Showing Up

When my son Liam was born, I wasn't ready to be a dad. What I really mean when I say this is- I wasn't ready to not be selfish.

You see, I really like sleep. I like "me time". I like watching TV. I'm very fond of the freedom to go left when I feel leftish, and right when I feel rightish. Sometimes I don't even move at all. It's fantastic. The power one has before children goes fully unrealized until the day you have them and realize you're powerless. Still, more than this deep desire to stay focused on me and my own whims, I was definitely even far less interested in caring solely about someone else...especially someone who poops and sleeps more than I do.

I recall the days and weeks after we brought Liam home from the hospital to our small apartment in South Korea- long nights of pacing our small square space of insanity while screams of innocent terror rang out into the city streets below (and then there was Liam's crying); Sarah and I tagging in and out of shifts like officers on duty as the night companions for a little screaming monster; marriage put to its ultimate test of who gets to sleep more (my wife always losing...something about breast milk I recall); strained voices singing endless verses of "Mockingbird" while simultaneously wondering why on God's good earth that stupid parent didn't just buy their child the damned diamond ring from the start (I hear bribery works in parenting). Caring for a child was more impossible than I could have ever imagined. I actually recall beginning to slip into a small insanity while having conversations in my head telling me that this is all I would ever know for the rest of my life.

Then, like a day goes by, and they're five. You completely forget how you even got here. And they've multiplied somehow. All along the way, little lessons were learned. First moments were cherished. The earliest of endless parental failings made their mark. Yet somehow, your children continue to progress and grow into little people whom you can never fully understand how had survived the worst of you.

But they do. They survive it and prevail against all your sad attempts to suck at what you do. Do you know why? Do you understand how you got here; how they survived you? It's because you showed up.

Showing up is probably the most underrated way we parent our children successfully. Yes, we make mistakes- some little, some big. They see our failings on full display and may even remember a few (hopefully they also experience our apologies alongside them). But what they remember most is our presence. They remember us being there. I don't mean just existing in the space beside them, but actually BEING there.

I still remember the sounds of my dog Muffin barking when my dad came home from work in the evenings- a routine but very real way of showing up (when a bar or quiet park would have seemed tempting). I remember my dad playing catch with me in our backyard and helping coach my baseball team. I remember my mom crying with me on the steps of our house because she could feel the incredible weight and pain of my experience being bullied in school. I remember parents who showed up.

Give yourself some grace. Cut yourself some slack. You will never be a perfect parent. Your flaws will ring out true no matter how hard you try to fight them. But apologize. Take a deep breath. Come back to the table and reconcile your mistake with a moment your child will remember and cherish. A moment when you showed up.