So why the name? It’s obviously a play on words. “A bull in a china shop” is one of the most used idioms in history. Anyone with a basic grasp of the English language gets it: a big brute of an animal loose among stacks of rare and delicate treasures. Whether or not you know it, you two boys are those treasures to your mom and me. Each of you is one of a kind in your own unique way. Something we couldn’t bear to lose. And also, whether you know it or not, parents can feel like big, stupid animals moving recklessly about too close to those precious rarities.
I knew the second your mom told me we were going to be parents that our lives were going to change. A lot of that you can imagine and plan for. You’ll be changing diapers and losing sleep. Other things you hear from friends and family. You get a lot of advice on how to do pretty much everything you can think of and plenty more that you didn’t. Most of it is easy to sort through. Either it sounds good or it doesn’t. More than you’d like to admit, you’re doing a lot of this by trial and error. You come to realize that it’s okay. Most of the time you’re not playing with matches in a hayloft. It’s not life or death and when you screw up you can say sorry. Popsicles help, too. Their healing powers are vastly under-rated.
But one thing you do realize starts to keep you up at night. It’s a terrifying thought that creeps into your brain in those quiet contemplative moments when self-doubt, mild insomnia and spare brainpower collide. You begin to wonder if you’re screwing up your kids. Now that’s not unusual. A quick survey of every parent you know reveals that they have the same worries. Did I give him too much medicine? Did I freak out too much when she skinned her knee? Should I let them play with friends at the park? Your head begins to spin with questions about your capability as a parent. You worry. You worry a lot. Usually, you’re worrying about nothing. Okay, maybe you’re concerned that suddenly you spend far too much on popsicles. Eventually you realize that when it comes to raising another human being apparently there is a lot of room for error. So you start to sleep a little better.
Then one day something happens. It doesn’t matter what it is. You just know you’re the cause of it. Either you over-reacted or you didn’t react enough. All of your positive self-talk doesn’t help. Friends with kids try to reassure you that it’s not a big deal. Some have better poker faces than others. Even the old reliable freezer treats don’t help. It doesn’t matter what the event was. It’s different for everyone. What you do know for sure is that you have become the bull. You’re running around free inside those stacks of rare dishes and precious teacups swinging your horns with reckless abandon. Worse yet, you have convinced yourself that it’s the right thing to do. A small part of you knows it’s the wrong thing to do and you’re going to regret it. But you can’t stop. Maybe it’s pride. You started down the wrong path but damnit, you’re going to see it through. It could be a bad day or lack of sleep. Maybe your kids just feel like the last jerk in a day full of people trying to piss you off. It doesn’t matter. You just know that you were wrong. The problem is that you didn’t really know what the right thing was until the time has passed and the damage is done. You can try to repair it. Should you? Or do you let it go? In all honesty, you have no idea.
And that’s when you lie awake at night wondering if you’re a good parent or a monster. See kids, here’s the thing, and it’s terrifying: Some days the best I can give you is the worst I can be. It’s not your fault. It’s not mine. Just like it’s no one’s fault when it rains. Some things just happen. But you have to understand that in the smallest possible way, we die a little but when it does.
I can’t express to you how badly I want to be perfect when it comes to you guys. It’s not out of vanity or ego. It’s not because I’m trying to win Parent of the Year. It’s because I am acutely aware of what kind of impact I have on your life, how little time it feels like I have to do it and what the consequences are of failing miserably. This isn’t baseball. You don’t make the Hall of Parenting Fame for getting it right 3 times out of 10.
The truth is that the situation isn’t as dire as we think. Most of the time, even when you mess up big time, a few mea culpas are all the salve that’s needed. It stings a little but no real damage. That doesn’t mean we don’t relive it for a long time. Worrying is a part of being a parent. It’s unavoidable. It’s best that we all learn to live with it. Just understand that as difficult a pill it is to swallow, it’s done because I love you beyond any measure I ever thought was possible. And it happened the second you showed up.
So my hope is that you will read what I write here and take it to heart. I won’t call it wisdom. That’s too vain. I could call it advice but that might just make your eyes roll. Let’s just call it the stuff that keeps dad up at night. Or popsicle thoughts. Whatever works. Just understand that in ways you won’t comprehend until you have your own kids, I love you more than anything.
Dad
Dad in a China Shop 