I've turned into my father, in more ways than one. It's not that that is a bad thing, because my dad is a terrific guy, a great father and provider, and probably the smartest guy I've ever known. It's just odd, as I've never really thought of myself as like him.
I wander through the house, turning off lights that have been left on by my children, and I flash back to him saying "...if you're not in a room, you don't need light--TURN IT OFF!!" I go through the motions, telling my children, "Hey, turn it off!" and I can't help but wonder if he felt the same impulse I feel to squeeze them, just a little, just slightly hard.
I have two kids, a 12 year-old boy, and a 6 year-old girl. For the life of them, they cannot compute that an open door wastes money--my hard-earned money. In summer, it lets out our air-conditioned comfort. In winter, our warmth and coziness. I see red and reprimand (sometimes in a yelling fashion, I admit)
"Hey, you're letting all my heat/cold out! Do you think I want to heat/cool the planet!?!"
You can probably guess where I've heard that one before...
Being a dad isn't all frustration, there are many, many times where the warm glow is of pride and happiness, rather than the haze of rage. Every time I successfully answer a question that starts "Dad, why does...?" or "Dad, how does...?" I feel wonderful, I feel like I am the king of all knowledge. I remember a time when I was younger, on a cold winter morning, riding with my Dad to get firewood at my uncle's farm, when I asked him about of all things, a garbage truck, and he was able to explain to me the functionings and workings of not only the truck we saw, but the whole business, from our back step all the way to the dump. I'm not sure he remembers that occasion, but it sure stuck with me, so I can only hope that my mental meanderings holds some memory-value for my kids some day. Further to that, I hope fervently that they will be able to have memories like this with their own kids some day. (It will have to be a long time for my little girl, as she is prohibited from talking to boys until she is 30.)
I remember seeing my son score his first goal in soccer, see him take part in an Easter presentation at school, remember how proud he looked the first time he was able to spend his own money at Walmart, to buy a video game. (he also looked terrified). And for my daughter, I remember her feeble attempt to play soccer too, though she was more interested in holding hands with her first brown-person friend, (a little Asian girl). I remember her first dance recital, and the glow she had after reading a book for the first time all on her own. I remember all these and more, and I pity any dad who is too busy to spend quality moments like these with his kids.
My dad was and is a pretty quiet guy, so in that way I am very UNlike him, but I find myself becoming very thoughtful and quiet before I speak sometimes, I have to work things out before I voice them. My wife finds this trait increasingly annoying, and I remember being a little anxious sometimes myself when speaking to my dad. But, in our defence, sometimes it is very prudent to censor your thoughts before you blurt things out. After all, discretion IS the better part of valour.
So, I find myself becoming my Dad, in more ways than one, and I think that makes me pretty lucky.
I wander through the house, turning off lights that have been left on by my children, and I flash back to him saying "...if you're not in a room, you don't need light--TURN IT OFF!!" I go through the motions, telling my children, "Hey, turn it off!" and I can't help but wonder if he felt the same impulse I feel to squeeze them, just a little, just slightly hard.
I have two kids, a 12 year-old boy, and a 6 year-old girl. For the life of them, they cannot compute that an open door wastes money--my hard-earned money. In summer, it lets out our air-conditioned comfort. In winter, our warmth and coziness. I see red and reprimand (sometimes in a yelling fashion, I admit)
"Hey, you're letting all my heat/cold out! Do you think I want to heat/cool the planet!?!"
You can probably guess where I've heard that one before...
Being a dad isn't all frustration, there are many, many times where the warm glow is of pride and happiness, rather than the haze of rage. Every time I successfully answer a question that starts "Dad, why does...?" or "Dad, how does...?" I feel wonderful, I feel like I am the king of all knowledge. I remember a time when I was younger, on a cold winter morning, riding with my Dad to get firewood at my uncle's farm, when I asked him about of all things, a garbage truck, and he was able to explain to me the functionings and workings of not only the truck we saw, but the whole business, from our back step all the way to the dump. I'm not sure he remembers that occasion, but it sure stuck with me, so I can only hope that my mental meanderings holds some memory-value for my kids some day. Further to that, I hope fervently that they will be able to have memories like this with their own kids some day. (It will have to be a long time for my little girl, as she is prohibited from talking to boys until she is 30.)
I remember seeing my son score his first goal in soccer, see him take part in an Easter presentation at school, remember how proud he looked the first time he was able to spend his own money at Walmart, to buy a video game. (he also looked terrified). And for my daughter, I remember her feeble attempt to play soccer too, though she was more interested in holding hands with her first brown-person friend, (a little Asian girl). I remember her first dance recital, and the glow she had after reading a book for the first time all on her own. I remember all these and more, and I pity any dad who is too busy to spend quality moments like these with his kids.
My dad was and is a pretty quiet guy, so in that way I am very UNlike him, but I find myself becoming very thoughtful and quiet before I speak sometimes, I have to work things out before I voice them. My wife finds this trait increasingly annoying, and I remember being a little anxious sometimes myself when speaking to my dad. But, in our defence, sometimes it is very prudent to censor your thoughts before you blurt things out. After all, discretion IS the better part of valour.
So, I find myself becoming my Dad, in more ways than one, and I think that makes me pretty lucky.
That's so true! And trust me it will make your kids better adults for having you there for them. For the the times that matter and those that don't seem to matter at the moment but your kids will remember for the rest of their lives! In this day and age it can't always be about the material things you give them.....your time is worth much more, perhaps priceless.....
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