Parenting and Kids

As fathers, it isn’t always our first thought to sublimate our desires or alter our way of life to suit our children. We are taught to provide, to focus on success, defined in ways that aren’t necessarily consistent with our children’s simple needs.

A powerful emotional moment changed my perspective.

My daughter stood at the open door, wailing. Her beautiful eyes were filled with tears, and she reached towards me frantic and hysterical. She was terrified at the thought of us leaving her behind with this stranger, in a house she didn’t recognize. Only one year old, she couldn’t understand our motivations. She just wanted her mommy and daddy. Still, we left our child at the daycare provider’s home and drove away, towards work and responsibility.

Children are remarkably resilient. My daughter did adjust. She came to enjoy the visits to the babysitter. She began to think of her caretaker as a playmate and friend.

I didn’t care.

Little ones are helpless, subject to forces they can neither understand nor control. They seek security and protection, and we must give it to them. Children have instinctive fears. One of the most primal is a fear of separation from their parents.

As I listened to my daughter cry, my heart stretched and bent, and I realized that parents, too, have instincts. I wanted to be with her as much as she wanted to be with me. I ached to protect her, to calm her fears and restore comfortable order to her world.

People are certainly busy. Our fancy houses, twin cars, cable TV, and texting cell phones all cost money. We exchange our time and our labor for baubles and possessions. There is a lifestyle many of us feel compelled to seek, and I was not immune. The desire to meet my daughter’s needs, though, led me to ask a few questions. What is the difference between a necessity and a luxury? How much is enough? Was the trade I was making, one that involved walking away from my scared child, a good one?

The answer for me was no. I made a vow to be an advocate for my child. I resolved that I would not be the cause of insecurity or a source of disappointment. Innocence deserves better.

My daughter and I spent countless days playing together. We walked the malls, climbed the jungle gyms, bounced the bouncy balls, and brushed the dolly’s hair. We raced the duckies around the bathtub, snuggled down for naps, read our stories, and danced with wild abandon to old, obscure songs. Our relationship bloomed.

I chose to spend more time at home, though it impacted us financially. I chose work that was more flexible and friendly to family life. We lived a bit simpler. We had fewer expensive things. We survived.

Eventually I started my own business, to ensure that I could choose the conditions, the circumstances for giving time for profit. It hasn’t always been easy, but the rewards of being there for my family are well worth it.

Life is full of character defining choices. Our decisions have impacts, often much greater than we imagine or care to admit. When faced with daycare and scheduled family quality time, my choice was to offer my child quantity time. It just felt like the natural thing to do. The results have been wonderful.

It’s been a decade since that teary toddler moment. Our family has changed and grown. My wife and I work together, from home, so one of us is there, always, available to our children at need. We deal with the inevitable ups and downs with a confidence that we do what we do for a reason. Our children, we feel, will only be young for a short while, and so we prioritize them. For their part, our kids seem secure and confident in themselves and in our family.

I am thrilled to be present. I have been there for all of the important developments and firsts in my children’s lives. I will be there for the ones that lie ahead. Each moment is priceless and I owe them to an internal voice and a heeded tear.