The Move: Day 4

There are burdens of fatherhood that are light and there are burdens that are heavy. Oddly, it seems that the lighter burdens originate from the children. Today I bathed my son and told him he could go into the living room to get dressed. We are at my parents' house, and he decided to go into the living room in style--dancing in the buff for everyone to see. Then he told everyone that I said he could. So he took liberties with my instructions. It gets a little tougher when they don't listen altogether. However, there is usually a reason for it. My oldest daughter, for example, has gone two days without naps--two activity-packed days with family. She just could not function and fell asleep as I was reading to her. But, as that story illustrates, the fact that they sometimes ignore me is never a personal affront and is often accompanied by tender moments. It gets even tougher when my children reach the age of sophisticated parental manipulation. For example, I attempted to be understanding to my son, who really was having a hard time focusing enough to eat when we first arrived at my parents. When he gets over-excited or distracted or bored he asks us to give him bites of his food. I've recently refused to do so, telling him that he is old enough to feed himself. However, I told him yesterday that I understood that he was too excited to eat and that I would help him. Since then, he keeps saying, "Can you feed me some bites? I'm just too excited to feed myself." But none of these things are very heavy compared to the burdens of fatherhood that come from sources other than my children. One is the constant concern with the world in which my children will grow up. We have to let them gain their own experience, knowing that they will be exposed to influences that are extremely subtle and dangerous. We can teach them and prepare them, but the thought of sending them out into the world even for school scares me. Another is that "hand-off" that takes place between generations of fathers. By that I mean coming to the realization that your own father does not have all the answers, and that I have to shoulder the burden of thrusting my family into new environments and situations while providing for them and protecting them at the same time. It requires being the first to express faith and hope and the last to express criticism and fear. It means stepping into the darkness so many times hoping for sure footing. As I close the first year of this blog and embark on our cross-country move to begin my legal career, the burdens originating from my children seem lighter, and the burdens originating from other sources seem heavier. We rely on each other so much, and this trip is more or less a vacation. I love every second with the kids. I'm learning so much more about them. We're becoming better friends. We know that there are challenges ahead that are so much bigger, so we try to laugh off the little challenges of mood swings and messes. We are excited for the adventures that lay ahead, but none of us really knows what those will be--billable-hour requirements, financial responsibilities such as student loans and a mortgage, schools for our kids, trying to set an example of what it right, etc. Though this post marks the end of my first year as a legal professional, it also marks the beginning of the battle between the corporate and the dad. I hope that as a transactional attorney, I can help the two parties reach a mutually beneficial deal.

*Just for the purposes of personal record keeping, I want to mention that our family went to the splash pad. My son started a water fight with me. I think he finds joy in making me wet and cold when I'm not quite ready to be. Later, the older siblings--all of us older than 20--were crazier than the kids. In fact, we got into a water fight. One of my proudest moments as a father was watching my four-year old son join up with me against my brothers and sisters. He fearlessly drenched them all and got drenched in return. But when everyone else was tired out, we were the last men standing. With a high five and a hug, the two of us rejoined the family.