Dad, can you play with us?
It was 93 degrees yesterday. Memorial day.
We just got back from swimming at the Roger's pool all afternoon and the boys wanted to play outside. I was fine with that.
One problem, they wanted me to join them.
I was sweating standing still in the driveway and these guys wanted to jump around on the trampoline. Um...no. I told them that they could do it on their own and I would watch them from the deck. Yeah, that would work. I would be sipping a cold soda under the shade of the table canopy and they could sweat off some of their infinite energy.
But I could tell that wasn't enough. They stayed up on the deck as I sat at the table. I kept prodding them to play in the backyard before it was time for bed. I went so far as to say that if they didn't get out there and play then we were going to go inside and get them ready for bed. Usually this causes them to run for the hills, but they loitered still.
"Dad, can you play with us?"
This is the question that every child is asking. Letting them play is one thing, playing with them is quite another. Watching them play is one thing, playing right along with them is very different. I'm better at the former than the latter, especially after a long day where my energy reserves are low.
I feel like my kids have always asked that question and are still asking it in different ways as they get older. The question changes to something like...
"Will you really listen to me and try to understand?"
"Will you be real with me or just pretend?"
"Will you enjoy or just endure me?"
"Will you stay connected to me at every age?"
"Will you care about what I care about with me?"
"Will you ignore me when I disappoint you?"
"Will you stay engaged even when you're overwhelmed?"
"Will you come close or watch from a distance?"
That last one is something that can happen more and more the older they get. Distance can replace Presence. You can be there and really not be there. You can let a chasm form between you and your children as they find other friends and activities that don't require your involvement. But this is precisely the time they need to see you gravitating to them and involving yourself in their lives. You aren't the center of their world anymore, but it doesn't mean your role isn't still central. They may appear like they don't need it or care, but you talk to any grown adult and they can usually tell you when their parent(s) checked out. They often can tell you the exact memory where they felt the disengagement...it's crazy.
So when I heard this question from Caleb, something in me felt a conviction to keep "fighting the good fight" of parenting. To be the engaged and present dad even when everything in me wants to farm them out to television, an iPad, or just wandering in the backyard creating their own adventures. I need to enter in with them more. I told myself this with the girls when they were young, and I have to keep telling it to myself as I raise these boisterous boys.
They want me to play with them...that is the desire of their hearts before resignation sets in for them. It is that raw desire that must inform my behavior. Not how little can I do to stay connected, but how much can I do to stay connected.
These are my Memorial Day musings...
We just got back from swimming at the Roger's pool all afternoon and the boys wanted to play outside. I was fine with that.
One problem, they wanted me to join them.
I was sweating standing still in the driveway and these guys wanted to jump around on the trampoline. Um...no. I told them that they could do it on their own and I would watch them from the deck. Yeah, that would work. I would be sipping a cold soda under the shade of the table canopy and they could sweat off some of their infinite energy.
But I could tell that wasn't enough. They stayed up on the deck as I sat at the table. I kept prodding them to play in the backyard before it was time for bed. I went so far as to say that if they didn't get out there and play then we were going to go inside and get them ready for bed. Usually this causes them to run for the hills, but they loitered still.
"Dad, can you play with us?"
This is the question that every child is asking. Letting them play is one thing, playing with them is quite another. Watching them play is one thing, playing right along with them is very different. I'm better at the former than the latter, especially after a long day where my energy reserves are low.
I feel like my kids have always asked that question and are still asking it in different ways as they get older. The question changes to something like...
"Will you really listen to me and try to understand?"
"Will you be real with me or just pretend?"
"Will you enjoy or just endure me?"
"Will you stay connected to me at every age?"
"Will you care about what I care about with me?"
"Will you ignore me when I disappoint you?"
"Will you stay engaged even when you're overwhelmed?"
"Will you come close or watch from a distance?"
That last one is something that can happen more and more the older they get. Distance can replace Presence. You can be there and really not be there. You can let a chasm form between you and your children as they find other friends and activities that don't require your involvement. But this is precisely the time they need to see you gravitating to them and involving yourself in their lives. You aren't the center of their world anymore, but it doesn't mean your role isn't still central. They may appear like they don't need it or care, but you talk to any grown adult and they can usually tell you when their parent(s) checked out. They often can tell you the exact memory where they felt the disengagement...it's crazy.
So when I heard this question from Caleb, something in me felt a conviction to keep "fighting the good fight" of parenting. To be the engaged and present dad even when everything in me wants to farm them out to television, an iPad, or just wandering in the backyard creating their own adventures. I need to enter in with them more. I told myself this with the girls when they were young, and I have to keep telling it to myself as I raise these boisterous boys.
They want me to play with them...that is the desire of their hearts before resignation sets in for them. It is that raw desire that must inform my behavior. Not how little can I do to stay connected, but how much can I do to stay connected.
These are my Memorial Day musings...
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