Some things are just better left to others

As a father, it is important to not only be present and active in our children’s lives but also to do all that we can to help their mother along the journey. I remember, as a young man, working alongside an older gentleman at a large apartment complex in Colorado. My excitement was evident as I prepared to welcome my first child into this world. Seeing my readiness, the old man decided to provide me with some words of wisdom as I prepared to embark upon the journey which would forever alter my life. Seated in the break area, the old friend looked at me and said three words which remain with me to this day. Rick, he said, actively take part. He described that his first child came with excitement and old-world beliefs, so he really didn’t help his wife much. He said the late-night feedings, dirty diapers, and general play was left totally up to his wife. As the child grew, he explained, he had a good relationship with her, but he soon noticed that anytime the child needed anything she turned only to her mother.

If she scaped a knee, she ran to momma. When she needed help, momma was the answer. The old man shared with me that although his wife was more than capable of supplying for all the child’s needs, he felt like a hole of emptiness filled him each time the child was in need and would avoid him and run to mom. He went on to describe that when he received the news that his wife was expecting a second child, he decided that he would take a more active role. He shared with me that upon finding out about his soon to born second child, he began committed to be involved not only with the second child but the first as well. He told me about when his second child came along, he took an active role. He took part in the early morning changings, feedings, and day to day interaction with the child. Getting on the floor became an everyday occurrence as he played with the child on her level. My friend described that his simple commitment resulted in not only his beloved wife receiving much needed help, but with a stronger bond between a father and his children.

As I welcomed my children into this world, I consistently tried to follow the advice from my old friend. Not only did I realize he was totally right, my interaction with my children not only broadened the bond with my children but likewise relieved some pressure from my spouse. This parental action carried over to my girls. Although I wanted my wife to experience all the pure awesomeness of parenting her first diaper bound, non-walking human, whose only desire evidently was to hamper her sleep and cause her to forever remain in a state of cleaning up, I knew good old daddy had to lend a helping hand. My interest in being the proverbial co-helper, intent upon living out the dream of being the perfect loving, caring, and attentive husband and father reached its tipping point one afternoon as it routinely does at one point in our children’s lives.

As parents routinely do, my wife and I had devised a game of sort surrounding the dreaded changing of the diapers. Alternating the “changer” duties, I found myself next up. As we relaxed, post dinner, I noticed something quite particular tickling my nostrils. Doing my best to ignore the odor, it became unescapable. The simple tickling evolved to an outright assault as if I was being struck by the heavy weight champion of the world. Hoping that my loving wife would likewise notice the unavoidable stench, and find pity on my attempts of avoidance, I stood by trying to act like I was busy with something. With a grin on her face, my wife saw right through my feeble attempts, and simply said “You’re up”. Resigned to my impending fate, I embarked upon the inevitable and rounded up my beautiful little daughter who evidently had exorcised her internal demons on that day. What I soon encountered was a situation that all my years preparing to be the best father ever neglected to cover. To lower it to the simplest terms, I couldn’t hang. As I lay the child down, cleaning wipes in hand, I began the process of changing the child. Although routine, this time it was different. As with the professional hunter, what is seen is not always the reality. A seemingly routine diaper change brought with it a toxic bioweapon camouflaged superbly, which caused me to jump back, unable to fulfill my mission. Although giving it my best shot, I ultimately had to call in back up, retreating to a place of cover, and fresh air, as momma quickly swooped in, rendering the area safe.

We joke about situations throughout the journey of parenthood. Some good, some bad, but ultimately these are the times of building bonds and living the experiences. Not unlike parenting, there are times in our lives where some things we face are undesirable, but we must give it a shot even if we eventually come to the conclusion that some things are best left for others to experience. Being a father, playing with my kids, and molding their lives is an honor I would never change. Taking part in the little things has allowed me to broaden my experience level and feel complete. With that being said, I’m forever grateful for those heroes who have swooped in and saved the day when I simply couldn’t. Working together with others who bolster our capabilities, or simply pick up the slack when we cannot, is the truest form of commitment, trust, and teamwork. Be ever vigilant my friends.

Richard J. Stephens lives in Carter County and is the father of three little ladies ranging in age from eight to 29.