What First-Day Jitters Mean to a Working Daddy in 2020
My oldest daughter's first day of kindergarten came and went. My wife had been planning on it for what seemed like months. A new Amazon box showed up at my front door every day. Crayons. Markers. Shoes and shirts and face masks, oh my. I didn't bother rooting through most of it because it was clear that my better half had the situation covered. Unfortunately, this also meant that I wasn't as involved in this momentous milestone as I should have been. I had plenty of excuses, but none of them buried my lingering guilt… and maybe a little jealousy.
It's safe to say that I don't understand girls—especially moms. And ESPECIALLY stay-at-home moms. Alaina (my wife) had a pretty hard time when Avery (my oldest child) started pre-K (the first AND second times). She felt like she was losing a third of her girls' club. Avery was her confidant, her buddy, her BFF. And with her gone for just a few hours per day, Alaina wasn't sure how things would go. Even more so since she's an extreme creature of habit. Of course, it was fine. Alaina adjusted. Avery adjusted. And Annabel (the younger sister) adjusted. All was well in the world again for a couple of years. But then came the inevitable—the looming shadow of kindergarten. The full day. And neither social unrest nor COVID nor Mommy's mounting anxiety could turn back the tide. And I would have loved to help. Really I would have. But… I had a lot of work to do.
If you haven't figured it out yet, "a lot of work to do" is code for, "Those emotions you've got going on there… Yeah… I have no clue how to even… I've… got a lot of work to do." It's not that I don't care. I really do. In our house, the phrase, "If Mommy's not happy, nobody's happy," couldn't be truer. Not because Mommy takes her wrath out on everyone else (not entirely, anyway), but because I tend to see her happiness as a reflection of how I'm performing. That's not to say I'm a great husband. I'm incredibly mediocre, in fact. But my wife is forgiving of most of my shortcomings, so when she is feeling down about something, I really feel like I've failed. Even when it's not directly my fault. That's because I'm a fixer. Not literally, of course (I hate home repair, which is one of my shortcomings). But if I see someone with a problem, I get frustrated when that person complains about said problem but doesn't do anything to fix it. If that person needs help fixing it (actually needs help, not just doesn't want to fix it themselves), I’m quick to lend a hand. The exception comes when I don't know how to fix it. Which is generally the case when my wife (or daughters) is processing emotions regarding some life event that's ultimately beneficial or otherwise unavoidable. I just don't get it. And when I don't get it, I get frustrated. And when I'm frustrated, I fall back on things I do know how to do. Hence, "I've got a lot of work to do."
Thankfully, I'm not an absent father. One of the things I know how to do is spend time with my family. Movie nights and walks and fire pits and play dates are some of my favorite things, even if excessive emotions aren't. So I did stay up with Avery as she cried her eyes out the night before her first day of school, even if I wasn't of any obvious help to her. I did get a first-day-of-school picture with her. I did ask her how her first day was. And I did spend a fun-filled family weekend with her after she finished her first week. Unfortunately, as I said earlier, none of those things took away the measure of guilt I had for not being more involved in the emotional weeks leading up to the big change. Nor did they take away the more irrational emotion of envy I had for my wife's anxiety.
You see, on some strange level, I was jealous that Alaina was dreading Avery's first day. I was jealous of how close their bond was, which was a direct result of how much time they had spent together up until that point since Alaina is a stay-at-home mom. It's a Catch-22 that I struggle with a lot—there's no way I could do Alaina's job of caring for our kids 24-7, but from the outside looking in, I battle frustration every time I have to leave for work. And so, in some strange way, I was also jealous of Alaina's fear and dread. Pretty messed up, huh?
Then again, I guess nothing is too strange for 2020. I mean, I couldn’t even see Avery's glowing smile in her first-day pics because it was covered up with a solemn, black mask. If irrational emotions really freak me out as much as I've claimed, this year is definitely not for me. If you've followed me for long, you already know that I tried really hard for a while to fix things. I shared rational arguments and actionable solutions, but after a few months of getting nothing but frustrated responses and overly aggressive pushback, I threw in the towel. Now, I stick with mostly personal anecdotes and optimistic topics. It's not quite my blogger version of, "I've got a lot of work to do," but it's in the same ballpark. Sure, I sneak in a debatable topic from time to time, but mostly I've tried to keep it light. Which might be exactly what this country could use from me (and others) right now. And… it's probably also what my wife (and daughters) needed from me leading up to that dreaded first day.
In short, I'm learning that "fixing" a situation doesn't always have to be so literal. "Fixing" my wife's anxiety may have been exactly what I was doing when I kept things light. She knew the situation. She knew her emotions were valid and that they would pass soon enough. So why did I imagine that it was my responsibility to be her psychologist? And why did I feel like a failure when I didn't fulfill that responsibility? And why didn't I realize that every time I offered a smile or a hug or a meal, I was actually offering a pleasant distraction—an opportunity for relief and healing? Especially in 2020 when we're living week to week, wondering when COVID-19 will bring Avery's first year of school to an abrupt end.
Our country does need answers. We do need solutions and actionable steps. But maybe we don't need it from every single person. Maybe it's beneficial for some (most?) of us to just offer relief. Maybe if we're all present, respectful, and compassionate, we'll break down barriers and allow for real healing when the opportunity presents itself. Anyway, it seemed to work for my family. But what do I know? I'm basically just making it all up as I go. Which I guess puts me in good company.
