It's a Wonderful Life

One of my few impersonations is of the great Jimmy Stewart in “It’s a Wonderful Life” when his character, George Bailey, bemoans, “Why do we have to have all these kids?” It’s not a good impersonation, but it is executed with sincerity and empathy. Sometimes I feel exactly like George does at that moment. All parents have the occasional doubt. Of course, these moments are always followed, just like in the movie, by the epiphany of “Zuzu’s petals!” Despite the responsibilities, challenges, and disappointments, my wife Shannon and I stand in awe of the little unexpected miracles of being the parents of our three sons. I am not sure what we were thinking when we went into this parenting thing, so full of joy and trepidation, only to find ourselves at this late juncture in the process, so thoroughly confounded and relatively unscathed. Not that the wheels can’t come off at any moment – and usually have.

Shannon and I once had to hold my oldest, then three years old, down while a doctor stitched up his hand. The worst was the night he had a honking cough and they had to put him in the plastic tube with his arms straight up to x-ray his chest. I wore a 50 pound lead jacket and stood next to him offering feeble words of comfort. I can still hear the screams from both of those events. There were traumatizing events with the other two boys but, like war memories, they start to fade together. I do remember the broken wrist that buckled my knees and the orbital cellulitus over Y2K holiday, when the Pediatrician chased me out of the office yelling, “Get him to the hospital now. He could go blind!” Though it is true there are more photos of the first son, almost everything else was equal – good, bad, cost per unit. Despite the fact the middle and youngest would claim favoritism toward the first born, the financial receipts do not support this.

In the last few years, Shannon and I have, nearing the top of the parenting hill, encountered the steep part of the slope. The boulder is large, but our resolve is buoyant and steadfast. In just four years our youngest will be college bound. The choices now are so much more important than deciding how much TV is too much and when sugar treats are okay. The boys are not babies anymore but they do require counsel, or at least a maid and a chauffeur. We still live last minute notice to last minute notice. Several days a week are like a “Chinese fire drill”, as my mom used to say. Calendaring for a week is sketchy - a month ahead is like a corporate team building event. Returning to work the next day, we find ourselves a day behind on the work and 47 emails in the inbox.

February in Texas this year was irrelevant. Normally, February can be counted on to stand for something but instead it imitated March. It roared in like a Lion with snow and ice and by the end of the month the lamb of spring had arrived. Spring is not good news around my house. It means the end of any acceptable excuses for cozying up on the couch in front of the fire. My wife morphs into the allergy-zombie and suddenly there is a long list of house and yard chores. If she is going to be miserable she wants me in lock step. Spring brings an explosion of kid related responsibilities that have us scrambling in a thousand different directions.




As I recall, however, sitting in the emergency room at 2 a.m. is not nearly as difficult as the season of UIL, PAC-10’s, FAFSA, SSC, SAT & ACT, AP tests, high school audition, college planning, TAKS, and “the most important (fill in blank e.g. swim meet, water polo tournament, etc.) __________ of my life.” A teenager is like a cross between a toddler and an Alzheimer’s patient. One minute, they are so needy, the next minute they are belligerent because I can’t remember where they put their school backpack.

Also, I love the questions at 9:45 p.m. on a week night. “Where are the poster boards?” This question assumes that we store a ream of these somewhere. “You do remember I told you three weeks ago when we were stuck in that traffic and you were talking to mom on the phone that I have a big project due tomorrow?” There is no sense in arguing, I grab my car keys. At this point in my parenting evolution I can find a poster board in Dallas any time of the night but I can’t remember to teach the whippersnapper to get his own damn poster board. Maybe we are more alike than I thought.

Even though it is Spring these are melancholy moments for a weepy old dad like me. Caleb is off at Pac-10’s this week. His first two years of college as a music major and leader of the Arizona State Sun Devil Men’s (who said he could be a man?) Swimming Team has been full of ups and downs but he has persisted. It would make him mad but I am proud that he has persisted with his swimming, with his life dreams out there strumming a beckoning tune. With everything he has faced, injury, illness, loss of confidence, I would have already quit but that’s not the stuff he is made of. Meanwhile, he still acts as though he could, at any moment, drop out of college and move to New York to become a jazz musician. This sounds like something I would have done, which means it must be a really bad idea. Except he has the talent and passion, so whatever he chooses, his mother and I always support him, even though we miss him terribly.

Then, there is Liam, NHS, A Honor roll, all AP classes, All-State in Swimming, emerging water polo star. This is the child who at about 15 months, felt the pecking order weighted toward his older brother and from his car seat, began kicking the back of my driver seat, emphatically saying, “Me, ME, ME-ME-MEEEE!”, as a protest against being ignored. Living with Liam is like living with a psychologist, a priest, a lawyer and a comedian. He is wise beyond his years and makes us laugh. Liam and I, at this writing, are enjoying four days at Texas A&M University for the USA Swimming Sectional Championships. This time next year, we’ll know where he will attend college and be making graduation plans. So we take every opportunity to just enjoy our time together. I hold every hug a little longer, so he doesn’t get away too quickly.

Then there is Jonas, our sweet Jojo. I guess he is the inspiration for this piece. The poor kid was dragged all over the country for swim meets before he was old enough to join swim team. It just about ruined it for him. But, like all of us, he did love the water, and became a great little swimmer, even if the fire to drive himself competitively wasn’t there at a young age. He had to keep reminding me that it was okay to have fun. I knew this at my core but somehow the parent driven competition to have excellence in every aspect of our children occasionally got the better of me. While the older two swam on to dizzying heights, Jonas went to practice when he felt like it, enjoyed summer league swimming, played baseball and marched to the beat of a different drummer. I was exactly the same way, so I don’t know why it was hard to let him find his own journey.

The last few years Jonas has been more serious about everything, trumpet, swimming, school…the light seemed to go on at just the right time. Yesterday, he got his acceptance letter from the Arts Magnet High School where he will get music training in a public high school that we could never afford to give him. Last weekend, he swam in our North Texas championship swim meet and it was obvious from the beginning he was having a break out meet. After three great swims on Saturday, we were getting a bite to eat on the way home. “I never, ever, thought I could be as good as the brothers.” I am a youngest, Shannon is a youngest, we knew what he meant but were still sort of sad. Sometimes the underlying culture of a family is stronger than what you objectively know and believe. I told him I was sorry if we ever caused him to doubt, “Oh its okay Dad, I know I can be now.” “Well, it’s your turn, your time, now.” I told him. The next day he dropped an unheard of 45 seconds off his 1650 (mile) and qualified for our State Age Group Championships which is one of the fastest meets of its kind in the country. We’re so happy for him.

Good boys grow into good men, all in good time. Each is taking his own journey. I watch them grow and I know why we have these kids. I see how they are kind to others, respectful, curious, and passionate about their dreams. Shannon and I have three wonderful guys who want to help the world be a more beautiful and peaceful place. As they follow their natural course, I hope they don’t look back too closely. I wouldn’t want them to catch me crying. Hey Look! Zuzu's petals!