The past few days have been a “slog.” Pike, our eight year old son, got a stomach ache at school on Monday. My wife is a school teacher and we are fully aware that there is, currently, a nasty stomach bug making its way through the school. Kids come to the teacher saying, “my belly hurts” and then – about an hour later – vomit. Little known fact about being married to a teacher – getting a substitute on short notice, middle of the day, or in an emergency is really tough. Additionally, post-pandemic realities make finding substitutes more difficult than normal. So, when my wife called to inform me that our buddy wasn’t feeling well, I knew I would be cutting the work day short to bring him home.
After picking him up I prayed, while driving, that his stomach ache would not progress to something more extreme. We made it home and before he could take more than a few steps he “blobbed” (that’s what we call it – long story, but it’s far more attractive than “puked”). He got the bug and, as all of you parents can attest, that means a minimum of 24 hours before he can return to school. After long day of our buddy not feeling well (and a few more rounds of blobbing) we made the call that I would stay home for the next day. Kristi was willing to try to work out sub-plans, but note above – subs are hard to come by – and my work allows for more flexibility when need arises. Thanks to supportive bosses and co-workers, staying home with Pike for the day worked out.
By the evening of day two Pike was feeling a lot better and turned our living room into a ninja warrior course. His appetite returned and we were a full day without any “blobs.” I was confident we were in the clear and mentally prepared for a good night of sleep and productive day of catching up to the work I missed by staying at home. The night of sleep was solid. I was not prepared, however, for what the morning held.
Early in the morning, while making tea for the family, I heard Pike’s door open and the shuffle of his eight year old feet. Pike’s stomach hurt – again/still – and he didn’t want to go to school (my son not wanting to go to school is like Garfield refusing lasagna). While Kristi and I tried to evaluate the legitimacy of his “stomach ache” I could sense the anxiety creeping up on me. It was too late in the morning to arrange plans for a substitute – note above – and I honestly had a lot of work that I needed to catch up on. We tried to talk through all the possible scenarios, “Are you worried about something buddy?” and “Are you hungry?” and “Do you need to use the bathroom?” – all of which gained us nothing. In fact, all of our questions made things worse and Pike grew more emotional by the moment. He didn’t feel good and as I tried harder to figure out why – he got more frustrated. As his frustration grew – so did mine.
My stress and frustration were getting the better of me. I could feel things getting worse. I was short with Kristi. I was aggravating Pike. I was spiraling. I told Kristi that I needed a few minutes to breathe and calm down. While I took some time Pike, who had curled up in a blanket by this point, called for me to come lay with him. I was too busy trying to figure out why he felt bad that I neglected to see what he really needed – to be held. I held onto him and he held onto me. He cried and told me that he didn’t want to miss school again (it was 80s dress up day and he had a ‘Saved By The Bell’ fanny pack). As the tension from his body melted away – his appetite returned and spirits lifted. We agreed to give him a slow start to the day and see how he felt in an hour or so. I hopped onto a zoom meeting while he ate some breakfast and, after finishing, proceeded to dress and get ready for school.
After my meeting finished, Pike and I loaded up the car and drove to school – only a few hours past the start of the day. On the drive I apologized to Pike for my frustration and angry words. He quickly forgave me and started talking about how good it would be to see his friends at school and what they were probably doing at that very moment. We arrived at school. I signed him in. I got back in the car and drove to work. An hour later Kristi sent me a text – “Good dad work today. I know it was stressful. Proud of you.”
Good dad work. Being a parent is hard. It’s the most challenging work I’ve ever tackled. In his incredible memoir “The Tender Bar” J.R. Moehringer states that “manhood is mimesis.” As a dad, my ability to handle my stress is directly proportional to my son’s ability to handle his (if not more so). It’s my responsibility to handle my “crap” well so I can help my son handle his. As a therapist – I know the truth of all that. In the moment, however, I quickly forget and struggle to do the hard work of calming down first. This evening as we finished dinner and started bedtime routines Pike knelt down by Kristi and said, “Mommy, I am sorry I was difficult this morning.” He did this completely unprompted.
I am thankful that this morning God gave me the presence of mind to pause and take a minute to calm down. I am thankful that I had enough time to breathe and regulate so I could share my calm with Pike. I am thankful that I had a moment to apologize and ask for his forgiveness. I am thankful that I could model that well for him. I am thankful that he forgives much faster than I deserve. I am thankful that my wife noticed. My dad work wasn’t perfect today – but it was good. Here’s to all the dads who are working hard to do good dad work. Keep it up. It matters more than we realize.
Josh Zoerhof 