{"id":790,"date":"2013-10-25T13:04:57","date_gmt":"2013-10-25T13:04:57","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/wsantosblog.com\/?p=790"},"modified":"2013-10-30T12:53:22","modified_gmt":"2013-10-30T12:53:22","slug":"i-wish-i-were-a-deadbeat-dad-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?p=790","title":{"rendered":"I Wish I Were a Deadbeat Dad"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><a href=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wilsonsantos.blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/10\/fatherson.jpg\"><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" data-attachment-id=\"791\" data-permalink=\"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?attachment_id=791\" data-orig-file=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wilsonsantos.blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/10\/fatherson.jpg?fit=288%2C288&amp;ssl=1\" data-orig-size=\"288,288\" data-comments-opened=\"1\" data-image-meta=\"{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;}\" data-image-title=\"fatherson\" data-image-description=\"\" data-image-caption=\"\" data-large-file=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wilsonsantos.blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/10\/fatherson.jpg?fit=288%2C288&amp;ssl=1\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-791\" alt=\"fatherson\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wilsonsantos.blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/10\/fatherson.jpg?resize=288%2C288\" width=\"288\" height=\"288\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p>Sometimes I wish I were a deadbeat dad. I\u2019d be accountable only for me and my wants and needs. Sometimes I wish I were more selfish and kept my money in a savings account or just spent it on things I want, like trendy clothes and sneakers or after-work happy hours or expensive dinners or bottles at all night parties on weekends. I would sleep late on Sundays and never get up to cook breakfast, cause I don\u2019t like bacon and eggs anyway. I wish I didn\u2019t have to rush home after work to mundane, routine, often frustrated evenings, checking homework and disciplining a third grader who\u2019s constantly in trouble at school. I would pay child support only when I wanted to or could, cause that wouldn&#8217;t be my priority. I wish I didn\u2019t have that extra expense for health coverage. Instead, I would use that money to travel the way I used to. I wish I\u2019d have some sense of spontaneity, so when a friend calls me to hang out, I could say \u201cI\u2019ll be right over\u201d and simple gatherings or even dating wouldn\u2019t become long-planned affairs at the mercy of a baby sitter\u2019s availability. Sometimes I wish I wouldn\u2019t have a little body dependent on me for his very survival. Life would be much easier.<\/p>\n<p><!--more--><\/p>\n<p>But those thoughts rarely ever cross my mind, and only last for brief moments when they do. Because the truth is, I\u2019m not a deadbeat dad. I can\u2019t be selfish. My nature simply won\u2019t allow it. Instead, my motherly instincts dictate I wake my son every morning and force him out of bed and hand him his washed and folded clothes, which he always rejects cause suddenly he only wants to wear skinny jeans with his hair jelled and slick. I pack his snacks and bag and drive him to school, kiss him off and wish him a good day, always hoping for the best. I pick him up from school, not knowing whether he was good or not, nor how I\u2019ll respond to his behavioral issues, but I try with all my patience to do the right thing. I cook. I clean. I cry. I do his laundry. I check his homework and help him make sense of the confusing parts. I watch his favorite shows even though they bore me to death. I play his video games and let him win. I take him with me to the gym, where I rush my workouts cause he\u2019s easily bored. I scrub his long hair at night and always tuck him in his clean Downy-fresh bed. I let him creep in bed every night cause he claims he\u2019s having nightmares, and I know it\u2019s just a ploy, but I\u2019m too tired to protest. I squeeze in a few hours of my own sleep only to do this routine all over again the next day.<\/p>\n<p>This is what single parents do. We sacrifice our wants for our child\u2019s needs. And we never get sick. We can\u2019t afford to. Even when we\u2019re not feeling well, our child\u2019s needs are relentless and there\u2019s no safety net for our reprieve. We can\u2019t stay in bed until we feel better. We have no one to say, \u201cDon\u2019t worry honey. Stay in bed. I\u2019ll take our son to school today. I\u2019ll cook and clean tonight. You get some rest.\u201d No. Not us. Our duty runs 24 hours and 7 days. We work no matter how sick we are, because those bills come like constant rolling monthly cycles and we selflessly ensure that we keep a roof above us, food in the fridge, electricity running, the cable on, with Netflix and a cell phone and gas in our insured cars and health insurance and clothes and we still manage to squeeze in some leisure expenses. We can\u2019t let up, cause life doesn\u2019t let up. And we don\u2019t always fulfill our dreams because our dreams usually don\u2019t make room for a child\u2019s needs.<\/p>\n<p>But all of that is OK, because the bond between a single parent and an only-child is unique in its strength and resilience. The only-child recognizes his single parent\u2019s sacrifice and knows he has a rock that hold\u2019s firm in any storm. Their relationship is a universe of love, transcending the good and the bad. Few relationships are more pure or more powerful. So keep holding it down single parent. Hold steady the reins and stay on course. Keep carrying your child on your back, because one day, it\u2019ll be your child\u2019s turn to carry you; and he will. And to all you deadbeats, take notes, cause your life is no longer just <i>your<\/i> life. You no longer live just for you.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Sometimes I wish I were a deadbeat dad. I\u2019d be accountable only for me and my wants and needs. Sometimes I wish I were more selfish and kept my money in a savings account or just spent it on things I want, like trendy clothes and sneakers or after-work happy hours or expensive dinners or [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":37404269,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_coblocks_attr":"","_coblocks_dimensions":"","_coblocks_responsive_height":"","_coblocks_accordion_ie_support":"","advanced_seo_description":"","jetpack_seo_html_title":"","jetpack_seo_noindex":false,"jetpack_seo_schema_type":"","_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_wpcom_ai_launchpad_first_post":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[651],"tags":[28175,54061,110147,6830,20816,2606,124,3785,1053,620,22106,3786,563,106,2213393],"class_list":["post-790","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-articles","tag-awareness","tag-bond","tag-critical-thinking","tag-father","tag-hope","tag-justice","tag-life","tag-love","tag-parents","tag-society","tag-son","tag-thinking","tag-thoughts","tag-truth","tag-wilson-santos"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p2z1Px-cK","jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":923,"url":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?p=923","url_meta":{"origin":790,"position":0},"title":"This is for the Feelers","author":"Wilson Santos","date":"June 5, 2015","format":false,"excerpt":"This is for the feelers The stealers The drug dealers The muthafuckin dope feigners The healers The freakers Runnin round naked like a streaker This is for the stripper The hipster The thinker The writer The fighter The all-nighter The actor acting The soul clapping The feet be tapping This\u2026","rel":"","context":"In &quot;Poetry&quot;","block_context":{"text":"Poetry","link":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?cat=422"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wilsonsantos.blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/06\/5284768691_e242311c70_z.jpg?resize=350%2C200&ssl=1","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wilsonsantos.blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/06\/5284768691_e242311c70_z.jpg?resize=350%2C200&ssl=1 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wilsonsantos.blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/06\/5284768691_e242311c70_z.jpg?resize=525%2C300&ssl=1 1.5x"},"classes":[]},{"id":670,"url":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?p=670","url_meta":{"origin":790,"position":1},"title":"Little 5 Year Old DJ &#8211; 2011","author":"Wilson Santos","date":"April 9, 2013","format":"video","excerpt":"Just a dad having some fun with his son and a camera. Dionysus following in dad's footsteps as he rocks out to dad's track. The mixing skills are on point, but don't sleep on the dancing moves though. Music: Lula vs. Wilson Santos \"The DJ, the Music and Me\" Eddie\u2026","rel":"","context":"In &quot;Videos&quot;","block_context":{"text":"Videos","link":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?cat=1149"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/img.youtube.com\/vi\/wpBpmmcZ_Ws\/0.jpg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":935,"url":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?p=935","url_meta":{"origin":790,"position":2},"title":"what can i say about paris?","author":"Wilson Santos","date":"November 15, 2015","format":false,"excerpt":"what can I say about paris that hasn\u2019t already been said? on this day of mourning more than 120 killed should I call for a collective prayer? that\u2019s been done millions of times on your facebooks and your twitters and your instagrams. I could post the french flag over my\u2026","rel":"","context":"In &quot;Poetry&quot;","block_context":{"text":"Poetry","link":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?cat=422"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wilsonsantos.blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/11\/paris-6.jpg?resize=350%2C200&ssl=1","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wilsonsantos.blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/11\/paris-6.jpg?resize=350%2C200&ssl=1 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wilsonsantos.blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/11\/paris-6.jpg?resize=525%2C300&ssl=1 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wilsonsantos.blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/11\/paris-6.jpg?resize=700%2C400&ssl=1 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":802,"url":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?p=802","url_meta":{"origin":790,"position":3},"title":"We Tug and Pull Each Other","author":"Wilson Santos","date":"November 18, 2013","format":false,"excerpt":"We tug and pull each other There\u2019s never rest between The ropes we pull are bruising Sometimes they make us mean We never rest between The night and sun rising Sometimes we act so mean And yet we keep on climbing With night and sun rising We pass our days\u2026","rel":"","context":"In &quot;Poetry&quot;","block_context":{"text":"Poetry","link":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?cat=422"},"img":{"alt_text":"tug-o-war1","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wilsonsantos.blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/11\/tug-o-war1.jpg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":228,"url":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?p=228","url_meta":{"origin":790,"position":4},"title":"The choices we make are the cause&#8230;","author":"Wilson Santos","date":"August 23, 2012","format":false,"excerpt":"","rel":"","context":"In &quot;Aphorisms&quot;","block_context":{"text":"Aphorisms","link":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?cat=29324"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wilsonsantos.blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/08\/wsantosblog-com_4.jpg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":360,"url":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?p=360","url_meta":{"origin":790,"position":5},"title":"Djembe","author":"Wilson Santos","date":"November 20, 2012","format":false,"excerpt":"Bill has been on the block since Vietnam, and has seen it go from White to Brown. He grew up across town, in a one-bedroom with his mother, when Bergenline was still Italian. He saw the first wave of Cubans come in the late 60\u2019s, and felt right away this\u2026","rel":"","context":"In &quot;Fiction&quot;","block_context":{"text":"Fiction","link":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?cat=1747"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]}],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/790","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/37404269"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=790"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/790\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":800,"href":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/790\/revisions\/800"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=790"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=790"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=790"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}