Wednesday, April 09, 2008

a day no balloons would die...

i left that last post up way too long. sorry. but ty to one and all for the support and comiseration (not really sure how to spell that--obviously), and to dj for offering to share her contacts.

i had a nasty dream this morning that no. 1 dove into a deep, fast, roiling river fully clothed (and with a very heavy coat on) while i was carrying no. 2 and before i could convince him it would be a bad idea. and there i was stuck, watching him swirl away and torn; do i leave one here to get the other? in the dream, in the end, i went back to where we were staying (across the street from the river) and woke up my drunk neighbors to get their help. by then, no. 1 was coming down the street towards me. i woke up before i could unleash all my fear and anger on him to never do that again.

this dream left me feeling... hollow, scared, frustrated, and a bit depressed. this is my mortal fear, to be placed into a position where, due to the actions of one child, i am forced to put both children into less-than-savory conditions. or worse, choose.

the me in my dream was so panicy and angry and upset he was actually standing on the banks of the river with no. 2 in hand, dancing from foot to foot, crying, and shouting obscenities at the disappearing boy.

i pray to the gods that tolerate us that i never find myself in this position. i think i might immediately qualify for the looney bin (or at least once my kids are safe. i think i would actually remain semi calm until i had taken care of my kids, and then, well, then all bets are off!)

friday, we took the boys out to a nearby restaraunt that caters to families and children. ate wonderful dinners, had too much ice cream sundaes, and left with a balloon each for the boys.

"now, let mommy and daddy hold these balloons, cause if you let them go, they will float away and we will never get them back, ok?"

"k, daddy." no. 1 says, dancing along and smiling, happy as a clam.

"oh my god!" my wife says a moment later.

the balloon i am holding is floating away. the ribbon tied to the plastic keeper had come loose, and the balloon is rising over the palm trees while i still firmly grip the cheap white ribbon intended to keep it grounded.

i apologize profusely. and feel horrible. and am mad at the same time at the unlucky position i have been forced into by circumstances beyond my control. naturally, it looks like i just didn't care, and allowed the balloon to float away minutes after saying i should hold it to prevent that very same thing from happening.

no. 1 fights bravely, but by the time he is in the car, he is bawling. my wife goes back inside to get another balloon.

she brings it back, and hands it to no. 1. he is smiling through his tears, and thanking mommy profusely, and waving it grandly in the air when BAM!

it pops.

he is crying again. and we are unable to do anything to console him, except convince no. 2 (who says, "here, no. 1, you pay wif my b'loon.") to share his.

we decide to stop off and walk along the mostly-empty beach before going home. no. 1 and no. 2 share the balloon, happy again, and pleased at the prospect of a walk along the ocean.

we park, and take our shoes off to cut down on the amount of sand getting tracked everywhere. i open the back of the vehicle to toss no. 2's shoes in, but he is dawdling getting them off.

"darth! darth!" my wife shouts at me.

"what?" i ask and look up in time to see the horrified look on no. 1's face, the angry look on my wife's, and then pan quickly to see the third balloon arcing gracefully over a stoplight, its ribbon trailing behind it like an errant kite tail, hellbent for parts unknown.

it had floated itself free through the back hatch i left open to toss the shoes into.

an overwhelming wave of uselessness and ineffectuality slams me like a hapless swimmer getting buffeted by a riptide. no. 1 is standing there, biting his lip, eyes full of new tears. no. 2 is pointing and jumping up and down: "the b'loon! the b'loon!" the wife looks disgusted.

and for a moment, i am alone in the universe, futile, worthless, battered, tired, kicked in the face by fate, too exhausted to even raise my hands to the heavens and shout out: "why?" i have let everyone down. i have failed. i have fucked everything up, and regardless of how much i try, how much progress i make, i always will fuck everything up.

after some introspective time walking the empty sand, and after my sons' short term memory softens the edges of the balloon incident, i self-deprecatingly quip, "i guess god didn't want us to have balloons tonight. just wasn't meant to be."

my wife laughs, but i still feel that tiny, ice-cold hollow in my chest.

darth sardonic

o my beloved non-existants. originally the balloon story was intended to have a comic turn, and make everyone laugh. strange how sharing about my dream completely changed the mood of where i was going with the post. i often find that blogging (and writing in general)does this on me: i may intend to start out one way, but my writing is a very organic thing, and often "gets away from me" and becomes something i hadn't originally intended. is that to say that i didn't really feel the things i wrote about the balloon incident until today, in light of the dream i had this morning, and the mood it left me in? no. no, i really did feel like i had fucked things up. but things still ended up happy and overall not gloomy and even a bit humerous after. all those bits got left out in the wake of the mood i woke up in, and started this post in. and i am sorry, really, cause it appears between the last post and this post that i find myself in some sort of depressive downward spiral. which is actually not the case, simply two (three) seperate incidents that have combined themselves to appear as if i am sitting here after two weeks of being low with razors against my arms crying out "why me? why me?" worry not, o fair non-existant readers, this is simply not the case.

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Blogger zirelda said...

No worries.

That is just the way of balloons. They're only meant to give temporary joy and sometimes there is a second joy with balloons when you look up in the sky and see one floating around. The one that got away. Maybe balloon number 1 and number 3 were meant to give the second kind of joy.

6:58 AM  
Blogger darth sardonic said...

z-i sure hope so

7:42 AM  
Blogger DJ Kirkby said...

hmm odd dream. Try me on Denyse J Kirkby or email me ( with your contact details and I will poke you

10:42 AM  
Blogger darth sardonic said...

k, ty dj.

12:37 PM  
Blogger Pixie said...

it's odd isn't that something we know to just be a dream can affect us for hours with it's difficulties. The life death stuff gets me every time in relation to those I love.

1:23 PM  
Blogger darth sardonic said...

oh yeah pixie, a dream can jack my morning up, or make me wake up ready to take on the world with a smile on my face.

2:56 PM  
Blogger Ms Anonymous said...

Hey Darth. Wow. Just wow. First, I swear to god I thought I was reading my other half's head. He does that. Totally beats himself up over shit that just isn't his fault. Second, I was writing a post today, was meant to be just a quick little thing, cause the incident was a quick little thing, but shit fire hell I was so angry and ranting like a fucking crazy woman by the end of it.
Anyway, Hi, I like reading your stuff. I'll be back.

11:08 PM  
Blogger darth sardonic said...

ms anonymous, i am glad you liked it. unfortunately, i haven't been doing much writing here of late. hopefully later today a proper post. and an apology for having not replied to this comment for so long.

3:20 AM  
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2:54 AM  
Blogger darth sardonic said...

lol it is just too much!

2:18 AM  

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