Taking the edge off

Time is relentless. It is also a blessing and it demands contemplation. Contemplation is a natural manure for personal growth. If that means this is all BS, so be it.

Contemplation has recently led me to consider how time has eroded / improved / horribly disfigured /etc. my own temperament / happiness / outlook / etc.

Make sense? Probably not yet.

Jacob turned 3 last week. Birthdays always provide a good reason to reflect, especially about how the things we never imagined would happen to us actually do so, and do so relentlessly. Specifically, I will never get over being a dad. It'll apparently never stop being weird or "hard to believe" how big Jacob gets. Alice blogged about this and she hit the nail right on the head.


My contemplation has lately been a little more self-reflective vis-a-vis Jacob's influence.


Specifically, time / circumstances / whatever have worked to dull the edges I once enjoyed / hated / benefited from. And that's not a bad thing.

What exactly does this mean? It means that the need I once felt so deeply to excel to the highest levels has dissipated. I no longer strive for endless ascension in school / business / life / recreation. I no longer care to compete in a ruthless / attacking sense. I still try to do the very best I can in my profession and still take pride in my work, but I now have one overriding goal: Peace.

I care about spending evenings at home. I care about not being pulled in every direction. I care about doing whatever I want to with my free time.

The only change I can really point to is Jacob's birth. My duties are to him and Jen now, and it makes me feel good to be home a lot. I think this transformation was aided by waiting to have him. I managed to squeeze in a lot of living before his birth / contemplation / existence.

I made a semi-bucket list in my mind and managed to cross off enough of the "me" things that I have never felt deprived by parenthood. I finished Ride The Rockies in 2002, went to law school, spent five weeks in Germany, stood on the Normandy beaches on a June 6, visited Yellowstone, hiked in Volcano National Park in Hawaii, visited Pearl Harbor, gone to a ton of sporting events and even lived in NYC for a summer.

Honestly, I can just take a breath now.

I know I would have put Jacob first had he arrived much earlier, but I think I'd still have some of the tension that accompanied me for the first 28 years of life. I remember my father as very tightly wound when I was younger. He mellowed considerably as he got older, but I've gotten an earlier jump on him in the mellowing department.

Any new bucket list will involve Jacob. I want to take him to Disney World, Sea World, to ball games... play catch, attend school performances and hold his nose to the grindstone in school (OK, so maybe I'm still a little tightly wound).

If there is one point to be made, I guess it's that I never realized how much I would love being a father and timing has something to do with it. Someone once told me you never know when you are ready to be a parent, so you need to stop waiting for the "right" time. At the time, that comment ticked me off because that message was of the "hurry up and have a kid" variety.

I think it's a true statement on its face, but, for me, the timing could not have been more perfect. Timing differs for every set of parents, but I feel like I will be a better father for having waited.