The Far Better Half

One of the most difficult things for me as a father has been to balance what I want for my daughters with what makes them happy.   My primary goal so far has been to keep them safe.   I’m sure they think that if I had my way, they would all be living in a bunker deep in the ground, or in the tallest tower of a far away castle.   In truth, this would be appropriate because they are my Princesses, despite the fact that I am in no way a King.

One of our goals as parents has always been to give our girls a strong self esteem.   We didn’t want them to go looking for their self-worth in a man, because a lot of men prey on young women who crave even the slightest bit of attention.   These men can easily take advantage of that lack of self worth and eventually they take complete control.    This was not a life we wanted for our daughters.

As I look back on my life as a father, I realize that I have done a few things right, but many things wrong.   I was probably too over-protective (although, in my defense, they have been largely injury free!).  I did not set a good example regarding diet and exercise.  I was sarcastic when I should have been sincere.    I was jokey when I should have been honest.

It’s amazing, miraculous even, that they have turned out as wonderful as they have.   They are good kids.   Better people than me.  Better people than most (yeah, I am not very objective on this subject). 

I owe much of this to the Grace of God, who gifted me with them in the first place and then didn’t let me mess them up too much.    They also have a great support system in their extended family, who love and support them unconditionally.    Finally, they have their mother, the best choice I ever made both for them and myself.  

I see Connie in all the good things about my daughters, which fortunately outweigh the faults they got from me.  They are careful, but not paranoid.  They are sarcastic, but caring.   They can joke and play, but know when to be serious.   They like pizza AND salad!

A good marriage, and a successful family, is based on teamwork.    While I find myself usually out in left field, Connie is our most valuable player, and also our Coach, team doctor and our cheering section.   Without her, we wouldn’t know how to play.

I hope my daughters understand that why I love their mother so much is that she doesn’t need me.   That doesn’t mean she doesn’t love me, but that she doesn’t need my constant approval to make her happy.   She is her own person, and she has her own interests.  She doesn’t think she’s as awesome as I know she is, but she has a healthy self-esteem.   She stands up for herself when she needs to and she will sacrifice for others without giving all of herself away.  

She is comfortable in a crowd, and can light up a room, but her favorite place is sitting quietly in a field in the mountains.   She has an adventurous heart, tempered by logic not to do something insanely dangerous.   She hikes for the journey, not the destination.

I hope my girls remember that she is never too tired for them.  No matter how late it is or how little sleep she has had, she listens intently to whatever story they think is important enough to share.   As my “Dad Hearing” ability to tune out chatter becomes stronger with age, she hears everything they say and remembers.   She understands more than most of us that nothing is unimportant when it comes to your child.

In case I’ve made her pedestal a bit too high, let me say that she’s not completely perfect.   She doesn’t believe me when I tell her how beautiful she is.    She doesn’t understand that I think she’s one the smartest, most capable people I have ever met (and at my age, I’ve met a lot of people…and a lot of them have been VERY smart and VERY capable).    She doesn’t grasp how proud I am to be her husband and anytime I don’t show it is due to my issues and not hers.

So, as my daughters get older and are reaching crossroads in their lives, I hope they pray for guidance and listen carefully for the answers they should hear and not what they want to hear.   I hope they think about the example set by their Mother.   I hope they appreciate her as much as they should.  

It seems so little to say, but here it is,   "Connie...my wife, my love, the amazing mother of my children...Thank You…"

Keep the Change

It is often said that “change is inevitable” and that is certainly true.   Most change comes in almost imperceptible increments over time:

·         One gray hair becomes two, then ten, then a hundred, then a head full.

·         We step on the scale and have gained a pound…then suddenly our clothes don’t fit…then we look in the mirror and say, “who is that fat person?”  

·         The naïve puff of a single cigarette or the taste of a solitary drink or the brief escape of a tiny pill start out controlled, but become an addiction.

We see change in our faces.   We see change in our spouse, in our kids.   We don’t always notice because it happens so slowly.   Some days we just wake up and say, “how did this happen?”

Like most people, I’m not a big fan of change.   I find comfort in stability.   I always have, even when I said that I didn’t.  When Connie and I first married, she told me that no matter what, she did not want our marriage to get “comfortable.”    She described it as the “death” of romance and excitement.   I promised that we would not fall into that trap and we would never become “comfortable.”   

We failed.  Miserably.

We did become “comfortable.”   Extremely “comfortable,” in fact.   She admits now that she likes our comfortable life, and it has not been what either of us would call a “death.”   Romance is definitely still there, just different.   It’s not always roses and candlelit dinners.  Sometimes it’s bringing them a cup of coffee or rubbing a sore back.   There are many ways to show your spouse you love them.   The best way is to not expect anything in return.

Having children changes your perspective rather quickly.     Happiness becomes less about what you think you’re going to do with your life than about what you want for someone else.   For most of our marriage we have lived inside a rare bubble of family unity, safety and (for lack of a better word) “coziness.”   We were blessed with three daughters who generally enjoyed being at home with us and (most of the time) got along well with each other.   I was spoiled.

The last few years have been a little different.   That incremental change process began speeding up.   The girls got older, their individual goals and dreams began to form and challenge our carefully established status quo.   Now I am facing what I have so long tried to ignore and hoped would just go away.   My family is going through drastic changes.   Life as I know it will never be the same.

In the last month, three momentous events have occurred in the lives of my daughters (and therefore, mine and Connie’s).    Taylor finished Middle School and will begin High School in the fall.   As our baby, this is difficult to deal with and not just a reminder, but a relatively violent slap in the face that we are getting older.

Ashlyn graduated High School last week and will start college in the fall.   Although she will still be living at home and commuting to classes (which makes me selfishly happy), it is still a major milestone.   Connie and I both agree that Ashlyn graduating is hitting us much harder than Shelby’s graduation three years ago.     I’m like that father in the car commercial.   I still see Ashlyn as that little blonde haired toddler, so quick to give a hug and a smile.    So young.

Then, last Saturday, Shelby and her friend Lindsey signed a lease on an apartment, and she will be moving out this summer.   Like I said, I have been spoiled by having all my girls at home for so long.   Shelby has been commuting to college classes for three years, and although I knew the day would come when she would go, it doesn’t make it any easier.    I wasn’t ready for her to grow up.  

I wasn’t ready for me to grow old.

I went with Shelby and Lindsey to look at the apartment complex and if you’ve heard the expression “bouncing off the walls,” that was their reaction to the possibilities of moving out on their own.   I was happy to see their incredible enthusiasm, but as they danced from room to room, pointing out decorating options and paint colors, I felt like I was suddenly dropped underwater and was watching it all in slow motion.   

That night, we held Ashlyn’s graduation party.   Our house was full of celebration and laughter, and as I sat in the corner, resting from a long day of food preparation and the trauma of being abandoned by my oldest child, I quietly watched as my girls interacted with their peers and family.   They are so different from me; more adventurous and open to new things…more relaxed and happy.  I don’t think change will kick them in the stomach like it seems to do me.   I hope not.  

I hope they stand firm in their beliefs but keep their minds open to the possibility of their own misconceptions.  

I hope they hold themselves to a higher standard, but do not place judgment on others.

I hope they realize that “going with the flow” doesn’t mean letting others take you down a river of destruction.  

I hope they find comfort and peace in their hearts, but keep their mind open to the beauty and mystery that life offers.  

I hope that they strive for positive change, and don’t let the things that are out of their control bring them down. 

Most of all, I hope I haven’t screwed them up too bad.   I am sure that one of the major concerns I have with them moving on and moving out is my insecurity that I haven’t done enough.   I have mini panic attacks that there is some major life lesson that I was supposed to teach them but somehow forgot.   What if they don’t know how to balance a checkbook?   Or boil eggs?   What if I never told them that Wrestling is fake or how to put air in a tire?   There are so many things to teach and so little time.

It’s not that I don’t have faith in them.   They are amazing girls who fortunately take more from their mother than they do from me.   I just don’t have a lot of faith in myself.   Some things never change.