• Dad in a China Shop

    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

  • Time

    I am acutely aware of the passage of time. I’m even more aware that I waste so much of it. Watching you boys grow up has been a blessing and a curse in that regard. It’s like being at an amazing restaurant with your best friends. The food is great and the conversation is wonderful. But you know the night can’t last forever. Sooner or later the check comes and you have to go home. The night will end and no matter how incredible it was it will just be a memory. There may be other restaurants, friends and conversation, but that one is gone.

    I remember going off to college. Looking back on it now I didn’t realize how differently my mom and dad (especially mom) viewed that day. I was nervous about going out on my own. But I couldn’t wait to get there. I was smarter and wiser than everyone else I knew and I couldn’t wait to strike out on my own and show everyone. That’s a lesson for another time. Mom and dad were as encouraging and supportive as always. They helped me prepare for the move away from the home that I would, from this point on, just be coming back to as a guest. Sure, home would always be there. But from this point in my life on, it would be were I had grown up and not where I lived. At least not for any significant period of time.

    I knew that time was tough for them, to see me pack up the most important things in my life and move them away from home. In a way, it’s the end of childhood. This little one you’ve raised and loved for his entire life is now out in the world, free to make choices for himself. And though you’ve tried hard to teach and instill a set of values you know some of those choices will have less than stellar results. I knew all of that on an intellectual level. I wasn’t blind to mom holding back tears when they dropped me off. What I didn’t realize was how profoundly they felt it. As time passes I understand those feelings much more.

    I have always forced myself to be aware of time when it comes to you guys. I have all these memories of you doing so many things: falling asleep in my arms, holding my hand as you walked next to me, talks in the car while we drove on trips, sports and events. So many memories. But always, in the back of my head, was this voice reminding me that this time would pass. I couldn’t hang onto it, no matter how hard it tried. It’s said that Time is a thief. That’s not a lie. 

    Wow. I must be fun at parties, huh?

    The thing is, that outlook is not a bad thing. It keeps you aware of what matters. We value what we know we can lose. Even more so when we know we will lose it. That’s why mom and I have tried to be at every game, concert or special event. It’s funny to me when I hear a neighbor say “you guys play a lot of catch”. Yep. Damn right. A lot of times it’s even when I’m tired or busy with something else. One day I’ll miss it. And no matter how bad I’ll want it, it’s not going to happen again. Check paid. Memory made. And the memories, no matter how sweet, just aren’t as good.

    However, even though I know all of this I have been reckless with time. I have hustled you through experiences I should have stopped and savored. I’ve allowed myself to be a slave to a busy schedule that had me thinking I had to be somewhere more important when it was really just the next place to be. Worst of all, I remember times putting you to bed when I could have, should have, stopped, stayed and talked with you about anything at that point in time. But you tell yourself you’re tired or there’s that thing you have to do. It’s funny now that I can remember not taking the time but I can’t for the life of me remember any of the things that stopped me from doing it. There’s a lesson there about what’s important.

    Now I could spend a lot of time and effort kicking myself over all those moments and how I could have been better or done something else. That’s life. We have regrets. You also have to remember not to live life in reverse. Regrets are something to use moving forward, not reliving looking back. We are imperfect creatures. We can’t fully maximize ourselves every moment of every day. Be kind to yourself in that regard. But use those regrets. Knowing that I should have done something differently in the past teaches me to do it better in the future. I make time to ask you about your day or play catch or just to sit and talk about anything. What I sometimes consider a mistake or a regret has led to some of the best moments I’ve shared with both of you. Because I am conscious of the passage of time, the finite amount that we are given, I have had moments when I stopped and drank it in. My phone is full of pictures of times when I thought, “I want to remember this just like it is, right now.” I am beyond thankful for that.

    It is inevitable that some day you will fly from the nest. I will watch with pride when you do, hoping that mom and I have instilled in you the tools to navigate the world. I’m also sure that every memory of you being the little guy who held my hand will come flooding back to me and I will hope that I at least got some of it right.