Tuesday
Jun092009
Swing Away
Tuesday, June 9, 2009 at 1:59AM | Mr Lady
I've talked before about the craving we as parents have to mold our children into little mini-me's, to see some glimmer of ourselves behind those big, beautiful eyes. I've talked about how hard we both have strived to avoid doing just that thing, for the sake of our kids' sanity. We were both pushed and pushed perhaps a bit too hard as children. We both spent most of our lives trying to live up to some unattainable ideal of perfection that our parents had laid out for us. We both had an absent parent who we alternately tried to garner the love of and spite with our over-achievement.
We both have parent issues. We try to not share them with our kids.
For me, not pushing them to be me is simply a matter of not letting them slit their wrists and not pushing them to get straight A's all the time and reading them something other than Douglas Adams. For The Donor, it's a bit more complicated. He was that kid. I have scrapbooks on scrapbooks full to the brim with newspaper clippings and accolades. I have cases of ribbons and pins and trophies in my basement. I have a wall full of plaques and a closet full of uniforms waiting for a child who needs them. For a child who will follow his father's footsteps. And I have a very tired father here, too, one who never got his childhood because he was too busy being pushed to be the fastest, the hardest, the leanest, the best.
And so I've read them other stories (thank you, Dan Brown) and he's let them dip their foot in a pool with an instructor rather than with him, and he's put them in soccer lessons with any other coach, and he's sat back and waited. I've seen him dream. I've seen the hope well up inside of him like a fire and I've seen that flame extinguish time and time again, mostly because he's an athlete and I'm a nerd and nerds don't push their kids to hit balls for a living and athletes don't buy their kids Mensa Mind Challenge books for fun. Our kids will be neither of us, it seems. At least not by our doing.
He's actually been trying his hand at their sports of choice a little lately, and let me tell you that a 37 year old man on a Ripstick is damn near the funniest thing you've ever seen in your entire life. Especially when he does a double-backwards-aerial-somersault and lands flat on his ass. That man was never a cat, in any life.
Our boys are both athletic in their own rights. 1of3 was born with Perfect. Fucking. Balance. The kid walked at 8 months and rode a 2 wheel bike, without training wheels, at 2. Not kidding. 2of3 has an arm, oh my god does he ever. He's buoyant enough to swim well, but not focused enough. 1of3 is like a brick in the water, just like his momma. They both love to skateboard and ride BMX bikes and I think one of them may be eyeballing motocross, which should make their godfather about explode with pride, but none of that does their father a whole lot of good.
See, I think dads really crave that thing they can share with their kids, maybe more so than moms do. My bond with them is easy; I can close my eyes and still feel them stir inside of me, I can feel the measure of their brand new bodies wrapped around mine, suckling themselves to sleep, if I just concentrate enough. But it's not so easy for their dad. He didn't carry them and he didn't nurse them and now that they are growing away from us, now that we're struggling to hold on to the last little bits of them before we are gone and they are complete, I see how he yearns for something of them them, something uniquely theirs, something he can share with them and give to them and be with them.
And then this happened:
They've always played golf with him. They've always had clubs and they've always gone to the range with him and they've always watched the Master's in his lap, but they've never truly learned to play his game before. And it just turns out that my little 2of3 has found his authentic swing. He is a golfer.
The Donor was there with them for the first half of their lessons, and I met him at the course for the second half. He kept saying to me, "Honey, just look at him. Watch this..." and I saw the flame begin to spark in his eyes. I watched my 2of3 focus, I watched him swing away and I knew that he'd found something that spoke to him. This is kind of a rare thing in his world. Before his dad left us to head off to work, he leaned into me and whispered in my ear with stifled excitement, "He's our golfer."After The Donor left, I was busy chasing 3of3 on the other side of the fence, trying to watch my sons and failing miserably. I mean, really, can you blame me?
And then I heard it. I turned and looked through the fence and I saw his teacher, all of his fellow golfers, his brother even, and they were all silent and still. The sound was still resonating through us, and for a moment we were all speechless, helpless against it.
I don't know if you follow golf, if you play or watch or understand it at all, but there's a point in everyone's golf game when you find it. Yourself. Your core. There's a point in your game when you let yourself go and trust your own intuition and you swing that club and it hits the ball exactly perfectly and you feel it like lightening running through you. You feel your center. The sound the ball makes, the sound the shaft of your club makes, it's not just impact...it's perfect balance. It is a sound that anyone who is near you when it happens feels, too. The vibration, the wave, the ping, it comes from inside of you and for one perfect second, time stands still as the ball soars out from you.
If you think I'm overthinking things slightly, you've never hit a ball like that. Try it.
We all stood and watched my son's ball tear though the air. It was like watching Monet paint, or Beethoven compose, but mostly it was like watching my husband swing his clubs. And my son, he felt it. He turned to me with his mouth wide open in awe of himself. His instructor looked at me, looked at him and just said, "Wow." And all I could do was smile. My son, he has it. He has a piece of his father, a piece unique to them that none of the rest of us truly have just yet. It's the most beautiful thing in the world, seeing the man you love in the child you love.
The next day, the two of them sat outside together, just the two of them, and they talked as they scrubbed their clubs. They came upstairs a whole lot later and together they barbecued for our whole family. My son forgot his DS for the day, my husband forgot his Sunday afternoon Sports Channel shows, and they remembered each other instead. Later that night, 2of3 came up to me and said, "Mom, me and Dad cleaned our clubs together all day today, just us!" Even later that night, as The Donor and I sat on the porch in the dark of night, he looked at me and said, "I can't tell you how much I've wanted something of ours, something to share with them."
And what I didn't say is that I couldn't tell him how much more it makes me love him to see that now he has it.
Oh, and yeah. FlickR has the rest of the day's pictures, if you're into that sort of thing.
We both have parent issues. We try to not share them with our kids.
For me, not pushing them to be me is simply a matter of not letting them slit their wrists and not pushing them to get straight A's all the time and reading them something other than Douglas Adams. For The Donor, it's a bit more complicated. He was that kid. I have scrapbooks on scrapbooks full to the brim with newspaper clippings and accolades. I have cases of ribbons and pins and trophies in my basement. I have a wall full of plaques and a closet full of uniforms waiting for a child who needs them. For a child who will follow his father's footsteps. And I have a very tired father here, too, one who never got his childhood because he was too busy being pushed to be the fastest, the hardest, the leanest, the best.
And so I've read them other stories (thank you, Dan Brown) and he's let them dip their foot in a pool with an instructor rather than with him, and he's put them in soccer lessons with any other coach, and he's sat back and waited. I've seen him dream. I've seen the hope well up inside of him like a fire and I've seen that flame extinguish time and time again, mostly because he's an athlete and I'm a nerd and nerds don't push their kids to hit balls for a living and athletes don't buy their kids Mensa Mind Challenge books for fun. Our kids will be neither of us, it seems. At least not by our doing.
He's actually been trying his hand at their sports of choice a little lately, and let me tell you that a 37 year old man on a Ripstick is damn near the funniest thing you've ever seen in your entire life. Especially when he does a double-backwards-aerial-somersault and lands flat on his ass. That man was never a cat, in any life.
Our boys are both athletic in their own rights. 1of3 was born with Perfect. Fucking. Balance. The kid walked at 8 months and rode a 2 wheel bike, without training wheels, at 2. Not kidding. 2of3 has an arm, oh my god does he ever. He's buoyant enough to swim well, but not focused enough. 1of3 is like a brick in the water, just like his momma. They both love to skateboard and ride BMX bikes and I think one of them may be eyeballing motocross, which should make their godfather about explode with pride, but none of that does their father a whole lot of good.
See, I think dads really crave that thing they can share with their kids, maybe more so than moms do. My bond with them is easy; I can close my eyes and still feel them stir inside of me, I can feel the measure of their brand new bodies wrapped around mine, suckling themselves to sleep, if I just concentrate enough. But it's not so easy for their dad. He didn't carry them and he didn't nurse them and now that they are growing away from us, now that we're struggling to hold on to the last little bits of them before we are gone and they are complete, I see how he yearns for something of them them, something uniquely theirs, something he can share with them and give to them and be with them.
And then this happened:
They've always played golf with him. They've always had clubs and they've always gone to the range with him and they've always watched the Master's in his lap, but they've never truly learned to play his game before. And it just turns out that my little 2of3 has found his authentic swing. He is a golfer.
The Donor was there with them for the first half of their lessons, and I met him at the course for the second half. He kept saying to me, "Honey, just look at him. Watch this..." and I saw the flame begin to spark in his eyes. I watched my 2of3 focus, I watched him swing away and I knew that he'd found something that spoke to him. This is kind of a rare thing in his world. Before his dad left us to head off to work, he leaned into me and whispered in my ear with stifled excitement, "He's our golfer."After The Donor left, I was busy chasing 3of3 on the other side of the fence, trying to watch my sons and failing miserably. I mean, really, can you blame me?
And then I heard it. I turned and looked through the fence and I saw his teacher, all of his fellow golfers, his brother even, and they were all silent and still. The sound was still resonating through us, and for a moment we were all speechless, helpless against it.
I don't know if you follow golf, if you play or watch or understand it at all, but there's a point in everyone's golf game when you find it. Yourself. Your core. There's a point in your game when you let yourself go and trust your own intuition and you swing that club and it hits the ball exactly perfectly and you feel it like lightening running through you. You feel your center. The sound the ball makes, the sound the shaft of your club makes, it's not just impact...it's perfect balance. It is a sound that anyone who is near you when it happens feels, too. The vibration, the wave, the ping, it comes from inside of you and for one perfect second, time stands still as the ball soars out from you.
If you think I'm overthinking things slightly, you've never hit a ball like that. Try it.
We all stood and watched my son's ball tear though the air. It was like watching Monet paint, or Beethoven compose, but mostly it was like watching my husband swing his clubs. And my son, he felt it. He turned to me with his mouth wide open in awe of himself. His instructor looked at me, looked at him and just said, "Wow." And all I could do was smile. My son, he has it. He has a piece of his father, a piece unique to them that none of the rest of us truly have just yet. It's the most beautiful thing in the world, seeing the man you love in the child you love.
The next day, the two of them sat outside together, just the two of them, and they talked as they scrubbed their clubs. They came upstairs a whole lot later and together they barbecued for our whole family. My son forgot his DS for the day, my husband forgot his Sunday afternoon Sports Channel shows, and they remembered each other instead. Later that night, 2of3 came up to me and said, "Mom, me and Dad cleaned our clubs together all day today, just us!" Even later that night, as The Donor and I sat on the porch in the dark of night, he looked at me and said, "I can't tell you how much I've wanted something of ours, something to share with them."
And what I didn't say is that I couldn't tell him how much more it makes me love him to see that now he has it.
Oh, and yeah. FlickR has the rest of the day's pictures, if you're into that sort of thing.
Reader Comments (86)
I know the addiction well. I had a six handicap. I played at the course I lived next to that hosted the Seniors PGA. I eventually formed a golf club company making high tech drivers. IRS made me shut it down. They said it was a hobby. Then one day, after asking the golf gods for X and don’t let the ball Y, Z I got a terrible skin disorder on the palms of both my hands. It turns out my hands got allergic to the grips and gloves. I had to quit. Junior has a nice finish. We call that, “Hang a toe.”
I have tears in my eyes right now, maybe I'm just hormonal...
I have a few years yet before DS will make his way to sport etc... but I think it's the desire of a parent to have their kids do these things.
And I am extremely happy that your DH got to feel that pride and anticipation, and that you got to feel that great bursting bubble of pride and love at their bonding :)
Ahh it didn't come out right but I know what I mean... *runs off to find a tissue*
Beautiful.
I've got no idea what we'll pass on to the children. We're both sort of geeky. A love of reading and writing and computers probably.
But, will he be posing for pictures with knickers (and argyle socks, of course) and those funny little hats with the pompom on top?
Because really, if you can't make your kid's hobbies into cute blogging photos, what's the point?
and I'm crying... Because I cry at tender moments, what can I say. I love that your son has found something to be passionate about - especially something he can share with his dad. Awesome. My favorite part? That the DS and the Sunday afternoon sports were abandoned for family togetherness. Ah, warm fuzzies; I love those.
My father plays golf. Every day.
My 7 year old just got interested last summer in picking up a golf club, and what do you know? He had a pretty good swing.
Love this post and the images you create here.
This has nothing to do with your post, other than I was trying to read it with a 16 month old in my lap. First he points to the car in the ad and gets super upset when I scroll down, until he sees your daughter. "Girl, girl, girl!" So, out of the handful of words that he can say correctly, "girl" is now one of them, thanks to your gorgeous 3of3.
This is a gorgeous post. My kids are still a little young for either of us to find That Thing with them, but I can already see my husband trying. Magic cards? Maybe. Sports? He wasn't that much of an athlete but wants them to be better. We'll see what it is... I do love your description of the desire, though. This is awesome.
" It’s the most beautiful thing in the world, seeing the man you love in the child you love."
Sigh. *Sniff
Great post, Mr. Lady.
It could possibly be because I'm five months pregnant, but I'm totally tearing up here. Such a wonderful piece!!!
This was a great post.
And now I'm crying at work. Nicely done. No really, nicely done. A beautiful post.
That was awesome.
My son asked me if I could teach him how to play golf. We don't golf. We kayak, mountain bike, skydive...we don't golf.
Apparently, we are 'no fun' to him anymore.
Hold on. Dan Brown is better than Douglas Adams? Adams could write circles around Dan Brown's pondering, boring ass.
And I hate golf. More than most other sports. But it's awesome that he found his niche, and even if it's not something he sticks with forever, right now, he's got his own thing. That's always a good feeling.
oh mr. lady, you give me great hope. i've got 2 under 2, and right now it seems like my husband's only connection with them is to rough house or read to them. he tells me often enough of how he pines to have the sort of connection with them that i have (i'm STILL nursing), and i keep telling him to be patient. while i'm not quite ready to watch them run off and be little self dependent individuals i know that they will be one day. thanks for the great post.
Thank you for being able to put into words how I feel when I watch Jonzey & Lu looking at rocks together. (yeah rocks, whatever) They have something they can share, and it is good.
I TOTALLY know that feeling. I heard that sound. The very first time I played a real golf course, with someone who was fairly talented at the game but patient enough to show me what to do. I knew the moment it happened - PIIIIIIING! How awesome for the boy and the man. Cooper is a little too young to have shown any affinity for anything of either of us, although the moment he stood transfixed in front of a Bruce Springsteen concert on TV made Bob very very proud.
OK... this is the second post I've read today that's made me cry and it's not even 9 a.m. Damn PMS hormones!! Damn beautiful writing!
But I think this might be my favorite line: That man was never a cat, in any life. ha!
So glad to find another mom who tells it like it is.
I love this so much, I just emailed it to my husband. What a wonderful story...you even managed to explain golf a little bit to someone who thinks it's the most boring sport in the world, lol.
Having three boys, I can fully relate to your post.
There is nothing more heart warming than watching my husband mess around with his boys on skateboards, bikes etc... Quite often he lands at my feet with a thump as he attempts their tricks.
I am thankful for him as he launches himself into the skateboard parks and terrain parks allowing me to watch, in terror, on the side.
He is their hero and they aspire to be just like him, which would not be a bad thing.
Thanks for sharing.
How totally awesome. You aren't kidding, you can see in the picture how sweet that kids' swing is.
I fall more in love with my guy when I watch him with our kids, too.
XO
B.
Swing Away http://bit.ly/Jvq07
Wow. Just-wow. Cool plaid shorts, man. He can be an athlete AND wear cool clothes; life? Is sweet.
That kid really does have a throwing arm. And I could always see him as a pitcher -- some sport that is partially a team sport but mostly an individual one.
But, golf makes sense and seems to really fit his personality.
I shouldn't really be surprised. After all, I did meet him in the first floor of the apartment building, driving a plastic golf ball down the hallway with a plastic golf club. I asked him if he was making par -- he said he was.
My husband is just waiting until the Sprogling is big enough to share in his passions. I found hubs sitting him on top of his motorcycle the other day, telling me that "He's almost big enough for his own!"
Never mind that he can't ride his tricycle yet.
Thanks so much for sharing such a sweet moment in your life.
Aww that was a very sweet story :) The only thing my son and his father have in common is fishing, but atleast they have that.
How beautiful. And you got some amazing pictures as well. It's great that they found something together :)
@Becky, Becky, that was my post, except I am 4 month pregnant :)
Ok, it is a little hard for me to pick Dan Brown over Adams. I think I would stick Robert Heinlein on the top of the list. I hope we have something special with our children when they are older. I do not think I had it with my parents, they were always way too busy working to do anything but make us study, play piano, and study some more. But that is why I am a stay at home mum and not out there bringing in the dough. Maybe that will allow me to do a little better.
I wish I could write like you do, Mr. Lady. But I am more of a reader, especially since English is not my first language. I am glad I found your site!
That is so awesome. Makes me think of my dude and my lil' guy at almost two working on building his new twin bed together recently and dealing with the tools. Boy do those boys of mine love their tools and after watching my man fall in love with his two daughters, I had no idea what it would make me feel like to see him fall in love with his son in an entirely different way.
And it is nothing less than heart-melting awesome.
Love this post. But what's new?
:-)
So, so cool. What a gift that they found a point of connection. Ahhh, the memories they will make. :)
Dammit woman, you know how to strike a nerve. I'm going to spare you any description of emotion right now and just tell you I am scared shitless of even putting boxing gloves on my kid. It's not because he might get hurt. It's because I'm deathly afraid I won't see that glint of excitement in his eyes. And it will kill me.
@Audubon Ron, Allergic to GOLF? Oh, god Ron. That's cruel and unusual punishment.
@SciFi Dad, I'd be willing to bet you'd rather see pictures of ME in that get-up.
@Avitable, you think I meant better? DON'T YOU KNOW ME AT ALL????
No, just different, and not Curious George. I kind of loathe children's books. So thank god for Dan Brown, because my alternative would be to read my kids Palahniuk and I'd never be able to afford those therapy bills later.
@SUPAHMAMA!, UFC. It's the great father/son bonding experience.
@Notesfromthegrove, Read the Legend of Bagger Vance. Ignore the last chapter. It'll change your life.
Don't WATCH it, read it.
@Sasha, oh, no, not over him for sure. There may be none over him, but in the interest of diversifying, Dan Brown is a nice fill-in for kids. It beats the hell out of Twilight. :)
@Mr Lady, phew, okay. The lovefest can continue. I was all prepared to rip up all the love letters and burn our mementos. How about some Stephen King? Not all of his stuff is as horrifying to kids. The Eyes of the Dragon is pretty outstanding.
@BusyDad, have you just met Fury? Dude, that boy is going to love boxing almost as much as he loves touching girls.
See, inside jokes do NOT work in comment threads. Ugh.
@Avitable, Terry Prachett first, love. There is a natural order to these things.
@MidLifeMama, it's like crack, no joke. Once you get it, you just want it all the time. I've been trying for almost 20 years to find it again...thank god my kid can for me. :)
@Mr Lady, you are indeed a super mom! SMILF!
A golfer eh?
'Ka-Ching'
(that's the sound of a cash register, not a Korean golfer, probably)
@Mr Lady, Oh, OK, that makes more sense! I think I've used the Hitchhikers Guide and Stranger in a Strange Land as my two go to books over the years. They work as anti-depressants for me and books that I can re-read and find something new every time. Maybe I am just a nerd like you :)
I, but mostly my husband, NEEDED this. I truly cannot wait for him to read this.
Perfection.
I can hear THAT sound now. What a wonderful post, you made me all tear-y and sentimental, dammit. Now to get those college golf scholarships lined up...
Maybe one day he'll be green jacket-wearing rich golfer and you can finally buy your own private island. Just a thought.
@Sasha, Oh my god, me too! I've read H2G2 no less than 100 times and I could read it 100 more times and love it more every time. *sigh*