parenting

Leave a comment Posted on parenting, Spirituality, Storytelling

I’ll Love You Long After You’re Gone

March 28, 2013 at 12:06 am , by 

2 years, 4 months.

Dear Jack,

I am 29 and a half years older than you. That means that, ultimately, I won’t always be here.

Decades from now, there will come a day when I pass on before you.

But it doesn’t mean I will be thinking about you, adoring you, or loving you any less.

I know that’s a strange thought, to still be consumed by someone even after they are separated from you by life itself. But it’s true.

Phillip Phillips has this new song out called “Gone, Gone, Gone,” which features that very concept:

“I’ll love you long after you’re gone.”

This isn’t a simple love song about not getting over someone after a break-up. It’s much more complicated and irrational than that.

It’s about deeply caring for someone regardless of time and space. I love this song. I can’t help but think of you and Mommy when I hear it.

No matter what age you are, I want it always to be clear to you how I feel about you. I want you to know and remember me as the man who loved you most in this life.

I am also the man who occasionally shows up in the background of the pictures I take of you. I witness your life, as a narrator, as a stage hand, and as a mentor.

It’s so important to me that we have healthy, open communication in our relationship. I don’t want to be a man of mystery, like Don Draper.

I want you to know me as a strong, yet sensitive, man who teaches you to be the same.

Though you will barely remember anything from being 2 years old, I hope the memories I make with you now insulate the nostalgic part of your brain with warm fuzzies.

Like a drum, baby, don’t stop beating. Like a drum my heart never stops beating… for you, for you.

Love,

Daddy

Leave a comment Posted on parenting, Storytelling

Asking A Toddler Why They Did Something Wrong

February 1, 2013 at 12:13 am , by 

2 years, 2 months.

Dear Jack,

Today when I picked you up from KinderCare, your teacher gave me an incident report to sign:

“Jack threw a toy at a friend, hitting them in the face. Left a good sized mark. Separated them. Had time to himself and we talked about being nice to friends and using words when upset.”

It’s so natural for me to respond by asking you, “Jack… why did you do that?Why did you throw a toy at your friend?”

I realize now that by asking you that, I’m asking you a question you yourself don’t know the answer to.

In fact, you’re sort of relying on me to explain why you did it.

After all, while you can now easily and quickly piece together sentences to communicate things you observe, you’re not really able to communicate to me how you feel unless you are either very happy or very sad. Therefore, asking you to explain why you feel the way you do is even more confusing for you.

Right now Mommy and I are working on teaching you different emotions to describe how you feel. While you don’t quite yet understand “angry,” you do understand “sad.”

So I guess the best way to help you understand why you threw a toy at your friend and hit them in the face is maybe something like this:

“Jack, today you hurt your friend when you threw your toy at them. I think you might have felt angry when you did it. That made your friend sad. Jack, please say you’re sorry to them tomorrow. We hand our toys to our friends instead of throwing them; even if they do something we don’t like.”

You had to go to bed without your usual playtime at your train table, plus you didn’t get to take any of your trains to bed. That’s pretty weird for me… the thought of you going to bed without your little talking die-cast trains.

Ultimately, why you threw a toy at your friend doesn’t change the fact that I need to teach you to not throw a toy at a friend… for any reason.

So now, I don’t care about the why. I care about the how: How can I teach you that what you did was not nice?

By trying to help you use words to describe how you feel, asking you to apologize to your friend, and then by taking away your favorite toys for the night.

(There may be a better way. If there is, I’m open to suggestions from anyone else who happens to be reading this letter.)

 

Love,

Daddy

 

Leave a comment Posted on parenting, Storytelling

American Families Have Dual Incomes, Yet Less Time Than Europeans

January 28, 2013 at 10:56 pm , by 

2 years, 2 months.

Dear Jack,

Two years and two months ago when you were born, we moved away from Nashville where Mommy and I had secure jobs and a great network of friends.

Why? Because life in the big city was too busy for us. We felt so starved for quality time, that we wanted to expose you to a slower pace of life.

So we moved to my hometown in Alabama, where, guess what? We were unemployed for the majority of our 8 months there. Sure, we had plenty of quality time, but it wasn’t reallyquality time because we weren’t actually making any money to justify our existence.

As your dad, it devastated me, knowing that I brought you into this world, only to not be able to provide for you.

Obviously, we moved back to Nashville, got even better jobs than we had before we left, and now life is wonderful.

Except for that one thing: Finding quality time for our family is still a struggle.

Mommy and I both work full-time, plus I have a part-time job. While your parents are at work, you spend nearly all of your waking hours with paid professionals and your peers at daycare.

Granted, it shows. You’re highly socialized: You know how to eat with proper utensils, you use the potty at school, and you don’t suffer from separation anxiety.

Yet Mommy and I have about 20 quality minutes together with you on weekdays, if we’re not counting getting you ready for school and getting you ready for bed.

We really do have so little time with you. Sure, we’ve got the whole weekend with you…

That’s when we buy groceries, clean the house, take the recycling, catch up with friends, and go to church; all based around your nap schedule.

If we were in Europe, I guess things would be different. I just read this article in The New York Times calledWhat We Have Less Of, by Paul Krugman:

“So what we have is a situation in which American families have more stuff, but they have managed to afford that stuff only by being two-income families, with ever less family time — unlike their European counterparts, who have gained in shorter hours and vacations what they lost in stay-at-home wives.”

It’s a nice thought, to actually have a comfortable amount of quality time, as a family. We tried that and couldn’t afford it.

I know it sounds strange that we don’t have cable TV or smartphones, but aside from the obvious financial savings, we also have a few less distractions in our house.

Quality time is a rare currency. As your American parents, we are always desperate to figure out ways to get more of it with you.

However, working less isn’t an option.

 

Love,

Daddy

Leave a comment Posted on Nostalgia, parenting

Boys And Their Battle Scars

January 25, 2013 at 11:57 pm , by 

2 years, 2 months.

Dear Jack,

Nearly a month ago while I was converting your crib into a bed, you managed to make your way over to a wooden panel I had just removed and set aside on the other corner of your bedroom.

Unfortunately, your innocent curiosity led to the wooden panel falling and hitting you in the face.

It frightened you more than anything. While it didn’t leave a bruise, it did cut you.

If only you had my oily Italian skin, the cut would have been healed up already. Instead, weeks later there’s still a visible mark there.

Mommy and I have been faithfully applying aloe vera and Mederma for Kids on it.

I feel horrible that this happened to you.

The problem is, you’re a boy, and you wanted to be part of the action. You wanted to see me “build your big boy bed.”

Son, I am very sorry. Hopefully, the cut won’t become a permanent scar.

At the same time, I know I can’t shelter you from everything. You’re going to get hurt, no matter how much I try to protect you. There will always be some random way for you to get hurt; one that I just didn’t see coming.

For what it’s worth, last weekend while I was playing trains with you on the floor, you came charging at me with your closed fists up in the air.

Smack! The toy train in your right hand hit me directly in the middle of my forehead. What was a cut for a few days became slightly infected, officially making it a stubborn zit.

So right now, you and I both have noticeable red dots on our faces. They’re just our matching battle scars.

Still, if you end up not having a scar from this, it will be a big sigh of relief for me.

Not because you would be any less of a beautiful boy, but because it would serve as a reminder that ultimately you got hurt and I had something to do with it.

 

Love,

Daddy

Leave a comment Posted on Nostalgia, parenting

Dads Are Happier Than Moms and Singles, Says Psychological Science

January 18, 2013 at 11:02 pm , by 

2 years, 2 months.

Dear Jack,

As I sat across from you and Mommy last Sunday morning for breakfast at The Perch in Nashville, I had an epiphany for the first time since you were born:

“I am happy about my life.”

Since you arrived, Mommy and I have overcome dual unemployment; two moves; one of our cars breaking down in the middle of the 2nd move; buying a new car; the ceiling of our living room caving in; you having a febrile seizure; me almost losing my job last summer; to finally where we are today:

“Whew…”

A state of normalcy where I can finally exhale.

I don’t think most dads’ lives were as chaotic as mine when their first child was born, so perhaps I had a late start in getting to the point of coming to the realization of how happy I am about my life … as a parent.

Today as I was listening to my favorite radio station, WAY-FM, I learned about an article in USA Today called, “Are Parents Happier? Dads May Be, But Not Mom, Singles.”

I read the article which refers to new research in the journal Psychological Science and I get it; at least in my own head. No one needs to explain to me why research would show that dads are happier than single men, single women, and moms.

Here’s my explanation, as spot-on or dead-wrong as it may be:

I’ve never heard a man say, “All I’ve ever wanted was to be a dad.” Yet, I’ve definitely heard many (if not most?) women say that, in regards to becoming a parent.

While I obviously don’t speak for all or most men, I myself never longed to be a father; I just always knew I would be one.

For me, becoming a dad was something as predictable as getting a job, getting married, and getting old.

I only had generic expectations in regards to being a dad. What I didn’t have were dreamed-about expectations about how complete and meaningful my life would seem once you got here.

But that’s the thing. Honestly, I was surprised by the amount of meaning my life gained once I became a dad two years ago.

It’s like I finally mattered to the universe. Because now I matter to you.

 

Love,

Daddy