Father Doesn't Necessarily Know Best 04: If not a nerd, at least a friend.
I don't get to go to the movies very often these days - not with a two-month-old at home who can't be relied upon to sleep through a movie (and let's face it, the Stars & Strollers movies aren't very dad-friendly). And I'm not big on ducking out on my wife and leaving her to contend with a toddler and an infant on her own while I mindlessly much on popcorn and specatcle. We watch movies at home, but there's just something about the theatre experience: actually going somewhere, the gigantic screen, and the fact that they don't pause the film for peek breaks that make going to a movie special. So when my wife and the kids were visiting grandma at the lake recently and I had to stay in town to work, I took advantage of their absence to head out to a late show of Thor at the 'cheap theatre' (the local second-run cinema).
Turns out 9:30pm on a summer Thursday night is a great time to go to the movies since at 9:15 I had the place to myself and a theatre's worth of seats to choose from. Shortly after sitting down, a father and his son (who I'm guessing was in the 9-11 year old range) came in and while waiting for the movie to start, got into a discussion about all the recent super-hero movies. What with being the only other person in the theatre, I couldn't help but eavesdrop on their conversation. And after the movie ended, the pair picked up where they left off - adding what they thought of Thor into the mix - while walking out.
It warmed the heart of this particular nerd to see a father and son sharing an interest in comic-book characters and having an actual discussion about the movie adaptations with the dad not just saying "yup... uh-huh... yeah" while only listening with one ear or his mind on something else. These two were genuinely engaged and it was a situation in which the two were conversation equals - not a dad talking down to his child or a child talking at his dad.
Growin up, my father and I didn't really share interests - I didn't share the love of golf he and my brother did, and he wasn't into comic books, movies and music like I was - so there wasn't a lot of conversational common ground. A debate over the merits of Spider-Man versus Batman would have never happened in his house - but I'm holding out home that it might happen in my house. I can't guarantee that my sons and I will hold common interests (and for the sake of their high school selves, it's probably best that they're not too much like me), but I intend to at least try to understand their interests as they grow up and engage them in sharing what it is they love about those interests.
I've been trying to share my own interests with my toddler Archer in an attempt to establish common ground and where he's shown an interest in something like cars, we've watched racing, played Hot Wheels, and checked out vintage cars. It's not something I know a ton about and with a little bit of effort he'll probably know more about the subject than me, but I believe sharing what we do helps our relationship grow and strengthens the bonds between us.
Look, I know there's controversy around parents trying to be their kids' friends and doomsayers pointing to this trend as another harbinger of the 'decline of the family' and a reason kids aren't disciplined, but I honestly don't think 'friend' and 'father' are mutually exclusive roles. Being your child's friend shouldn't preclude you from disciplining them as a parent, and for all the struggles and ups-and-downs your child(ren) will have in their young social lives, isn't it helpful for them to know that they've always got a friend at home?
Doubtless there will come a time when Archer doesn't want to talk to me about his interests and keep them solely his, but until that day (and even after that day) I want him to know that I'm truly interested in what he has to say and what he's interested in.
You?
Father Doesn't Necessarily Know Best 03: I Swear, I'm A Good Parent
I get why there's a controversy surrounding Adam Mansbach's book, Go The F*** To Sleep.
But I also get where Mansbach was coming from when he wrote it. And unless you're Jesus or a liar, you can admit that you have been as frustrated as the protagonist in his book at some point in your parenting journey.
I'm not advocating swearing at - or even in front of - your child(ren), but there are certainly times where I've been exasperated and dropped a few f-bombs in my head about my son's behaviour. I look at it as a release valve for dealing with the stress, and that's also what the book is. Laughing about a situation that can be stressful provides a release, and realizing that every parent has been in a similar situation makes is more bearable.
"Drink 'a watuh?"
Are kids hard-wired with the whole stalling for time / postponing bedtime impulse? My two-year-old Archer, who will freak out if we offer him water instead of juice (which is actually nine-tenths water with a splash of juice) with dinner recently attempted the "can I have a glass of water?" trick at bedtime. He has never asked for water, but somehow he just knew this was a legitimate stalling tactic. He frequently tries to get more stories than the four book cap we've set (and admittedly I'll sometimes bow to this one because I don't want to be the dad who discourages his child from reading), and he'll ask for back rubs, songs and just about anything else a toddler mind can devise to keep me in bed with him and postpone sleepy time. At a lot of bedtimes, I'm the one who's tired and my rubber arm can be twisted to stay in bed and talk about his day and listen to him say goodnight to his friends from daycare (which has to be one of the sweetest things ever: "goodnight Rowan, goodnight Paul..."), but there are certainly times where I need to get out of that bedroom to walk the dogs or clean up the kitchen, or just spend some adult time with my wife and that's when the internal f-bombs are falling like it's Dresden in 1945. As much as we love our children, there will be times when they drive us crazy. As my mom used to say; "love the child, hate the action."
Which brings me to the other time with Archer where the mental profanity is flowing: when he's not listening to me while engaging in dangerous behaviours. As a toddler he's hit that age where saying no to everything includes no to holding my hand as we cross the street, or to my request not to climb on the dining room chair and when I attempt to hold his hand or remove him from the chair he throws a fit and flops on the ground like he's been tased. Of course he doesn't fully comprehend the reasons behind why I want him off the chair or holding my hand, but it aggravates me to no end that he makes like I'm spoiling his fun or cramping his style. "Just get off the effing chair" and "just hold my effing hand" have certainly played on a loop in my head at times like those and I know for a fact that there'll be more instances where internal profanity is my relief valve. And I'm not alone.
Father Doesn’t Necessarily Know Best 02: Your child is turning one; my condolences!
I know.
You’re a bit puzzled by the title of this entry, but bear with me and it will become apparent why “mazel tov” or other exultant exclamations aren’t my first thought when a child turns one.
Planning a party.
It really shouldn’t be stressful – we’re talking about a one year old child here. Based on my experiences with children of that age (my son and a handful of friends’ children), a 1st birthday isn’t some huge deal to them. Sure there’s a lot of attention, some gift wrap to tear up and a good shot at wearing a cake-beard for part of the day, but it’s not like they are going to have vivid memories of this party in later years [*Quick – tell me about your 1st birthday!*] and they’d likely be just as happy tearing up that day’s newspaper and trying to put a cereal box on their head.
That said, there is still pressure around your child’s birthday party because – let’s face it – there will likely be other parents in attendance. And they will judge you (admit it – you judge them). Plus the grandparents will be there and when they’re not busy playing paparazzi, they will judge you as well.
Your guests will be judging you on: the theme of the party (or whether or not you have a theme), the interesting and thoughtful gifts you made/purchase, what you dressed your child in for their big day, what kind of cake you got, what kind of refreshments you provided for the adults, how clean your home is, whether you’ve suitably baby-proofed your home and so many, many other things on which you can but shouldn’t be judged. Thinking about it just taps into my inner Charlie Brown.
But the stress of a first birthday party is nowhere near comparable to the other stressor that accompanies your child’s big day: child care. The doomsday clock has struck midnight and that wonderful twelve month parental leave is about to exit stage left. If you’re like my wife and I – who both work outside the home – this means you need to find someone to look after your little bundle of joy. But if the waiting lists for daycare in your neck of the woods are anything like in Winnipeg, you should have been looking for a daycare spot four years ago.
Seriously.
More than a few of the places we called after Archer was born informed us there was a 4-year waitlist for infant spots. Meaning that we should have called to reserve a spot for “???? Klimczak-Elves” about five months before we got engaged – around the time I thought getting a ring was the most important thing on my plate (I’m not joking, Archer celebrated his first birthday in April, his mother and I celebrated our fourth anniversary a few weeks ago). Even the places that have a two-year wait list mean your first chore after the indicator strip turns pink should be to put that zygote on a waiting list before you rush out to buy What To Expect When You’re Expecting or The Birth Partner (as an aside, pops-to-be, I strongly recommend the latter). [As a further aside, how crazy is it that caregivers can advertise having infant spots available and then when you talk to them on the phone that spot is only available if your infant is walking??]
We were lucky that our first choice – the wonderful UWSA Student Daycare ended up having an opening at the last minute, but the stress involved in trying to find care we were (a) happy/comfortable with, (b) could afford, and (c) was somewhere near our home or work, was hanging over our heads in the lead-up to Archer’s birthday like Damocles had been invited to the party.
Despite Archer getting into a daycare we wanted him in and being relieved about that, there’s still the stress of sending your child off to be looked after by a ‘stranger’ after you’ve spent the last twelve months giving them round-the-clock care. My wife had a hard enough time going back to work after nine months (at which point I took time off to look after Archer for the remainder of the parental leave period) even though she knew exactly who was looking after our son, but entrusting his 9-5 to a group of people we’d met for a few hours was a huge leap of faith – and a giant weight on our heads and hearts.
Father Doesn't Necessarily Know Best 01: Becoming a dad has turned me into a big baby...
More than anything, this entry is just a test to make sure I've logged in properly and created my account with no glitches, but thanks for taking a few moments to read it regardless!
I've decided - as long as the fine folks at P2P are cool with it - to call my portion of the parental bloglosphere "Father Doesn't Necessarily Know Best" because sometimes "ask your mom" is the best piece of advice a father can give a child (that said, I'm pretty involved in the life of my son Archer). Fatherhood is a 'learn-by-doing' role and I'm only 16 months into it, so each day (each moment, to be precise) brings new experiences and opportunities - some of which I'll chronicle here.
I don't have a grand design about topics I want to cover (or to be more realistic - touch on) within the confines of this blog, but if you're looking for a dad's perspective on raising a young child and all the joy and wonder wrapped up in that experience, rest assured that's in my wheelhouse. That said, I'm open to suggestions and feedback if you're a parent or parent-to-be.
As to the subtitle of this particular entry, more than anything I wanted to share a link to a very inspiring story I happened to catch on SportsCentre about blind triathlete Craig Aucoin. Since becoming a father last April, I've found myself more and more apt to cry (tears of joy, frustration, exhaustion and laughter alike) and this story definitely tapped into the wellworks. Aucoin is an inspiring individual and it's great to see him overcome the loss of his sight, but it also left me so grateful that my son is healthy and hasn't had any serious health issues so far.
I come from a line of worriers (my brother recently referred to our mother as a "projecting hypochondriac" i.e. she worries about others getting sick or injured) and had hoped to avoid that particular mind-field but sooner or later, we all become our parents and I found myself worrying about Archer's future and wondering what obstacles he'll face and what problems he'll encounter. I can't shield him from everything, but I hope to provide him with the tools to deal with whatever life dishes out. Now if only I could get him to lie still while I change his diaper...
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