Life Happens. Yes, it does. It's the kind of resigned thing I used to say when others realized that I was not living up to what they wanted of me in their lives. It was a simple deflection to take the heat off of me and place it on... Life. Translated it was an easy fatalistic B.S. cop out. Tonight as I sat on the couch thinking of what that phrase meant I did what we all do these days and Googled it. I found little in the way of origin [I'm taking this in a free wheel manner, if it is not obvious, it's not relevant, and if it is not profound then it better be funny.] What I did find was this quote;
"Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans..." ~ John Lennon
Do me a little favor. Read that again for me and think on it a spell. I did. It stopped me dead in my tracks. I didn't just think about it, I chewed on it. I worried it around like a bit of spinach in my teeth. What it made me realize was what I thought of as life was a pipe dream of an ideal of service rendered unto me. Life was the ride that I was on and all those who interacted with me were mere players and supporting cast in my own pleasure / pain bacchanal.
A Dionysian self centered joy ride. Life is not that.
I'm going to be brave for a moment and generalize. Life is that. Life is the ride that each and everyone of us ride, by ourselves into the dark without only the barest touch of another to guide us [some might mention faith, but that is another post...]. The real question is what do you choose to do on your ride? Do you choose to close your eyes and let go of the wheel? Or do you you choose to look around the car and notice the mood, needs, health and welfare of those in the car with you (especially when you are the one driving)?
I decided that Mr. Lennon had hit the nail on the head. I'm going to be brave again and explain in my own words what I think he meant.
"Life becomes the mistakes you'll regret when you indulge yourself and pay no attention to those you claim to love." ~ Me
I realized a while ago that I was running away from my life. Let's break that down and be a little more honest. I was running away from my wife. I was running away from my children. Hell, I was even running away from my dog. What's worse is that I was running away from them and then (finding myself far away and alone) turning around and screaming "Why isn't anyone here for ME!!!?" The silence was deafening.
I've decided to remove myself from the race I've been running against myself. I refuse to run away from those I love. I refuse to require those who love me to follow me down a rabbit hole of self indulgence to the co-dependent morass that I've whined for.
I'm running Toward my life. Toward my wife, my children, and yes, even my dog. And I am doing it with my arms wide open. I may have to circle around a couple of times, but I'll do it. More importantly I'm going to do it without requiring anyone else to change their stride. We will stumble. We will fall. But we will run together.
I'm going to make mistakes tomorrow, and the next day. I have to believe though that at least anticipating those mistakes and being able to count them up afterword is a step in the right direction...
But I will MAKE Life Happen.
I recently started watching Madmen. I think that what attracts me to the show is the idea that it gives a snapshot of the executive life that existed in the fifties when my father was starting his climb up the corporate ladder. Now, if you are a fan of Madmen then you know that this does not exactly paint a very pretty picture of men in the fifties. Did Ward Cleaver exist? Perhaps. He did not exist in my house, but I digress. I've forgiven my parents for their transgressions a long time ago.
What ties in Madmen and my parents generation [read: style of child rearing] is the irony that while I find the television show entertaining and interesting I abhor the manner in which men are represented as aloof "Men" who are pulling one over on the "weaker" sex. Now I don't buy for a moment that all men were philandering manipulators to the Nth degree but I also know that all men share those basal instincts.
I've never been and never will be a philanderer. A manipulator? Guilty as charged. I am however learning how important control (or in some cases the illusion of control) is to most of us. I've realized that this illusion of control is taking a toll on my oldest daughter [6 yrs] in the silliest of places; Manners...
My daughter is amazing. She is incredibly intelligent. She is the most thoughtful and (more often than not) selfless person I have ever met. Her heart is so full of love that it is constantly overflowing. Her hugs could break ribs and her kisses scream "I love you" and never anything less.
But she is... messy. She is a junior foodie. I say junior because she does not eat beef in any form other that "Hot Dog". She consumes no fish unless it is in "Stick" form (except strangely, shark or smelt roe on sushi). She eats no chicken unless it is a "finger", "nugget" or she helped make it. She eats carrots but little else in the vegetable realm. Rice? Nope. Potatoes? The occasional french fry. Really it comes down to bread, cheese, Caesar Salad and desert (snacks don't count).
I've been trying (does saying you're trying and thinking about trying equate to Trying?) to go easier on her. I ride her to no end. I find one little thing that leads to another and then I have to mention the other thing and explain the one I didn't mention. Before you know it my beautiful, amazing, capable and strong daughter begins to wilt before me. The look in her eyes is that of a person under attack. A person shell shocked, ready to surrender. Water boarding has nothing on me.
Today at breakfast I spent a while making bacon and pancakes. It was fun, it was for them and I loved it. My oldest loves food, she celebrates it and that is OK. I looked over from the after glow of a well cooked meal and the enjoyment that ensues when you get to share it with those you love and I saw my oldest.... sticky fingers, dirty place setting, smeared lips and mouth and not a bit of recognition of those facts. So what did I do? I attacked. Calm voice (like that matters) I let her know just how far short of the mark she falls. It's horrible to think how that felt to her.
See... I'm such a smart and confident MAN I'm in a power struggle with a six year old girl. I've drawn a line in the sand and am standing firm. I will not surrender. She WILL respect me. She WILL listen to me. She WILL do as she is TOLD!!!
Pathetic. Dysfunctional. Idiotic. Abusive. Any of those words cross your mind? I agree. I am all those words.
I don't want to be my dad. I don't want to be Don Draper. I never did [OK, not true... there was a great period of my early manhood that I would have given my right leg to be Don Draper]. I want to be a man who nurtures his daughter, gives her confidence. Teaches her without shaming her; shows her the way without blaming her.
I'm going to make mistakes tomorrow, and the next day. I have to believe though that at least anticipating those mistakes and being able to count them up afterword is a step in the right direction... One might even say good... Manners.
