Rounding down
Iwas a stay-at-home dad last week. Spring break had descended upon Arkansas schools and my wife had to work. My 11th-grade daughter took off for the beach with some friends, so my 9-year-old and I made the best of it.
I feel like I’m at the low end of middle age so I should have the energy to do well. Though I’m 54, I describe myself as being in my early 50s. Rounding down makes me feel better.
My daughter wants to stay busy. I knew I could do this because my usual workdays start early and end late, so how hard could it be? My wife insisted on three things when we first married that play into this. First, we need to live in an historic neighborhood. Check. Second, our kids won’t have video game systems in the house. Also check. Third, she gets to see Meatloaf in concert if he ever gets close. Failed on that one and she still describes it as one of her greatest regrets.
Charmed life she lives. Now, she never misses out.
So, no video games in this 100-year-old house of ours means that my daughter and I explore our area a little more. Forward motion is good for the soul, so we weren’t going to sit statically watching movies or folding laundry.
We started out at the St. Patrick’s Day parade downtown. A sea of green parted as we made our way to the fences lining the route. Antique cars sputtered, dancers stepped, and float inhabitants flung beads in our direction. Candy fell at our feet. Lots of candy. So much candy.
I noticed my daughter trying to chew Tootsie Rolls while sucking on a Blow Pop. She didn’t come off that sugar high for hours, and I found myself hating float people. And parades. She was wide awake at midnight, and my wife questioned my parenting skills.
One day, I took my daughter to a trampoline park with a friend. You know, it’s the old parent trick that’s the opposite of the sugar high—I’ll wear her out. We used to time our kids running up hills, betting them they couldn’t do it fast. They’d go for it every time, then fall asleep in exhaustion early. Now, parents have trampoline parks to work with.
I was the only dad there, which meant my daughter avoided me. The music was abnormally loud. So loud. And pretty awful. Flashing lights bounced off my screen as I tried to work and watch her at the same time. My head ached. A woman sat in one of those massage chairs they provide the parents and she kept inserting coin after coin. I thought she was crazy to spend so much money on a short massage. An hour later, I emptied my cup holder hoping for loose change.
My daughter loved the trampolines and she was worn out. She and her friend have matching braids so they slung them at me to get my attention. Time to go.
My daughter and I took care of the grocery shopping together. We walked the neighborhood and had lunch together. I had a pile of mulch delivered and explained to her the joy of simple work. After much eye-rolling and arm-crossing, she helped me move the mulch to our flower beds one wheelbarrow at a time.
On a whim, we headed south to the Alligator Farm in Hot Springs. Funny, it was that moment that the Meatloaf regret kicked in and my wife decided she was on spring break too, so she joined us. The Alligator Farm opened in 1902 and it feels that way. The alligators sat motionless in large indoor pools and I started wondering if they were really alive. We moved outside to view the monkeys, the lemurs, and the chickens.
A man in matching brown tank top and shorts stood in front of the turkey pen making loud gobbling noises that irritated the turkeys. And me. I left when he started flapping his arms. Finally, we made it to the petting zoo—something we could do instead of watch. A rabbit bit my daughter’s friend, and my parenting skills again came into question.
At night, we sat on the porch while my wife relaxed, listening to the first few notes of spring. One evening, she sat with her feet up and ice cubes swirling in her drink. I told her I needed to get back to work so I could get some rest, and she rolled her eyes.
“You do remember doing this for the older kids, right? We spent every spring break exploring Arkansas and doing the things that don’t cost much money or a lot of travel. It’s the time that counts.”
She sipped her drink through a thin smile, an act that I know to mean that she knows she’s right and I shouldn’t argue.
And right she was. There’s much to do in Arkansas, even for an older father and his 9-year-old. When thinking of the time left with kids in the house, the time that they’ll enjoy spending with you, it’s best to round down.
That makes everything last longer.