The Sound.

In the past few months, several of my buddies have become Dads. They have either joined or re-upped their memberships into the brotherhood of fathers. Though, I have, in each case, been very happy for their inclusion into this non-exclusive club, I have also been very happy that it was them and not ME!! Babies are hard work with little return. They are cute and smell pretty good, except when they don’t and it is neat to see them make their little progressions into actual human beings. But, they are also very inconvenient. They operate on THEIR time, not ours. When they are hungry or tired or bothered by some other unknown problem, we must jump. We jump to stop that sound. That shrill, spine piercing sound that they emit. If this sound could be bottled and marketed it would be a “million dollar idea”. It would make even the laziest man quite productive. Efforts to stop this sound are delivered with an urgency and efficiency rarely seen or affected by regular folks. This sound, either the prevention of or elimination of is a true motivator. We will stop whatever we are doing and ACT!! Few things on this earth can inspire motion like this sound. Just the thought of it makes me want to stop it NOW and I can’t even hear it!!


However, as our babies grow, new issues arise. The mouth that delivers “the sound” begins to learn words. These words grow into complaints, demands and whiny pleas for unnecessary and impossible desires. There is probably no sanctuary for a Dad to hide from his children’s voices, except perhaps the grave. I say “perhaps”, because I am not sure that my kids’ persistent questioning and “suggestions” on how best to do things won’t follow me there, too. I am anticipating an eternity spent hearing my son’s “recommendations” and very helpful insights into what I am doing wrong. I signed up for it and I will accept it as gracefully as I can, which is sometimes pretty ungraceful and it is only by the slimmest of margins that my school-age kids avoid “shaken-baby” syndrome.

As a Dad, I struggle to maintain even the illusion of a low form of intelligence. My kids often think I am an idiot. Sometimes I am, sometimes not. They don’t know the difference and this creates awkward moments. When I try to explain, as a dutiful Dad, the pitfalls of a plan they have devised which I can tell will result in breakage of either bones or something I own, they look at me with concern and pity. They don’t understand that I tried that plan and broke something. I have a perspective that they do not and though I have never been a quick study, some things make an impression that even a moron can’t ignore. But, we all have to learn in our own way. I have never listened to anyone else in my life and suffered the consequences. My wife and mom will happily verify this. It seems that the fruits don’t fall far from the tree. So, I do what I can do and sleep well after the emergency room visit.

I have, in speaking to my prospective “Dad” buddies, described my kids as the best pains in the butt I will ever have. Parenthood is always frustrating and painful. It is also, always, great. Caring for something more than ourselves, is liberating in ways unknown to non-parents. We will move burning buildings and the earth itself to protect our kids. We will compromise things previously thought uncompromisable and sacrifice the most sacred of our parts of our souls to make our kids happy or at least good people. This is not easy, but it is worth it. The results being the subtle, yet rare, looks of reverence and awe; the understanding that Dad does know something and is more. These are not our goals, merely byproducts of our very aware efforts that what we do as parents matters. It is a challenge to consistently maintain good parenting, but we do the best we can, because it is right and important and maybe… just maybe… it will STOP THAT FRIGGIN’ SOUND!!!