Here's why the blog ends today...for good

I know I said this once before, but this time I mean it...

Today marks the last day of They Still Call Me Daddy as an active blog. I enjoy doing it, I really do. And I know I'm not obligated to justify this decision to anyone, but I figured I owed that much to those who take the time read it regularly.

The reason of course, is time. It always comes back to time, doesn't it? Time and how we manage it. It's a precious resource, and one of which I have relatively little.

I only post three days a week, but even the time it takes to compose one of these little essays is time away from the kids. And I got five of 'em, folks. Five who get a chunk of my day now, but who deserve more.

Plus, almost five months into my role as Director of Communications at Vitamix, I've come to discover that I truly have a Big Boy Job now. It's hugely rewarding and enjoyable, but it's undeniably a position that requires lots and lots of hours. It ain't 9 to 5, for sure. The more appropriate numbers to describe it are "24" and "7."

Then there's this: I may want to go after my MBA. It's a personal and professional goal with an immense amount of payoff, most of it intangible. And for a number of reasons, the time for me to do it may be now.

Even at 1-2 classes at a time, an MBA would be hugely time-consuming for me. There's no way around that. And it's going to take me years to finish it, with no guarantee I ever will. But I'm considering giving it a shot.

Then there are the ever-present priorities of my wonderful wife, my spiritual life, and taking care of myself physically.

God + Family + Career + Personal Care & Development = Barely Enough Time to Sleep, Let Alone Do Anything Else.

I truly appreciate everyone who read the 230-plus posts I've written since starting this thing back in December 2011 (with a eight-month or so hiatus thrown into the middle). Your comments and encouragement were always greatly appreciated.

Before I go, though, I'm not sure I ever told you about the time I was on two game shows...

10 things about me I can't believe my wife puts up with

1. I get cranky when I get stressed
I like to think I can handle a lot, but when I feel like my cup runneth over, I get irritable. She generally lets it slide, God bless her.

2. I can't fix anything
I know we've been over this before, but really, how much easier would her life be if her husband knew how to repair stuff? As it is, she either has to learn how to fix things herself, farm the job out to her dad, or simply go out and a buy new version of whatever has broken. Sorry, hon.

3. I am inordinately interested in grown men playing games
My sports fandom is something I keep relatively in control, but every once in awhile I think it must bother her. Like when I stay up late to watch the end of a game and cheer just loud enough to wake her up.

4. I am an all-or-nothing person
I'll go to Terry and say, "Geez, I'm having a hard time keeping up with my running schedule." And she, very sensibly, will ask something like, "Why don't you cut back to running only a few days a week?" And I, very insensibly, will reply (in caps), "NO! I MUST EITHER RUN 75,000 MILES EVERY WEEK OR I WON'T RUN AT ALL! THERE WILL BE NO IN-BETWEEN!"

5. I hate losing to her in anything
Especially Putt Putt. She's a very good miniature golfer, I am not. But I will try my darndest to beat her because I must not lose to a girl. Trust me, I annoy even myself with this one.

6. I insist on cleaning the kitchen before we go to bed
I'll come home and the kitchen will be a mess, and Terry will tell me not to worry because she'll clean it in the morning. And I know she will. But the thought of dirty dishes sitting in the sink overnight bothers me to no end. I don't know why, it just does. So almost inevitably, I will clean the kitchen myself (and come to think of it, I have to believe she knows this and uses it to her own advantage. She's sneaky.)

7. I work my game show experience into far too many conversations
Did I ever tell you that I was on two game shows? Not one, TWO. See, it all started when...

8. I refuse to believe I am any good at anything
"Self-deprecating" is one thing. That's kind of admirable. But "constantly believing you're the worst person in the world and saying so" has to grate on your significant other after awhile. Or at least I imagine it is.

9. I can be obsessive
This is closely related to #4, I suppose. Like the Weight Watchers thing. I lost a good deal of weight and continue to track my food every day using the Weight Watchers PointsPlus system. And if given the chance, I will talk to you about it. Forever. I track everything that goes into my mouth, and I don't eat nearly the quantity of desserts I used to. I'm a weight loss evangelist. And like anyone who has discovered a new way of life and wants to tell you about it, I am annoying.

10. I write about our personal lives in a public blog
Seriously, who does that?

In every parent is a bit of the harbor master

"August Winds"
Lyrics by Sting

When August winds are turning,
The fishing boats set out upon the sea,
I watch 'til they sail out of sight,
The winter follows soon,
I watch them drawn into the night,
Beneath the August moon.

My children, my little "fishing boats," are at various stages of life.

On one end is Elissa, our 19-year-old. She is a college sophomore, only a few years away from sailing out of the harbor of family and home that has protected her since birth.

On the other end is Jack, our 7-year-old second-grader. He's so smart and so engaging and he makes me happy every day.

Eventually, all of the little fishing boats in our house will sail away. I know it must be this way, and I understand.

I figure Terry and I are about in the "August" of our parenthood. A lot of years are behind us, but there are still quite a few ahead. We'll always be Mom and Dad, but the actual process of raising young children is about 2/3rds finished.

No one knows I come here,

Some things I don't share.

I can't explain the reasons why,

It moves me close to tears,

Or something in the season's change,

Will find me wandering here.

So here's what happens: Sometimes I'll be running and listening to my iPod, and a sentimental song will come up that reminds me of when the kids were little or when we took a family vacation or something, and I'll suddenly find myself right on the verge of tears.

Really, that happens quite a bit. And they're not sad tears in any way, nor are they tears of joy. I think it's what the word "melancholy" was coined to described. It's a "happy sadness." Do you know what I mean?

I don't talk about it much, but it happens. With one in college and two in high school, you start to wonder how good a job you've done as a parent. Some things you figure you did well, others not so much. As hard as the job is, you never really want it to end.

And in my public moments,

I hear things I say, but they're not me.

Perhaps I'll know before I die,

Admit that there's a reason why

I count the boats returning to the sea.

I count the boats returning to the sea.

Every day, at least once, I run through a mental list of my children to note where they are, what they're doing, and whether I need to do anything to make sure they're OK. I do this every day, without fail, as do most parents.

I have to do this, of course, because the little fishing boats are constantly gone on short excursions...work, school, hanging out with friends, whatever. These trips are all practice for the day they sail away for good, and it's part of my job to make sure they know the way.

And to make sure that one day I'll be OK when they don't need me anymore.

And in my private moments,

I drop the mask that I've been forced to wear.

But no one knows this secret me,

Where albeit unconsciously,

I count the boats returning from the sea.

I count the boats returning from the sea.

One of my favorite times of the day is right before we go to bed and I go about my nightly routine of closing and locking doors, shutting windows, turning off lights, etc.

Part of that routine is one final, almost subconscious run through the roster. "Elissa? At college. Chloe? Upstairs reading. Jared? In his room checking the Indians score online. Melanie? In the shower. Jack? In bed. All present and accounted for."

And then, with a small sigh of relief, I head off for the bedroom and slide under the covers next to the woman who has shared this job of parenting with me for nearly 20 years. We'll do it again tomorrow, but for now, the boats have all returned from the sea.

And I am happy.