I am the proud father of two boys.
Justin, the oldest is eight years old and his little brother Kaleb is five months. I love my both of my boys but I have come to a conclusion – Kaleb has furthered this conclusion along and I must give credit where credit is due. And that conclusion is that K is an infant and as an infant he needs infant attention, I on the other hand am a writer and am always trying to find time to set these swirling ideas that are in my head to paper.
But, therein lies the rub. K and I have different agendas.
Please don’t misunderstand us; we both understand what the other needs. Additionally, we understand just how important that need is. And because of this knowledge we both know we don’t have it within ourselves to give the other what he needs in its fullness. K is gonna want to chew on things, yell, cry, take shits, throw up, etc and believe me I feel he has every right to experience and enjoy each of those actions separately as well as simultaneously. But all of these wonderful actions would probably be better appreciated under the watchful eye of a childcare professional, which I am not. A dad? Yes, and a damn good one I might add but K and I have a few things working against us.
The first obstacle is our age; well better stated it’s my age that’s the real problem. I was twenty-seven when Jus was born and I stayed home with him until he was ten months, I know for a fact I had way more energy at twenty-seven then I do right now at thirty-six. I also had a better travel situation with Jus – though I lived in Queens I did have my Maclaren a lot earlier in the game and that provided Jus and I with the mobility to search and explore the city.
Now I can’t really argue the weather aspect because both of the boys were born in September but I can argue the age perspective I mentioned earlier – if I am completely honest with myself, its not really an age thing as much as it is a place in life thing. But I am getting a bit ahead of myself, back to K … Now Kaleb is in need of constant attention because of his newness to this world, he needs someone who will make sure the day is orchestrated concerning him. Now the writer living within me has taken the position of lobbyist to remind me that one needs time and space to create and the chances of time and space with an infant under your charge might be asking for too much.
But that's when the father in me steps up rather slowly and purposefully to state his case, he reminds me that these Kaleb moments only happen as they happen and when they are gone I will be left with only nostalgic melancholy as I wish I could bring them back. This, the father in me reminded those in attendance was an actual fact of parenthood. My mind was instantly filled with a rush of memories – pushing Jus on the swing at the park, taking naps (a personal favorite), watching Blue’s Clues, Dora, The Wiggles, Sesame Street, and a whole host of other shows I still know the theme songs to if spotted a bar or two.
The joy of a stare so deep into your child’s eye that you swear you saw each other’s souls, even if just for a second … shit nah, I wasn’t going to pass that up!
He had me; his argument was so eloquent, so focused on the aspect of time within the dance that is childhood and parenthood. And most importantly he was right.
Justin was raised on the theory of all the things I thought a child would need … simple shit. Like, a kid needs to spend time with his father. Throughout our eight-year relationship Justin and I have played video games, put puzzles together, watched certain movies hundreds of times over, played catch, wrestled, had light-saber battles (which, he cheats at I must add), and many more seemingly bland activities. I think I would have thrown out good coin for any of these bland activities with my dad when I was growing up but I grew up in a different era; my father worked hard, he worked long hours, and he basically belonged to the people of the world in which he felt called.
Simply reflecting on my childhood gave me a pretty basic plan of how I wanted to approach parenthood during my late-twenties. By the time Justin was ten months old I was preparing to return to work but I knew those months we spent together would provide me the closeness as he grew. My theories are simple, the more time I spend with my boys the better but this time with K began to challenge those thoughts – I began to feel the pull of professional advancement combined with a twist of personal redemption and started to lose focus.
My parents ran a residential rehabilitation center. The basement of the first house on Thirty-five Chestnut Street was home for me as a newborn. When I was a kid my life seemed to have no adventure and felt completely void of characters. It wasn't as vivid as tales spun by addicts in search of recovery and a personal Jesus. Back then I didn't see contradictions and complications as a process of human maturity. Time taught me that Life is tragic, hope filled, explicit, and blessed ...
what's up dude? you write your thoughts! yeah, it's interesting because this is a dilemma many mothers face, yet feel guilty about discussing. it's real: although you are a dad, you are your own person too. But i hear you about not wanting to have regrets. You can make a whole day of staring into your kid's eyes and writing about the worlds you discover there. i love you. write or die!
ReplyDeleteVery interesting. I'm sure K appreciates the time you take to spend with him. I have no idea how to be a father or a mother at that, but I commend you for working through this stuff! Your sister's completely right about the whole mother thing-- man, I read this great book about it. I'll try to get the title.
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