Fatherhood, revisited

Once the three of us felt ready, I began dating again, albeit cautiously and ever mindful of the fact that there were two other people involved. All my dates (OK, there were three in total) were invited home to meet the clan. Sherrie was the one everyone warmed to immediately. She was mature for her age, given to nurturing and, at the tender age of 22, absolutely fearless in taking us on. But the kids were pleased - even amused. "She's not old like the others," Jason said at dinner one night. Sherrie, in fact, was closer in age to Jason (he was 14 by then) than I was to her.

With Sherrie came a second chance at parenthood for me, and, eventually, we welcomed two healthy children - first our daughter, Ashleigh, then son Braeden into our lives.

With four children now in the house, we shared a whole new set of challenges. My two older boys took to their new siblings wonderfully. But, by this time, Jason and Kenny were teenagers, and we were not without the problems typical of a blended family. Teen angst and rebellion were directed at everybody. Resentments were directed toward Sherrie. An organizational dynamo, she had immediately identified household inefficiencies. Suddenly, the kids had chores again, and list became a four-letter word. Even I joined the insurrection. We also experienced the things that cause all parents to question every decision they ever make about their kids - their values and their sense of right and wrong. And what effect were the boys having on their younger siblings?

But we survived, and before long Jason and Kenny were on their own, leaving Sherrie and me behind with two small children. Now I had come full circle. My parenting resumé could be updated to read: teen dad, single dad, dad with blended family, middle-aged dad with young children.

Looking back, I recognize that, as a child playing father, my allegiances were divided between earning a livelihood and nurturing my kids. Laurie and I had somehow managed the essentials: we had kept our children fed and clothed and with a roof over their heads. We had helped them with their homework and guided them through life's lessons. We did parent-teacher interviews and got to their hockey games and Cub Scout camps. I was there - the boys will tell you that.

What they can't tell you about and couldn't know back then was the sheer panic I felt. I was just starting out, and the tug-of-war between family and career made it difficult to strike a balance. Broadcasting, the profession I had chosen to pursue, is competitive and intense, with long hours spent at work. My responsibility as a father felt like a millstone shackled to my ankles. My enjoyment of fatherhood was elusive at best, and peace of mind existed only in my dreams. Dreams for us. Dreams for our children. Worry was a constant. I worried about the rent, the bills, the kids' education and the job we were doing as parents.

I played with my kids, but not often and rarely with much satisfaction. I always felt like I was shirking my other responsibilities.

Fast-forward to today. Our youngest children are nine and six; I'm 44. Midlife crises aside, I find myself quite comfortable in my middle-aged skin. But more importantly, I'm a calmer and wiser father with more time for play. I'm more relaxed and more open to the joys of throwing a Frisbee or playing cars on my hands and knees. When I help with homework, it's less of a chore and more of an opportunity to witness my kids learning.

My older children are good guys and finding their way in the world. Jason is a cook in a restaurant. Kenny works for a video-production company and is a budding thespian on the local stage.

From their perspective, my parenting mode doesn't appear much different now. But it is different. Today parenthood feels like a privilege. I chose it; I don't feel trapped by it. It's a journey full of plans, surprises and hopes for the future.

Am I the perfect parent? Hardly. I lose my cool sometimes. I skip bedtime stories if I'm tired. I admonish the kids for making too much noise if I'm reading, I still work too much and don't play with them nearly as often as I should, but I'm getting better.
And I would be less than honest if I didn't admit to sometimes tiring of it all, after parenting for so long and starting so young. There is some bitterness that goes with the loss of my youth - I'm human.

But it's better the second time around; I'm ready. Ready to acknowledge the miracle of my children and the honour of guiding them through their childhoods. Ready to celebrate their personalities. Ready to listen and treasure our conversations and not let them slip in one ear and out the other.

Each stage has taught me something.

I've learned that raising children is not an exact science and that it's OK to make mistakes. A mistake shows that you're at least doing something. I remember thinking that the boys should behave just like me - a chip off the old block. I soon realized that children are unique persons with their own feelings and ideas. I also learned the hard way that children will make their own mistakes and may not follow your lead until much later. But they will "get it" eventually.

As a single parent, I learned that it's OK to show vulnerability - one of the hardest things for a man to show. But when my kids were crying, they needed more than just a shoulder to cry on: they needed me to cry with them.

And today, in the midst of stage four, I've learned that parenting is not a job, at which you excel or fail, but a process. As long as I'm willing to give my time and pay attention, I'll do fine. Even so, I still need to remind myself of that from time to time when life gets too busy.

There was a TV commercial running not long ago that featured a fiftysomething woman who, after stepping off a glider, visits herself 30 years in the past to dispense newfound wisdom to her younger self. If I had the chance to do the same to my younger self, here's what I would say:

"You can't hope to teach and to guide a child through life if you have not yet lived. A young man can bring to the fore strength and courage, but youth lacks wisdom. There is no vision. Just hope. But in the absence of everything else, hope is everything.

"Parenthood need not be a chore nor something to be feared. Parenthood should not be measured in years but in moments. You can give a kid no greater gift than yourself.

"And when it becomes too much, when the panic sets in, just take a deep breath and go off and play. The bills will get paid, and the sun will rise tomorrow."

For me - a father who has finally found his footing - there can be no better day than a day spent with my kids, fishing or hosting a Beanie Baby tea party followed by an evening with Scooby-Doo or Mary-Kate and Ashley. So what if I have to miss game seven of the Stanley Cup final?

I'm in the zone this time. And after too many detours, I finally have the chance to enjoy the journey.