Broken Boards

It's been a while since I've written, but I'm staying up late to write this because I can't get it out of my mind. My 5-year old son recently broke his first board in Taekwon Do. Prior to that we had him in the class on a trial basis, with the option of putting him in the class permanently if we were happy with it. There is also the option of participating in the leadership program, which supplements the weekly classes with additional training focused on developing character. Our son knew we were contemplating the leadership class, because he loves it and he is good at it. Not only that, he is truly a good boy. However, I am an impatient father who has gotten used to the high standard my son has set for himself, so I forget just how good he is sometimes. Perhaps just to remind us how good of a boy he his, he surprised his mother this morning by cleaning his room, making his bed, and getting ready all by himself. This past weekend, we already told him we thought putting him in the leadership class was the right thing for him, because he already demonstrates good leadership at home on a regular basis. This just confirmed it, and I came home from work to my son wearing a special belt given to kids in the leadership program. My favorite part was the look in his eyes of self-confidence, which is what every parent hopes to see in their kids. I have to admit, I felt very proud of him and excited with him about this. But things took a turn for the worst at bedtime. He came out of his room several times complaining that he couldn't feel the fan and wanted to be tucked in again. Well, we have a rule that if he gets out of bed he has to tuck himself in. My wife and I just settled down for the makeover edition of Biggest Loser when he came out again. By this time, we'd already sent him back in his room and threatened to take his special belt so he couldn't sleep with it. So, I had to go up and take it away. He came out again. My wife went up. He came out again. This time, he physically resisted my efforts to guide him back to bed. Not sure what to do, and frustrated beyond reason, I carried him to his bed with an angry lecture about how he could have avoided all this by staying in bed. Immediately after leaving his room, I felt it: guilt. He was so good all day, until that moment. He was also so excited about his leadership class and new belt and probably wanted to talk about it with me some more. He was feeling so self-confident today, and I felt like I just crushed it by getting angry at him for the one mistake he made all day. Well, I don't think I know what the right way of handling this was, but I'm sure I didn't do it. I did go back up after cooling down to apologize for getting angry and to talk to him about what happened. Mostly, I wanted to reassure him that although he made a mistake, we still felt like he was a leader and earned the chance to be in the program and that we loved him. I also told him that we make mistakes too. Then he asked if the judge (my recent employer) made mistakes too. My son rightfully looks up to the judge as a leader. I said yes - sorry Judge. I think that made him feel a little better. He was sad to learn that he couldn't have the belt back tonight, but understood that he still has to face the consequences of his choice to get up. I think we both felt better. Then came the real test. He came out once more, this time just to complain about the light coming under the door and keeping him awake. I turned out the light, he went to bed, and my wife and I were able to finish the show in peace. What would have been the right response when he will not obey, but insists on staying up and making a loud fuss, ruining our show and potentially waking up the girls? Who knows. At least he knows that we still believe he earned his opportunities in Tae Kwon Do despite mistakes here and there.

Different Than Before

Coming home from work is one of my favorite things. The baby is usually the first to run up to me, yelling, "Daddy!" I pick her up and get a big hug, then she rubs my hairless head and says, "Head." When she finally lets me put her down--which is just as hard on me as it is on her--I signal to the older kids the excitement they should feel when I come home by yelling enthusiastically, and a bit facetiously, "Daddy's Home!" When the kids are in the kitchen, it's my wife who yells it. That way they go running to find me and let her finish dinner. Either way, I get my smiles and hugs from them too. Then begins "show and tell," where the kids simultaneously tell me about their day and show me tricks on the couch or pictures or crafts they created. I love it all, and no matter how my day is, I try to muster up all the energy I can to engage with them fully while they are showing and telling. Then, they run off to something new and the work begins. Most of the time it's preparing for dinner. Tonight, it was babysitting the children of good friends while they went out, in addition to flying solo with my own kids while my wife went to a meeting. For a while, I thought I was pretty amazing. I got the girls bathed, let the kids play without hovering like I usually do to make sure they share and use manners or anything else I can think of. They seemed to be having fun. Then I put on a brief show for the kids while I put the girls to bed. Man was I efficient. But my four-year old son, the most perceptive and insightful little boy I've ever known, said, "Daddy, your different than before." It took me a moment to digest what he was saying--that's how smart he is. Then I got it. I asked, "Am I being a little grumpy?" He said, "Yeah. You're excited when you get home. Now you're different." I didn't have a response. I think I lamely mumbled something about having to take care of six kids all by myself. But I can't get what he said out of my mind. It seems that what he's saying is that during the short time I am home he wants me to stay engaged, to slow down. Didn't he see how much I got done tonight? Clearly not. What he did see was that I was zooming through the house too quickly to really play with them or even to have our full bedtime routine. Now that they are in bed, I see it too. Going to bed on a night like this feels a little unsatisfying, like running around the office all day without billing any time--there's no value added.

Table Talk

Try this at home: Tonight at dinner I decided to interview my children to see how much they knew about my career.

Me: Do you guys know what Daddy does for work?

Kids: No.

Me: Do you know where Daddy works?

Kids: No.

Me: Do you remember coming to my office?

Kids: Yes.

Me: Let me ask you about my office. What color is my chair?

Kids: Brown.

Me: What pictures do I have up on my wall?

Kids: Pictures of the family and a drawing of a rattlesnake.

Should I be surprised that the things they remember most about my career are the office chair I spun them in, the family pictures they took for Father's Day, and the drawing of a rattlesnake my son drew for me?