Father's Day

I remember having a conversation with a close friend years and years and years ago about what our futures held for us (we were still in high school). He was certain that he would be an elected official one day; probably a Senator, perhaps even a higher office. I had no idea what type of work I might be interested in, but I was confident about two things: I would have done something of enough importance that my name would appear in a history book, and I would own a Porsche.

These dreams are cringe-worthy now, and it is with much reluctance that I dredge them up and reveal them. Honestly, it is painful--especially the part about the Porsche. I was hopelessly unaware of who I wanted to be; hopefully I can be forgiven for my teenage narcissism. But this conversation is illustrative for one main reason: children were not a part of the future I envisioned. And that remained the case through high school, even through college. Over time my path started to become clearer, but at no time did I think that I would be a father.

(Possible explanations for this include: general inadequacies about ever settling down, habitual unwillingness to think more than 2 days in advance, and, perhaps underlying everything, only a vague sense of what I wanted to accomplish in life. If I dug deeper I would probably uncover other reasons, but that's a solid triumvirate right there.)

But as I was busily trying to figure out what I wanted from life, life just happened. I met Natalia, we were married, and a couple years later, Andres was born. And then, as I held this tiny, cone-headed, squinty kid with jet-black hair I realized that that's all I had ever wanted.

Today is Father's Day, the fifth one I have celebrated as a dad. It was a great day. I took Celia swimming in the morning (she had a great time kicking and splashing), headed to Dover to see my own dad in the afternoon, and then had a wonderful pizza picnic with the wife and kids, followed by a brief walk and an extended roughhousing session with Andres. Not even Celia's post-picnic/pre-shower attitude could dampen my spirits. And I got some great gifts--in addition to buying me a couple of books to read with the kids, Natalia made me some bookmarks featuring pictures of my two favorite readers. It was a sparkling day.

It's hard to describe my emotions about being a dad. I love it, first and foremost. It is the greatest thing I have ever done. It is also the most frightening thing I have ever done. I don't get enough sleep. I don't make enough money to do everything I want to do for them, but I excuse that by thinking "better poor than spoiled." I worry that every reported headache is brain cancer, and I also worry that I am too dismissive of reported headaches. I dearly love my kids as they are now, nearly 5 and 2.5, but I miss when they were younger and dumber and not as mobile. I probably tell them "I love you" too often. I don't mind changing diapers. I am ready for Celia to be done with diapers. I wish I had started 5 years earlier than I did. Fatherhood is the only subject I could talk about all day without feeling like I was just BSing after 30 minutes.

When Andres was a baby I would spend hours in his room rocking him to sleep, just staring at him. I did the same thing with Celia, though perhaps I spent less time staring at her because there was a 2.5 year old vying for my attention in the other room. Each one seemed a miracle--especially when I reflected on my earlier predictions that I would grow older without any little feet chasing me around. I was in no rush to have them fall asleep; I thought about a lot as I sat with them.

Now they are both chatterboxes, and I can't wait until they fall asleep at night so I can enjoy some peace and quiet. But they both know my weaknesses and they ruthlessly exploit them to stay up just a bit longer. As I am leaving her room, Celia will ask me to sing her a song (how can I possibly resist that?), and Andres seems to know the Sox, Bruins, Celtics, and Revs schedules by heart, and will ask to watch some of the game with me. You know what's better than watching your son cheer on your favorite team? Nothing.

This day brings back a flood of memories from the past 5 years. Births, birthdays, surgeries, first steps, tantrums, first words, trips, everything. It hasn't been all good, but it's all been. And that's been the biggest privilege of all--that it has happened at all. I am deeply thankful. I don't take any of it for granted.

So that's that. This is quickly becoming my favorite day of the year.

Oh and there's this--we're expecting baby number 3 in October! So this time next year, there will be a whole new set of memories to celebrate as well. There will be more diapers to change and I'll be sleeping even less. A good trade-off in my book.