The Blue Period

So I was on the phone the other night when the doorbell rang. It was a lady who looked a bit frantic. She was holding an adorable blond toddler all ready for bed in his Thomas the Tank Engine jammies. She said she drove by and saw him in our driveway. She nervously asked if he was mine. I said no, but I asked if she wanted me to take him. Why I would offer to take a strange toddler who had been plucked from my driveway? That question has a logical, or perhaps biological answer.

When you come into this world, you’re selfish. It’s all about you. Feed me, clothe me, entertain me. That typically goes on for a long time. And for me, that’s how it was until 1991 when my son was born. Talk about an unexpected turn. I had just gotten a good job at a company I loved. But the moment (actually 18 hours of moment) when the baby entered the picture, my career dreams ended. Selfishness gave way to selflessness. Aside from all of the daily stuff that goes into the care and feeding of another human, the selflessness was the biggest surprise. Suddenly, the only reason I cared about my own existence was in order to take care of his–for 18 years. And that was fine by me.

But now, he’s leaving. There was a graduation ceremony and a party to remind me of that fact. Having a party felt ironic, since this seems like a mournful time for me. Maybe this next phase will be great, but I can’t imagine it being better.

This goes on all of the time. Kids grow up and move on. Circle of life – just like that song from The Lion King movie that we watched together a billion times. They’re grateful for the care and feeding, but sayonara. So that you spent every waking minute making sure he had memorable birthday parties and visits to Disneyworld and all the best things. So that you bought hundreds of packs of Pokemon cards so that he could get Charizard. So that you stayed up many nights with him while he spewed like Krakatoa. He’s still going. They pull on your arms for so long, and then they begin to push you away. In this case it’s been gentle, but that’s little consolation.

Of course I want those next steps for him–college, marriage, life. But all of the pop psychology in the world won’t work any magic here as I take the return trip to selfishness. Sure selfishness is easier. But it’s not fulfilling. There’s something about providing joy for another human that rises high above selfish pleasure. Plus, even though it’s crazy hard, it’s also fun having kids. Okay, not all of the time, but oftentimes it is. To console you, people will say that parenting never ends. While I’m sure that’s true, there’s about to be a big void where there was once a kid. And if someone brings another toddler to my door, there’s no telling what might happen.