Looking In From The Outside

This morning my three year old son came down stairs as I was on the couch attempting to read and pray. His mother was at work on her overnight shift and hadn't come home yet. I was looking forward to him crawling up on the couch with me and nestling in. He took one look at me and asked, "Where's mom?" After telling him she wasn't home yet, but would be soon, his face dropped and he immediately began to cry. I was the consolation prize. 

Moments like these have been kind of demoralizing to me as a dad. Like most dads, my weekdays are spent working. On weekends like this one, when my wife is working her shifts, I'm spent at the end of the week, and don't have much energy for doing things with the kids. Truth be told, they spend most of their time with their mom during the week homeschooling, and as a result are very close to her.

It can be a challenge these days to find my role as a father beyond just providing a roof over everyone's heads. Mothers provide something all kids need--time and attention, nurturing and instruction. As a father, I know I have a role to play in all that as well, and things their mom can't provide. But I've been defecting more. I go out to the garage to wrench around; I sit on the couch while my son plays Minecraft, not knowing how to interact with him. I feel like I'm losing them and squandering opportunities. The COVID era doesn't make it easier, but it's not an excuse either. 

Middle age is a tough time for dad. You're so focused on your career and managing things that time is at a premium. I try to balance having time for myself (time that my wife usually doesn't have as a luxury, admittedly), time with other men, time with my parents, time with my wife, time with my kids, time writing, and time in prayer.  

My wife was chastising me a bit last night for not being present with my kids when I have the opportunity. She's not wrong. She is a 'be-er' and I'm a 'do-er.' Every time I do have the opportunity to just 'be' I end up 'doing' something instead. Everyone knows that you can't substitute time together with other things and expect to have a healthy marriage. And the more time you spend with someone, the more you get to know them, and want to spend time with them. I feel like my kids pick up on that I am not as present with them as their mom is, and so they turn to other 'things' to fill the vacuum that I could be filling if I was more present.

The less time I spend in prayer, the farther I feel from God. The same applies to my kids. I'm in a funky season right now, where my biggest sins and temptations come from a spirit of sloth and acedia, and it can be very hard to counter. I'm somewhere between a post-war father who detaches and a Millenial who is an 'active, involved father.' My wife and I have a more or less traditional delineation of duties where she teaches and cleans, picks up toys and shuttles kids to appointments, and attends to household duties, and I work full time (though I do cook) so that she can stay home for the majority of her time. I'm not emotionally distant, and I think I do spend time with them when I am able, and do help out around the house. But I have the 'dad-disposition' of having a role, and not knowing exactly how it is supposed to play out.

What my wife does naturally--being with the kids, being present, etc--does not come naturally to me. The older my kids get, the more I realize my laziness as a father is costing me opportunities to connect with them. Time is a currency, and I'm spending it on frivolous things rather then what's important. It's no wonder my three year old doesn't want to crawl up on the couch with me, and collapses in dejection when he realizes he's stuck with me rather than his mom. Or maybe it's just a natural season at his age, and I shouldn't be so hard on myself.

A movie I watched years ago that I found strangely moving (to tears) was The Wrestler, with Mickey Rourke. There's a scene where he's trying to reconnect with his adult daughter after years of not being there for her. "I'm just a broken down piece of meat, and I'm alone," he says to her. "And I deserve to be alone." 

There's an image I have, when I go out on the patio for some time to myself, of looking from the outside in while the rest of my family is inside. I've chosen to take time for myself, but I would be horrified if I tried to come back in the house and it was locked for some reason. Then you realize the place you really want to be more than anywhere, with your family, you're barred from, because of what you've chosen instead. I know it's just a moment but I don't want it to project as a future reality. Moments add up to days, and days to years, and before you know it if you're not careful, you can become a stranger in your own house.