There is nothing more telling than this post.
How many days have passed since the last Father's Day? Don't answer that. I already know.
I have been trying to post something about being a father for Father's Day for days. As luck would have it, it just kept not happening. Often, i was too tired from the day to post or even think straight. Also, i really had nothing to say. Or at least, nothing original. I suppose that it is better to let the ideas simmer a bit.
Sadly, i still don't.
But, the bug to post is still here so, here i am. Plus, my In Laws, who have stepped in to help us with the while management of family responsibilities big time, once again stepped in to help me out and as a consequence i have some spare time and, more importantly, spare energy.
I have not had any Time. It seems that it is the first thing you truly sacrifice as a parent...
Hmmm. Sacrifice.
I don't really like that word. It seems overblown. Being a parent is all about Time.
Yet, it seems to me, the term "sacrifice" is actually a poor choice to explain the loss of Time which i have experienced. "Sacrifice" seems like a special word. It implies a separation from everything else, a specially selected thing for some specific purpose. It has a lot of sacred connotations. Parenting, in my opinion, is not a sacred act. Being a father is not a sacred act either. It is nothing special. Really.
Okay. So perhaps i need to explain. This is my reasoning:
Once you decide as a married couple to raise a family (for whatever reason), you accept the task and responsibilities of the future. You cannot even know what you are in for but you, by making that decision, have establish a certain set of rules and expectations that have been passed down for generations. It is kind of implied by the mere act of choosing to start a family. Oh sure, you could choose not to, it is well within you right - provided your partner is in agreement. Ultimately, there is nothing sacred here. It happens to all of us. It happened to our parents and theirs and so and so forth. It is part of who we are. It is how we keep the world moving.
Yet, how we were raised deeply impacts these choices that we make to establish a family.
For me, fatherhood is greatly influenced by... you guessed it... my father. But it is also, equally, if not more so, influenced by my brother. My father established the parameters of fatherhood for me. His influence upon me is so deep, i cannot even pull it out of me to inspect it. My brother, however without truly realizing it, set the example.
He has two sons, one of which just turned twelve and the other is nine years old. He is not a perfect dad (and really, there are no Perfect Dads anyway). He is not a "Go To Work And Drive A Commute" kind of dad like our father was. He is a "stay at home" dad due to his profession but this is not why he set the example. He was the first of us to get married and start the whole family thing. He kind of broke the mold and broke any preconceived notions we (my other brother and i) might have had about what being a father means. It is not the particulars that are important, it was his decision to become a father and have a family that was. It was his decision to shape his family to his own personal agenda - whether he realized this or not - that broke the mold. He did not follow what our dad did and this gave my brother and i more freedom to craft our own families. I do not believe for one minute that he had a plan about how his family was going to be shaped, it just happened. He just went with (and continues to do this) how things went/go. He has shaped his own future.
Truly, there is no way for any boy to know what type of father he might become. It is not until you make choices and life makes choices that you become the father that you are. Even then when you arrive at this "father" place, you constantly shift and change from what you were. This is what i have seen with him. This what i have seen with me. This is what my father has shown me as well. This is the lesson i have learned from watching my brother. There is no final father stage. It is constantly changing and transforming.
I have a friend who says he will never have children because, in his words, he is too selfish. I feel sad for him because i see a great father in him. I feel sad that he will not realize that these things, these things about being "selfish" may exist but it is the struggle against these types of things that make us greater. I would say the same, that i am selfish. Except that, the mere act of being a father has caused something to click internally and this counters the selfish mode - for the most part. I recognize that i am selfish but it was never ingrained so heavily in me to prevent Fatherhood. More to the point, i never believed i would get married let alone have kids (yet, others saw how this would always be a possibility) and it happened anyway. I suppose, i was not steadfast enough to prevent this transformation from occurring. My friend is very strong in his convictions on so many things. In this regard, he is weak. He has already submitted to a passed down mythology and is unwilling to change it. By the same token, he shows strength in this failure. It is this dichotomy that makes me sad that he is unwilling to take a chance on this possible future for himself.
Yet, one can only hope.
Anyway.
My identity, not a role, as a father is ill defined. It is constantly changing. I really don't have a clue where it will take me. For the moment, i am a "stay at home" dad but will change in less than two weeks. I will return to work. I fear that a distance will grow between me and my children. I didn't realize this but a distance had grown between me and my son after i had taken time off and had returned to work. I am now worried that a distance will grow between my daughters and i, once i return to work. Unfortunately, I am not in a favorable position to stay a "stay at home" dad. Yet.
I don't know where things will be two weeks from now. I don't have any idea about what the future holds. The loss of Time to do these things that had once seemed important doesn't seem to be so important. Not to the extent that i should identify it as a "sacrifice." It is what it is.
Fatherhood is about being there. It is about being fully present as much as Time affords. Outside of being a Father, there are so many demands upon us. When we are working, we are beholden to the Job and all that it requires. We may answer to someone. There may be a hierarchy we serve. There are countless expectations thrust upon us. We are forced to deal with artificial and uncontrollable situations and people that we don't truly know or ultimately care about - not as much as we may about our families. We are asked to carve up our days to meet these expectations and choose to spend more time with non-family than with family...
Okay. I am gonna stop my rant.
I realize that i am torn by the experience of being a stay at home dad versus the working dad. This stint of being home with my son and girls is bringing this into focus. I am fairly certain i felt this way when i returned to work after i did this for my son. This time, however, i feel that there is more pressure and stress attached to the decision. This was as much about bonding with my son as it was about bonding with my girls. Once i return to work, I really don't know where it is going to go or how things will change.
Yet, I cannot know. This is good. This uncertainty is the place to be. The future is uncertain but it is our actions that lay the future's path. The openness of the future implies that things are unwritten and that i have a lot more choice in the decisions i make.
Right now, i am living my fantasy of being a stay at home dad. One day, perhaps i will be afforded the opportunity to actually make it a more established way of being.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Monday, May 27, 2013
Child's Play
The greatest thing (so far) about being a father is playing with my son.
On any given day, my inner child is allowed out to play. I rarely restrain him. I constantly think like I did years ago. In fact, i kind of forget my age and think i am a lot younger than i really am. My inner child and i are pretty much equals. I have poor boundaries and i am not a good disciplinarian to my inner child. I like stupid jokes and have a tendency to beat them into the ground like a kid would. I think farts, poop, and anything connected to these things is funny.
See? I bet the adult in your brain recoiled when you just read what i wrote.
It is hard for me to stay serious for too long when there is a stupid pun floating about or if i think a joke hasn't fully been heard or experienced. I cannot stop myself too easily. The primitive, sophomoric humor catches me nearly every time (there are some exceptions). I admit it, i would easily lose myself in Legos, clay, G.I. Joes, Star Wars action figures, etc. if i was given carte blanche (warn my wife of what is to come with our son!).
It seems to me that it is through attrition that i must present myself as a grown up.
And now, i am a father.
I am supposed to be a role model, too.
Nobody said that just cause you become a dad doesn't mean you can't still have fun. In fact, i think that being a father to son gives you a greater opportunity to have fun. I don't mean vicariously. I mean, real fun. Fathers are are better suited at rough housing with their sons than mothers are. Fathers can share a fart or a burp with their son and a knowing eye that "yes, this is not permitted in certain situations but if i give the okay then it is okay." Fathers can relive in a more visceral way the experience of being a boy with their sons.
Notice i didn't say "through."
I am fully cognizant of how it feels to have been a "boy." There is still quite a bit of memory there. I still remember and feel the experience of 'games' my father would play with my brothers and i. There was there odd idiosyncratic sense of humor about these games that has left an indelible mark upon me. The sense of whimsy and the sense of the absurd shaped my appreciation for the world in ways i can't fully explain.
Now, as a father, i want to be able to convey that same sense to my son.
I think, and i don't have any research to back me up so it's partly speculation, that acting silly as a father helps loosen a rigidity in a child's sense of how things are. It helps establish their sense of creativity. It fosters their imagination. It sets the stage for them to look at the world in an unconventional way, unrestrained by the expected norms but not against those norms. There are certain expectations that still need to be adhered to.
I think that ultimately through 'play' a son's sense of how the world works is established. Good play does not get hindered by the restraints of social order. Good play allows freedom. Good play allows rules, conventional wisdoms to be broken and reinvented. Good play promotes imagination which allows for a loosening of the rigidity of reality which in turn promote creative problem solving, as well as flexibility, to take root.
When i play with my son, like the philosophy geek that i am, i keep these things in mind. I aim to promote his creativity (which, incidentally, is not hard to do).
Yet, there is another piece that happens often.
I need to keep myself in check, to not let my inner child run rampant upon his playtime. I learned this lesson quick. Play time is about him, not me. He runs the game, the play, the activity as it happens. I relinquish control. I ask him what he wants me to do. I reinforce his autonomy. I reinforce his independence. I am subservient to his whim. I do not impose my ego (or try not to) upon his play. I try not to harbor any regrets about the past denials of his asking when i was too busy. I try to stay mindful of my position and what lessons i want him to understand from our time.
Just in case you are thinking i am being all Frasier Crane on him, i am not.
I do not verbalize or analyze in front of him. I, at a bare minimum, attempt to breakdown for him what is happening. I only do this when it is an important message i am hoping he will understand. When i am playing with him, i am just doing exactly that, playing with him. I stay in the here and now.
As adults (especially ones who are not engaged in any meditative/mindfulness practices), it is hard to stay fully present with a child who is playing and using their imagination with raw abandon. we have gotten too caught up in the rigors of convention in our days. There is much to do and many reasons to step away and "take care of [something seemingly important]." I fight myself often with the idea that i could be doing "x" instead of sitting pretending to be such-and such or give voice to one of his Lego guys. I have to remind myself that his asking signifies my importance in his life. So i sit and i stay. I want him to continue to invite me in to his playtime. I do not want to be an adversive to this idea.
Only recently has he allowed me more greater access to his play time. This is an opportunity i will not miss. It allows me greater access to his little brain and provides the opportunity for the lessons i wish to impart. It helps me get to know him better.
It also helps me to get to know myself better, too.
On any given day, my inner child is allowed out to play. I rarely restrain him. I constantly think like I did years ago. In fact, i kind of forget my age and think i am a lot younger than i really am. My inner child and i are pretty much equals. I have poor boundaries and i am not a good disciplinarian to my inner child. I like stupid jokes and have a tendency to beat them into the ground like a kid would. I think farts, poop, and anything connected to these things is funny.
See? I bet the adult in your brain recoiled when you just read what i wrote.
It is hard for me to stay serious for too long when there is a stupid pun floating about or if i think a joke hasn't fully been heard or experienced. I cannot stop myself too easily. The primitive, sophomoric humor catches me nearly every time (there are some exceptions). I admit it, i would easily lose myself in Legos, clay, G.I. Joes, Star Wars action figures, etc. if i was given carte blanche (warn my wife of what is to come with our son!).
It seems to me that it is through attrition that i must present myself as a grown up.
And now, i am a father.
I am supposed to be a role model, too.
Nobody said that just cause you become a dad doesn't mean you can't still have fun. In fact, i think that being a father to son gives you a greater opportunity to have fun. I don't mean vicariously. I mean, real fun. Fathers are are better suited at rough housing with their sons than mothers are. Fathers can share a fart or a burp with their son and a knowing eye that "yes, this is not permitted in certain situations but if i give the okay then it is okay." Fathers can relive in a more visceral way the experience of being a boy with their sons.
Notice i didn't say "through."
I am fully cognizant of how it feels to have been a "boy." There is still quite a bit of memory there. I still remember and feel the experience of 'games' my father would play with my brothers and i. There was there odd idiosyncratic sense of humor about these games that has left an indelible mark upon me. The sense of whimsy and the sense of the absurd shaped my appreciation for the world in ways i can't fully explain.
Now, as a father, i want to be able to convey that same sense to my son.
I think, and i don't have any research to back me up so it's partly speculation, that acting silly as a father helps loosen a rigidity in a child's sense of how things are. It helps establish their sense of creativity. It fosters their imagination. It sets the stage for them to look at the world in an unconventional way, unrestrained by the expected norms but not against those norms. There are certain expectations that still need to be adhered to.
I think that ultimately through 'play' a son's sense of how the world works is established. Good play does not get hindered by the restraints of social order. Good play allows freedom. Good play allows rules, conventional wisdoms to be broken and reinvented. Good play promotes imagination which allows for a loosening of the rigidity of reality which in turn promote creative problem solving, as well as flexibility, to take root.
When i play with my son, like the philosophy geek that i am, i keep these things in mind. I aim to promote his creativity (which, incidentally, is not hard to do).
Yet, there is another piece that happens often.
I need to keep myself in check, to not let my inner child run rampant upon his playtime. I learned this lesson quick. Play time is about him, not me. He runs the game, the play, the activity as it happens. I relinquish control. I ask him what he wants me to do. I reinforce his autonomy. I reinforce his independence. I am subservient to his whim. I do not impose my ego (or try not to) upon his play. I try not to harbor any regrets about the past denials of his asking when i was too busy. I try to stay mindful of my position and what lessons i want him to understand from our time.
Just in case you are thinking i am being all Frasier Crane on him, i am not.
I do not verbalize or analyze in front of him. I, at a bare minimum, attempt to breakdown for him what is happening. I only do this when it is an important message i am hoping he will understand. When i am playing with him, i am just doing exactly that, playing with him. I stay in the here and now.
As adults (especially ones who are not engaged in any meditative/mindfulness practices), it is hard to stay fully present with a child who is playing and using their imagination with raw abandon. we have gotten too caught up in the rigors of convention in our days. There is much to do and many reasons to step away and "take care of [something seemingly important]." I fight myself often with the idea that i could be doing "x" instead of sitting pretending to be such-and such or give voice to one of his Lego guys. I have to remind myself that his asking signifies my importance in his life. So i sit and i stay. I want him to continue to invite me in to his playtime. I do not want to be an adversive to this idea.
Only recently has he allowed me more greater access to his play time. This is an opportunity i will not miss. It allows me greater access to his little brain and provides the opportunity for the lessons i wish to impart. It helps me get to know him better.
It also helps me to get to know myself better, too.
Friday, May 24, 2013
What A Difference... (The Return)
...a few years make.
I was just ready one of my earlier blogs, from when my son was 9 months old. Hard for me to believe that he was that old or that small. He is now 3 1/2 and what a difference. He has personality. He has likes and dislikes. He has a sense of humor. He has an imagination, what an imagination.
My time has come now (if you go back and read that blog, you will understand better). While he still wants Mommy often, he has now gotten more attached to me. It is awesome. He is more into what i am about. He has truly become, and you'll forgive the overused expression here but it is true, my Mini Me.
This has been building over time, now that i think about it. He can roughhouse with me (within reason) but not with Mommy. I can be a certain type of silly that appeals to his child mind (probably because my child mind is still quite active).
It has certainly picked up the pace a bit recently.
It happened just a little while before my girls were born. My wife was not as able to do things with him, which meant it was up to me. After my girls were born, i had to (and currently continue to) handle a lot of the things that my wife and i would both do with him, like bath time. More often than not, my wife would have to go off and take care of the girls and i would be left in charge of him.
As a result, we have gotten a lot closer. I do bath time with him because it tends to intersect with when the girls need to be fed. Sometimes, my wife will have to work late and so i will have to prepare his dinner and deal with the challenges that creates. Because the girls were way too little for such an outing, i would often take him on outings like food shopping while my wife would stay home.
All these activities encouraged the strengthening of our bond. He has helped me grow as a parent (so far). I have begun to take a larger role in his life. Wait, i have always had a large role but now it has deepened. Circumstances have fueled this deepening. It probably would have happened anyway but the advent of the girls and having to share us (my wife and i) with them has sped this up.
I recently went on Family Leave to "bond" with my girls like i did with him. I am now in the third (or is it the fourth?) week. I am taking the full 12 weeks, like i did with him. Prior to taking this time, i had conceptualized that it would be all about them. Or at least, that was the base of my conceptualization. I really had no real idea of what was going to happen. I knew it wasn't going to be like before (and so far, that has been right). For some reason, i was kind of forgetting a certain part of the equation, a piece that is so obvious now, i can't believe i was overlooking it.
I didn't realize what my being at home would do for me and my son.
I didn't realize how much it has reconnected me to him.
I hadn't realized that i had become disconnected in the first place.
I had a slight case of tunnel vision and i erroneously was thinking that my taking leave from my job would not have much of an impact or affect much with him. Thankfully, i was wrong. And continue to be so.
My Family Leave has been also about my son, too. Yes, i am "bonding" with the girls but it is my son that is truly gaining more at this time. When i took leave last time, he was not much different from how the girls generally are now. This leave time is about getting in touch with their routines and what works well for them. It is about the sleepless nights. It is about the spit up. It is about the trying to figure out how to coordinate things, how to strategize, and how to establish the logistics of feedings, outings, etc.
It is not intentionally about my son but this is the unintended consequence.
I have become a force in his life. I have gained authority. My importance has increased. I am becoming more of a father to him. This Leave is teaching me more about how to be his father than anything else. It is sad that this Family Leave time does not acknowledge the legitimacy of this type of bonding, which i think is actually more fundamental and important. I am thankful for this opportunity and truly spending so much time with him has been a bonus. I am getting to know him better. I am consistently struck by the irony. The technicality of the Leave excludes him and i was focused on the unpredictability of what was in store for me regarding my girls. There is still that unpredictability but my role in my son's life has become more certain.
I am constantly learning.
He continues to teach me.
This whole experience is so open and unfolding, i really don't know what to make of it. All i can think is that i have a good teacher.
I was just ready one of my earlier blogs, from when my son was 9 months old. Hard for me to believe that he was that old or that small. He is now 3 1/2 and what a difference. He has personality. He has likes and dislikes. He has a sense of humor. He has an imagination, what an imagination.
My time has come now (if you go back and read that blog, you will understand better). While he still wants Mommy often, he has now gotten more attached to me. It is awesome. He is more into what i am about. He has truly become, and you'll forgive the overused expression here but it is true, my Mini Me.
This has been building over time, now that i think about it. He can roughhouse with me (within reason) but not with Mommy. I can be a certain type of silly that appeals to his child mind (probably because my child mind is still quite active).
It has certainly picked up the pace a bit recently.
It happened just a little while before my girls were born. My wife was not as able to do things with him, which meant it was up to me. After my girls were born, i had to (and currently continue to) handle a lot of the things that my wife and i would both do with him, like bath time. More often than not, my wife would have to go off and take care of the girls and i would be left in charge of him.
As a result, we have gotten a lot closer. I do bath time with him because it tends to intersect with when the girls need to be fed. Sometimes, my wife will have to work late and so i will have to prepare his dinner and deal with the challenges that creates. Because the girls were way too little for such an outing, i would often take him on outings like food shopping while my wife would stay home.
All these activities encouraged the strengthening of our bond. He has helped me grow as a parent (so far). I have begun to take a larger role in his life. Wait, i have always had a large role but now it has deepened. Circumstances have fueled this deepening. It probably would have happened anyway but the advent of the girls and having to share us (my wife and i) with them has sped this up.
I recently went on Family Leave to "bond" with my girls like i did with him. I am now in the third (or is it the fourth?) week. I am taking the full 12 weeks, like i did with him. Prior to taking this time, i had conceptualized that it would be all about them. Or at least, that was the base of my conceptualization. I really had no real idea of what was going to happen. I knew it wasn't going to be like before (and so far, that has been right). For some reason, i was kind of forgetting a certain part of the equation, a piece that is so obvious now, i can't believe i was overlooking it.
I didn't realize what my being at home would do for me and my son.
I didn't realize how much it has reconnected me to him.
I hadn't realized that i had become disconnected in the first place.
I had a slight case of tunnel vision and i erroneously was thinking that my taking leave from my job would not have much of an impact or affect much with him. Thankfully, i was wrong. And continue to be so.
My Family Leave has been also about my son, too. Yes, i am "bonding" with the girls but it is my son that is truly gaining more at this time. When i took leave last time, he was not much different from how the girls generally are now. This leave time is about getting in touch with their routines and what works well for them. It is about the sleepless nights. It is about the spit up. It is about the trying to figure out how to coordinate things, how to strategize, and how to establish the logistics of feedings, outings, etc.
It is not intentionally about my son but this is the unintended consequence.
I have become a force in his life. I have gained authority. My importance has increased. I am becoming more of a father to him. This Leave is teaching me more about how to be his father than anything else. It is sad that this Family Leave time does not acknowledge the legitimacy of this type of bonding, which i think is actually more fundamental and important. I am thankful for this opportunity and truly spending so much time with him has been a bonus. I am getting to know him better. I am consistently struck by the irony. The technicality of the Leave excludes him and i was focused on the unpredictability of what was in store for me regarding my girls. There is still that unpredictability but my role in my son's life has become more certain.
I am constantly learning.
He continues to teach me.
This whole experience is so open and unfolding, i really don't know what to make of it. All i can think is that i have a good teacher.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Mindin' the Mindful
I am sitting way too long.
My legs have just gone numb. In fact,my feet have fallen asleep. you know that pins and needles thing? Yup, it's happening. I can't move though. My thoughts keep drifting. I am trying not to fall asleep. How many more minutes will this go on? Will i be able to stand and walk? The quiet is deafening. I am trying to focus and concentrated.
Random thoughts keep intruding.
Need.
To.
Keep.
My.
Back.
Straight.
Agony.
Why did i do this? What made me think this was going to be good? How long can my body endure this torture of non-movement? Oh no. I have an itch. Oh. No. Effin'. Way.
Can't scratch.
Can't scratch it.
Ride it out.
Ride it out.
When will it be over?
*****************************************************************************
So, the above scenario? What do you think i am talking about?
Is it:
a) sitting with an infant who vomits her latest feeding at any slight jostle (i swear she has a mercury switch inside of her that triggers these eruptions)?
b) sitting zazen in a very warm zendo with very little air current?
c) sitting in a slowly deteriorating glider waiting for a small human who consumed WAY too much cake and candy (Ok, yeah, it there such a thing, all ye "sugar induced mania is a myth" nay-sayers? Ask me and i will gladly hand over late night watch duties to you and you can try to keep pace with his nonsensical toddler-speak)?
d) Playing hide and seek with a yeti.
The answers:
If you guessed, a) sitting very still with a very potentially propulsive bundle of joy, you would be correct.
If you guessed, b) sitting zazen for 25 minutes, you would also be correct.
If you guessed, c) sitting waiting for a little boy who has eaten his weight in sugary goodness and chocolate and has yet to fall asleep after 3 rotations of the night time musical selection of Rockabye Baby's Metallica offerings (which is awesome by the way, my wife was startled to "hear" the original versions of the songs), you would also be correct.
The yeti answer i would not know if it is right or wrong.
Having experienced 3 out of 4 of these scenarios i am struck by how similar they are to each other. I had no idea that i would endure the same anguish as a parent as i would sitting zazen. It should have prepared me but nothing really can prepare you. In fact, that is kind of the point of zazen, in the negative cast. Every experience is a new experience. Every moment of sitting zazen is a new one.
I am getting ahead of myself.
First, i must confess, i am a terrible Buddhist.
I don't practice enough. I don't really belong to a sangha (the Zen Buddhist community of practitioners). I don't have a teacher outside of books. Annoyingly, i am a quick read. I grasp points quickly, so Zen was quickly easy to intellectually understand - which of course is a terrible thing to do, without practicing and being an actual participant. Of course, I was also terrible at sitting zazen.
What was less terrible was that i have (and continue to) apply what i learned from my brief exposure to the actual practice of Zen Buddhism to my life. In fact, it is probably the only reason that i am reasonably sane. It has given me a better sense of perspective...
Wait.
You're not here for a self (or non-self, some Buddhist humor, har har) grandizing / confessional tell all blah blah blah blog. You're here for...
Well, what ever. You have your reasons.
Back to point.
(If i digress again, i blame the lovely trappist oak aged quadrupel ale i am consuming - it was a long day)
The awareness i was and have experienced is due to a focused perception of attention, commonly referred to as "mindfulness." Apparently, a little mindfulness goes a LONG way. In an bit of a twist, the evaluative experience of mindfulness is totally contingent upon context and perspective - as is evidenced by my negative ones mentioned already. Yet, and i am kind of getting ahead of myself again, this is part of the experience. It is neither negative nor positive. It just is. We add that value coloring to it in our interpretations of the experience.
The positive side of mindfulness can come in the form of dealing with an overtired toddler who is determined to do whatever he can to the family cat, who has been pretty easy going so far, and your response to his (the toddler's actions, the cat would be fully justified).
Yes. I yelled.
Yes. I then realized that i was attempting speak to him as an adult who has their executive functions intact. Yes. He responded by crying and becoming extremely upset. Once deterred from wreaking havoc upon the cat, he became overwhelmed by a task of putting some Legos together (a skill which i once had but adulthood has determined unnecessary and my brain pared those neurons down) and i yelled at him unfairly.
Then i stopped.
I awoke.
I realized that he was tired and any little thing would set him off. Being mindful, i altered my intervention. I slowed my mind. I slowed my interaction. I reminded myself (or non-self, har har) that if i was him - and any good Buddhist would tell you that i am him and he is me - how would i want my daddy to respond to me? I changed my approach. I softened myself. I loosened myself to become more unconditional and accepting. I hugged him.
He initially resisted. He struggled against my softer side but then relented. He allowed me to be present to his frustration. Yes, he's a toddler but he was tired and needed solace and understanding. Even if he could not articulate those sophisticated thoughts and values, he needed them as much as i could provide. He was able to put the pieces together as he was wanting to do.
Without any experience of mindfulness, any awareness of my own responses to his behaviors, i would have made matters worse and attempted to force and struggle with him. He would have resisted and we would have fought. He would have gone to bed for his nap and i would have had the emotional strain heavy on my breast. More importantly, i would not have listened to him. I would have added to the long establish standard of "parents just don't understand." He would not think to communicate with me his frustrations in the future.
Maybe not.
Maybe i am overestimating this. Exaggerating this interaction's impact years to come.
But why take the chance?
By paying attention, being attentive to my own responses to his behaviors, i can adapt. I can adjust. I can demonstrate the example. After all, i firmly believe that fathers are the standard by which the sons will follow. I am not my father but he left an indelible (positive) mark upon me. I want to be him and more. I want my son to be confident and have an awareness of his impact (not neurotically mind you) on others.
As such, i need to be mindful.
As a terrible Buddhist, this will be easy/hard to do.
As a father, well, we'll see.
After all, i got two little girls to contend with yet...
My legs have just gone numb. In fact,my feet have fallen asleep. you know that pins and needles thing? Yup, it's happening. I can't move though. My thoughts keep drifting. I am trying not to fall asleep. How many more minutes will this go on? Will i be able to stand and walk? The quiet is deafening. I am trying to focus and concentrated.
Random thoughts keep intruding.
Need.
To.
Keep.
My.
Back.
Straight.
Agony.
Why did i do this? What made me think this was going to be good? How long can my body endure this torture of non-movement? Oh no. I have an itch. Oh. No. Effin'. Way.
Can't scratch.
Can't scratch it.
Ride it out.
Ride it out.
When will it be over?
*****************************************************************************
So, the above scenario? What do you think i am talking about?
Is it:
a) sitting with an infant who vomits her latest feeding at any slight jostle (i swear she has a mercury switch inside of her that triggers these eruptions)?
b) sitting zazen in a very warm zendo with very little air current?
c) sitting in a slowly deteriorating glider waiting for a small human who consumed WAY too much cake and candy (Ok, yeah, it there such a thing, all ye "sugar induced mania is a myth" nay-sayers? Ask me and i will gladly hand over late night watch duties to you and you can try to keep pace with his nonsensical toddler-speak)?
d) Playing hide and seek with a yeti.
The answers:
If you guessed, a) sitting very still with a very potentially propulsive bundle of joy, you would be correct.
If you guessed, b) sitting zazen for 25 minutes, you would also be correct.
If you guessed, c) sitting waiting for a little boy who has eaten his weight in sugary goodness and chocolate and has yet to fall asleep after 3 rotations of the night time musical selection of Rockabye Baby's Metallica offerings (which is awesome by the way, my wife was startled to "hear" the original versions of the songs), you would also be correct.
The yeti answer i would not know if it is right or wrong.
Having experienced 3 out of 4 of these scenarios i am struck by how similar they are to each other. I had no idea that i would endure the same anguish as a parent as i would sitting zazen. It should have prepared me but nothing really can prepare you. In fact, that is kind of the point of zazen, in the negative cast. Every experience is a new experience. Every moment of sitting zazen is a new one.
I am getting ahead of myself.
First, i must confess, i am a terrible Buddhist.
I don't practice enough. I don't really belong to a sangha (the Zen Buddhist community of practitioners). I don't have a teacher outside of books. Annoyingly, i am a quick read. I grasp points quickly, so Zen was quickly easy to intellectually understand - which of course is a terrible thing to do, without practicing and being an actual participant. Of course, I was also terrible at sitting zazen.
What was less terrible was that i have (and continue to) apply what i learned from my brief exposure to the actual practice of Zen Buddhism to my life. In fact, it is probably the only reason that i am reasonably sane. It has given me a better sense of perspective...
Wait.
You're not here for a self (or non-self, some Buddhist humor, har har) grandizing / confessional tell all blah blah blah blog. You're here for...
Well, what ever. You have your reasons.
Back to point.
(If i digress again, i blame the lovely trappist oak aged quadrupel ale i am consuming - it was a long day)
The awareness i was and have experienced is due to a focused perception of attention, commonly referred to as "mindfulness." Apparently, a little mindfulness goes a LONG way. In an bit of a twist, the evaluative experience of mindfulness is totally contingent upon context and perspective - as is evidenced by my negative ones mentioned already. Yet, and i am kind of getting ahead of myself again, this is part of the experience. It is neither negative nor positive. It just is. We add that value coloring to it in our interpretations of the experience.
The positive side of mindfulness can come in the form of dealing with an overtired toddler who is determined to do whatever he can to the family cat, who has been pretty easy going so far, and your response to his (the toddler's actions, the cat would be fully justified).
Yes. I yelled.
Yes. I then realized that i was attempting speak to him as an adult who has their executive functions intact. Yes. He responded by crying and becoming extremely upset. Once deterred from wreaking havoc upon the cat, he became overwhelmed by a task of putting some Legos together (a skill which i once had but adulthood has determined unnecessary and my brain pared those neurons down) and i yelled at him unfairly.
Then i stopped.
I awoke.
I realized that he was tired and any little thing would set him off. Being mindful, i altered my intervention. I slowed my mind. I slowed my interaction. I reminded myself (or non-self, har har) that if i was him - and any good Buddhist would tell you that i am him and he is me - how would i want my daddy to respond to me? I changed my approach. I softened myself. I loosened myself to become more unconditional and accepting. I hugged him.
He initially resisted. He struggled against my softer side but then relented. He allowed me to be present to his frustration. Yes, he's a toddler but he was tired and needed solace and understanding. Even if he could not articulate those sophisticated thoughts and values, he needed them as much as i could provide. He was able to put the pieces together as he was wanting to do.
Without any experience of mindfulness, any awareness of my own responses to his behaviors, i would have made matters worse and attempted to force and struggle with him. He would have resisted and we would have fought. He would have gone to bed for his nap and i would have had the emotional strain heavy on my breast. More importantly, i would not have listened to him. I would have added to the long establish standard of "parents just don't understand." He would not think to communicate with me his frustrations in the future.
Maybe not.
Maybe i am overestimating this. Exaggerating this interaction's impact years to come.
But why take the chance?
By paying attention, being attentive to my own responses to his behaviors, i can adapt. I can adjust. I can demonstrate the example. After all, i firmly believe that fathers are the standard by which the sons will follow. I am not my father but he left an indelible (positive) mark upon me. I want to be him and more. I want my son to be confident and have an awareness of his impact (not neurotically mind you) on others.
As such, i need to be mindful.
As a terrible Buddhist, this will be easy/hard to do.
As a father, well, we'll see.
After all, i got two little girls to contend with yet...
Monday, May 20, 2013
Enter Sandman, Enter life...
"So, you getting any sleep yet?"
I always have difficulty answering this question.
It is the same question as "How are you?" but for new parents. It is the question that is frequently asked when people hear or see that i have twins. Yes. I now have twins. At last post, i only had one kid. A boy. He is now three and a half years old. Time flies. Now, i have twin girls. Girls! Don't get me started on this one.
oh.
Wait.
That's the purpose of restarting this blog, to start jotting down my thoughts and 'meditations' as they were about being a dad. I have had some time and some experience now about being a dad. At least, a singleton dad. Now, i am in the big leagues as it were. Two little girls have entered my life and i am a whole lot more a dad than i was before. I could really go crazy with how things have changed and how my life has changed (again) in these past three years but i won't.
"So, you sleeping yet?"
Such a terrible question.
Impossible to answer in a succinct way. The questioner is gonna regret asking. It is a key that fits into a lock that holds the roiling mass of sleep deprived hysteria that could consume them at bay. The asker does not have an inkling of a clue as to what they are asking. They are just being polite but really don't want the confession.
My father-in-law and i were in a playground the other day and i was asked this question by a stranger, whose children were gallivanting and cavorting about. I felt like it was a pop quiz, a test of my ability to respond in a social appropriate way.
But i babbled a nonsensical answer.
I failed the social interaction pop quiz.
It seems rather unfair to be asked how you are sleeping as a new parent. Especially by other parents. Of course i am not getting any sleep, dumb ass! Remember your first days, months with a new born??? No sleep! Not for you! Not for the baby! The midnight feedings! The unhappy cries because of soiled diapers in the night! The Mission Impossible task of getting the diaper off and a new one on before the child realizes what's happening and really wakes up! The double bind of "do i or don't i" when faced with these scenarios! It goes on... The quintessential parental first days that we struggle through.
Why ask?!?
Now, twins to that mix!
No sleep squared. All the issues squared. Sleep becomes a particular dilemma. All the rules go out the window.
If you are the only one with them, the twins, (and you will be in the middle of night because your significant other needs to get some sleep to be the coherent one in the morning) then you need to figure out a way to feed them both at the same time. They will, at one point, wake up at the same time. Hungry. Ravenous. Howling like a winterstarved wolf pack on the bloodtrail of a wounded elk. If you happened to be attempting to sleep at that time, well i feel for you. I've been there (and will surely be there again).
The well intentioned opinionators will offer "Get them on a schedule" and *POOF* problem solved.
In theory, a schedule is a good idea - during the day. It makes things easier and less hectic. If you are lucky (and i count my lucky stars ALL the time), you will have some help with them. A routine, a schedule will make things flow. Both are eating at the same time. They are napping at the same time. There is some awesome synchronized burp action going on. Life is good.
Until.
Until night time and it is just you versus them.
And
And they are on a schedule.
Both wake hungry.
Both wake cranky.
Both wake demanding your full on attention.
It is a for real lady or the tiger scenario.
They are howling as you rub the sleep from you sleep deprived eyes, try to get your cognitive functions in order, and deal with it. If you have a boppy pillow, then you will quickly plop them into it. You will grab the bottles, that have been pre-prepared for this midnight feed and VOILA! They are being fed and you can take comfort in your success!
Except.
Except that it does not go down this way.
They wake screaming.
You wake startled, trying to get your bearings, your discomfort is cast aside as your nervous system is screaming in sympathy to their screams. There is a reason why baby cries get on our nerves. Once you get your autonomic responses under control, you grab the one that is crying the most and get 'em in the boppy. Then you get the other. Then, the next thing is placement. You have to hold two bottles at the same time to feed the two at the same time. They need to be in a position that make it easy to do this.
Sleep will impair your cognitive reason abilities though.
You cannot reason with an infant, let alone two. They won't understand the shifting of the boppy to facilitate best delivery of the bottle. All they know is hunger and the delayed gratification of this need. All they know is to cry and howl louder to communicate that you are failing to respond.
You'll be scrambling to calm them but only a bottle will do.
Except.
Except now one twin has gulped down enough air to create a wonderful gas bubble which will prevent them from accepting a bottle until they are burped. So, you either burp amidst the screaming of the non-gaseous one or you feed the one and try to figure out a way to burp the other.
Now, try to keep your calm. This is especially hard to do if there has been several sleep deprived nights or if you have some 'stuff' hanging onto you. You will feel as though your competency and capability as a parent is called into question. It will be your greatest challenge. Time will slow down. The screaming will seem to go on forever. It will never end no matter what you do.
Except.
Except that it won't.
The one will let finally out a huge (gratifying) burp. The feeding will resume. Your ears will stop ringing. The quiet will be interspersed with soft gulps. And if you are so lucky, once fed, the sleepy little ones will give you a beatific smile and you will feel redeemed. One may even babble at you. You may forget how tired you are (and that's really just the adrenaline shooting through your bloodstream) and babble back. A quick flash of someone, a relative most likely, saying, "You don't want to wake them... it makes it harder for them to fall back asleep..." runs through your head. You dismiss this because this is the reward. This is what makes you forget the screams, the howls.
Until you realize it is 3 AM, only 20 minutes have elapsed upon the waking, and it may take the next hour to get them to fall back asleep.
*******************************************************************
It is amazing how one can function on certain amounts of sleep. Especially little punctuated amounts.
Actually, the trick is massive amounts of coffee. And In-Laws or parents that are there to help out during the day. My wife and i have been most certainly running on deficits. My first thought in the morning that is non-twin related or child related is about coffee. I think about how fast i can get those beans ground and how much brain power will i need to get this task accomplished.
After coffee, i can face the day. My next thought is "I hope they take a long nap so i can nap too." Unless, i have something i need to do. These afternoon naps are immensely satisfying and rejuvenating. They are especially good if one of the twins falls asleep on me. I am doomed when that happens.
Then the day progresses and i deal. Then night time arrives and as the sun sets, i fret a little about what the night will hold. Will they sleep? Have i been successful in keeping them ever so slightly off schedule to facilitate an easier feeding experience? Will i get enough sleep to function tomorrow? Can i get them to sleep on a feed long enough so my wife can get enough sleep herself (a form of self-sacrifice of sleep)?
On schedule may be good during the day, but off schedule, ever so slightly is better for the night. Although, it is a double edged sword. Off schedule means longer wake time for you as you feed one then the other, decreasing any available sleep time for you. Yet, you will only contend with one at a time. In theory.
So, when someone, anyone asks, "You getting any sleep?"
How would you respond?
I always have difficulty answering this question.
It is the same question as "How are you?" but for new parents. It is the question that is frequently asked when people hear or see that i have twins. Yes. I now have twins. At last post, i only had one kid. A boy. He is now three and a half years old. Time flies. Now, i have twin girls. Girls! Don't get me started on this one.
oh.
Wait.
That's the purpose of restarting this blog, to start jotting down my thoughts and 'meditations' as they were about being a dad. I have had some time and some experience now about being a dad. At least, a singleton dad. Now, i am in the big leagues as it were. Two little girls have entered my life and i am a whole lot more a dad than i was before. I could really go crazy with how things have changed and how my life has changed (again) in these past three years but i won't.
"So, you sleeping yet?"
Such a terrible question.
Impossible to answer in a succinct way. The questioner is gonna regret asking. It is a key that fits into a lock that holds the roiling mass of sleep deprived hysteria that could consume them at bay. The asker does not have an inkling of a clue as to what they are asking. They are just being polite but really don't want the confession.
My father-in-law and i were in a playground the other day and i was asked this question by a stranger, whose children were gallivanting and cavorting about. I felt like it was a pop quiz, a test of my ability to respond in a social appropriate way.
But i babbled a nonsensical answer.
I failed the social interaction pop quiz.
It seems rather unfair to be asked how you are sleeping as a new parent. Especially by other parents. Of course i am not getting any sleep, dumb ass! Remember your first days, months with a new born??? No sleep! Not for you! Not for the baby! The midnight feedings! The unhappy cries because of soiled diapers in the night! The Mission Impossible task of getting the diaper off and a new one on before the child realizes what's happening and really wakes up! The double bind of "do i or don't i" when faced with these scenarios! It goes on... The quintessential parental first days that we struggle through.
Why ask?!?
Now, twins to that mix!
No sleep squared. All the issues squared. Sleep becomes a particular dilemma. All the rules go out the window.
If you are the only one with them, the twins, (and you will be in the middle of night because your significant other needs to get some sleep to be the coherent one in the morning) then you need to figure out a way to feed them both at the same time. They will, at one point, wake up at the same time. Hungry. Ravenous. Howling like a winterstarved wolf pack on the bloodtrail of a wounded elk. If you happened to be attempting to sleep at that time, well i feel for you. I've been there (and will surely be there again).
The well intentioned opinionators will offer "Get them on a schedule" and *POOF* problem solved.
In theory, a schedule is a good idea - during the day. It makes things easier and less hectic. If you are lucky (and i count my lucky stars ALL the time), you will have some help with them. A routine, a schedule will make things flow. Both are eating at the same time. They are napping at the same time. There is some awesome synchronized burp action going on. Life is good.
Until.
Until night time and it is just you versus them.
And
And they are on a schedule.
Both wake hungry.
Both wake cranky.
Both wake demanding your full on attention.
It is a for real lady or the tiger scenario.
They are howling as you rub the sleep from you sleep deprived eyes, try to get your cognitive functions in order, and deal with it. If you have a boppy pillow, then you will quickly plop them into it. You will grab the bottles, that have been pre-prepared for this midnight feed and VOILA! They are being fed and you can take comfort in your success!
Except.
Except that it does not go down this way.
They wake screaming.
You wake startled, trying to get your bearings, your discomfort is cast aside as your nervous system is screaming in sympathy to their screams. There is a reason why baby cries get on our nerves. Once you get your autonomic responses under control, you grab the one that is crying the most and get 'em in the boppy. Then you get the other. Then, the next thing is placement. You have to hold two bottles at the same time to feed the two at the same time. They need to be in a position that make it easy to do this.
Sleep will impair your cognitive reason abilities though.
You cannot reason with an infant, let alone two. They won't understand the shifting of the boppy to facilitate best delivery of the bottle. All they know is hunger and the delayed gratification of this need. All they know is to cry and howl louder to communicate that you are failing to respond.
You'll be scrambling to calm them but only a bottle will do.
Except.
Except now one twin has gulped down enough air to create a wonderful gas bubble which will prevent them from accepting a bottle until they are burped. So, you either burp amidst the screaming of the non-gaseous one or you feed the one and try to figure out a way to burp the other.
Now, try to keep your calm. This is especially hard to do if there has been several sleep deprived nights or if you have some 'stuff' hanging onto you. You will feel as though your competency and capability as a parent is called into question. It will be your greatest challenge. Time will slow down. The screaming will seem to go on forever. It will never end no matter what you do.
Except.
Except that it won't.
The one will let finally out a huge (gratifying) burp. The feeding will resume. Your ears will stop ringing. The quiet will be interspersed with soft gulps. And if you are so lucky, once fed, the sleepy little ones will give you a beatific smile and you will feel redeemed. One may even babble at you. You may forget how tired you are (and that's really just the adrenaline shooting through your bloodstream) and babble back. A quick flash of someone, a relative most likely, saying, "You don't want to wake them... it makes it harder for them to fall back asleep..." runs through your head. You dismiss this because this is the reward. This is what makes you forget the screams, the howls.
Until you realize it is 3 AM, only 20 minutes have elapsed upon the waking, and it may take the next hour to get them to fall back asleep.
*******************************************************************
It is amazing how one can function on certain amounts of sleep. Especially little punctuated amounts.
Actually, the trick is massive amounts of coffee. And In-Laws or parents that are there to help out during the day. My wife and i have been most certainly running on deficits. My first thought in the morning that is non-twin related or child related is about coffee. I think about how fast i can get those beans ground and how much brain power will i need to get this task accomplished.
After coffee, i can face the day. My next thought is "I hope they take a long nap so i can nap too." Unless, i have something i need to do. These afternoon naps are immensely satisfying and rejuvenating. They are especially good if one of the twins falls asleep on me. I am doomed when that happens.
Then the day progresses and i deal. Then night time arrives and as the sun sets, i fret a little about what the night will hold. Will they sleep? Have i been successful in keeping them ever so slightly off schedule to facilitate an easier feeding experience? Will i get enough sleep to function tomorrow? Can i get them to sleep on a feed long enough so my wife can get enough sleep herself (a form of self-sacrifice of sleep)?
On schedule may be good during the day, but off schedule, ever so slightly is better for the night. Although, it is a double edged sword. Off schedule means longer wake time for you as you feed one then the other, decreasing any available sleep time for you. Yet, you will only contend with one at a time. In theory.
So, when someone, anyone asks, "You getting any sleep?"
How would you respond?
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Trennungsangst meines Kindes
Well, it seems he has reached that stage of his development. He is going through separation anxiety. Currently, at almost 9 months old, he is very attached to Mommy. He has not shown as having as much issue with Daddy (aka me) disappearing. I 'm not entirely certain how i feel about this.
On the one hand, as a direct result of this preference, i am a little more free to do things and not really needing to worry about a small human clinging to me at all possible times. I feel for my wife, really i do. It can be a bit of strain. This neediness carries itself like a double edged sword. There is no greater joy and there is no greater frustration. His preference for mater versus pater does give my wife one advantage, i tend to have to do more household stuff 'cause the imminent meltdown threat (of course, this is not really that much of an advantage).
I know there is a reason for the separation anxiety. I remember reading about it, learning about it. Somehow books don't really capture the experience.
Now, on the other hand, i try not to take it too personally that he wants Mommy more than me. This is hard yet slightly easy, in a weird paradoxical way. I try not to buy into the whole masculine mindset stereotype, i.e. tough, stoic, etc. etc. stuff, but i find there is some residual truth to it. On one level, i totally accept and don't feel any emotion sting from his preference. I am guessing this comes directly from the "Unnh Me Man Me No Care" primordial part of the brain (which ever part that may actually be). On a deeper level, and i suppose this is the Paternal Part of the brain, i feel a sense of anguish and rejection - which is a direct reflection of my love for my son. After all, if i didn't love him i wouldn't care if how he reacted to me. This deeper part of this exerience wasn't there before my son.
Logically, i can tell myself that it's only a phase and it won't be forever. Abstractly, i can identify the theories about the reasons and purposes of this experience. I can evaluate it on clinical level and acknowledge it's status as being benign. These cold hard rationales can keep me grounded and not let me feel what it feels like and keep me overly safe.
But i would be utterly lying to myself if i accepted them as absolutes and allowed no quarter for presence of my emotions. I would be doing far more damage, definitely to myself and probably to my son.
The reality is that these are little paper cuts of existential turmoil. They hurt like hell but they heal pretty quickly. I cannot harbor them. I cannot hold these rejections against my son (and i feel sorry for anyone having been in my experiential position as actually place blame on one so young for these rejections). He's too little to understand adult level of emotions. He's just trying to make sense of the world.
Others may feel bad that he overtly favors my wife over me. They would seek to comfort and attempt to soften how this might sting. I'd rather they didn't. I rather it wasn't denied. I know and accept that this is simply what it is. There is no malicious intnet by his actions (he's too young for malice). If anything, this reinforces two things for me: 1) my unconditional love for him and 2) brings my feelings to the surface so they can be felt and fully experienced.
My time will come. It is part of the process. Father and son will find a way to bond. This whole separation anxiety thing is just priming that bond.
On the one hand, as a direct result of this preference, i am a little more free to do things and not really needing to worry about a small human clinging to me at all possible times. I feel for my wife, really i do. It can be a bit of strain. This neediness carries itself like a double edged sword. There is no greater joy and there is no greater frustration. His preference for mater versus pater does give my wife one advantage, i tend to have to do more household stuff 'cause the imminent meltdown threat (of course, this is not really that much of an advantage).
I know there is a reason for the separation anxiety. I remember reading about it, learning about it. Somehow books don't really capture the experience.
Now, on the other hand, i try not to take it too personally that he wants Mommy more than me. This is hard yet slightly easy, in a weird paradoxical way. I try not to buy into the whole masculine mindset stereotype, i.e. tough, stoic, etc. etc. stuff, but i find there is some residual truth to it. On one level, i totally accept and don't feel any emotion sting from his preference. I am guessing this comes directly from the "Unnh Me Man Me No Care" primordial part of the brain (which ever part that may actually be). On a deeper level, and i suppose this is the Paternal Part of the brain, i feel a sense of anguish and rejection - which is a direct reflection of my love for my son. After all, if i didn't love him i wouldn't care if how he reacted to me. This deeper part of this exerience wasn't there before my son.
Logically, i can tell myself that it's only a phase and it won't be forever. Abstractly, i can identify the theories about the reasons and purposes of this experience. I can evaluate it on clinical level and acknowledge it's status as being benign. These cold hard rationales can keep me grounded and not let me feel what it feels like and keep me overly safe.
But i would be utterly lying to myself if i accepted them as absolutes and allowed no quarter for presence of my emotions. I would be doing far more damage, definitely to myself and probably to my son.
The reality is that these are little paper cuts of existential turmoil. They hurt like hell but they heal pretty quickly. I cannot harbor them. I cannot hold these rejections against my son (and i feel sorry for anyone having been in my experiential position as actually place blame on one so young for these rejections). He's too little to understand adult level of emotions. He's just trying to make sense of the world.
Others may feel bad that he overtly favors my wife over me. They would seek to comfort and attempt to soften how this might sting. I'd rather they didn't. I rather it wasn't denied. I know and accept that this is simply what it is. There is no malicious intnet by his actions (he's too young for malice). If anything, this reinforces two things for me: 1) my unconditional love for him and 2) brings my feelings to the surface so they can be felt and fully experienced.
My time will come. It is part of the process. Father and son will find a way to bond. This whole separation anxiety thing is just priming that bond.
Monday, August 2, 2010
What a Difference...
... a few months can make.
My wife, the Notorious HFG, and i just just visited some friends who just welcome a child into the world. This newborn, turns out, has the same specs* that the Notorious HFG had when he was born. He was born about a week ago.
It is remarkable how different their son is to my son. We, humans, are remarkable creatures. How quickly we change and grow and become. It is hard for me to remember what it was like back during those first days. Yet, in an instant, i have a flash and remember all too well. I distinctly remember thinking, "Is he ever gonna get any bigger? What is he gonna be like in a couple of months?"
I think these are universal questions. I looked at that newborn and i am brought back to the sense of wonder and awe. There is so much potential and some future locked in that little body. So many ways to grow and develop into a little person. Part of the story is already available. I see that in my son. I see where and what shape my friend's son is going to go but it is an incomplete picture.
It is too soon to see what kind of personality is hiding in that tiny bundle. Rather, it is not available for the casual eye. The parents probably have gotten some sense of what the child is going to be like. I know my son's temperment and recognized it within the first few hours he was with us. Now, 8 months later, he is still the same with some added features.
The changes are subtle. The changes are great. We don't always see them. It is when someone else remarks and takes notice that we notice some of the more distinct changes. There are the larger changes. The little signposts along the road of his development. Yet, even these larger changes sweep in slowly. By the time they have reach fruition, we've taken them for granted.
It is kind of funny that many changes in my son also reflect changes in me and my wife too. We adapt and have adapted and will continue to do so. In talking with my friend, i remembered thinking about the things that would be changing for me in those early days (daze). My friend asked me if it was hard to hold my son for an extended period of time as he gets heavier and how he was somewhat worried about being able to hold his son like that and bear the strain. I told him that it really wasn't difficult and that there was no other feeling like it in the world.
I realize that when we are first learning to adapt to this new re-ordering, re-organizing of our lives, we view the future's issues (or what we believe to be the future's issues) with our current eyes, without any regards to the unforseen changes we will make for ourselves. We cannot know, truly, how we will change, how we will adapt, how we will develop to re-order, re-organize ourselves in efforts to find balance. It is ever evolving. It is impossible to know what challenges we will directly face and what we will learn from them.
My answer to him was tempered by the profound pleasure and joy i experience when i hold my son. Perhaps i do strain under his weight. Perhaps i react in a way that i would not have thought possible back so many months ago. Yet, i don't really notice the strained muscles when i am in his presence. I do notice my reactions and i try to check them if they seem unwarranted.
Just like his gradual subtle developments, i have become more and more entranced by his simple innocence of being there.
My wife, the Notorious HFG, and i just just visited some friends who just welcome a child into the world. This newborn, turns out, has the same specs* that the Notorious HFG had when he was born. He was born about a week ago.
It is remarkable how different their son is to my son. We, humans, are remarkable creatures. How quickly we change and grow and become. It is hard for me to remember what it was like back during those first days. Yet, in an instant, i have a flash and remember all too well. I distinctly remember thinking, "Is he ever gonna get any bigger? What is he gonna be like in a couple of months?"
I think these are universal questions. I looked at that newborn and i am brought back to the sense of wonder and awe. There is so much potential and some future locked in that little body. So many ways to grow and develop into a little person. Part of the story is already available. I see that in my son. I see where and what shape my friend's son is going to go but it is an incomplete picture.
It is too soon to see what kind of personality is hiding in that tiny bundle. Rather, it is not available for the casual eye. The parents probably have gotten some sense of what the child is going to be like. I know my son's temperment and recognized it within the first few hours he was with us. Now, 8 months later, he is still the same with some added features.
The changes are subtle. The changes are great. We don't always see them. It is when someone else remarks and takes notice that we notice some of the more distinct changes. There are the larger changes. The little signposts along the road of his development. Yet, even these larger changes sweep in slowly. By the time they have reach fruition, we've taken them for granted.
It is kind of funny that many changes in my son also reflect changes in me and my wife too. We adapt and have adapted and will continue to do so. In talking with my friend, i remembered thinking about the things that would be changing for me in those early days (daze). My friend asked me if it was hard to hold my son for an extended period of time as he gets heavier and how he was somewhat worried about being able to hold his son like that and bear the strain. I told him that it really wasn't difficult and that there was no other feeling like it in the world.
I realize that when we are first learning to adapt to this new re-ordering, re-organizing of our lives, we view the future's issues (or what we believe to be the future's issues) with our current eyes, without any regards to the unforseen changes we will make for ourselves. We cannot know, truly, how we will change, how we will adapt, how we will develop to re-order, re-organize ourselves in efforts to find balance. It is ever evolving. It is impossible to know what challenges we will directly face and what we will learn from them.
My answer to him was tempered by the profound pleasure and joy i experience when i hold my son. Perhaps i do strain under his weight. Perhaps i react in a way that i would not have thought possible back so many months ago. Yet, i don't really notice the strained muscles when i am in his presence. I do notice my reactions and i try to check them if they seem unwarranted.
Just like his gradual subtle developments, i have become more and more entranced by his simple innocence of being there.
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