Dylan Stafford

I’m sitting on the couch next to my four year old son Jack, on vacation in South Carolina with my wife’s family. Marisa and Grandma went to town alone when Jack had a meltdown as we were getting ready to leave. At day care Jack still takes naps, but this week on vacation he’s gone most days without an afternoon nap. The cumulative effect of not napping is crankiness and Marisa decided that I should stay home with him while she and grandma visit with her sister.

On Monday this week my son turned four. His birthday, plus Easter, is the reason for our visit. As we’ve gone through the week, I’ve been having thoughts like “Should a four-year-old do that?” when he’s done anything whiny or cranky. I don’t remember those thoughts with a three-year-old; when a three-year-old acts out, well… he’s a three-year-old.

Do four-year-olds need to be held to a higher standard when it comes to throwing fits and acting out?

Last night was my turn to put Jack to bed. The impending end of the vacation week was creeping into my awareness. I went upstairs to put Jack to sleep, to try to capture some of the last moments of vacation.

Grandma gave Jack his very own plastic golf bag with three toy clubs and golf balls. Jack first showed me how he could hit a golf ball, but then we went upstairs and he had changed the game. The golf clubs were now “super hero sticks” for fighting bad guys.

“Bad guys smell like apples,” Jack informed me. “Let’s look for the bad guys with our sticks.”

We proceeded to prowl throughout the upstairs, searching for bad guys by peering into closets and rooms and sniffing for the scent of apple. This was the only day Jack actually had a nap and the extra energy meant he was in no hurry to go to bed. We played for an hour and it was 10 p.m. before I finally got him to lay down for books and story time.

After he went to sleep I came downstairs to watch an NBA basketball game, the Dallas Mavericks at the Portland Trailblazers in game six of the first round of the Western Conference playoffs. Coming to the East Coast from the West Coast, I am always amazed at how late games start, a 10:30 p.m. tip-off concluding after 1:00 a.m. I watched the post-game chitter-chatter of the analysts, wondering which is more addictive to me, watching sports, or watching the people who talk about sports.

At 1:30 a.m., I came upstairs and brushed my teeth and got ready for bed. My wife was sound asleep and I went past our bed and into the room where Jack was sleeping. A glider chair next to the futon was the spot to sit and watch him sleeping.

I stared at my son’s closed eyes, his body sprawled over pillows and stuffed animals, sleeping after a big day. Pregnancy plus four years and what have I learned? What impact is being a daddy having on me?

Marisa told me this week that I’m a good father. “You spend more time with him than I do,” she said to me. “That you take him to and from school, and that you talk with him as much as you do, that is a great thing and I love it.”

My in-laws live on a barrier island full of million dollar homes. My wife’s brother is the father of five kids and he’s a super-successful guy. My wife’s cousin is a plastic surgeon and has four kids, the oldest of whom is learning Spanish, French and Chinese. In my job as admission director at UCLA, we didn’t get as many applications this week as we’d expected to get. I feel like I’m failing and look at my successful relatives and start to compare my insides to other people’s outsides. Sobriety 101 teaches me not do that, to stay out of the comparison business and focus on what is right in front of me.

I’m grateful to get to be a father. I forget all the time that I get to be a father, that we were told we would not be able to have a biological child. I’m grateful that my wife is centered and calm. The Royal Wedding is taking place this week, with Ms. Kate becoming HRH by walking down the aisle with William. I’m sure Kate is a lovely person, but I’m not jealous watching all the TV hoopla. I’ve got the life I need. I’m grateful to have a job and have a vacation and watch my basketball games late at night.

Last night a commentator said, “The best players have the shortest memories.” Tonight, a different player, when asked about being traded from one city to another said, “That (previous team and city) was a chapter in my book. Now I’m here and it is a new chapter.” Sports players talk about being in the zone, living in the moment and feeling the power of the moment.

When I get lost in the comparison game, I’m taking myself out of the moment and living in my head. I was telling Marisa tonight that I want to not worry so much, to dance more, to play.

I’m wondering if I should “take Sundays off,” commit myself to have a day off each week with no TV, just reading and exercising and relaxing. Since I always tell myself there is more to do, I end up using Sundays as a catch-up day, not a day of rest.

My life wears me out. What gets me so tired? I’m taking my Team Management and Leadership Program (TMLP) this year, but is it working? Am I learning to ask for help and create teams around me? I feel like a “C student” in TMLP. I told myself when I signed up for the course that I wanted to create the second half of my life, I want to learn new habits that can support the next 40+ years of my life. I learned this week that James Michener only wrote his first novel at the age of forty. He went on to live an amazing life and write many more novels. I love that idea, that my life is only just beginning now at 42.

My in-laws are healthy, as is my wife and son. That is a good combination. I hope it will always be that way, but know that it might not. Here and now is a good place for me to locate myself.

I like the night time, after everyone has gone to bed. I’ve turned off the TV and I’m writing out some thoughts, completing this essay. There’s no one I need to be envious of. There’s no other life I need to worry about living. This life I have, this is my chance to make my masterpiece. Thanks God, for this day and for this week.

Thanks for this chapter in my life. Help me to sing and laugh and learn and lead and love whole-heartedly. Thanks for four years of getting to be a daddy.

Amen.