That Sounds Like A Lot of Fun (If We Didn't Have a Kid)

I don't think I'm alone when I say there are times when I forget to insert my daughter into the equation when invited to social functions.

"Hey, some of us are going out to dinner tonight if you're interested."

"Sounds great!" I say...

Except, it doesn't, because I'll spend the entire meal splitting my focus between an attention-seeking toddler and friends without children trying to share their excitement and existential dilemmas while becoming increasingly intoxicated.

"We're going to the beach, you should come!"

"Sounds fantastic!" I say...

If we weren't meeting an hour before our daughter's bedtime and I didn't have to spend the entire experience directing her away from an obese woman's thong twenty feet away (this actually happened) while keeping her from ingesting half the beach.

I didn't want to be this person when I became a parent. Despite being thirty-three when our daughter was born, my wife and I were somehow the first of our immediate peer group to have kids. We wanted to make it look easy. We wanted to keep going out and show everyone that it's not so bad and that they should join the parent party. But I have since learned that this is futile, and no fun for anyone. The switch has to happen. Parents have to become family-first people, or live with the turmoil of having one foot in the world of early evenings and child-focused outings and the other in trying to appear sane and completely content with people already skeptical of your sanity for wanting children. Most people without kids don't care about your kid. They may enjoy playing with her for a few minutes here and there when she's around, they may allow you to tell stories that are of the utmost significance to you as a parent, but boring as hell to everyone else, but, ultimately most people without kids wish you had a permanent babysitter for your child so you could be the person you were before reproducing. They forget when inviting you to events that you will have to bring her along, or forget, as I do myself sometimes, that bringing her along doesn't mean she will sit quietly and allow you to carry-on as though she isn't there. In truth, both parties should consider what it would mean to invite a psychotic person to the event and then ask, "Does this sound like a good idea?"

This being said, some people do have relatively tame children. I have met a few who actually will sit still in a restaurant and entertain themselves with food and toys without the need for constant parental intervention. They can sit quietly on the floor and play while adults talk, and they only speak up when tired, hungry, or soiled. This is not my daughter. She's a wild woman--a huge presence with a big voice and boundless energy. She hates being restrained, be it in a high-chair, car-seat, changing table, crib, stroller, or by mom and dad's constant chorus of, "No honey, don't do that/ don't push her/ don't eat that/ let's stay over here/ he was playing with that first/ can you not pour that dirt down your shirt, please/ let's not rub peanut butter in our hair (you get the picture)." We turn our attention away for thirty seconds and she will inevitably find the messiest, most dangerous, most socially awkward way to entertain herself within a thirty-foot radius. And yet somehow I forget this about her on a weekly basis. Or, if I don't forget, I stubbornly insist that I am up for the challenge and go out anyway. If being insane is doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result, I'm as nutty as they come. But then, one has to be nutty to be a parent, because at some point kids do produce different results (after all, most of us, as adults, don't throw our food in restaurants and scream our heads off because we're bored--though, we may be tempted).

Hence, parents remove themselves from civilized society. Our houses slowly denigrate from tasteful, yet easily destroyed decor to brightly-colored durable plastic furniture and educational throw rugs--couches with food stains, and toy chests bolted to the walls. We create a sort of insane asylum for little people where they can literally bounce off the walls and rummage about impulsively without injuring themselves. We scatter toys throughout each room and in the yard so that no matter where the adults venture, the children may be entertained. Fortunately, our friends with children do the same to their houses, making it much more enjoyable for everyone to corral the kids into a playroom leaving the adults free to converse like grown-ups. Eventually, in such an environment, the kids will wear themselves out and can be fed in an area that is easily cleaned before carried off to a quiet back room to sleep in pack-n-play. Parents also know that an enjoyable night out does not mean an enjoyable morning after. Thus, we know to leave at a reasonable hour so that we and our child-ed friends can sleep before our lovely little ones crow like roosters at dawn.

We mean no offense to our friends without children. We really don't. But it is impossible to appreciate the muted joys of manageable social functions if one does not have a child. The criteria for such an event requires arriving on-time (none of this fashionably late business, parents do not appreciate having their very limited social hours robbed by those with a careless sense of time) and cutting the evening short no matter how much fun you are having (and this is earlier than you think, 10:30 PM tops). It requires the aforementioned safe and untethered environment for the children, and it requires drinking--if drinking will occur--to occur immediately so that parents can get a buzz on and sober up to drive home within a matter of a few hours. So, it is not that parents are shunning their friends without kids, it is that we know you all have no desire--nor should you--to abide by these guidelines and we can't bare your bummed faces expressing that we are the lamest people you know.

I remember events when we were childless. Those with kids were there, but not present, and usually disappeared abruptly without my understanding why or even taking much notice. I never stopped to consider what they did with the rest of their evening when they left a party at six o'clock while the rest of us devolved into drunken hyenas. Now I know. They went home and sadly lamented their inability to join us in our devolution. They watched television or read a book or perhaps had another drink and tried not to bring up endless life logistics and then went to bed at nine-thirty (and were excited about it).

So, please, to the child-ed and childless alike, may we come to the understanding that our lives are incompatible without some serious compromises. Parents, get sitters if you're going to hang out with childless friends, and childless friends lower the hell out of your expectations when hanging out with parents. Understand that that extra hour of laughter at the end of the evening is costing us an extra $15 in sitter fees and robbing us of an extra hour of sleep (which in turn robs our children of a patient and competent parent the following morning). Parents, stop expecting your friends without kids to care about your child's developmental milestones and try to talk about something worldly. Read a newspaper (aka: a news website, what is this 1998?) before you go out. Bring up something halfway interesting. Childless friends, forgive us if we are incapable of bringing up anything halfway interesting. To the childless, we cannot start a "kids welcome" function at six o'clock. Toddlers go to bed at seven and they are relatively inflexible with their routines. Parents, stop getting offended that your childless friends don't plan around your decision to have a kid. They aren't bad people for not living family-friendly lives 24/7. In fact, they're doing us a favor by boring themselves to tears just to spend some time with us and our family. If we can all take a few things into consideration when hanging out together, we can make this work. If not...well, it was fun while it lasted, may we part ways in peace.

It's Not You, It's Me: Parenting Self-Awareness

One of the more difficult aspects of being a parent is remaining mindful of my own mood and present stress-level. I can't count the number of times I have put my daughter to bed in the evening and thought, "Geez, she was in a mood today," only to realize later, after I have relaxed, that, "Geez, I was in a mood today."

This is not to say that toddlers don't have moodiness like the rest of us; it's just that their moods are usually less tainted by the concerns of adult life. That is, toddlers aren't as complicated as their parents. My negative mood could be stemming from a conversation with a friend or family member that riled me in some way. It could be from a life situation I'm thinking about, or a financial situation I'm thinking about. I could be dwelling on how I exercise about half as much as I did before becoming a parent, or how my writing has all but ceased due to lack of time and energy to be creative. On the other end, I could be in a good mood because I actually slept for eight hours, or because I played well in my weekly basketball game, or because I got some time with friends to have adult conversation and laugh (not that raising a toddler doesn't come with its fair share of laughter).

My daughter's mood can change from negative to positive about eighteen billion times a day for reasons that are intensely present and neurologically unregulated. She could be upset because she woke up too early and decided to cry (and I use that phrase loosely, more like reacted) until my wife or I came to get her out of her crib. Even then, she may throw a fit when we pick her up for reasons that are unclear to us and, I'm guessing, unclear to her. She has no filter, no thought process around feelings. "I'm groggy," manifests itself as arching and flailing and crying, making her initial morning diaper change--after peeing herself for eleven hours--impossible. Two minutes later, she may see the cat or a toy she's interested in and be playing and smiling like the previous emotion never happened. Seeing a food she wants (right this goddamn second and screw you if you can't open a banana peel instantaneously with your mind) seems to be as intense an emotion as me smashing my finger with a hammer. Mom walking out of a room for five minutes to change clothes sucks as badly as a close friend leaving town forever. And, when she returns, it's as joyous as seeing that friend again after a decade of barely speaking.

These feeling are constant for a toddler, and ultimately beyond their capability to regulate. They lack impulse-control, and try as you might to instill some in them, their brains simply aren't developed enough to achieve this discipline. In fact, the frontal lobe, which is responsible for impulse-control, isn't fully developed until age 25 (so, slow your roll on making those big life decisions in your early twenties, millennials). Thus, the difference maker for whether my daughter and I have a good day together isn't whether or not she is in a good mood, but whether I'm able to shelve my heady emotions and be present with her moods. I have the ability to respond, rather than react, to her ever-changing emotions. If she throws a fit for five straight minutes over my not letting her go outside (because I happened to open the front door to get the mail and reminded her the outdoors exists and that she "likes to go to there"), I can't let this outburst continue to rattle me when those five minutes pass and she is ready to dress her teddy bear in her pajamas and laugh at him. I have to roll from "Worst experience in the world!" to "Greatest experience in the world!" seamlessly and constantly if I ever want to have a good day. It's a level of Zen that is nearly impossible. True, I have the ability to respond instead of react, but in the same way that a surfer has the ability to calmly navigate tidal wave-like swells breaking overhead while enjoying the ride to shore. Sometimes it's going to end in getting your head slammed into the sand. It's all a part of the process.

My ability to stay present often comes from what I do for myself in the times that I am not navigating my daughter's tidal wave-like wants and needs. There are no days off as a parent. Weekdays come and go; weekends come and go. Early mornings do not; baby's needs and wants do not. If I neglect to exercise and choose to eat like a nineteen year old living on his own for the first time, I am in a poor state to stay present with my daughter. If I try to go out for drinks with friends and don't get to bed at a decent hour, we both pay the next day. Parenting is much like any discipline I've been a part of; the healthier and more focused I am, the better I preform. In school, in sports, in relationships, in work, in writing, the more present and focused I am, the better I am. And, healthiness doesn't mean never going out for drinks or indulging in hedonistic pleasures. All work and no play can be just as detrimental as Tiger-mom-like structure. What I can't do (and can't really understand how other people do) is be apathetic. Apathy is a downward spiral. The very nature of not being present is not knowing you're not being present. Thus, if I never do the things that keep me present I never get the clarity to look back and critique the times I wasn't being present and suffered for it.

In noticing the connection between self-awareness and parenting I have become more aware of the connection between presence in the moment and all things in my life. Hanging onto an emotion I was having five minutes before while writing a frustrated email to a customer service department when I am currently presented with the opportunity to go for a run is pointless and unhelpful. Ruminating over shortcomings only gets in the way of overcoming those shortcomings. I have to thank my daughter for these lessons. She's a Zen Master without even trying. She feels things fully and authentically and lets them go immediately to move to the next moment. I miss a few shots in a basketball game and I'm in a funk the rest of the game. She slams her head into a wall and thirty seconds later she's chasing me down the hallway laughing hysterically. So, in this regard, I have many things to learn from my underdeveloped offspring. In the meantime, I can only strive to focus on my own state-of-being and respond appropriately to the toddler-ness of my toddler.