Published May 14, 2006 in the Hibbing Daily Tribune
By Aaron J. Brown
Almost a year ago I was a confused new dad. Which side of the diaper faced forward? What the heck were you supposed to do with those turkey basting things they give you at the hospital? Was I going to do or say something that would cause my offspring to join a cult involving sequined robes and a homemade UFO?
While I’ve certainly figured out diapers, I’ve only learned to mask my other parental insecurities with phrases like “He’s at a great age” and “Life is different now, but good.” Here’s the truth. Life is good, but any parental credibility on my part is part of perhaps the greatest illusion ever crafted. Parents gain experience, but the moment you think you’re an expert is the same moment a sippy cup full of milk gets poured into the DVD player. (That hasn’t happened yet, but it’s only a matter of time.)
I have to be careful. It’s Mother’s Day today and I’m sure a mom is ready to take me to task. I might exclaim, “You should have seen that dirty diaper!” A grizzled mom might say in return, “Save it chump; I had eight in 9 years,” extinguishing a cigarette on her glass eye. Believe me. I’m not trying to gain sympathy. I’m only remarking that, for me, complete confidence in my parenting skills seems just out of reach.
I’m probably violating some secret, ancient parental code by saying that. Everywhere you go you see confident moms and dads barking orders. “Get in the van.” “Put that down.” These parents make me, even as an adult, want to get in the van and put that down.
As a kid, my sister and I decided it would be fun to hide all of my aunt’s goldfish around her room. I still remember my grandma’s reaction when she found us in there, flopping fish in our hands. She had such authority in her voice, but there is no way she could have seen that coming. The same goes for countless things we did under my mom’s watch. So, I wonder, do any parents really know what’s going on? Or are they just really good at making it seem that way? I’m hoping it’s the latter, because most days I’m just guessing.
I also wonder if my son will be doomed to repeat the more difficult parts of my childhood. We took Henry to the park in our township the other day. He’s not quite walking yet, so the playground experience is really more like organizing things on a shelf. (Prop Henry on a seesaw) “Do you like him here?” (Put Henry in the baby swing) “How about here?”
I also found myself playing on the equipment to show Henry how it’s done. This brought back two strong memories for me. First, I realized the powerful freedom of riding on a swing set. If you swing high enough you will send your problems flying off into space. Second, I remembered how completely uncoordinated I am.
Working an “inside” job it’s easy to forget one’s lack of large motor skills. At my kindergarten screening the nurses were actually worried about my inability to catch things or balance on beams. My lifetime batting average as a little leaguer was .000, with more foul tips and strikeouts than anyone on the Iron Range. My fielding percentage as a late inning right fielder was .500. I caught one; dropped the other. This is funny now, but was a serious issue at the time.
I attempted to play tetherball with my wife and mother-in-law at the playground. If we owned a video camera we’d have it paid for with all the “America’s Funniest Home Videos” money that would roll in on flat bed trucks. It made me realize that not only is Henry genetically disinclined for athleticism, but he won’t have much of an example to follow either. Maybe he got some good recessive genes in there somewhere.
If I’ve learned anything, it’s that every day you and your kid learn something about each other. They learn to walk, you figure out what to do when they walk over to the dog to insert a toy where it doesn’t belong.
It’s a great age. Life is different now, but good.
Aaron J. Brown is a columnist for the Hibbing Daily Tribune.