Monday
They Say You Can't Go Back Home. Well Why Would You?
Today was a good old-fashioned reality check, in a parental sort of way... My Lovely Bride had a few friends over, each of whom has a mix of small kids and infants. It's funny, because I know in an objective way that at this stage I'm so far removed from diapers and drool that I've forgotten what it was really like, and yet occasionally a day like this happens along and I'm amazed all over again.
It was three moms and I, seven boys between the age of eight and a few months, and one girl of about four or five... all inside on a rainy day. So, right off the bat there was some amount of chaos, albeit the good-natured kind. Toddlers were chasing big kids, big kids were chasing parents and parents were chasing toddlers. And the infants, well, you know what they were doing.
As the day wore on, we all did our best at what we do. I tried to get stuff done, my boys and the toddlers diligently put on their patented iron running-back-and-forth-boots, and the infants... well, again we know what they were doing. Anyway, after a little while, I realized that I was slipping back into default dad survival mode. The sounds of little gasping cries faded away, I began answering questions in that detached way that the pros have, and, gradually, getting stuff done just didn't seem very important anymore.
Was it an enjoyable visit to the past? Well, it was oddly like visiting old school friends. There are always a lot of intense memories involved, most good, some bad, and yet when you settle in you realize that it can never be more than a visit. The connection we had was dependant on a certain time and place... a time and place that are gone forever.
Sure, I know lots of dads start over, and I say God bless 'em. But when I look at my two boys, knowing that they're getting themselves on that big yellow bus again this fall, I know that Toddler Sean and Infant Ryan are gone forever, and that's ok with me; it's the way it's supposed to be.
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Today was a good old-fashioned reality check, in a parental sort of way... My Lovely Bride had a few friends over, each of whom has a mix of small kids and infants. It's funny, because I know in an objective way that at this stage I'm so far removed from diapers and drool that I've forgotten what it was really like, and yet occasionally a day like this happens along and I'm amazed all over again.
It was three moms and I, seven boys between the age of eight and a few months, and one girl of about four or five... all inside on a rainy day. So, right off the bat there was some amount of chaos, albeit the good-natured kind. Toddlers were chasing big kids, big kids were chasing parents and parents were chasing toddlers. And the infants, well, you know what they were doing.
As the day wore on, we all did our best at what we do. I tried to get stuff done, my boys and the toddlers diligently put on their patented iron running-back-and-forth-boots, and the infants... well, again we know what they were doing. Anyway, after a little while, I realized that I was slipping back into default dad survival mode. The sounds of little gasping cries faded away, I began answering questions in that detached way that the pros have, and, gradually, getting stuff done just didn't seem very important anymore.
Was it an enjoyable visit to the past? Well, it was oddly like visiting old school friends. There are always a lot of intense memories involved, most good, some bad, and yet when you settle in you realize that it can never be more than a visit. The connection we had was dependant on a certain time and place... a time and place that are gone forever.
Sure, I know lots of dads start over, and I say God bless 'em. But when I look at my two boys, knowing that they're getting themselves on that big yellow bus again this fall, I know that Toddler Sean and Infant Ryan are gone forever, and that's ok with me; it's the way it's supposed to be.
