The Way I See It
By Joseph C. Phillips

Love, Pride and Headaches

Headache. H-e-a-d...When my son paused, I knew he was stuck.

My oldest son was representing his school in the area wide second grade spelling bee. Not a bad accomplishment for a boy whose father would be lost without spell check. My wife and I were delighted of course. We were also very conscious of not becoming the embodiment of the overbearing, stage parent, drilling our son with spelling exercises and pressuring him to win in order for us to relive some lost spelling bee moment from our youth. We wanted the experience to be enjoyable and to be about him. Before he went backstage I gave him a big hug and told him to just have fun. Win, lose or draw, Daddy was as proud as he could be. He giggled and ran off to take his seat.

Alas, he would not become the second-grade spelling champion. Headache. H-e-a-d…he paused and my heart sank. I suppose third place is not so bad, but I knew he wanted to win – expected to win. I saw the disappointment in his face and it broke my heart.

All things considered, my son handled the defeat rather well. I was the one that had difficulty. Sure, he was dejected. He kicked himself for missing a word he knew, but he let it go. The next morning he put his participation medal on and bounced happily into his classroom. I, on the other hand, tossed and turned all night. I dreamed of spelling bees. Headache. H-e-a-d-a-c-h-e. Headache. Perhaps if I had quizzed him more, made him study words until his eyes were red. If only I had tried harder to telepathically send the correct spelling, anything in order to avoid seeing the hurt and dejection on his face.

Even when disciplining my children, their tears tug at my heart. They look at me with big brown puppy dog eyes and I must often force myself to say no: No, you may not have another toy. No, you may not stay up all night to watch television. No, you may not tie your little brother up with rope. There is a difference, however, between the “no” they get from me and the “no” they receive from the world. My no is given with love. My no recognizes how special they are. My no seeks to protect and nurture. The world does not recognize that my children are amazing. It is impersonal. It is neither cruel nor kind. It could care less either way.

It is not that I don't want my children to know disappointment. Without disappointment they will not appreciate success and Lord knows I want them to have success. But my heart can’t take it. If I lose sleep over a second grade spelling bee what am I going to do when they suffer real disappointment? How will I cope when they are not accepted to their college of choice? When they are fired from their first job? When some silly, little heifer breaks their heart? More than likely I will say to them what fathers always say to their sons: “Be a man and suck it up.” I will advise them to lick their wounds and keep plugging. Of course, inside, my guts will be twisted in knots. I will want to take the hit for them, to protect them from the disappointment and heartache. H-e-a-r-t-a-c-h-e.

When I joined the ranks of parenthood, I had no idea I was signing on for a lifetime of excruciating moments. I suppose the silver lining is that as a parent as often as our hearts break for our children, there are so many more moments our hearts are filled to bursting with pride and a love like no other.

Send me your ways of seeing it at Josephcp@netlistings.com