A fathers traumas

Fule for Thought

 

A short time ago, I shared some parenting stories and a possible strategy to try when raising a teenage girl! To the lady at the Co-op, who stopped me to say she and her husband tried the “Door Removal Technique,” thanks for talking to me! I can’t promise anything that Deb and I have done will always work, and I’m definitely NOT Dr. Phil.  

I’m just a guy who wasn’t sure about this whole parenting thing, and was convinced by his wife that I’d survive it all. I did make it out okay, and my kids are now 24 and 22. As parents, we have no manual, we just do what we think is the best for our kids, and we hope that for the most part we’re right.

When Brennen was a new born, an event happened that traumatized both of us. We bottle fed our kids, and I was usually the 2 a.m. shift. Brennen was crying one night, and I dashed out in my boxers to take him down for his bottle. As we headed down the stairs with me just wearing the boxers, Deb heard me cry out, “oh crap, no Brennen, no … that is so gross!”  

Deb called down, “what’s wrong, did he throw up, is he okay?”  

“Oh he’s okay, alright … I’ll never be again, though!”  

You see the little tyke was hungry, and as I carried him down, he searched around on my chest, and latched on to my nipple! You know how they say, mothers “bond” with their babies when they nurse, I did not! It was the weirdest, most disturbed feeling, I ever had!  

Oh, he searched all right! He searched, found, latched on, and worked me over! In what seemed a lifetime, I pulled him off me, warmed a bottle of his formula, and began to feed him. I was shaken up … no one ever told me this might happen! There was no child book that discussed this … there was no chapter on dad’s breast feeding their kids! It was horrible, and I still think about it sometimes. Of course, it’s no better for Brennen, because he’s had to hear the story on many occasions. We sometimes still have trouble looking at each other at breakfast … especially when I offer him milk for his coffee!

You have a lot of power when your kids are little, they still look up to, trust you, and as the Spider-Man movies say, “with great power comes great responsibility.” 

I have to admit that I sometimes abused that power, and my kids sadly learned sarcasm at a young age. One time when Brennen was about five, we walked past a former high school student with long blondish hair. I couldn’t resist: “Hey Brennen,” I whispered.  “Do you know who that is?”  

His eyes got big and he shook his head to reply.  

“It’s Wayne Gretzky,” I answered. His eyes got even bigger, and he stared back at ‘Wayne.’

“Really, Dad … is that him?” 

“No son, but if it was, that’d be cool, eh?”  

You see, I knew he’d trust me … I’m his dad, but it still didn’t stop me! I told Debbie I’d be terrible at this “dad stuff!” 

He and I were at North Hill Sears once, and we had to use the upstairs bathroom. There were young and old guys coming and going, and I couldn’t resist.  

“Brennen, don’t touch me there!” I said out loud. The poor little guy was mortified, but laughed. On the way out, he asked me, “those other guys probably heard you, why’d you say that, Dad?”  

“Because I can, son … because I can.”  

Sure, it was a lame answer, but in my own immature way, I thought it’d be funny. I don’t do that anymore … he’s become way bigger and tougher than me!

That’s not to say I was a terrible father, I think I got better as the years went by, and they got older. Now, they dish out as much sarcasm as they get, and it does make for some funny days. Just this last Sunday, Bree, Bren, and I drove to Edmonton to move her furniture to a new apartment. This is where I believe my son took out some of his revenge. In 29 degree heat, and with me sweating like Elvis at his last concert, Brennen decided to have some fun. Everything we moved, he made sure I was walking backward, especially going down stairs. Every now and then, I swear he rammed me into a stair railing on purpose. On the biggest, heaviest  dresser, it felt like I was barely able to move with it! It took a few seconds to realize that while I was backing up, holding on to the dresser for dear life, Brennen was slowly pulling backward on the dresser!  

“Funny Brennen, very funny,” I groaned. Would you like to see your dad have a big aneurysm?”  

He took way longer to answer “no” than I thought he should, and I wondered if he was thinking back on his childhood! Boy, do I have some fatherly regrets!

(“Fule for Thought” is a slice of life humourous column that appears in the Strathmore Times, written by long-time resident, town councillor, high school teacher, coach, husband and father of two – Pat Fule. If you would like to get in touch with Pat, you can send him an e-mail at Pat.fule@shaw.ca)