Merry Christmas

Well, it seems I have lost my way.

This all began with a few emails to a few friends about the US Olympic Swimming Trials.  I did it for fun and I did it for myself.  I enjoy the US Olympic Swimming trials, because I enjoy watching the best of the best in a sport I love fulfill their ultimate dreams.  A dream I never even remotely approached.  I like to talk about it and, let's be honest, not many around the water-cooler are itching to discuss Olympic Trials swimming, so I harassed a few friends.  They seemed to enjoy my aquatic ramblings, so I continued when the Olympics started.

The Olympic blogs were truly a labor of love.  Make no mistake, it was labor intensive, but I love the Olympics.  I would have watched as much, if not more, regardless of whether I was reporting my observations to an audience of at least 6.  Again, I wanted to share my thoughts with others, so I turned the emails into a blog.  The Olympics, I now realize, were more than just a subject for writing, they were my muse.  I wrote in my conclusion post that the Olympics felt like an old friend, but they were obviously so much more for me.  The Olympics, and this blog, took over my life.  I wouldn't have changed a thing about it, except for the whole job thing.  If I could have, I would have watched more, and I would have wrote more.  I loved it that much.  I never thought of the writing as work and I never had to convince myself to write.  I looked forward to it, and it just happened.

The Olympics did, however, take their toll, as shown by the several day delay between the closing ceremonies and my final Olympics post.  Perhaps that was a mourning period.  Although I am not sure if I was mourning the end of the games or the temporary death of my muse.  She will rise again, like a phoenix from the ashes, on February 7, 2014, a mere 14 months from now.  For the time being, though, I find myself without my muse and without my motivation.

Once the Olympics ended, I tried to make this blog reflect its title.  To a certain extent, I was successful.  I also tried to give my NFL against the spread picks, which I did for a few weeks.  The NFL picks was something I did years ago, in an email to a few friends.  I even kept a spreadsheet of not just my picks, but those of several others.  I think we all enjoyed making the picks and my sometimes witty, sometimes stupid comments.  Sadly, I now think that point in my life has passed.  The title of this blog is "Observations of a Suburban Sports Dad", and this Suburban Sports Dad doesn't have the time to make and record NFL picks every week.  Rather than looking forward to writing, I began to dread it.  I found myself rushing to the computer after church on Sunday mornings, trying to write something mildly entertaining while making NFL picks.  I failed.  I failed to make the picks before the games started and I failed to keep it above the baseline of "mildly" entertaining.  I don't like to fail, so I stopped.

I always intended to get going again.  I had a few ideas here and there and thought I should sit down and write.  Alas, no muse, no motivation.  When December rolled around, I thought I had found new motivation.  I love Christmas, always have.  I love everything about Christmas.  I know most people do, and maybe I am not unique, but I remember torturous Christmas Eve nights, lying in bed, unable to sleep for hours, waiting until that magical time of 7:00 am, when I was finally allowed to get up, wake up the rest of the family, and go rip and tear.  I was the youngest of three children in my family, and by the time I was about 9 and my brothers were 12 and 16, I was not a popular person on Christmas morning.  They did not want to wake up at 7 am.

Even as I got older, and slept in a little later, when I woke up, I was ready to go.  Now, as a father, I enjoy Christmas morning just as much.  I am, however, able to sleep on Christmas Eve night.  Probably because I am exhausted from 4 hours of wrapping before going to bed.  Last year, I truly enjoyed that night, listening to Eldest go through the same torture I used to.  I don't condone torturing children, but I loved the excitement and anticipation in a small boy who could not wait for 7 am.  I let him out of his misery, a little, at 6:30, by joining him in his room and spending the last half hour talking about my torturous Christmas Eve nights.  I think it made him feel a little better.  I enjoyed that half hour immensely.  When 7 am rolled around, we woke Middle and the Wife, then watched the two of them tear through Christmas in less than 20 minutes.  The joy in their faces, actions, speech...everything was infectious.

So, I thought about making December a month of writing about Christmas.  Christmas music, Christmas shows, Christmas decorations, Christmas preparations, Christmas joy in three boys.  Sadly, December is a busy, busy month and it never got off the ground.  Maybe next year.

Then, Newtown, CT happened.  One of the things I have learned about writing for me is that it is therapeutic.  If something is bothering me, writing about it and my feelings helps.  I imagine this is no different than talking about it, except perhaps a little more thoughtful and a little less spontaneous.  I almost wrote about Newtown for myself, but I thought that was selfish.  I like to think that this blog is thought provoking, but mainly in a fun way.  Restarting it after 3 months by discussing an unthinkable tragedy for the purpose of self healing just didn't seem right.  I have a lot of thoughts on that tragic event, but this is not the time.  Perhaps it is the place, and it could have been, but the timing wasn't right.

That brings us back to today.  Why now?  I don't know.  I have found myself generally unmotivated and unmotivatable recently.  Perhaps I finally decided I didn't like that feeling.  Maybe it was a promise to a friend and to a small group of readers that I would continue the blog that finally needed to be fulfilled.  Maybe I am ready to move on from my writing love and find another muse.  Maybe I just love Christmas so much that I needed to give this back to you, my 1-6 loyal readers.  Ultimately, we shouldn't ask why.  We should just enjoy the fact that I did it.  It does make me feel better, and hopefully gives you a few moments of enjoyment and an occassional thought provoking tidbit.

From here, I plan to make theis blog what it is titled.  My observations as a Suburban Sports Dad.  I hope to make this somewhat regular, 2-3 times per week.  Sometimes I will be a dad, sometimes I will be a sports fan, sometimes I will be a sports fan and a dad; and occasionally, I will be a surburbanite.  I will try to entertain you.  I will try to make you think.  I will fail from time to time.  But, rest assured, I will be here...observing.

Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas.  I hope to be back again before the magical day, but if not, I should have lots to motivate me from the boys next Tuesday.