Howie Mandel said something once that still resonates with me.
This was when Howie was doing stand-up comedy back in the mid-80s. And he still had hair. And he wasn't so OCD about people touching him. And he used to stretch a surgical glove over his head and blow it up with his nose, which I still find hilarious because I'm an extremely simple man who will laugh at almost anything.
Anyway, Howie and his wife had just had their first child. He said that sometimes he would stop in the middle of what he was doing and say to himself, "I'm someone's dad." The point being that he was just a big goofball and someone in authority had clearly messed up if he, Howie Mandel, was allowed to be the father of a tiny human being.
I'm willing to bet there's not a parent alive who has not felt something similar. You can read all the books you want. You can babysit all the kids you want. You can take all the classes you want. But when you bring that baby home from the hospital for the first time and there are no longer any nurses around to take the little rugrat away whenever you feel the least bit sleepy, that's when reality sets in.
It starts as a low-grade panic somewhere deep in your stomach. And then it gets worse as you realize this is actually happening, and that YOU are the one who is ultimately responsible for the well-being of this impossibly small creature.
And you think to yourself, "This isn't good. I am not in the least bit qualified for this job. I am a Grade A screw-up who can barely remember to change the filter in my fish tank, and suddenly I have to feed, dress and otherwise oversee the upbringing of another person? No, this is not good..."
I remember when Terry and I brought Elissa home from the hospital. We were both dead tired (she more so than me, for reasons that should be obvious). Elissa was sleeping peacefully, as I recall, but when we unloaded everything from the car and laid her down in her little bassinet, we realized we had no idea what to do next. Not a clue.
I think we just sort of sat and stared at each other for a minute. Then we turned on the TV. Whenever Elissa made any sort of noise, we both jumped up and checked on her to see what was wrong.
That night, our first as parents in our own home, was terrible. Elissa continued making the sort of small, ultimately inconsequential noises that newborns do. And every time she did, one or both of us would jerk our heads up and wonder if we needed to go and get her.
By the next morning, we were wrecks. Tired, disheveled and most of all crushingly disheartened at the prospect of spending the next several hundred nights doing the same thing.
But somehow we got through. Night by night we survived. We developed a little routine where I would get up first whenever Elissa awoke, change her diaper, and bring her to Terry for breastfeeding.
Slowly but surely, things got easier. We managed to keep Elissa alive long enough for Chloe to be born. And then Jared. And then Melanie. And finally Jack. And somewhere along the way we learned what it meant to be parents. We're still learning, in fact.
I hope Howie eventually did, too.
(NOTE: Without going into too much detail, I have to tell you that I had a post written for today announcing the end of this blog. There were a variety of reasons for that, just as there were even more reasons why I decided last night to keep it going. I honestly just couldn't walk away from it. You guys are great fun and a joy to write for. One of the main reasons I decided to push on was my daughter Melanie, who told me, "You can't quit! You haven't written about me yet!" Every kid in the family thinks I write about their siblings more than them. But let the record show that Melanie is truly one of the most beautiful, smart, kind-hearted people I know. She's one of those kids who is good at a lot of different things, but often focuses on the stuff she isn't as good at. Which is a shame, because Melanie is just plain talented. She's going to go far in life and I can't even express how much I love my little "Shmoo" (we used to call her that when she was little). So there you go, my little Mel!)
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This is us with our kids (and our son-in-law Michael thrown in for good measure) at Disney World a couple of years ago. I've always like...
Well, Scott, I just discovered your blog on Friday, I believe (see comment I posted in reply to your graduation day/gown post.) I proceeded to spend the rest of my disposable (ha!) time all weekend reading ALL of your blog posts...often chuckling aloud and the wit, wisdom, and human-ness of your thoughts -- shared so eloquently, yet so basically. Whatever you decide to do with this blog will, of course, be what is best for your family (read that again...not necessarily what is best for you...) and I have full confidence that all will be right, regardless of your decision to continue your postings or not. I have enjoyed my tenure with both generations of Ross-Tennant children...don't think I'll get to experience Jack in a classroom (unless the legislators don't finalize what's halfway finalized after many years of fine-tuning the state teachers retirement system guidelines)...but, I never say never. Thanks for what you HAVE posted...it was one of the most productive weekends I've spent, because your writings touched on so many similar thoughts I have had throughout the years. Now, I can't say I wasn't searching for some French in some post (ha! I CAN say that, because I really wasn't -- ok, at some point I was wondering, but that's not what kept my pursuit of reading all of your posts going...). I knew, back at Mapledale, Worden (I was hired for Worden, and "they" realized that Mapledale needed me, too -- so that's where I first met you) and then at WMS (where I first met Terry) that I might someday connect with former students as parents of new (now former!) students...and it has been such a completion of a sort of circle-of-life for me to do so. Best wishes to all of you...and...I'll be very interested to see you and Terry at fall conferences...:)
ReplyDelete--Gina Pumphrey
Gina, thank you so much for reading and for such a great comment. (NOTE: There is a blog post brewing in my head over the idea of calling your former teachers by their first name. I have a really hard time doing that. You see, Gina/Mrs. Pumphrey was a teacher of mine going way back to Mapledale Elementary School. It was the 1979-80 school year, I believe, when she was my 4th-grade French teacher...known back then as Miss Gagliano. Then I had her again as a Student Council advisor and reading teacher in middle school. Now four of my kids have had her for French and technology. She's quite the versatile and talented teacher!) In any case, Gina/Mrs. P/Miss G., glad to have you along for the ride!
ReplyDeleteDO NOT QUIT!!! This whole blog has been far too entertaining and, in my opinion, the best writing and storytelling I've yet to hear from you. Keep it up!
ReplyDeleteYes, sir!
ReplyDeleteThanks for the welcome - and a very precise memory...you spelled my former name correctly, when you could've cleverly used "Mademoiselle" and "Madame." An "A" for effort, there! :). Somehow, though, I thought you were one of the 5th graders in Mrs. Schwartzenberg's (sp?) 4-5-6 split.
ReplyDeleteAnyhow, I realized through all of your posts that I am really not as much older than you than I seemed to think I was -- just felt that way when I first had your oldest child (un-named so as not to slight any of the others) in 5th grade social studies -- because you were at least 10 years old already and I was a fairly new teacher...it makes so much more sense now. Oh, and, I know what you mean --would love to read your take on that topic -- it took Barb (Selan) Nemeckay and Danna (Hall) Huested a while before "Gina" came easily -- and I worked with them as colleagues every day. My daughter is currently teaching with her high school teachers, yet has made the "use-my-first-name" transition seemingly easily (although she did have "special" names for many of her now-colleagues while still a student.). Wickliffe is a special place, with special people, and it feels a lot more like 1980 (my first year, so I think you were a 5th not 4th grader) now than just a few years ago. (Just couldn't resist the correction...teacher habits don't take summer vacation :) The climate has turned back to one of a more school-supportive community, from my perspective -- due, no doubt, partially to lifers (like you and Terry), who are now sharing the traditions of this private-school sized district with their young'uns.
p.s. Hi Mark!