On Looking So Good & The Father Burden

by chasereeves on June 11, 2009 · 1 comment

Recently I learned just how unprepared I am to be a father. Apple had WWDC this week, their big developer’s convention where they released some awesome stuff. There is a lot that I’m fired up about, but one thing stuck out to me today: Zipcar’s presentation of their new iPhone app.

The Zipcar app on your iPhone will basically act as the concierge, locator, alarm sounder, and key to the ‘pay-by-the-hour’ car of your choice. Suffice it to say it is really cool and represents all things hip and intelligent, trust me. It doesn’t matter that I have a car already, or that it’s paid off; I want to be a part of that hip Zipcar lifestyle!

sweetbikeguy from Bfraz's photostream I pictured myself riding my bike around carefree and responsibly, or walking around the block towards the Zipcar I reserved – “What’s that? Oh, I used to pay for auto insurance… Now we only use a car when we need to and it costs less than insurance used to! Why, yes, I am quite hip!” It got me thinking: do you know what I could do if I sold my Toyota Matrix? I could buy a motorcycle, for one. Even if I stopped there, that would be a total victory. Then I could get an awesome camera, killer lenses, a new computer, clothes, CLOTHES! I could look so good! “What’s that? Why, thank you! I do look so good.”

I was driving home continuing this dialogue and listing out the things I’d buy in priority order when a thought hit me: …or you could invest it all into an account in your son’s name.

I immediately felt the weight of this thought. Contrary to popular belief, the weight was not the intensity of my love for the child (who is to be born in about 4 weeks). The weight was the heaviness of watching someone else ride off on my motorcycle to take pictures of my new computer with my camera and lenses… The weight was the fact that he looks so good.

I immediately felt two things: one, investing this money for my son is what I would have to do (if I ever did the Zipcar thing), and two, the sorrow of not getting what I wanted.

He Sells Selfish Shelves By The Crazy Ass Sea Shore

Now, this is just a silly idea, to sell my car and do the Zipcar thing. But it was enough of an idea to force a significant realization on me. Of course it’s a good thing to talk about; who wouldn’t want to invest a chunk of money for their child when they’re born so the investment matures with them? “What’s that? Oh yes, well, we’ll be putting a little nest egg away for Eddie when he’s born. You know, the ol’ Rich Dad Poor Dad thing.” If all goes well, it’ll be ready for your child to do something special with it when they’re 18, like go to college, or buy daddy a motorcycle. This is a great thing to talk about, but it’s a real crazy ass thing to choose in real life.

From where I stand the real “crazy ass” thing is this: me not getting what I want. The idea of me sacrificing something as central to my identity as a motorcycle, looking so good, and immediately getting to figure out how I want to use the money was a solid punch to my gut. Why? Because I’m intensely selfish and that’s how I’ve always lived my life. Now that I’ve got a life and a wife and a career, every little toy matters more than ever before because it gives me a little spark of enjoyment; it’s me asserting my ownership over how I live.

Prepared or Not, This Is Happening Now

So, as I was driving home from work, it hurt to juxtapose a gift for my son against a gift for me. It hurt because inevitably the right choice is to choose my son. But choosing him over me isn’t something I feel prepared for. The big realization in that moment: prepared or not, this is happening now. This is my first father-feeling — more of a father-burden. This characteristic will define my life from here on out: I will always put my son first. That is a crazy ass thing to say from where I’m sitting: in an Ikea chair, in my pajamas, trying to figure out what the hell I’m going to do when I grow up.

What’s that? Why, yes, I do look particularly fatherly today.”

So, dear reader, I write this to warn you about the reality of being a dad. I’m not ignorant about what being a father really means like some of those other fathers out there who already have children. I am your finger in the wound, the de-facto source of truth on this matter. And I have one thing to say: dads, more often than not, do not get motorcycles.

That is all.