By Contributing Author The Major of Kay Nou = Our House
Alright. I’m dad enough to admit it. I’m having real problems relating to my five-year old.
This is a huge admission on my part. Up until now, I saw myself as this sort of Super Dad, able to overcome all barriers in order to fulfill the needs of my kindergartner.
Not even close.
For those of you unfamiliar with our story, my wife, Running Girl, and I had a teen and a preteen when we decided to adopt a child from Haiti in 2008. At the time, I joked that as my mid-life crisis, I was getting a Haitian as opposed to a Lexis. After what seemed to be the longest, most expensive, and most challenging adoption in history, we were ready to “land the plane” and bring our little Island Boy home in early 2010. Running Girl flew to Port-au-Prince to visit our guy, and was there during the January 12, 2010, devastating 7.0 earthquake and aftershocks that rocked that poverty-stricken island nation. After much media coverage and legal wrangling, mom and then boy came home safely.
Then the real work began.
I was really good at learning his language and culture. We “remade our nest,” “shrunk our planet,” and tuned up our bonding methods to avoid the dreaded RAD (radical attachment disorder). All the books, websites, and parental adoption blogs told us we were doing it right. We faced issues and tried to deal with them head-on. Some of these issues never even come up on most parents’ radar screens. Having been through it with older kids taught us that most parenting is an exercise in surviving the latest development, and then being patient while our child made his way through it before moving on to the next thing.
To say that the past two and a half years have been an extreme challenge for me is accurate. But, that statement blows past the joy and growth that I have experienced as a father and a person in light of this lifestyle change. In effect, Running Girl and I reset the clock. Everything that we had moved beyond 10+ years earlier was back again. And this was all placed in vivid contrast by virtue of the fact that we have two teenage children who continue to get on with their wonderful lives. One is set to enter college at the end of the summer. The other will be a sophomore in high school.
But now here I am with a highly-spirited nearly six-year old. Island Boy has just completed kindergarten, and is raring to take 1st Grade by storm. We have graduated from the world of IEPs (individualized education plans), CSE (committee for special education), and in-class aides to the surprisingly less-complex world of ESL (English as a second language). In terms of parenting, I was the front man – attending all meetings and interfacing with school officials as needed. Running Girl did most of the heavy lifting behind the scenes by working with Island Boy at home.
To say we have made progress is an understatement. Island Boy has adapted well to his new country, new family, new language, new culture. Oh yeah, we’re bonded.
However, I’m having trouble in the play department. Whenever IB wants to involve me in his play life, I just can’t seem to fully devote myself to it. I can only sit on the floor with Legos for so long. Trying to teach him the rules of board games can be maddening for me. I’m not a “dress-up like Obi Wan Kenobi” kind of guy.
In fact, I’m really just seeking a little peace at home at the moment. I’m feeling sleep-deprived and grumpy most of the time. And Running Girl and I are working hard on our relationship right now. Thus, I know that I’m not satisfying my little guy’s need for the dad/playmate that he probably sees on those really bad Disney shows. You know, the ones where they actually still actually allow the precocious child actors to have parents in their lives (few and far between). On those shows, the fathers are invariably portrayed as lovable dunces, readily willing to don whatever play role the child star of the show deems essential.
In my life with Island Boy, there’s no laugh track. We struggle often. We love each other. But, we are frequently at odds.
Until recently, I saw this dynamic as a defeat. As I envisioned it, my skills as a dad sucked, and I was really unfit for the job. “Thank God for Running Girl,” I would say to myself. “Without her…” blah, blah, blah.
A little harsh, right? I see that now. I am officially ready to be kinder with myself on this issue. Just as Island Boy is not ready for certain things, neither am I.
But, there’s a whole world of great stuff out there that awaits us. I have a wonderfully rich life with my teenagers. I truly enjoy their company, and try to cherish the time I spend with each of them. Whether it’s taking my 18-year old to dinner, or watching Pulp Fiction with him, we tend to enjoy each other’s company. My 15-year old daughter is a joy. We have a special relationship in which she permits me to take her shopping, and in return she laughs at my corny attempts at humor. I eat all of this up in cafeteria-sized portions, and then come back for more servings from these delightful people.
And here’s the best news: I’m not alone in my struggles with Island Boy. I have been blessed with a beautiful, talented, and loving spouse who…tah dah…happens to be gifted in dealing with young children. Cue the Homer Simpson DOH!!! Running Girl is an early education specialist who puts food on our table by relating to 5-year olds all day long at school. She not only has the skills, but the desire to deal with these alien creatures on a regular basis. I’m just some smarty-pants lawyer who dabbles (poorly) in this field.
As prize fighters are wont to reflect: you’ve got to punch your weight. I have come to see that my weight class is not 5-year olds. I’m going to stop beating me up now that I’m not one of those Disney dads. My time with Island Boy will come.
It’s all relative.
About the Author: The Major is an attorney and former Army officer. He and his wife (and fellow blogger) Running Girl are doing their best to raise a family of five in Western New York. Please visit their family blog at Kay Nou = Our House
Super Dad image by REGUS Media, found on Flickr
