So often I feel inadequate in many of the roles I play in life. Right now, more than anything, I’m feeling it as a father.
This past weekend Celeste and I spent a lot of time in the car. Over an hour to drive home Friday night. An hour to run errands on Saturday. Another hour to get to a friend’s house. Another hour to get to my mom’s house. Then to church and back Sunday morning. Plus the hour drive home. I don’t like spending so many good hours with her that way, but people live far from us and generally aren’t willing to drive. So it happens.
I pay as much attention to her as I can while driving. We sing songs and make animal sounds and play peek-a-boo in the mirror. It’s not quality time, but at least it’s something. Still, this alone makes me feel terrible. Like there should be some way I can do better. Sometimes, though, I find myself preoccupied and unable to give her most of my attention. It is these moments that make me feel the worst.
On Saturday there were speed bumps on the way to the house we went to. I said “BUMP! BUMP!” as we went over the first bump. Then got involved in trying to figure out where I was going. Celeste was saying something but I wasn’t really paying attention. It wasn’t until we left and she was saying the same thing again that I listened. She, too, was saying “BUMP! BUMP!” as we went over each speed bump. I felt horrible for not realizing it and encouraging her the first time.
On the way home from my Mom’s house on Sunday she was playing with her Easter basket and some of the plastic eggs in it. I got on the phone with a friend who was having server trouble and stopped paying attention to her. She kept repeating something with importance, but I was busy. When I got off the phone I realized she was just saying “Open” because she couldn’t get the egg she was holding to open and wanted my help. And again I felt terrible.
Last night she went to sleep in my arms, counting the stars on her ceiling and looking at the moon in her room. When she finally fell asleep she was still talking. She was saying “DA DA! Oh Boy! Egg egg egg! OH NO! DA DA!” and so on. It was so adorable I wanted to just lay there and listen and fall asleep too. But I had a car full of stuff to unload, a week to prepare for, laundry to do, and so many little ends to tie up. So I left her in her room, sleeping and talking, and listened on the monitor as I did my chores. I should have just stayed longer. I have no idea how many more moments like that my future holds for me and the fact that I let even one of them go by unrecognized and uncherished makes me feel terrible.
If only I could go back in time. We’d have turned around on that street and done all of the speed bumps again, faster this time, even if we got a speeding ticket. I’d have put my phone on “silent” before I got in the car and pulled over to open ALL of the eggs if that’s what she wanted. And I’d have slept right there beside her until every last word had been spoken and she was sleeping soundly.
(NOTE: I’m not fishing for compliments, and, quite frankly, I don’t know that they would do any good. I know I’m a good father. I just can’t help but wish I could be even better. I wish I could find some way to turn off the responsible side of me more often and just enjoy what I have. That is the greatest quality I seek in friends and lovers: someone who can temper my responsibility with spontaneity and remind me that a life isn’t worth making if it isn’t worth living.)