See Daddy. See Daddy Travel.

I have been extremely lucky in my career as an engineer to avoid extensive travel. Apart from a 24-month stretch before Kristin and I were married, I was rarely on the road for work more than two or three times a year. During those 24 months, however, I was gone at least once a month for two or three days at a time. There was even a two-week trip to China that coincided with an inland hurricane (remember Ike in 2008?) that hit Cincinnati and knocked power out for four days (during which Kristin decided to redecorate our bedroom with paint color and accessories bought at various stores running on back up generators--she probably single-handedly kept those businesses open that week).

During that time, I'd visit breweries around Michigan (back before you had to wear thick rimmed glasses and beards and ironic t-shirts to such places, I wore New Balance running shoes and Merona khakis after spending all day in a factory. Come to think of it, I still wear these things), and although I missed my wife and my dogs, we were still just a couple who could do his or her own thing without disrupting the system too much. 

And then we had kids.

(I feel like a lot of stories in life on the side of thirty and up can start with "And then we had kids.")

As I changed jobs a few times, I'd always ask up front about travel. “Nothing serious” was usually the response from HR or my new manager, and for the most part, it has been the case. Things have been so routine in our house that I've been home by five o'clock for the better part of a couple of years and we've been able to get to the gym, make dinner, bathe kids, read books, and collapse in a heap of exhaustion for fifteen minutes and a beer and a brief recap of our days. 

Routine, yes, but more than most get, I realize, and for that I feel lucky. 

#blessed

Six weeks ago, I started a new position in my company in which I inherited a mess. Since then, I have traveled every week. I've been across the United States and back again to fix the problems, literally, with wrench and screw driver in the back of a semi truck or 30. While the physical toll on me required a trip to the chiropractor for an adjustment, it also stretched the fabric of our family and support system to the seams.

If my in-laws had not moved back to Cincinnati from New Jersey a year ago, I am not sure where we’d be right now (probably with a few more grey hairs in my beard for starters). Grandma and Grandpa have been there for us every week I was away to come over and eat dinner (distract the boys), take them to school in the morning or have impromptu spend the nights to easily facilitate school drop offs and allowing Kristin to get to work on time (I mean, when I'm gone, she has to get special permission to be late. Crazy). 

She has been absolutely amazing during this stretch as well. She has done her best to lay off the guilt trips as my own trips kept piling up. Usually on the third day of a scheduled three-day trip, I’d call or text with good news and bad news, the bad news being an additional day required. And she'd be the first to say, "It's okay. This is your job. It's okay." 

Emotionally, I missed my kids, my wife, our family. We attempted a few FaceTime chats, but they ended with the kids in tears crying for me and grimy fingers reaching out to touch my face and inadvertently hanging up and, well, that wasn't easy. 

Gone were the days of sipping craft brews til 1 a.m. on these trips. Sure, I got a romantic seaside dinner in Malibu out of it--party of four burly men--but I'll take ketchup flinging, pea chucking, "I don't WANT CHICKEN" whining, milk spilling, please-just-eat-one-more-bite pleading any day over that fantasy. 

However, like all things, nothing lasts forever, and that goes for these trips (thank goodness!).

Coming home from the trips has been the best (and as this posts, it's the first week in six that I haven't traveled!)--I've been able to surprise the kids at day care and walk in to get them. 

No matter how long you're gone, those hugs are the best.

I'm eager to hear their stories, build Lego trucks for them, watch their shows (okay, I could do without Sheriff Callie), push them on the swings...as hard as it is, distance has made this dad's heart fonder.

#cliche

And enough time has passed since I last played him, that I can give mommy a break on Darth Vader.

-Greg