Wednesday, May 29th, 2013
2 years, 6 months.
Last Friday night as I scrolled through friends’ Facebook status updates in an effort to find anything controversial and/or weird, or therefore interesting, amidst pictures of Instagrammed feet propped up to convince everyone that person is truly relaxing and enjoying life Kenny Chesney style, I came across this status update by a fellow dad:
“You know you’re old when you spend Friday night with your family looking at floor tiles at Lowe’s… and you love it!”
Dozens of “likes” were won.
Somehow it sort of reminds me of Chris Rock’s line at the end of the movie What To Expect When You’re Expecting:
“We love being dads! When I was young, I used to think I was happy – but now I know I’m happy. Exhausted, but happy.”
It’s basically this idea that the rewards of parenting make up for the lack of sanity, peacefulness, and sleep I traded in.
This may be blasphemy to say in a parenting blog post, but, it’s not worth it…
What I mean is, I don’t think it’s fair or legitimate to say that the “rewards” of parenting “make up” for all the sacrifices involved.
Yes, I absolutely love being your dad, but it’s not something I would do for any amount of money; because no amount of money would be “worth it” to me. My price tag would be so expensive I wouldn’t receive anywhere near my asking price.
Being a dad is something I live for. I am wired to want to make all necessary sacrifices for you. And yes, it’s true: Nothing else I’ve ever experienced has brought me a better sense of meaning in my life.
But can you really put a value on life itself? I say you can’t. And when I think of “life itself,” I think of you.
I think of random little things you surprise me with every day; things that probably wouldn’t be that interesting if I told them to anyone else.
Like how you recently turned the CD sleeve to the newest Dave Matthews Band album into a new children’s storybook, which you read in a falsetto voice:
“Hey! Wake up everybody! Time to eat your oatmeal… The man wakes up in the box. Hey, where’s my bed? The bird wakes up on the lawn? He looks for food? He eats the Cheerios. The milk is yucky.”
To me, that’s brilliant. It’s moments like that you give me which are so subtle and hilarious and awesome… and priceless.
But not rewarding. Because I don’t see being a parent as a rewarding thing; I see it as life itself.
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