I like writing about funny things. Recalling the moment of humor and the setup for how it all transpired is incredibly satisfying when I can do it so that others find the funny, too. Life, of course, isn’t always fun and games. As a parent, the feeling I feel when looking at Cameron more often then anything else, second only to unbridled joy is abject terror.
Which, if you know me, isn’t like me. I’m not really afraid of anything. Snakes, spiders, the dark… even buying feminine hygiene products alone. Nothing bothers me that much. But I worry about Cameron. I worry about him getting sick or injured. I worry about his life and his future. I worry about whether he’ll have good friends. I worry about whether he’ll want to have a family of his own and whether, once he’s grown up, he’ll look back on his childhood with fondness.
I suppose these are the worries any parent has with regards to their children. But with only a 16mo old, I don’t really hear anyone else talking about it. Granted, that could be because I work out of my house and all of my coworkers are hundreds or thousands of miles away. It could also be because Cam’s just too young for me to stress out about these things quite yet.
However, I don’t think I’m really stressing. There’s a difference between stressing and worrying. I don’t lay awake at night. I don’t get cold sweats. I don’t hyperventilate. At least not yet.
I don’t stress because I know that he’s got a loving home. He’s got 2 parents who will do anything for him. He’s got 6 grandparents that love him, too. He’s got a nanny who smiles as big as he does every morning she walks in the door. And he’s got a large family and friend network that he doesn’t even yet realize is there, too.
On the other hand, I worry because I want to be a good dad. Sure, I want to be the cool dad. But I also want to be the dad that he can come to with serious questions and discuss deep topics without fear of judgement or ridicule. I want to be the dad he wants to bring to show and tell. I want to be the dad he wants to play with. I want to be the dad and man he wants to eventually be.
When Cam was born, his grandma gave me a laminated poem. It was written by John Wooden, late coach of the UCLA Bruins. It’s a wonderful reminder for both dad’s and mom’s and sets a great expectation. I hope I can meet it.
The Little Chap Who Follows Me
A careful man I ought to be,
A little fellow follows me,
I do not dare to go astray
For fear he’ll go the selfsame way.
I cannot once escape his eyes,
Whate’er he sees me do, he tries;
Like me, he says, he’s going to be,
The little chap who follows me.
He thinks that I am good and fine,
Believes in every word of mine
The base in me he must not see,
The little chap who follows me.
I must remember as I go,
Through summer’s fun and winter’s snow,
In building for the years to be
The little chap who follows me!