I had one of those “dad moments” (for lack of a better term) the other day. I was with K-Man and we were enjoying an afternoon of parks and play. In the midst of all of this, I realized that I wasn’t exactly in the moment as I should have been. I was distracted. My mind was wandering. K was chattering away about this or that (and probably fire trucks), but I wasn’t altogether “there.” That’s when I looked up to see that he was riding an escalator.
We’ve ridden many escalators together. For a not-quite-three-year-old, the escalator is Space Mountain – it’s an absolute thrill ride. There’s just so much excitement as the steps flatten and then turn back into actual steps. And, the feeling of letting your hand drag across the (disgusting, dirty, gross) glass or reach up to the (disgusting, dirty, gross) black, moving handrail? Forget it. Almost nothing compares.
So, here was K-Man looking back at me with the biggest grin and happiest little wave. “Hi Daddy! I’m on the esclerahjl;reqwhrl;jtor” (which is how it sounds when the word gets jumbled in his mouth). My first thought, of course was “holy @#$% &^**#&$&*#& $&^#@(*$^%&,” as I quickly raced onto the moving beast and caught up to him. He was so happy. My heart was racing. And I was back in the moment in a big way.
I’ve written previously about epiphanies (and even asked for yours), but what I didn’t mention was that sometimes we have the same epiphany over and over. We need to keep being reminded of it until it finally takes. And, then when we forget again – we need to be reminded again. This was one of those times.
It’s not that I forget that I’m a dad. I never forget that. It may very well be the favorite part of my personal definition for myself. I just sometimes need to be reminded of what that means. On the blog I started five weeks before K was born, I added the tagline, “Once a new dad, always a new dad.” I was reminded of that again as K rode up the escalator. Every day brings new experiences (even if it's while doing the same old thing) and we are constantly having to learn new things and reinvent our parenting selves.
K didn’t want me to ride the escalator with him. “No, Daddy. By self.” I tried to tell him how I needed to ride with him and…well, it didn’t matter. “By seeeeeellllffff!” He’s really coming into his own and I wanted him to have that chance. So, we made a deal. When going up, I would be a bit behind him. Going down, I’d be in front. And, I’d help him get on (and off) each time. Okay? That was okay.
He was so freaking proud of himself as he rode up and down (for what seemed like hours, but was probably only 10 or 15 minutes). He kept saying hello to everyone that walked by. He waved at the people who were going down as he went up and vice versa. It was amazing to watch.
There are just so many times when I feel like I’m at my wit’s end. My patience is long gone and I just feel as if I’m going to lose it. After long, stressful days spent battling (insert opponent here), it’s hard to click right into “dad” sometimes. But, watching him on this escalator, there was such a moment of clarity. There was such a moment of, “Oh, I so get this now (again).” That moment when things kind of clicked.
He was having so much fun. He was so happy. He was so confident. He was learning to talk about what he wanted without completely losing it all (though, he certainly still has his share of that). He was willing to compromise.
I swear, it was like he was growing up with each ride. Or maybe I was.
We’ve ridden many escalators together. For a not-quite-three-year-old, the escalator is Space Mountain – it’s an absolute thrill ride. There’s just so much excitement as the steps flatten and then turn back into actual steps. And, the feeling of letting your hand drag across the (disgusting, dirty, gross) glass or reach up to the (disgusting, dirty, gross) black, moving handrail? Forget it. Almost nothing compares.
So, here was K-Man looking back at me with the biggest grin and happiest little wave. “Hi Daddy! I’m on the esclerahjl;reqwhrl;jtor” (which is how it sounds when the word gets jumbled in his mouth). My first thought, of course was “holy @#$% &^**#&$&*#& $&^#@(*$^%&,” as I quickly raced onto the moving beast and caught up to him. He was so happy. My heart was racing. And I was back in the moment in a big way.
I’ve written previously about epiphanies (and even asked for yours), but what I didn’t mention was that sometimes we have the same epiphany over and over. We need to keep being reminded of it until it finally takes. And, then when we forget again – we need to be reminded again. This was one of those times.
It’s not that I forget that I’m a dad. I never forget that. It may very well be the favorite part of my personal definition for myself. I just sometimes need to be reminded of what that means. On the blog I started five weeks before K was born, I added the tagline, “Once a new dad, always a new dad.” I was reminded of that again as K rode up the escalator. Every day brings new experiences (even if it's while doing the same old thing) and we are constantly having to learn new things and reinvent our parenting selves.
K didn’t want me to ride the escalator with him. “No, Daddy. By self.” I tried to tell him how I needed to ride with him and…well, it didn’t matter. “By seeeeeellllffff!” He’s really coming into his own and I wanted him to have that chance. So, we made a deal. When going up, I would be a bit behind him. Going down, I’d be in front. And, I’d help him get on (and off) each time. Okay? That was okay.
He was so freaking proud of himself as he rode up and down (for what seemed like hours, but was probably only 10 or 15 minutes). He kept saying hello to everyone that walked by. He waved at the people who were going down as he went up and vice versa. It was amazing to watch.
There are just so many times when I feel like I’m at my wit’s end. My patience is long gone and I just feel as if I’m going to lose it. After long, stressful days spent battling (insert opponent here), it’s hard to click right into “dad” sometimes. But, watching him on this escalator, there was such a moment of clarity. There was such a moment of, “Oh, I so get this now (again).” That moment when things kind of clicked.
He was having so much fun. He was so happy. He was so confident. He was learning to talk about what he wanted without completely losing it all (though, he certainly still has his share of that). He was willing to compromise.
I swear, it was like he was growing up with each ride. Or maybe I was.