On a Park Bench

by Phil

My wife and I have a book that asks a different question every day throughout the year. There is space provided so that each question can be answered 5 times. It will be a fun activity to watch how our answers change as we give answers over the five year period.

Two nights ago, a rather simple question really rattled my cage. "Are you a leader or a follower..." Before the birth of my son, I would have probably answered that I'm a combination of both; it changes depending on the aspect of my life. But that question put into stark reality what I've been feeling over the past four months. I didn't even realize it until that moment.

I no longer feel like a leader. I don't feel like a follower either. In most areas of my life, I feel like I'm sitting on a park bench. I'm watching as the parade passes me by. There are drum majors and marching bands. There are floats and clowns. There are many people doing many things and I am just watching.

I've given up several things to become a work-at-home dad. My freelance illustration and graphic design work has basically diminished to part-time because that is all I can fit in. I used to curate for a gallery, organizing the exhibits every month, finding new artists and promoting shows. My wife and I are both the type of people that don't just have jobs. We are what we do. That perhaps sounds bad but it's not. She is a scientist. I am a painter. These aren't the types of gigs you take because nothing else is available. You do them because it's what's inside you.

But when my life is defined by work, what happens when the type of work that I'm doing is so drastically and suddenly changed? Along with squeezing out whatever freelance job I have time for, I am now a father. And I am gladly defined by that work just as I am defined by my work as a painter. I love being a dad to my son. Like I said in my first post, he's like the human equivalent to crack for me. I can't get enough of being his dad.

Being an at-home dad to such a young infant is quite insular. A majority of the time, it's just me and a little ball of giggling human potential. And while he laughs quite riotously when I read him Shakespeare, we're not discussing the great matters of the day. (I try to start such discussions but he just blows raspberries at all of my opinions.) But things will inevitably change. As he ages and becomes more independent, my life will change too. Yes, I've given up some things. Some of those things are gone forever, but not everything is. My life and my expectations for life will change and develop as I get older, just as his will.

A father and son alone do not a parade make. But you know what? The two of us are having a heck of a time sitting on this park bench together, watching all the other yahoos in the world march along.