May 27, 2014 at 8:12 pm , by Nick Shell

3 years, 6 months.

Dear Jack,

In my extremely limited ability to understand the concept of eternity and life after this, sometimes I subconsciously and erroneously tend to think of Heaven as a place where I could just exist in a state of unconsciousness and it not affect anyone else; void of responsibility or pressure to perform.

Sounds like I’m not the only one in that boat, after reading the comments on the Facebook page for Parents.com when they featured my story, “Daddy’s In His Quiet Place Right Now.”

Many fellow parents (understandably) laughed at the concept of a modern day parent having any escape from the overwhelming pace of life that kicks in once you become a parent.

I used to be extremely optimistic, like all the time.

But those were the days before… responsibility happened.

That was before I was truly feeling the pressure of what life (AKA “the real world”) actually demands from a person.

Of course, I also remember feeling lost, alone, and unfulfilled back when I was still single. Not a coincidence.

That’s because with great blessings come great responsibility; and therefore, stress.

A job, a wife, and child are all blessings. However, I’ve learned to begin equating the word “blessing” with “responsibility.”

Now, before I sound like I’m going off the deep end, I want to balance this with the other side of the story.

Earlier last week, I was at of one of my good friends’ house, hanging out with him on his front porch, while his family was out of town. We talked about how nice it was to be able to “unplug” for brief moments at a time like that.

Then we talked about how if life weren’t this chaotic, and if we as dads and husbands weren’t overloaded with responsibilities like we are, we would go crazy.

Without a regular dose of being stressed out, I get stressed out.

It makes me think of a line from one of my favorite Dave Matthews Band songs, “So Much To Say”:

I say my hell is the closet I’m stuck inside.

If in this exhausted (and limited) state of mind, a seemingly reasonable version of Heaven would be a state of unconsciousness, void of responsibility or accountability, then it makes sense that my concept for understanding hell would be a place where I was conscious, alone and bored out of my mind, with no responsibility or accountability.

I’ve heard the saying, “too blessed to be stressed.” Yeah, I’m not sure I agree with that.

Because the way I see it, if I am stressed, then I am blessed.

Otherwise, I would be searching for a life without responsibility, which is what I had before I had you, Mommy, a full-time job, and two part time jobs.

And back then, I felt incomplete.

These days, I can honestly say I never feel incomplete, or alone, or not needed, or unloved. I say stress is a good thing, if it traces back to responsibility and blessings.

Love,

Daddy

May 19, 2014 at 8:51 pm , by Nick Shell

3 years, 6 months.

Dear Jack,

Saturday morning, I introduced you to The New Woody Woodpecker Show on Netflix.

As soon as you saw Dr. Von Kook, you proclaimed, “Hey Daddy, that’s an old man!” It was if he was a purple magical unicorn or something.

Then there was that perfect 5 second delay before you gave me a classic follow-up comment:

“Daddy, do they still make old mans?”

You were completely sincere in your curiosity.

I suppose I said yes somewhere in the midst of my immediate uproar of laughter, but I don’t necessarily remember it.

It’s hilarious to imagine human factories that manufacture people; that they purposely make “old mans.”

Which is the other thing I love about your question: the alternative way to make “man” plural… just add an “s”.

Yes, Son, they still make old mans.

Nick Shell shared The Dadabase‘s status.

May 17

“Daddy, do they still make old mans?” -Jack #thisjusthappened

I am especially reminded of that since my past couple of haircuts; noticing that my hair is now a tad thinner than it was just a few years ago.

Like most men, I will gradually go the way of the ever manly Bruce Willis. With each Die Hard sequel, he appeared wiser, tougher, more experienced, and even cooler.

And I’m totally fine with my follicle fate.

Back in 1991, I remember standing at the bathroom counter in the house I grew up in, which was furnished with the finest dark brown wall paneling and dark brown shag carpet.

As I brushed my teeth one night, I remember looking at both of my parents, who were the age I am now, around 33.

I thought, “One day I will be 33 like them. I’ve got so many years until I get there. But one day, that’ll be me.”

I was 10 at the time. I decided in that moment, to consciously remember that forever, like a permanent bookmark.

But now, that “one day” has come. I am now that age.

Granted, 33 is not old or even close to it.

They still make old mans, but I’m definitely not one of them yet.

Love,

Daddy

Top photo: courtesy of The New Woody Woodpecker Show.