"I'm never having children."
I don't remember why we were talking about it, but Mom and I were discussing children. This was years ago. I was being very dramatic, which was par for the course for me at that age. (Wifey would probably argue that I'm still playing the back-nine on that particular course.)
At that age I was looking around the world and thinking, "Man, what does this world need with yet another little, helpless person?" The world was full of poverty and hunger, racial strife, bad ideas, and lot's of anger. The way I remember it, Mom seemed to recall having similar sentiments at my age. Obama or no Obama, not much in the world has changed since the 90s. Heck, you could even argue that things have gotten a lot worse around here in the last two years or so.
So why the about-face? To tell you the truth, I don't remember the exact moment of the shift. It was probably more gradual than sudden.
For one thing, I grew up. The idea of having a child is a bit much for a child himself to be imagining. On a recent random trip to the local mall I was shocked by the number of teenage parents roaming the aisles. Little mommies and daddies pushing wee ones in strollers. Even at twenty-seven there are aspects of being a father that loom large. But my life is very stable - I have a good job, I have a great marriage, and I have years invested in knowing myself and learning to recognize my limitations.
At some point, having a child of my own began to seem less like burdening the world with another mouth and mind and more like part of the purpose of my being. Hormones probably played a role in all this, too; but to tell you the truth: I want the challenge. I want to be a parent. I want to learn about the world anew, through the eyes of my child. I want to stand there as my child takes her first steps toward me from her mother's arms. I want to read to her before bed. I want to teach her to ride a bicycle. I want to be there for the after school programs, and the algebra homework. And all the things in between... even the poopy ones.
When you're going to be a parent, you receive license to use the word "poopy" in everyday conversation, but not before.
By the way, in case you're wondering what happened to days 65 and 66, I've decided I'm going to give myself a break from this narrative on the weekends. Besides being the only time I have to get any work done on my side-projects, I need to spend some more time collecting the experiences for filling this category, and a little bit less time writing them down.
