Rock On

I like to think I’m not one of these whiny, sniveling, complaining wimps that always wants to tell you how hard life is, how unfair things are, or just how, in general, the world really sucks.

I know all too many people just like that. I’m sure you do, too. If you’re like me, you try to avoid them at all costs, and suffer them with a stiff upper lip when avoidance is just not possible.

When you’re me, it’s very difficult to complain about much. I have a great life. I’m not trying to brag, or be all snooty about it. I’m just a very, very lucky guy, and I try to remember how lucky I am, and not piss and moan when every little thing doesn’t go my way. By and large, I get more than my fair share of The Golden Light.

That’s why I’m very reluctant to mention that things have been a bit stressful for me the past few weeks. I can’t put a finger on what, exactly, it is. Work is somewhat stressful right now, I’m not sleeping very well, and my workouts have been lousy for some time now. I don’t have the strength or the endurance I did earlier this year.

I’m not depressed, exactly, just sort of listless. And I’m not sure why, and that bugs me even more.

So I was a bit grumpy last night at about 2:00 a.m., just as I had finally fallen asleep, when Tommy woke up and started calling for Mom or Dad. He’s a very restless sleeper, often waking up in the middle of the night. Sometimes he sleepwalks – we’ll hear him come into our room and crash into something, and one of us will carry him back to bed.

This time he was standing in the hallway. I couldn’t tell if he was asleep or awake. I scooped him up and carried him over toward his bed, when he lifted his face up and said, “Rock me, daddy.”

We have a glider rocker in his room. It’s the same one we used for Chris when he was a baby. It’s wonderful for rocking a child, whether you’re nursing (or giving a bottle – yes, I did my share of that), or just comforting a restless child. When Tommy was born we moved it into his room.

We’ve had to use it quite a bit.

The last thing I wanted to do was rock him. I had to get up in four hours and go to work, and it would’ve been nice to spend most of that time sleeping. What I really wanted to do was plop him back in his bed, make sure his ‘blankie’ and Elmo were correctly positioned, and try to get back to sleep myself. But the way he looked at me when he asked, well, I just couldn’t refuse.

So we sat down in the rocker and began to glide back and forth. He snuggled up against me, wiggled once or twice to find the position that felt comfortable to him, and promptly fell back asleep.

There’s something about a sleeping child that is peaceful, tranquil, angelic. Feeling his little chest gently rise and fall against mine, looking at his face, his content little grin, slowly began to draw all of the frustration and stress out of my system. I felt myself becoming more relaxed, more centered, more balanced.

We continued to glide. I remembered a time long, long ago when I went to a drive-in movie with my parents. I must have been four years old. My mom and dad piled the back seat of their car full of pillows and blankets, and put me back there while they sat up front and watched the movie. Of course I can’t remember anything about the movie – I doubt I saw five minutes of it. In fact, I’m not sure I remember the evening, or if I just sort of remember the memory of it. But sitting in the glider rocker with Tommy, I remembered the feeling I had that night of Absolute Security. I was with my mom and dad; safe, warm, comfortable. Nothing could go wrong. I was Secure.

Loved.

And I knew that’s what Tommy was feeling as he slept in my arms in the glider. Safe and secure in the strong arms of Daddy. Warm, content, protected. Loved.

And there is a feeling that comes with being the provider of that feeling. I don’t have the words for it. But holding him, knowing how he was feeling, having felt it myself in my life, gave me a stronger sense of purpose, of meaning. It is an awesome responsibility.

It is also an honor. A privilege.

I don’t know how long we rocked. It was a long time. I wanted to savor the moment, bask in it, soak every last ounce of energy and pleasure from it. At some point I must have joined him in sleep.

When I finally woke up I saw the first hint of dawn in the eastern sky outside his bedroom window. I got up, carefully laid him in his little bed, adjusted his ‘blankie’ and Elmo just so, and crept back into bed myself.

When the alarm went off I got up, got ready, and went off to work just like any other weekday. The same feelings of stress, listlessness, and angst came back.

But they were offset by something larger, something more important.

The emotional connection I made with my son put everything else in perspective. I have a lot of responsibility in my life, personally, professionally, morally. But none of that even comes close to what I shared with Tommy. Those other things will come and go. I’ve got much more important things to concern myself with. I’m Tommy’s dad, and Chris’s too. They need to be able to have that feeling when they need it. Without reservation, unconditionally. I have to be there for them.

You might be thinking Tommy’s lucky to have a dad like me. That’s not for me to say.

But I’ll tell you, without a doubt, Tommy did more for me last night than I did for him.

The truth is clear. I’m the lucky guy in this house.

It’s great to be The Family Man.