A Family Affair

I just had a very nice lunch with my big brother. I’d say it was a lovely lunch, but I think he’d object to that. So it was splendiferous.

Through the course of our conversation, we were talking about how our entertainment dollar is spent. Where does the money go when we spend it on entertaining ourselves? For me, it’s satellite, Netflix and coffee, coffee, coffee. I also scrape quarters for CDs. He was pretty much the same, except he doesn’t drink coffee and he goes to football games instead of getting movies. Either way, we both realized that we don’t go out much. We don’t get sitters and we don’t meet our buddies out for a beer.

We spend our time at home. With our kids. And our spouses. What time we spend outside of the home is usually with the family. And we don’t feel like we’re missing out on anything. In fact, sometimes when I settle down at the end of the day, ready to watch something I’m looking forward to, or even just sitting and talking to my wife, I think, “Damn, I’m happy.”

I know the stigma that is associated with having a family. I’m a “breeder”. I’m patently “uncool”. My life is boring. Every creative, interesting fiber of my being has been compromised, homogenized and synthesized until I have become “one of them”. You know them. People with families. People who don’t care that they are wearing a sweatshirt that says, “Best Dad in the World” just because his kids gave it to him. People who, even if they are interested, skip going to see Stereolab and go see “Confessions of a Drama Queen” with their daughter. People who are unabashedly happy being a parent.

That’s me. Am I cool? No. At least, not in a conventional sense. Do you consider listening to a stream of music that runs from George Harrison’s “All Things Must Pass” to John Lee Hooker’s “Grinder Man” to Yo La Tengo’s “Little Eyes” cool? I do enjoy watching eclectic movies. Or shall I say “film”. And currently I’m splitting my reading time between Mark Twain and Cervantes with a little physics mixed in. That’s what I’m interested in these days.

So, I’m not cool. I can handle that. But am I creative?

Well, I’m working on a movie script. And a book. And I feel that I’ve made progress on both. So, I can’t say that I’m not creative. I’m not the next David Lynch or David Eggers (whom I feel is vastly overrated) or any other David for that matter.

Ah, but have I lost my identity? My sense of self? Probably, right? Because I’ve given up so much of my life to raise these kids. Surely I must be ignoring an essential part of myself.

Well . . . no, actually. In fact, in all honesty, I think I’ve discovered more of myself, more of my individuality since I’ve become a parent. I’d say I’m even less a member of the masses than I was before I “bred”.

True, at the end of the day my wife and I have maybe an hour alone together. Sure, I’d love more time alone with her. But what would the cost be? Not spending time with the kids and, to be honest, I don’t want to give that up. Otherwise, I might miss Gertrude’s impromptu performances during American Idol. Or I might miss a great discussion about The Hobbit with Matilda. Plus, they make me things. Clay fish, drawings, messes. I actually like that. And when they piss me off, and believe me they do, the after tantrum hug is always sweeter than anything I could find outside of the house.

Coolness, life enjoyment and individuality are all such objective things based on observations that are immensely internalized. When you look at me and think I’m so uncool, you’re doing so based on your filters. You base that decision on what you think is cool. And I’m not it. Guess what? That’s okay. Really, I don’t mind not having your approval.

Why? Because I’m comfortable with myself. All my dorky attributes and interests.

As I’ve grown older I’ve learned something. I’ve learned that I have more fun in my own head than I can outside it. I can take my body to a thousand places, but if my mind isn’t engaged, I’ll be bored.

Parenting and marriage isn’t a curse that confines one to years of loneliness, isolation and uncoolness. It’s a choice, a path you embark upon. A new adventure. I’m a parent and a husband and I’m happy to define myself as such.

I’m not going to try and convince someone to be anything they aren’t and I’m not going to say, “Oh you’ll understand when you’re a parent”. Because either you understand or you don’t. And if you don’t, I’m certainly interested in what makes you not understand. I’d love to debate it.

Decide who you are and be that. Don’t worry about other people. If chasing greased pigs makes you happy, go for it! If drinking coffee makes you happy, then by all means, do it! Just as long as you find that one thing, the thing that makes it all worthwhile.

I know I finally have. It was a long, tough road to get here, but finally for one of the first times in my bitter, little life, I’m here. I’m happy.

Weird, ain’t it?

Discuss