I’m always in conflict with myself about what should come first. Priorities. For life in general, yeah. But mostly, in regard to raising my child.
A friend recently made the analogy of the parent who misses the recital because they are working over time to pay for the costume. I wonder if working overtime is even worth it. Maybe we should just skip the recital entirely? At the same time, I want my kid to have everything those other kids have, and more. And “recital” works it’s way into that list, some how, even though deep down I know the ways and means are almost always more important than the ends.
So I fight with myself over what I should spend what little time and money I have on. Most days I’m pretty sure I’ve figured out that my “corporate career” doesn’t matter at all. I’m employable, I can do almost anything, giving up any more of myself than is absolutely required doesn’t get me where I want to be. I don’t need to be rich — at least not in societies standards — and I don’t need to be famous among anyone except the people I care about.
But, for example, do I throw money and values down the drain and eat at restaurants for every single meal so my daughter and I can spend more time together and get more done? Or do I show my daughter that meals at home are the best way to eat healthy, save money, and spend time together, even if that means almost all of our time every evening is spent dealing with food buying, preparation, eating, and clean up?
In the best possible world, we’d eat out one meal a week, and join together with other like minded families to cover the others. The way I see it, it’s almost as easy to cook for 1 family as it is for 6. If I can cook one meal a week for 6 families, and have meals cooked for me in the homes of people we love and care about for all of the others, that’d be ideal. Each of those families, presumably, would benefit in the same way I do, cooking only one meal a week, and sharing with others for the rest. And the children of the cooking parents are surrounded by others who love them and play with them and care for them while that parent is cooking a meal. As awesome as this idea sounds, I can’t even find one person willing to share in this with me, let alone 6. Now I’m on my soapbox, though.
This same concept spreads over all of life. My daughter would be quite happy watching television for every waking hour of the day. And I know plenty of kids who do just that. But that’s not really the life I want for her. I’d prefer to get her outside, let her feel the grass on her feet, make up stories in the clouds, and seek out adventures behind the trees. But she watches TV at school. She watches TV at her mom’s house. She sees TVs in stores and malls and in the homes of other people. Even if we were to throw out all of our TVs, she’d still have them in her life, and I’d still be the bad guy who doesn’t let her have it. So, do I be the bad guy and endure the “fight” or do I just join her in what she wants?
There’s a division in adult time too. I know how important adult time is. It’s something that our society has forced out of daily life leaving many moms (and some dads) practically stranded in isolated worlds — another soapbox, so I’ll get off before I get started. Despite the fact that I complain about it more than I praise it, I’m blessed with “forced” adult time as a result of my arrangement with my daughter’s mom. But I’m torn with how to spend it. Do I take care of the messy parts of life to make more time for my daughter when I have her? This seems right, yet it leaves me with no time for myself and takes away the day-to-day-life learning experience that my daughter gets from seeing all aspects of “real” life. Do I try to better my situation in order to allow myself even more time as I whole to spend with my daughter? This seems perfect, but, there’s always so much to do that I’m left feeling guilty when the time comes. Do I spend it giving some adult time to the single moms and dads that I care about that never seem to get enough? I try to do so when I have my daughter, since it’s built in in those times anyway. But, I wouldn’t mind doing so in my adult time too.
Many days, I feel good about the choices I make. I feel good about the values I give to my daughter, the support I offer to others, and the life that I’m building for myself, my kid, and for those friends who desire to share — truly share — in it with me. But other times I feel like I’m spread so thin in so many directions that I’m failing at everything. I’m not the photographer I could be. I’m not the employee I could be. I’m not the programmer I could be. I’m not the friend I could be. I’m not the poet I could be. I’m not the lover I could be. I’m not the father I could be. Instead of being really good at something, I’m failing at almost everything.
I don’t think I’ve been as hurt as I was in a long, long time when someone made me feel like less of a father because I had “shared custody”. It was as though they were saying “not only are you failing at everything, you aren’t even a full time parent like I am”.
I am ruled by Guilt. This much, at least, is obvious.
(inspired, in part, by these beautiful words of a beautiful woman.)