Tag Archives: parenthood

What Makes You YOU? Contradictions & The Trouble With Boxes

“Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself; I am large–I contain multitudes.” –Walt Whitman

Hello friend,

I am a combination homebody and adventurer. When I am home–that is, in my house–I don’t want to go anywhere. I cannot stand running errands, don’t like going out to eat, and think that the time driving anywhere local is a waste. I don’t go to social events and wish I could work from home. Basically, my house is where I want to be. Unless, that is, I have the option to explore the world and see something new (especially if it is outdoors). Then I want to get on the plane, train, car, or boat and start the adventure! I love road trips cross-country, hiking trips into the mountains, and bopping around Europe on the train. I dream about Tanzania, Brazil, Iceland, and Belize; about the Ganges, the Amazon, the Danube, and the Nile; about the Rockies, the Alps, the Himalayas, and the Andes. I want to go! I want to be out there covering every corner of the planet. Everywhere except my town. Because when I am there, I want to be at home. I am one or the other.

Well, I suppose I am, more accurately, one AND the other. I am both ends of the spectrum, but not the middle. A walking contradiction.

And this isn’t the only characteristic on which I seem to compete with myself. The list goes on!

I try to spend just about every waking minute with my children. I want to take in every moment of their beautiful, little lives. I have plunged headfirst into the waters of fatherhood; I am fully immersed. I also love my wife and appreciate all of the richness and meaning that our marriage has brought to my life. I am all about this family thing! I can see how much bigger and better it has made me, despite the reservations I had before I dove in. I encourage it to anyone who asks. I am here with all of my heart and for the long haul! And yet, if you offered me a second, parallel life to run alongside this one–one in which I might double up on the pleasures and fulfillment that I presently derive from my roles as happy husband and father–I would instantly turn you down and go with a life of solitude. I would live alone, work alone, travel alone, everything. Before I met my wife, I expected a long life like that. I looked forward to it. I knew it was far to one side of the spectrum, and that was just fine with me. I now see that the lengths to which I go to be completely immersed in my kids’ lives is very far on the other side of that very same spectrum, and that is also just fine with me. I am fairly sure that there isn’t a middle ground for me in this deal. It is a peace that I have had to make with myself.

I think that most people that I come in contact with–outside of a work situation, where I am supposed to be “on” in my role–would say that I am either shy or unsocial, perhaps even rude in the distance I keep. It is true that I can be very quiet. I told you that I don’t often go to social events; most of that is because I cannot stand small-talk and other superficial interactions. And I definitely fall on the Introvert side of the Introvert/Extrovert spectrum, in that my energy grows when I am alone and tends to drain when I am in a group. That parallel dream life of solitude I mentioned above was no joke. I like my alone time. And yet (there it is again!), I absolutely LOVE talking to people. I want to dive deep into your experience of the world–your passions, your influences, your heartbreaks, your beliefs, and your dreams–and learn about all the nuances and contradictions that make you YOU. I might grill you for hours if you let me. But just you. Not you and a bunch of friends at once. And not if I see you out at the store or the gym or a party. I don’t want to chit-chat with you or trade witticisms about passersby. I want to connect, and for that I need to get below the surface. So, while it is true that I don’t really want to talk to you, it’s also true that I want to really talk to you.

As I uncover these contradictions within my personality, I find it remarkable how accepting I am of them. I shrug my shoulders and think, “Why not? I am a complex guy. OF COURSE I am capable of occupying both ends of the spectrum simultaneously!” And I move on. No big deal.

What concerns me about that realization of my easy acceptance of my complexities is the idea that I might be much less broad-minded and open to something bigger when it comes to other people’s personalities. I definitely see that characteristic displayed by the people I know: an unwillingness to let someone play outside the box we have placed them in.

We like to make cartoons of people. Drama Queen. Dumb Jock. Gentle Giant. Sweetheart. Loudmouth. I know those are oversimplified, but consider other ways you think of people or the way you might describe them to a friend who is asking. “He’s really smart and pretty nice once you get to know him.” “She’s sweet and loves kids.” “He’s gay and super-sarcastic.” “She’s serious and really into her career.” These are boxes and caricatures as much as the other labels are. When we think this way, we miss out on so much of the richness of the people around us. We don’t get a chance to appreciate all of their nuances and complexities. In shortchanging them, we shortchange ourselves.

If I considered you a friend and all you had to say (or think) about me is, “He is a homebody who doesn’t talk much but is always with his kids,” I would laugh at how little you knew about me. I understand that not everyone occupies the same extremes on so many spectrums as I do, but I have no doubt that they have their own extremes and are more complex than I usually make them out to be. I cheat them and me by simplifying them. That’s a disappointing realization. I plan to work to do better with that.

Our job here–yours and mine–at Journal of You is to ask and answer the questions that will reveal our Truths. If we do our job well, we come to know ourselves deeply, including all of the quirks, nuances, and contradictions that make us US. We come to understand that the idea that we might fit neatly into a box is foolish, almost nonsensical. How much of our broad, beautiful mosaic of a personality we reveal to others is up to us, but how much of it that they absorb is up to them. You may put your elaborate beauty on full display, only to have them grab a few snippets to squeeze you into one of their boxes so they know how to treat you. Let that be their issue, not yours. I hope that if you have come to Journal of You often enough, you know you are so much bigger than boxes. You are complex and contradictory and capable of occupying more than one position on any number of spectrums. And you are beautiful just as you are. I am going to get to work on seeing people that way. Not just myself, but everyone else too.

How about you? Which aspects of your personality seem to contradict one another but are still completely YOU? Open up your journal and explore all of your uniqueness. What characteristics seem to be in complete contradiction with each other? Is it more personality traits (e.g. you are super laid-back but have a crazy temper when it fires) or habits (e.g. you almost never cook, but when you do, it’s a gourmet feast)? How do you explain your contradictions? Do the people in your life know about your contradictions, or do you tend to only reveal one side to the public (e.g. people see the laid-back side but have no clue about the wild temper)? How big of an effort do you make to let the people around you know who you really are? What are some things that make you unique? Do you appreciate those unique traits? Do you put them out into the world as often as you put out your “normal” traits? If someone asked your family, “What is (s)he like?”, what would they say? What would your friends say? Your neighbors? Your co-workers? What would people who met you at a social gathering say? How different would all of those responses be? Which would be closest to the “real you”? Taken together, would they form a fairly accurate picture of you? What part of your personality do most people not know? Why don’t they? What do you wish people knew about you? Do you fit into a box? How would you describe your box, your “What is (s)he like?” answer? Are the boxes you make for the people in your life as big and generous as the one you make for yourself? Do you need to do away with boxes altogether? How can you better embrace your complexity? Leave me a reply and let me know: What makes you YOU?

Be unabashed,

William

P.S. If this topic resonated with you today, please share it. Let’s know ourselves and each other better so we can better care for each other.

P.P.S. For a deeper dive into who you really are, check out my book Journal of YOU: Uncovering The Beauty That Is Your Truth at your favorite online retailer.

Other People’s Children (And Other Things I Can’t Stand)

“It’s a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think that he or she is wonderful.” –Roald Dahl, Matilda

Hello friend,

It is VERY easy for me to see why people who don’t have kids look at the other schmucks, like me, parenting and think how unappealing (maybe even awful) it seems.

You know what I mean? Say you don’t have kids, and you get together with these family folks occasionally. The only time you might notice the kids (unless you are really into kids) is when they are getting scolded or needing their diaper changed or spilling on your clothes or breaking your electronics or screaming or crying or swallowing your loose change and trinkets. And you think to yourself, “That looks like CONSTANT WORK! And NOT fun. And these poor suckers are stuck with these kids for like 20 YEARS!” And it all just seems so other-focused. Your “own time” falls away, and you can’t do whatever you want all the time.

I can see how this looks like a bad gig. The truth, however—and this is something you only learn by having them—is that the appearances were almost completely wrong.

Sure, parenting is totally exhausting and often frustrating, but it is also infinitely rewarding, soul-stirring, and heart-filling. And once you have your own kids, you are thinking, “This feels like CONSTANT LOVE! And SO fun. And I get them FOREVER!”

It actually comes to be seen by the parent as a rather one-sided trade: “All I had to give up was some ‘freedom’ (which I wasn’t actually using very well) for a lifetime of love and connection, of family. That’s a steal!”

At least that is sort of how it worked for me. Sort of.

I never wanted kids. Though I always liked hanging out with the kids rather than the parents at family gatherings and other social events, I never imagined having any of my own. I think it was because I never imagined myself “settling down” and getting married. If I wasn’t ever getting married, I surely was not ever having kids.

I never really had the “Those poor suckers…” thoughts about parents, though. I guess I never realized how challenging it is, so I never felt bad for them. The parents I knew seemed happy to be doing it, but like I said, I knew it wasn’t going to be for me. The path I imagined for myself was much, much different.

Of course, you know how that turned out! It’s amazing what meeting an amazing woman can do to shake up a world and a plan. Once I finally surrendered to the idea of becoming a husband, it was a given that I was also going to be a father. It was a bargain I understood going in, and once I agreed, I was all-in. I knew my limit for kids was two, and that was not negotiable. But I was going to give those two kids every bit of my love, my time, and my patience.

And I have. It has been rewarding beyond anything I could have imagined and beyond anything I have the words to describe to you.

I know it sounds so condescending to people without kids—and I apologize for that–but I really think it is one of those things you cannot understand unless you go though it. Unless you have waited for that child to come into your life. Unless you have rocked that sick baby to sleep and fed her on your chest. Unless you have encouraged those first steps and held onto that bicycle seat until you knew he was ready for you to let go. Unless you have shared your ice cream cone and held her hand on her first steps into the ocean. Unless you have been the only one who can make him feel better when he gets hurt on the playground or scared by a nightmare. Unless you have heard those joyful squeals and seen those eyes filled with sheer delight as they run to you upon hearing you come through the door.

Without the accumulation of these moments and a million more just like them, I think it is difficult to understand. But that doesn’t matter. My point is the same: in return for making the difficult decision to give up my single and childless life, I got this little window with these few people to make an unfathomably beautiful brand of magic. And though I admit to occasional wistful thoughts about the old days of blissful solitude, I would not trade this beautiful window for anything.

Including more of it.

Earlier this year, I came home one day and my wife asked me if I was willing to adopt an orphaned baby whom she had heard about that day. “Not in a million years!” was my automatic reply. It took no thought, and even when I did think about it, my sentiment was exactly the same. No chance.

Then last week, I got two babies dumped on my doorstep along with all of the paraphernalia to raise them for a few days. I had known it was coming for a while, and “dread” is not too strong of a word to describe my anticipation of the weekend. The kids belonged to my brother-in-law: one was seven months old, the other two-and-a-half years. An infant and a toddler. Oi!

I could not begin to imagine what was inside my wife’s head when she agreed to babysit for multiple nights for such creatures. Whatever it was—saintliness or insanity–I was buried in babies for the duration of their stay. It was exhausting! Even though my kids are only a handful of years past that stage, how quickly I had forgotten how absolutely NONSTOP it is with babies and toddlers. Constant vigilance. Constant play. Constant laundry. Messes everywhere. It is a crazy lifestyle.

And even though I grumbled in my head about being volunteered for this duty, I had vowed to myself that I would not take that out on the children. I would be present and joyful and engaged. I was, too. We all had a good time.

But. (There just had to be a “but”.) But I could only stomach it knowing that it was all going to end in a couple of days. I can’t imagine actually parenting like that, half the time thinking two major thoughts: “I am too old for this!” and “When are they leaving?”

I thought about my brother-in-law, who had two kids when he was in his twenties with his first wife, raised them to teenagehood and certainly figured he was done, then divorced, married a younger woman, and now has a second pair of babies in his mid-forties. Is he not constantly muttering, “I am too old for this stuff!”? He is not the only person I know who has had two distinct rounds of kids, either married to the same spouse or a different one. I have seen some who seem to resent the younger ones—or at least resent the grind of raising them–and are less engaged than they could be because, in their heads, they were done with their duties after the first round of kids. That’s not good for anyone involved.

I guess you have to decide on your limit and your window for having kids, then dive in head-first and enjoy the exhausting-but-wildly-rewarding ride, and then just chill until grandparenthood comes along. Have you noticed how people love grandparenthood? I am quite sure I will be ready by that time to go all-in on my grandkids, if I am so blessed.

But babysitting? Especially multi-day babysitting? At this point, I am just not there. I have no patience for their demands, quirks, and messes, even if they are just a different version of my kids’ issues. Play dates are the same, and now especially that my daughter has begun sleepovers. It is just not in me. Grrr.

Maybe it is because I had to initially grapple with the idea of having my own kids in the first place before finally embracing the plan fully, but it feels like by going completely all-in with them, I have somehow reduced my tolerance for the challenges of other people’s children. I have to smile through my grinding teeth during certain play dates when the other kid is acting up, and I would be quick to pass on any babysitting opportunity. At the same time, I am still completely patient and engaged with my own kids’ development, including when they are acting up.

It’s like my window for all of this stuff was only so big, and I have already squeezed every inch of my kid tolerance into it with my own pair of rugrats. As I wrote into my journal on the final afternoon of babysitting, “Two days is about 1 ½ days too many.”

I hope my brother-in-law is thrilled with his life choice. It is plainly not for me, though. I will gleefully pilot my two kids all the way to adulthood, but there is definitely no Round Two in my future. See you in grandparenthood, friend! That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

How about you? How tolerant are you of other people’s children? Open up your journal and take yourself through your recent experiences with kids. How would you categorize your patience level with them? How closely related to you were they? Is your tolerance level directly proportional to how closely related you are to the children (or at least how much you care for their parents)? If you have kids of your own, do you find yourself to be pretty accepting of their quirks and issues? How much different is it with other kids? Are you more or less tolerant with other kids? In your most private moments, do you wish you had fewer kids than you do? More? If you could give your younger self advice on how many children to have in order to achieve the right balance for your personality, what is that number? How much does that number differ from your significant other’s number? Who compromised the most? Do the effects of that compromise ever show themselves –e.g. lack of patience—in interactions with the kids? Do you like babysitting? How open would you be to my situation of taking on an infant and a toddler for a few days? Could a child’s story be told to you that would be compelling enough to adopt a child(ren) or become a foster parent? Are there other things in life that you sign on for, accept all of the frustrations and issues that come with it, but have no tolerance for beyond what you signed up for? Pets? Yard work? I used to deal with tons of financial figures at an old job to the point that I could not so much as open a bill at home. Similarly, I worked for years in service industries and had to not only tolerate but smile through just about every level of human nonsense imaginable, and I think I hit my quota and have lost my lifetime’s allocation of tolerance for pettiness, narrow-mindedness, and superficiality. How is your tolerance for those? I just had a revelation! I think this is the foundation of me as a grumpy old man. In recent years I have come to much greater understanding about what I love and what serves my soul and my greater good. Along with that comes clarity about what doesn’t. I have no time and patience for those things anymore, and I imagine my impatience for them will only grow as I age and refine my tastes. Thus, the grumpy old man. What do you think? Do you tolerate less and less as you age? Leave me a reply and let me know: What are the limits of your patience?

Smile at Life,

William

P.S. If something in today’s letter hits home with you, I hope you will share it. Peace to you.

Whatcha Watchin’?

“I think I’m always so much more happy with books and movies and stuff. I think I get more excited about well-done representations of life than life itself.” —Richard Linklater

Hello friend,

I’m sure most of you young people have gotten in on this new fad that people are calling the “Worldwide Web.” It also goes by the name “Internet.” It’s been out for a few years now, so even old guys like me are catching on. I have been sending the electronic mail and even printing out directions for my next roadtrip with a slick new program called Mapquest (you should try it; if you have a printer, that is). Anyway, the technology these days is way better than the old Commodore 64 and Apple IIe, so you might want to check into the upgrade if you haven’t. It’s all happening!

Well, I am about to let you in on a little secret about what I believe will be the next thing you will be hearing about around the old water cooler. Are you paying attention? Okay, here goes: you can now watch your favorite TV shows on your computer! I am serious. Movies, too! It’s the craziest thing you ever heard of, but I am telling you, it’s true. You just type in the name of the program you want to watch, and there it is! It’s like all of your favorite Beta or VHS tapes are right there inside your computer waiting for you to choose them. Like a jukebox! You can start watching on your computer, pause it, then turn on the same show on your telephone (if you have one of those mobile kinds) or electronic tablet, right where you left off. I know that sounds outlandish, but I am telling you, it will catch on! It is called “Netflix,” and it will be even bigger than “Simon” or the “FreeCell” some day. Some day…..

But seriously, I just discovered Netflix last week. Honest to God! Yes, I had heard of it before—and I have also heard the name “Hulu” and am now guessing that is probably magic, too—but never actually knew how it worked. The last I heard, they mailed you a DVD, and after you mailed it back, you could request another one. Wasn’t that Netflix? I could be thinking of something else. Anyway, I have now seen behind the curtain, and let me just say, IT IS AMAZING!!! You actually just type in a show and it’s right there! I know I sound like an idiot right now, but I’m not kidding: this thing has blown my mind away, almost as much as when the iPod came out (that thing still impresses me, by the way). Netflix!

Now I wish I had the time and priorities to be a TV and movie guy again. I used to be a huge movie fan and carved out the time to watch them. I had a few regular television shows, too, and otherwise whittled some mindless hours away channel-surfing. Those days are gone now, with the kids totally dominating the television at my house and my priorities having switched to writing blogs and books and such. I recorded (and loved) the series “Parenthood” until it ended a couple years ago, and haven’t made the time to find a show since. And movies are just too long for my tired and otherwise-engaged mind. As much as I love them, they make me feel antsy about “wasting” my time when I could otherwise be writing.

So, I am not really a watcher of anything anymore (and also, if you could not tell, not at all hip or aware of pop culture). And, as much as I think of myself as a book-lover, I haven’t exactly been blazing through those lately, either. If I am riding the machines at the gym, I read. Otherwise, it is at bedtime. And after a long day, that iPad usually smacks me in my dozing face after about a paragraph or two. Try again tomorrow.

But then came the election. After a night in front of the television and then the next day of trudging through the muck on Facebook, this old guy’s system decided it needed a little break from reality. I decided to take the rest of the week off of social media and perhaps seek out a few things that would take my mind to a different place. I quietly gave myself permission to read during the daytime and do whatever else was needed to decompress, including turning on the television (but NOT the news!).

Enter Netflix.

My wife had signed up a few weeks ago for the free trial month, and my kids quickly figured the whole thing out and have been watching all things animated. Being a little slow on the uptake myself, I was astounded when I realized how much stuff was on there, and that I could do it on my iPad. What a revelation!

Anyway, my point is not to impress you with my technological grandpa-ness, but rather to share a bit about what I have been watching and reading lately. Hopefully by comparing notes on, we can enrich each other’s lives (did I just say that about television?).

As for screen time, I have been a little bit all over the map (that Netflix is like a candy store, I tell you!). The first thing I watched (at full blast while giving myself a haircut) was “Good Will Hunting,” which I haven’t seen in ages but still adore. During a lunch break from writing, I watched the first two episodes of “The Office” for more giggly nostalgia. I even watched the first couple of scenes from “American Beauty,” which is another favorite that I haven’t seen since Bill Clinton was in office. Some day I will make the time for the rest.

Other than those old classics, though, I watched a few newer documentaries that I am here to recommend. My dear friend suggested I watch “Before the Flood,” about Leonardo DiCaprio’s world travels learning about climate change (and our impending doom). It was fascinating and seriously disturbing. I then searched for the one thing I had specifically wanted to watch when my wife said she was getting Netflix: Ava Duvernay’s “13^th.” It is also deeply disturbing but so eye-opening. With all of the ignorance in our country about black-white relations and distrust of law enforcement, I think this film would help so many people gain some perspective and compassion. After watching, I recommended it to my friend who had put me onto “Before the Flood,” and lo and behold, she responded with another assignment for me. “Hate Rising” with newsman Jorge Ramos was–you guessed it–deeply disturbing. Important, but disturbing. I love a good documentary! (Oh, I am such a nerd.)

With all of those awful visions of melting icebergs, overcrowded prisons, and burning crosses, I probably could have used a few more episodes of “The Office.” Instead, I got my levity and inspiration from the books I have been reading of late.

Typically, I try to keep only one book going at a time—usually an autobiography–but I am spread pretty wide these days, so my mood can dictate what I grab at the moment. I just now finished Amy Poehler’s book Yes Please!, which I checked out only because I had seen quotes from her that appealed to me. I like her attitude and the style of the book (and now will probably look up “Parks and Recreation” on Netflix!).

In the meantime, my sweet sister recently gave me two books that have my attention. I am nearly done with Jen Sincero’s You Are a Badass, which is a sassy, self-help manifesto that I find highly motivating (the only downside: I had to explain the word “badass” to my children, who quickly spotted it like hawks). The other one, which I have honestly only read a handful of pages in but seems promising, is Bob Goff’s Love Does. I like that title.

I am also now returning to Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of The United States, which I took a little hiatus from because I was so slow with it. If you ever have an inclination to learn the real story of this country—not the one you learned in school—you must read this one. In a wonderful piece of synchronicity, even Matt Damon’s genius title character in “Good Will Hunting” recommends this book (Netflix does it again!). Oh, and I almost forgot! I am deep into the Harry Potter series—now in the fifth book—which I read every night with my daughter. It is a fun departure for me, something I wouldn’t pick out on my own. And I love to share my book love with my daughter, who now reads way more than I do (I am jealous!).

All of these titles of movies, television, and books have been a godsend of late, a way for me to take an emotional vacation, even if some of the topics have been scary and sad. Now, as I try to return to some normalcy with my schedule after a few days with my head in the clouds, it is my challenge to keep a small slice of vacation in my days, a little window to allow these books and shows to spirit me away. Just yesterday, I found myself reaching for my iPad while I brushed my teeth, hoping to catch a few more minutes of “The Office” and one more laugh for the day. I’m telling you, those Netflix folks are onto something! If they got me, they can get anyone. I guess I need to add a few more minutes to my day or a few more eyes in my head. (In my best Jerry-Seinfeld-gritting-his-teeth voice:) “NETFLIX!!!!”

How about you? What are you watching and reading? Open up your journal and think about the information and entertainment you consume. Are you more of a book person or a TV/movie person? Do you mix those pretty well, or are you pretty solidly in one camp? If you are all about the screen, are you more into TV series or movies? What do you watch on television? What shows do you want to watch? I hear people raving on social media about so many different shows that I wouldn’t even know where to begin. If the last good comedy I watched was when “The Office” was on, do you have any recommendations for me? Are there any good dramas that will make me cry every week like “Parenthood” did? What about movies? Are you more inclined to watch new ones or old ones that you have seen before? Does having access to them on your phone or tablet make you more likely to watch them but less likely to really concentrate on them? I ask that because I normally like to fully immerse myself in the cinematic experience and soak it all up—no distractions, sitting in the dark—or else not watch at all, but as soon as I discovered Netflix, there I was watching “Good Will Hunting” while I was cutting my hair. I still enjoyed it, but the overall experience was of a lower quality. Do you find that is becoming more normal for you with all of this access? What movies would you recommend for a guy who kind of fell off the planet about eight years ago (and who is kind of snooty about movies)? How about books? On a scale of one to ten, how book-crazy are you? What have you been reading lately? Is this normal for you, are you trying a new genre? Is fiction or non-fiction more your thing? What recommendations do you have for me? I am open to anything! Whose memoir or biography would you most recommend? Which of these three—TV, movies, or books—do you spend the most time with? Which do you desperately wish you had more time for? Do you consider yourself a connoisseur of one of them? What purpose do these three serve for you—escapism, entertainment, education, inspiration, stress relief, or something else? What are the top three items on your wish list for your next open window of time? Leave me a reply and let me know, “Whatcha watchin’?”

Enjoy your life,

William

P.S. If you liked what you read and thought about today, feel free to share. Everyone loves a recommendation! Cheers!

Time Well-Spent

“Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time.” –Marthe Troly-Curtin, Phrynette Married

I woke up today feeling like such a kind and generous soul. I had decided last night that I would be giving my precious personal time away today, sacrificing my many pressing projects to make someone else happy. I was patting myself on the back for my magnanimity, thinking this wonderful gift of my time—scarce and valuable as it is—would surely get me on Santa’s good list as the holidays approach. “What a guy,” I thought, “selflessly sharing myself for someone else’s good.” Boy, how I had it wrong! As it turned out, the one who got the most out of the deal was me.

Sometimes I think that we punish people for being self-sufficient and doing a good job in this world. Well, maybe punish is the wrong word; maybe we just fail to reward. People in school or at work who aren’t keeping up seem to get lots of the teacher’s or boss’ attention and guidance, whereas the people who are getting the job done are denied the attention that might help them actually excel rather than just get by. Our “reward” for doing well is often to be ignored.

This seems to happen in relationships, too. The “squeaky wheels” in our circle of friends—the ones with the issues and the drama and the special needs—get the extra time and attention. It might take the form of a bonus hug or special lunch, or it may be as simple as having all of the conversation centered on them. The others—the friends who seem to have it all together and aren’t so aggressive with their demands—end up like the model student or co-worker. Their reward for their solidity is to get NO attention at all. No conversation focus. No extra hugs. No lunch or party in their honor. No love.

It pains me to admit that this is what I have allowed to happen in my circle. I let things slip. I have been unfair with my time and attention. My circle is tiny, mind you. It essentially includes me, my wife, and my two young kids. So, when someone starts to get shorted by me when it comes to my time and attention, you would think I would notice it and immediately rectify the situation. You would think. Sadly, that is not the way it has happened.

I like to think that I am a good Dad. Since the day my daughter was born six-plus years ago, I have totally transformed my life and priorities. I have scaled back my career–more than once–and given up most other hobbies. I have definitely gone all-in on fatherhood. I love it, too. I gladly accept all of the exhaustion and frustration in exchange for the way my heart overflows with Love and Gratitude as a result of their presence in my life. So, I give my every moment to them, from the time they rise in the much-too-early morning to the time they drift off to sleep at night, by which time I am usually so wiped out that I don’t have a lot left in the tank before I have to retire for the night. In that short time, I feel compelled to write my daily journal entry, as well as do my homework for my Life Coaching classes. I am committed to writing these letters to you as well. My labor of love, The Journal Project, has been lately relegated to the back burner due to a lack of time, and that hurts my heart more than you can imagine. There is, quite simply, never enough time or energy to do all that I am driven to do. Those darn kids, as awesome as they are, sure soak up a lot of me.

Oh, did I mention that my sacred circle has another member? Yes, while the kids are busy being the squeaky wheels that get the grease—the Drama Queen and Drama King of the group—my wife plugs along in her self-sufficient way. She seems to understand the deal—that the kids are a huge handful but worth every bit of energy and time spent—and puts no demands on us to make it about her. She willingly gives us her energy and time—she is a fabulous Mommy and wife–and she makes no demands in return. She is that high-achieving, low-maintenance kid in the class. But, like I said, those are sometimes the ones that don’t get the attention they deserve simply because they don’t stamp their feet and demand it. The teacher is occupied by putting out fires with the loud ones instead.

I am the teacher in this case. I am so, so guilty of giving all of my time and energy to my kids, then sneaking in my personal projects in the tiny window of free time after they go to bed. Day after busy day, week after busy week, year after busy year. The blinders go up in the mad dash to “accomplish” anything on the kids’ or my To-Do List. As my old friend Ferris Bueller says, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it.” Wise man, that Ferris Bueller. Well, as I have been rushing around meeting the needs of my kids and then trying to squeeze me into the equation in the day’s last breaths, I have forgotten to stop and look around. And I missed something vitally important. My best friend.

Yes, my wife’s reward for being a self-sustaining, low-maintenance member of my inner circle has been to be virtually ignored by me. I haven’t given her the energy, the time, or the appreciation that she deserves. I have been very unfair about that, and I need to do better. So yesterday, when I realized that our schedules were going to match up to both have the same day off today, I decided that my moment had come to begin the process of making it up to her. I looked—with some longing, I admit—at the list of pressing things I have been wanting to do with my rare window of personal time, and I turned the paper over. It would have to wait for a different day. I went to my wife and offered her my time.

It turns out to be a fairly small window between getting kids to their morning destination and having to return to get them in the afternoon. But we took advantage of it. We drove my son to daycare together. We did some shopping. We went out for lunch. We even went to my daughter’s Science Fair at school. Pretty mundane stuff, sure, but that was not the point. The point was that we did it together. I gave her my time. I gave her my presence. I gave her a husband and best friend again.

As it turns out, though, I was the one who got the most out of it. In not being a very good best friend, I forgot how great it is to be with my best friend. To sit down over lunch and have a great conversation. To do something entertaining like a first-grade Science Fair. To simply be together. In thinking I was giving a gift to her, I was missing the bigger picture. It was at least as much a gift to myself. And I discovered a third party in the room—something called US—who benefitted even more.

I learned a lot today. I learned that I was a fool for forgetting about someone so awesome in my life. I learned that it is okay to take a break from my To-Do List once in awhile. And most importantly, I learned that, to someone you love, there is no greater gift than your time and your presence.

How about you? Who do you owe some time to? Open up your journal and take a mental walk around your sacred circle of loved ones. Can you find the ones who, perhaps, don’t get enough of your attention and time? Why is it? Do you take them for granted? Is it because they don’t bring any drama to demand it? If you could offer them a few hours of your undivided attention, how would you spend the time? What if it was only thirty minutes? If you cannot make the time, what small gesture can you make today to bridge the gap? A quick text or voicemail, perhaps? Maybe a link to a song that binds you together? How do you show your loved ones that you care? Is that the best way you can think of, or might there be more? Leave me a reply and let me know: What, for you, is time well-spent?

Rise to the occasion that is your life,

William

Show Us Your Beads!!!

“It is time for parents to teach young people early on that in diversity there is beauty and there is strength.” —Maya Angelou

Hello friend,

Wanna make some jewelry with me? Okay, this is what we are going to do. Each of us will make a necklace out of colorful beads and a piece of string. I will give you the string and six Dixie cups full of different beads: white, black, yellow, red, brown, and blue. Next, I will name someone in your life, and you will put a bead onto your necklace corresponding to the race/ethnicity of that person:

White Beads = Caucasian/White
Black Beads = African American/African/Black Caribbean
Yellow Beads = Asian American/Asian/Middle Eastern/Pacific Islander
Red Beads = Native American/Indigenous People
Brown Beads = Latin American
Blue Beads = Multiracial

Make sense? Okay, let’s make a necklace!

Mother, Father, or Caregiver—With my Mom a true Scandinavian and my Dad a mix of German and Irish, I come from one pasty bunch! Two white beads for me.

Three closest friends now—Here I get to add some color to my necklace. My three closest are one guy who is as white as me, one Filipino, and one African-American. Add a white, black, and yellow bead to my string.

Significant other (current or immediate past)—My wonderful wife is African-American, so another black bead for me (I imagine two beautiful blue beads for my kids, too).

Boss/supervisor—Another white bead.

Favorite author—So many to choose from—I LOVE books—but I will go with Henry David Thoreau. White again!

Favorite celebrity/athlete/person in the news—I am wildly unhip when it comes to celebrities, but I definitely follow sports. For the last few months, I have been glued to all things LeBron James. I’ll take another black bead, please.

Musical artist you listen to most on your MP3 player—I have been pretty full of Joshua Radin lately. White bead.

Two TV characters you identify with/want to be friends with—I probably don’t deserve any beads for this category, as I hardly ever watch television shows (I watch sports occasionally). However, the one show I try to keep up on—Parenthood—has mostly White people in the cast. I will take one white bead only (but you should take two if you watch more than I do).

Your doctor—That reminds me, I need to find a doctor! I should probably be embarrassed to admit that I do not have one, but it is the truth. If I want a bead in this category, the best I can do is claim my children’s pediatrician. What the heck! Give me another yellow bead.

Your dentist—While I am pretty much a free agent in this category, the last work I had done gets me another white bead.

Your spiritual leader (i.e. rabbi, minister, etc.)—I do not get a bead in this category, but you probably do.

The person you most admire—I am going to look at this in two ways: all-time historical heroes and people currently alive and in your life. Tough one! My all-timer is Gandhi, and my contemporary is my wife. There is much to admire in each; I am so glad I chose to study one and marry the other. Yellow bead, black bead.

Your three closest co-workers—I am in the palest office you have ever seen! White, white, and more white.

The last person you invited to your home—I have a huge, multi-racial birthday party at my house this weekend—can I get a blue bead boulder for that?—but the last one I had over is my Filipino friend, who brought his White wife and multiracial kids. There are options there, but I think a blue bead is most accurate.

Majority of the people who live in your neighborhood—I live in Minnesota and in the suburbs. Definitely white!

That’s it. We did it! Let us clasp our necklaces and see how they look. The first thing I notice about mine is the absence of brown and red beads. That is fair, though, as I have very few Native American and Latin American people in my life. I also find it interesting that, despite the fact that I have created a multiracial family, I have only one blue bead on my necklace. (This makes me wonder about the accuracy of the exercise in terms of measuring the range of diversity in my little world.) Of the other 19 beads on my string, twelve of them are white, four are black, and three are yellow. That feels like a lot of white, but is it?

While doing this exercise, I felt this odd pressure to produce a perfectly even spectrum of colors. I suppose I hoped it would show that my life is a shining example of diversity and inclusion. When the white beads started piling up, I admit to some gnawing feelings of guilt and shame. Then I started to wonder if I was subconsciously “cheating” to get more non-white beads, having conversations in my head like, “Sure, you have been obsessed with LeBron for the last three months, but over the long haul you are more of a Roger Federer (white) fan.” I had to keep reminding myself that the purpose of this exercise is to gain an AWARENESS of the diversity of my personal social network, not to make a judgment about it. Even so, I occasionally got defensive anyway, and thought things like, “Yeah, but this isn’t accounting for the diverse sexualities and religions of my social group. And what about age and economic class? “ I was reaching. I guess that I have always felt so grateful and enriched every time that I have been exposed to difference of any sort—whether it was traveling internationally or simply befriending someone at a local event and learning all about their life—that I had a hard time keeping myself from thinking, “The more colors, the better!” In the end, my necklace speaks for itself. It is my current reality, so I won’t run from it. I am ready to bare it.

How about you? How does your necklace look? Get out your journal and explore your social network. Does the look of your necklace surprise you at all? What stands out about it? Did you ever feel uncomfortable selecting a bead? Did you—like me—start to feel guilty after picking a lot of the same color, as though you had to justify the result? Although this exercise is to bring awareness to the diversity—or lack of diversity—in your life rather than to make any judgment about it, should we feel some shame if we have a relatively monochromatic necklace? I don’t believe so, but it should certainly make us think. Does your bead string motivate you to actively seek out situations of greater diversity to broaden your worldview and social network? Of all the people representing beads that I mentioned, which of your beads is going to be the next one to change color? Picture your necklace if you did this exercise ten years ago: in what ways is it different from today’s, if at all? How do you expect it to be different twenty years from now? More colors or fewer? Would you be willing to wear your necklace to a social event and explain it to curious companions? Leave me a reply and let me know: Are you ready to show us your beads?

Celebrate you today,

William

Happy Father’s Day To Me!

“Having a child is surely the most beautifully irrational act that two people in love can commit.” –Bill Cosby, Fatherhood

Hello friend,

Imagine this life: every time you get dressed, you have two others to dress. For every time that you wash your hands now, you have to wash two more times. For every time that you go to the bathroom and wipe yourself, you have to wipe two others. For every time you wake up in the middle of the night, you are woken up twice as often by others. Every craving that you have and satisfy, you must do the same for two others. Every seatbelt. Every meal. Every teeth-brushing. Every shoe-tying. EVERY ONE. EVERY DAY. Just multiply everything you do now by three and you will get the picture.

Is it clear? No? Okay, well add to this the idea that you never get to watch what you want on television, never get to eat at a restaurant, never get to sleep in (ever!!!), never use the bathroom alone, never keep your clothes clean (or your house, car, etc.), never get to go on dates, must give up some favorite hobbies, must give up feeling rested and alert, and just generally go along like you are barely hanging on. Oh yeah, and the two others that you are feeding, washing, and wiping are crying a lot in the process, not nearly as eager to get on with your day as you are.

NOW is the visual clear to you? Good. This is the life of a parent of two young kids. My life, to be specific. Sound appealing? No? I know, I know, to any childless person reading this, you are probably thinking, “I wouldn’t do that for a billion dollars! Why would I give up my life for THAT? I don’t get it; why do people do that? It sounds awful. Like he lost his identity. No thanks!” When you look at the surface of it, I have to admit that I agree with you. It doesn’t sound like any fun at all. It is a lot of work. It’s taxing. It’s stressful. It is sometimes infuriating. It is all the time exhausting. So, what gives?

Imagine a different life. For every time someone cracks you up laughing, multiply that feeling by ten. For every time someone else’s little successes in life fill your soul with pride and gratitude, multiply that by one hundred. For every time the power of your hug can make everything better, multiply that feeling by a thousand. For every time you are an integral part of something downright miraculous, multiply that feeling by a hundred thousand. For every time someone’s smile melts your heart, multiply that feeling by a million. For every time someone drops everything when they see you, screams your name, and runs to you with open arms to give you hugs and kisses like you are the greatest thing ever, multiply that feeling by a billion. And then, after you finish with all of that math, take the greatest feeling you ever had in your life—when tears came to your eyes and your heart seemed like it would burst open because it felt so much love—and know that you will feel all that and more every single time your child says, “I love you, Daddy.” This is my life, too.

This is exactly why you cannot sell parenting to someone who is not a parent. On the surface, it just doesn’t make sense. Bill Cosby is right: it is irrational. But then you get past the surface and into that beautiful mess called the Heart. To have that one heart-bursting “I love you” from your own child is to understand how completely silly and futile it is use rational arguments to promote parenthood. There aren’t words or numbers to explain the greatest of feelings. Many have tried and come up short. Now I count myself among them.

I never wanted kids. I didn’t. I went through my twenties in a state of blissful childlessness. I thought about the concept often–I had nieces that I absolutely adored, and I much preferred the company of kids to adults—but never felt any compulsion to have my own. I was so happy without them, and that felt like enough. It was enough.

And then one day, my mind changed. It wasn’t as though it didn’t feel like enough anymore; I can’t explain it, really. I just felt ready to give fatherhood a go. It seemed right. Fate intervened, however, perhaps to test my resolve after so many years of resisting the idea. My heart felt so ready, and yet suddenly the odds became stacked against my wife and I. In the ensuing years, we went on a rollercoaster of emotions, as doctors and social workers starred in the drama of our life. Instead of taking the denials as signs that I was truly not meant to be a father, I took them as signs that exactly the right child was not ready for me just yet.

And then one day, she was. My daughter, India, has the kindest, most loving spirit. She is absolutely brilliant, and her eyes have the serenity and beauty of two setting suns. She has held my heart so carefully since the night she was born. She reminds me every day that I am her best friend, and of course, melts me daily with her “I love you, Daddy.” Needless to say, she was worth waiting for.

After battling through so much time in doctors’ offices before India’s birth, her brother’s relatively drama-free arrival was something of a miracle. Isaiah has been enjoying the ride the entire way. He has the most funny, fun-loving spirit, and his eyes sparkle with an intoxicating blend of pure Joy and a splash of mischief. He makes me laugh more than anyone I have ever met, and then he gives the most sincere, passionate hugs and kisses. He is a one-of-a-kind charmer, my Best Man.

I cannot fathom a love greater than the one I feel for him and his sister, nor a gratitude greater than the one I feel for the gift of being their Daddy. It is, by a million miles, the greatest role I have ever played. And at the end of every single day—no matter how many fights I have broken up, messes cleaned, tears wiped, and bodily fluids worn—I find myself thinking, “That was awesome! Let’s do that again tomorrow.”

That is exactly why I cannot make a rational argument for fatherhood. I can’t explain it into attractiveness. I can only tell you that I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I absolutely loved my life before kids. I was wildly happy and grateful; more so, it seemed to me, than anyone I knew. And yet, from the very moment of India’s birth, you couldn’t get me to switch roles with the old me for anything. Not a billion dollars. Not fame. Not achievement. Nothing. Like I said, logic and mathematics simply cannot explain it. No matter how much you put on one side of the scale, it is easily outweighed by that feeling in my heart when I walk in the door and hear the feet racing around the corner as they scream, “DADDY’S HOOOOOOOOME!!!!!!” Any moment after that far outweighs the other side, too—any goofy smile from Isaiah or story from India or race up the stairs that ends with us wrestling on the floor and giving tickles and raspberries until no one can breathe from laughing so hard. Those are all plenty.

But even if they weren’t, there is always that moment when I am putting India to bed, when I am about to get up and go, and she turns to me in the dark, pulls me in for a hug and kiss, and says, “I love you, Daddy. You’re the best Daddy ever!” I walk out of that room every night so totally certain that I am the luckiest guy that ever walked the Earth. I guess you could say that is enough. It is for me.

What about you? What makes your life so happy? Open up your journal and your heart, and then go for it. This is for everybody; you don’t have to be a parent to have magical, day-making moments that add up to become life-making years. If you are not a parent (or if you are but can remember your pre-child life), how fulfilling do you (did you) think parenting would be? How much fun/work/frustration/fulfillment did you think parenting would be based on how your parents were? In your current status as either a parent or childless, do you regret the path you have chosen, or wish you had done something sooner or later? If you have kids, do they know how much you love them and how proud you are of them? What is your relationship with your father? How do you feel about him? Have you told him? Maybe today is the day. Leave me a reply and let me know: Who are you thankful for today, and what are you going to do about it?

Happy Father’s Day,

William

My Life of TV Shows

Hello friend,

Last night I finally watched the season finale of “Parenthood” on DVR. Afterwards, I said to myself, “Alright, now I don’t have to watch television for at least four more months, even longer if this gets canceled.” You see, other than a basketball game or tennis match here and there, “Parenthood” is the only show I have watched the last couple of years. The television has almost completely lost its place in my life. That seems crazy given that my memories are dominated by this magical device.

The realization that I have only one show left—one that is likely to be canceled soon, no less–shocked me so much that my mind went into a tailspin back through my lifetime, an existence chock-full of television series. What I find looking back is that, with the exception of a few outstanding comedies and dramas that transcend time, the TV shows that were important to me seem to fit in with who I was and what I was doing during those periods.

When I was a little kid, the television was always on in my house. ALWAYS! It is funny how our memories work: even though I would tell you I had an active childhood, I would also tell you that I watched a ton of TV. I watched everything. The shows that I loved the most, though, seemed to fall into two categories: 1) shows about kids in their families learning how to grow up, and 2) shows about different versions of action heroes.

Kids and their learning of “growing-up” lessons was an obvious draw, but especially kids in bigger family situations. I have four siblings, so family dynamics were right up my alley. “The Brady Bunch” was an early classic for me in that regard. I held down the Bobby Brady spot as the youngest boy in the brood. I was also Nicholas in “Eight is Enough”, Arnold in “Diff’rent Strokes”, and Tootie in “The Facts of Life”. I couldn’t necessarily claim one of the characters in “The Cosby Show”, but that is certainly an all-time favorite for many reasons. I loved that show! Throw “Family Ties” in this group, and the genre is full for my youth.

The action hero aspect of my favorite childhood shows—of course, stemming from my fantasies of being one—was probably initiated by Saturday morning cartoons, my favorite of which was “Super Friends”. I loved them all, but I was definitely an Aquaman guy. These cartoons soon transitioned to live action, and my first superhero show that totally captivated me was “The Incredible Hulk”. The other two big ones in this category for me, though without actual superheroes, were “The A-Team” (but come on, Mr. T was basically a superhero, right?) and, of course, “The Dukes of Hazzard”. The best moments of the week were those few times per episode when the General Lee jumped off the surprise dirt pile over the water–time standing totally still until the car landed safely on the other side–and away “them Duke boys” would go. That is little boy magic!

Other than the comedy classic “Cheers”, there aren’t many shows that jump out of my memory from my teen years. The next phase of my life that seemed to have TV series attached to it was my 20s, when I was figuring out life as a young adult, with stuff like independence, jobs, and relationships. My shows of choice fit the time. This period started with the Fox shows “Beverly Hills 90210” and “Melrose Place”. It didn’t hurt that these characters lived in Los Angeles, where I was either dreaming about living, actually living, or had just moved away from, depending on which point in the series you are talking about. My first apartment in LA looked just like the “Melrose” building (minus all of the super-attractive neighbors—darn!). The shows I really remember from that time, though, are “Friends” and “Party of Five”. I might have liked “Friends” so much because it made me think I could make it as an actor, as here were these six young actors who burst onto the scene, spawning multiple copy-cat shows with even more unknown actors. I remember being an extra on one called “Buddies” and thinking, “I could do this!” “Friends” was wonderful on its own, but I loved that it gave me hope. “Party of Five”, on the other hand, just totally hit me in the right spot. It was sad, but it was also siblings. Siblings who needed each other while simultaneously needing to figure out this thing called Life without parents. I was not yet in the habit of journaling every day when this show started, but when I look back at my very first journal, many of the entries come right after I had watched episodes of “Party of Five” and my soul was completely stirred up. It really resonated with me. The later portion of this “single & figuring myself out” period in my life was marked by more interesting versions of others doing just that: “Ally McBeal” and “Will & Grace”.

Finally, when I was out of that phase of life, I came full circle back to family again, this time from the perspective of someone in the middle generation. I am a parent, but I am also still a sibling and someone’s child. It is an amazingly tangled and beautiful web, this thing called family. I see that in my own life, and that is what has drawn me, in this age when I have mostly cut TV out of my life, to “Parenthood”. It just gets me feeling the things I want to feel, and I appreciate that.

I mentioned earlier that, amidst all of these periods of my life and the shows that correspond to the periods, there were a few television series that transcended time and would have been appreciated in any era. In the drama category, the one that sticks out for me is the brilliantly written “The West Wing”. Honorable mentions from my youth are “St. Elsewhere” and “Hill Street Blues”, and “ER” from young adulthood. In the comedy realm, I did mention “Cheers” as an honorable mention, but really there are two that stand out for me as all-timers: “Seinfeld” and “The Office”. I could watch either one at any time, but “Seinfeld” is the favorite. It doesn’t necessarily connect to a time in my life like the others I have mentioned, but it is simply great television. It moves me. That is what a good show is supposed to do. That is why these shows come, much like music, to tell the story of my life.

How about you? What shows tell the story of your life? Open up your journal and take a stroll down memory lane. Write about the ones that moved you to laughter and to tears. Do your favorites follow the themes of your life, too? Are you more into comedy or drama? Are there any family shows that remind you of your own family? How have your tastes changed as you have aged? Which shows that you loved as a kid do you think would still seem good if you watched them today (my faith in “90210” and “The Incredible Hulk” is shaky)? How many of the shows that you currently watch will make your list 20 years from now? And finally, as a guy who has a completely empty DVR and whose only show is about to be canceled, do you have any recommendations for me? Leave me a reply and let me know: What are the TV shows of your life?

Be triumphantly you today,

William

My Mom is Awesome!

“All that I am or ever hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.” –Abraham Lincoln

Hello friend,

Happy Mother’s Day! Last year at this time, I actually got to spend the weekend with my amazing Mom. I admit that I haven’t always given Mother’s Day its just due as a holiday—often lumping it in with “greeting card holidays” like Valentine’s Day, which I mostly ignore—but having that time with my Mom on a day made just for her was pretty darn cool. Maybe I can appreciate it more now that I am a parent, or maybe it just hits home a bit more now that we are both old enough to realize that these earthly lives don’t go on forever. In any case, Mother’s Day is important to me now.

Holidays and birthdays, for me, have kind of taken on the role of “good excuse to let someone know how much I care”. I know that it is pretty lame that I don’t have the guts and/or don’t make the time to do that often enough in my day-to-day interactions, but that is where I am right now. This is why I have come to appreciate these holidays: I need the excuse to share my feelings. These days are helping me out.

So, in honor of Mother’s Day, here are some of the reasons I love my Mom so much:

I love my Mom because she birthed me and raised me. That may sound obvious, but really, having now witnessed a couple of births in person, I know that every mother, no matter what they did afterward, deserves a thank you. And to think, that is the easy part! Raising kids is hard!!! My kids are absolutely fabulous and I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world, but raising them is still the most taxing thing ever, too. So I am so grateful to my Mom for just hanging in there with me through it all. I didn’t know what a trooper she was—and I may not fully know until these guys go through the teenage stuff—but I know enough now to say she has my utmost respect.
I love my Mom because she was crazy enough to have five of us. Who does that? Seriously, I have two kids and can hardly see straight. How did she turn out five of us—four, including me, in very rapid succession—and keep it all together? As many times as I have probed her and other parents of big broods to figure it out, I simply cannot wrap my mind around the idea. But my Mom pulled it off. Even though I am stopping at two, I am so glad I had my many siblings all along the way. Amazingly, we actually still like and respect each other. My Mom is a wonder!
I love my Mom because I have always been her little boy. I admit it, I have always been a Momma’s boy. I was the fourth kid, and my little sister didn’t come along for seven years after me. I don’t know if that explains it, or if she just somehow knew I had a unique path that required her special support, but she always provided it. Even at this age and with me about twice her size, she has a way of making me feel like her special little boy. I love that.
I love my Mom because we have been lifelong roadtrip partners. In my previous post “Roadtrip Down Memory Lane”, I shared with you how my Mom would throw us five kids, a cooler of soda, and an Alabama cassette into our van and trek across the country. Those trips were amazing, but they were just the beginning. She toted—“tolerated” is probably more accurate—my friends and I around to every little town that had a Summer tennis tournament. Even as an adult, she and I have covered this great country on adventures up and down both coasts and seemingly everywhere in between. She even made it through an epic day in which I dragged her to every possible site in Rome, finally limping up the Spanish Steps in the dark of night. We have shared a lot of beautiful miles.
I love my Mom because she shows me how to be a good spouse. After all these years, I am pretty sure my Dad realizes that he landed a good one. I learned the most from my Mom in her most trying times as a wife. When I was wondering, “How in the world is she holding up and hanging in?” she was a rock. She never wavered. I am still amazed by that, and I always return to it whenever I have a “Darn, marriage is hard work!” moment.
I love my Mom because she is a fabulous grandmother. My kids—and all her other grandkids, really—totally adore my Mom. She gets right down to the level of whoever she is playing with and really digs in. She snuggles with the infants, plays on the floor with my kids, and reads novels aloud to my teenage nieces (yes, at their request!). I am in awe of how connected she is to each of them. She is the grandma version of the kind of grandpa I want to be.
I love my Mom because she showed me how to be the adult child at the parents’ end. My Mom’s mother—my sweet Grandma Jeanne—had a long bout with cancer and needed a lot of care. In what had to be the toughest thing for her to witness, she sucked it up and did it all. I am sitting here bawling as I think about having to do that for her one day. I can only hope I do half as well. She then spent so many more happy years with her father, becoming his best friend and constant source of support, even as his mind began to betray him. She was, again, the rock, right to the very end. How lucky my grandparents were to have her.
I love my Mom because she has been, through it all, everything I would want in a best friend. In life, you want someone who is going to love you no matter what. You want someone who is proud of you even when you aren’t proud of yourself. You want someone you can have a great time with. You want someone who will tell you their Truth. And you want someone to be your biggest fan. My Mom is all of that to me. I love her without end.

This morning, as has become her habit in recent years on Mother’s Day, she sent an email to me and my siblings. It was titled “Your Mom”, and here is how it went:

Ahh, it’s my favorite day of the year once again! And now that I say that I know it’s not totally true, my favorite days are when I actually get to see you! But today is the day that I feel like I can take some of the credit for the 5 greatest people the world has ever seen and I do mean that! I know that without God taking care of you every day and your Dad’s help I couldn’t say that and I am just so very thankful that I can. I really couldn’t be more proud of each of you than I already am for everything you have accomplished and everything you have become. You truly are the 5 greatest people I know and you are raising 14 of the greatest kids there are anywhere. Mom or Dad, you should be as proud of yourselves as I am of you for doing such a great job and having so much fun with all of them. Nothing makes me more proud of you than to see what great parents you are and the love you have for your children….that really is the most important thing in your life as I know you can see even now. They are and always will be the greatest source of joy to you even in the difficult times so treasure each moment…it doesn’t come again. Thank you all for making my life so special…..you will only know how much I love you as you experience your own love for your children.

All my love, Your very blessed Mom

Oh yeah, I love my Mom for that letter, too.

How about you? Open up your journal—or better yet, a letter or the phone line or her front door—and write down all the reasons you love your mother. If you are anything like me, it will be a tear-filled entry, but, trust me, well worth your time. I bet your Mom would think so, too! Leave me a reply and let me know: how awesome is your Mom?

You are loved,

William

Are You Fine Wine or Rotten Grapes?

“There’s never a wish better than this: when you only got a hundred years to live.” –John Ondrasik (“100 Years”)

Hello friend,

I think I am about to start having a tough time with this aging thing.

I’m 41 years old. I’ll be honest: those first 40 were pretty easy on me, both physically and psychologically. I found a beautiful, much younger-looking wife and worked in a job that let me act young and fit. Sure, I had some bumps and hiccups along the way. I had back surgery at 31. I started going gray even before that (and that train isn’t one that just stops, friend!). I have the wrinkles of someone 10 years my senior. I admit to some vanity, so accepting these battle scars has taken some work. But I have done pretty well at swallowing those potentially bitter pills. So far, so good.

Helping my cause, I think, was waiting to have my kids until my mid-to-late 30s. I was able to carry off the “I must be young; I haven’t even had kids yet” trick in my mind, AND avoid the total sleep deprivation/obliteration that inevitably comes with new parenthood. But then, after they came, right up until around, say, TODAY, I was riding the “My kids are so little. OF COURSE I am still young!” Walking through the grocery store with my two darlings, people—especially older people–would give that wonderful, warm-hearted look of reminiscence that said, “Ahhh, so cute to see a Dad with his baby and toddler. What a wonderful time in the life of a young family!” I love that look! It is like a psychological air-brushing: instant age reduction! So I have been living and loving the delusion of early adulthood for a good while now.

Until today, that is. This morning I got a reality check in the form of a visit to the dentist for my daughter’s first fillings. The first thing they did was put her on a scale to check her weight. Fifty-eight pounds. Wait. WHAT?!?!? How did my toddler become 58 pounds and have two cavities? Too much candy, you say? Nope. Sadly, it turns out that my little baby somehow became a tall, thin kindergartener who reads—and eats candy, too, I admit–about as well as I do. GULP! Okay, now I have tasted the bitter pill. I am no longer young. I am feeling O.L.D.!!!

I am thinking of the previous phase as Early Adulthood, basically the 20s and 30s. In that phase, at least somebody thought I was young, even if it was just me. I had either no kids or young kids, and I could occasionally be thought of as still a young and somewhat attractive Tennis teacher to my adult clients. Now I am more in the category of weathered, veteran coach to those at my job. Outside of it, I am sliding quickly away from the “New Father” role and into “A Guy With Kids.” Physically, I am changing on the inside, too. Whereas I used to jump from one injury to the next as any active, athletic person does, now the injuries don’t go away. I have been nursing a bum foot for nearly a year. That is old person material!

Yes, as graceful and accepting as I seem to be handling the aging stuff so far, I am not so sure of myself for the next phase. As much as I hear parents talking about the elementary school years being this blissful oasis between the exhaustion of the diaper years and the turmoil of the teenage years, I am finding myself feeling very clingy to these early years. I LOVE being my kids’ best friend; that role feels right and comfortable. I know that those days are numbered, however, and that doesn’t feel so good to me. I don’t want to be outgrown.

In my work, too, the road ahead is beginning to look scary. Coaching tennis is not like coaching football, baseball, or basketball, where it is enough to be a good motivator and strategist. I am actually supposed to be good at playing, better than the people I am teaching. That is tougher to sustain as the injuries and years pile up and don’t retreat. It is a young person’s profession. And the longer I stay in it, the less appealing I become to a prospective employer in a different field should I decide to change careers. The squeeze is on. I am feeling the very real fear of becoming irrelevant, both in my own field and in all others. This Middle Age thing is not for sissies!

I quoted John Ondrasik’s (Five for Fighting) song “100 Years” at the top because that song always makes me think about the path of life and this train called TIME that never stops, no matter how much a guy like me begs it to. In the verse about this new phase I am entering (and fearing), he sings, “I’m 45 for a moment, The sea is high and I’m heading into a crisis, Chasing the years of my life.”

I don’t want to be that guy who resists the natural flow of the life cycle. I don’t want to be perpetually “chasing the years of my life.” I want to do just as my hero, Henry David Thoreau, suggests: “to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life.” I guess the thing is just to embrace it. Embrace the moment—every moment—whatever it brings and whatever my role is. I want to enjoy all of the moments—indeed, even revel in them—until my last breath leaves me. I have done that so far, so I don’t know why I have this current anxiety about losing that ability to remain in the precious present. But there it is.

How about you? How are you aging? Open your journal and tell it your Truth. Have you moved gracefully from one era of your life to the next? Have you fought it kicking and screaming at any point? Did you ever have what you think of as a “mid-life crisis” or, as John Mayer says, a “quarter-life crisis”? Compare your present era to your known past and imagined future phases: Is this phase better or worse than the others? Are you looking forward to your next chapter, or dreading it? How accepting are you of your aging body? Write honestly to yourself, and then leave me a reply. I want to know: when it comes to aging, are you like fine wine or rotten grapes?

You are lovable in every moment,

William

I Can See Clearly Now

“I write because I don’t know what I think until I read what I say.” –Flannery O’Conner

Hello friend,

A funny thing happened on the way to the blog post! When I sat down to write my usual daily journal entry today, I had not yet decided on my next blog topic. I figured I would do some brainstorming later in the day. So, I started to write a pretty basic, humdrum journal entry. But by the time I finished, I had found a subject that puzzled me enough that I needed to write myself through it until I had a clear idea of how I felt about it.

I have always said that one of the best things journaling has done for me is to give me clarity about how I feel and who I am. That is exactly what today’s entry did for me; it took a topic that I had kind of a vague notion about and brought it into sharp focus. So, I think that instead of my usual post to you that gets several re-reads and edits before I send it out, I will share with you directly from my own journal. I do this not because it is very well-written—indeed, I hope you are able to follow my mind, which I really allow just to go wherever it wants as I write—but because I think this entry is a good example of how clarity can come from the process of journaling. So, I hope what I am giving you today is a double-whammy: a plug for journaling and also a topic to consider writing about.

I will spare you the more humdrum stuff at the beginning of the entry. I wrote about my eagerness for Spring and Summer, and about my kids’ first day back at swimming lessons. Then, as I was thinking about all of the big stuff up ahead with the kids, I started this stream of consciousness:

It is so challenging and fun to be a Dad. I would have missed out on so much had I chosen to stay single and childless. I would certainly have gained in other areas and had a great time, but oh, these children provide a totally unique experience that is simply priceless. I think about Jon and his new relationship with a 51-year-old. He would be such a great father, but, if this relationship sticks, fatherhood goes out the window as an option. That saddens me. This is an awkward thought process, because it seems narrow-minded and judgmental to put a “should” onto someone. I mean well with it, but I am sure the sentiment wouldn’t be received well. Where is the line? Is it that I wouldn’t push the idea on him but would answer honestly if asked. Hmmm….. This is starting to sound like a good blog post idea. Hopefully we are in the era where, no matter what your racial or sexual identity or preference is, you can choose to have a child, whether that is out of your own body, via a surrogate, or through adoption. So, when someone chooses to not have a child, even if you don’t judge them for it, is it okay to feel bad for them, to believe they are missing out? Because I am a little sad about Jon probably missing out on this amazing ride called parenthood. I see how great he is with India and Isaiah and think, “Man, any kid would be LUCKY to have a guy like that for a Dad!” I guess it comes down to this: I don’t think less of him; I just feel bad for him. And even though I know that sentiment totally comes from a place of love and good will, I still wonder if it is not being self-righteous to think that. I suppose it has parallels in terms of religious people who feel bad for anyone who does not believe as they do. If you feel your religious doctrine is the one true path to happiness and ultimate glory, you would be justified in feeling bad for the people who don’t believe as you do. I think where the line would get crossed is when you judged them and denigrated them for their beliefs. Maybe this is more a question about being evangelical about it. I am not totally sure I am using that word right, but what I mean is that it is probably okay to feel bad for Jon or the nonbelievers, but it would get offensive/inappropriate if I tried to sell them on my belief. I suppose the question for any type of crusader is: “If I really think my way is the best, don’t I have an obligation to others to sell them on it? After all, I am only looking out for their best interest.” I can see how this becomes a slippery slope toward intolerance. What a fascinating topic! I suppose to find the middle way here, you need to go on the assumption that everyone has all of the information. Jon has plenty of examples in front of him, and I have studied all of the religions. To get in either of our faces with a hard sell would be insulting to both our liberty and our intelligence. Once you know someone has all of the information, it is to live and let live. Bless them. Feel bad if you must, but wish them well and love them. That is how to be a good human on this earth. I can see it more clearly now. I am so grateful for journaling. It reminds me of the quote that Jen sent me the other day that reminded her of me: “I write because I don’t know what I think until I read what I say.” –Flannery O’Conner. Today is a perfect example. I love the process and am so grateful for it. It reminds me why I am so glad I started “Journal of You”: so that others can be blessed by the process in the same ways that I have. I am a lucky man. Life is truly beautiful.

There you have it! That is how my crazy mind works as I write. As I said, I offer that to you as an example of how you can find clarity in your beliefs—indeed, really learn who you are–through the process of journaling. It works for me, and I trust that if you give it a chance, it will work for you.

So, won’t you give it a shot? Pick up your pen and spill some ink. Let your thoughts run. Does my feeling bad for my friend cross the line from wishing him only the best to being self-righteous or condescending? Which of your beliefs or lifestyle choices do you think other people are missing out on? Is it your religion? Your political views? Ideal number of children, if any? How willing are you to engage others in conversation or debate about your stance? Is it easier to discuss with or attempt to persuade someone who is close to you (e.g. a family member) or a stranger? On a scale of 1 to 10, how open-minded are you? If I asked your closest friends the same question about you, do you think they would say the same thing? Do some digging. Be honest. Lay yourself bare. Then, leave me a reply. Tell me about your process, and let me know if you learned anything from mine. I want to know: can you see yourself clearly?

Happy looking,

William

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