyíre doing, and they have a handle on what each child needs and how to provide it. A stranger looking in might not see it that way, but as someone who loves all five of them, I know what to look for. Itís great, and I enjoy my time there. It can get loud, though, and sometimes I get a little lost.
I canít imagine my life without this opportunity to be a part of theirs. I even try to help out a little, although my skills arenít exactly in tune with what they need. But I can listen to D.J.ís endless stories, and I can pay attention to each new thought that Dakota chooses to share, and I can hold Aiden and walk him around until he starts demanding that an actual parent take notice of him.
What more could a single guy ask for? Plus, I can do all that for a few hours and then go home to the peace and quiet. Sometimes I wish I could share that chance with Tammy and David, but that just isnít the way the world works. I canít say enough about how much I admire the way they give those boys what they need, at no small cost to their own serenity and (to some degree) sanity.