I have three living kids: a two-year-old daughter and twin boys born late last year. Along with my wife they are the best thing in my life. And yet they cost me a lot of sleep, and not just in the crying-babies-need-to-be-cuddled/changed/fed/defended from velociraptors sense. I worry about what kind of father I’ll be when they’re older, whether I’m capable of being the daddy they deserve.
Last night, I was specifically fretting over what I’ll do if they grow up and start liking sports. Because I can’t stand watching sports, with the occasional exception of boxing–and even if I’m capable of faking that for love of them (or if my love of them translates into cheering for Little League or soccer or whatnot). what if I’m one day called upon to coach a team? I can think of no surer recipe for failure than for a football team to be coached by me, and I’d hate to inflict that on my kids.
But that’s just me. Parents of young children: what keeps you awake at night?
I hate skating, yet I cannot tell you how many skating events I went to for my two girls who both loved the sport. Add onto that the thousands spent on skates, coaches, etc.
Even with my untrained eye I could see their development, improvements, and confidence grow as they improved on a steady basis. That I was interested in and did not tired of watching that.
Relax, what they become interested in you will also, but from a different point of view.
What worries/frightens me is whether the small personality quirks they have as little kids will turn into life-ruining flaws.
The boy doesn’t like to do marginally challenging things like trying to tie his shoes. Does that mean at 22 he will be unable to work through any challenge and will end up a drug addict on the street? The girl is a little boy-crazy at age 11…so will she end up at 30 twice divorced and being promiscuous to the point of damaging her sense of herself?
That sort of thing keeps me up at night - like if I don’t “fix” it now it’ll snowball into something that impacts their whole lives.
Not rational, and they don’t actually need fixing, but as a parent, this is my worry.
The worry that used to occur to me the most often is that they would get hit by a car, because when they were little they seemed determined to run into the road, in parking lots, etc. I expect when the 15 yr gets his driver’s license that worry will come back to the forefront.
The worry that rises to the top most often these days is that that oldest one won’t be able to take care of himself and will live in my house forever (a perfectly reasonable worry based on his freshman year performance). Mostly though, I’ll think he’ll be fine.
It’s already clear they’re not going to turn out to be sociopaths or really horrible people, but I do worry they’ll do something really stupid and end up in prison, dead or a vegetative state.
Don’t sweat the coaching thing. Nobody is going to ask you to coach a team where winning matters–you simply don’t have the resume for it. You may get bribed/coerced into “coaching” a t-ball team, or or a soccer team at the very lowest levels. Relax. You can learn everything you need to know to coach at that level in about 30 minutes. Mostly you have to remember to bring the equipment, and coordinate the mothers bringing snacks rotation.
I don’t have parental responsibilities for any children. I do have GAL responsibility for several. I worry about many many things for them. Dark things. But ya do what ya can with what ya got.
I’m worried about EVERYTHING. (Tater isn’t born yet.) I’m worried about what if he isn’t popular, and I’m worried about what if he IS popular because then I won’t know what on earth to tell him because I sure wasn’t, and then he’ll die of chlamorrheIDS. I’m worried about what if I don’t like him, or if we’re making a horrible mistake by having him. I’m worried about what if that occasional glass of wine I’ve been drinking because it’s totally fine is, actually, not totally fine and if he’ll always be a little bit stupider than he has to be. I’m worried about whether the c-section we might have to have because of this fibroid will damn him to asthma and having inferior gut flora. I’m worried that I’ll still be disappointed he isn’t a girl.
And yeah, I am totally worried about the sports thing, man.
This is probably going to be a bit of a downer for the thread, by my oldest daughter (4) is autistic. My worries are mostly about how much of a life she’s going to be able to have. I laugh at a comedy I’m watching, and wonder if she’ll ever be able to understand and appreciate it with me. I see friends’ kids hitting various milestones with school or interests or sports or whatever and wonder if she’ll ever be able to do those things. Will she ever marry? Get a job? Have kids? Is she going to be capable of carrying on an adult, loving relationship? Maybe. But maybe not. And we won’t know for a long, long time.
I didn’t worry about most of the stuff others worry about. I knew I was going to be a good dad, I didn’t worry about what activities she would participate in, if she was going to be healthy, whatever. The question that kept me awake at night (well, it didn’t keep me awake at night, but that’s how you phrased the question) was:
If Sophia has to go through a career change at 45, what are the best things we can do now to prepare her?
(Told you it was weird.)
I actually found an answer. We actually implemented (and are implementing) it. It’s actually working.
Now that’s she’s 12 going on 13, the big worries are the big three: drugs, alcohol, teen pregnancy. Not too worried about door #3, but doors #1 and 2 I do worry about - Sophia likes to have a good time. We’ve done the constant talking to her about these issues and she says “Dad, I’m not going to drink”, whereupon my response is “Yeah, it’s easy to tell your Dad that when you’re twelve, but will you have the strength of character to tell your best friend that when you’re sixteen?”
(Really, my biggest worry is Sophia’s mom. The first time our kid comes home with alcohol on her breath or red eyes or something, mom is going to freak. As in “we need to get that child into rehab and NOW” freak. I am so not looking forward to this (and yes, I’ve discussed this scenario with Sophia as well.)
I volunteer with our local little league (in fact, I am the VP of Tee-Ball). We did not have to coerce or bribe anyone to coach/manage a team this year. The biggest arm-twisting was to get two guys who wanted to just coach (and thereby avoid ultimate responsibility for the team) to co-manage instead since we couldn’t find one person for that role.
I’ve found that, in general, parents want to be involved in the activities of their children, so I can’t conceive of a situation where 15 other parents (in the case of a football team) would all avoid being a coach.
Wow, all of these things sound so familiar (Zsofia, I could have written your post almost word-for-word when I was pregnant with my first, aside from not knowing the sex)!
When they were in utero, I worried about miscarriages and birth defects. Once they were born, I started worrying about doing permanent psychological damage to them. When they were sick, I worried that they’d die; when they started walking, I worried that they’d hurt themselves. I worried about choking, poisoning, animal bites, and car wrecks. When they started school, I worried that they wouldn’t make friends. When they made friends, I worried that their friends would steer them wrong. I worried that the academically inclined one would be socially stunted and that the sociable one would fail in school. Right now, I’m worried about a plane crashing with my 24-year-old on it, and last night I was worrying that a drunk driver would hit my 21-year-old as she drove home.
A better question would be what didn’t I worry about. And the answer is…pretty much nothing. But I was really, really good at cramming the worry down and looking confident.
Oh, and Skald, I also used to worry that the snacks I made wouldn’t be nutritious enough to please the other parents or tasty enough to please the kids. Or that I wouldn’t bring enough for everyone. Pro-tip: you’ll have to bring fruit or vegetables instead of cupcakes or the other parents will form a mob to protest the sugar content in your snacks.
I worry about my kids going off to college. They’re much too young to live by themselves! They’re 8 and 11!
But damn, that “turn 18” date is coming up, and fast. Crap, I just realized my oldest is going into 6th grade next fall. That means only SEVEN MORE YEARS until she’s headed off to college. She’s still a little girl!
Seriously, I love my kids so much the thought of them leaving makes me sick.
Yeah, I worry about them dying in their sleep or getting hit by a meteor and all the standard stuff. But I rationally know that it’s pretty unlikely that they’ll die before I do. But they’re guaranteed to grow up and leave home to seek their fortune (unless I’ve totally failed as a parent or they die or whatever).
I’m also thinking about the younger sister at home while her older sister is out of the house. How does that work? How are they going to play together when that happens?
Well, now I have to worry about that, too! What’s the answer?!
I guess it surprises me how worries are child-specific. I thought worries were worries, but I worry about completely different things for each of my daughters.
They are both finishing up the end of grade school. Their new freedoms (biking to the pool, etc.) are giving me gray hair.
I worry that the boychik is seven and can’t ride a two-wheeler yet. Granted, I took a long time to learn to ride one, and didn’t learn until I was well past six but eventually got very good at it, and used to ride cross-country; I am aware that his balance isn’t great, and that’s probably what I’m really concerned about. He was briefly hypoxic at birth. His birth Apgar was 1, but at 5 minutes, it was 8. He seems fine, but he can’t stand on one foot, and was a little late to walk. He likes gymnastics, even though he’s terrible at it, and has a wonderful coach, who encourages him. I hope it will help him-- he finally learned to walk on the balance beam, but it was hard for him.
I have tried to get him PT, but he doesn’t qualify for it through the school, or our insurance, and we can’t afford to pay for it privately. He needs to be two standard deviations below the norm, and he’s is one, which just makes him a klutz, not dyspraxic. I still worry, because of those couple of seconds after birth when he was blue and not breathing.
If anything fatal happened to one of my boys (4 1/2 & 6) it would be shattering but the idea of them being taken and mistreated or harmed and not know where/how they are is a pure nightmare.
I’ve been overweight or obese most of my life. While I’m trying to get myself back on track now I really, really worry that they will go down the same path with food that I did.
My boys getting seriously injured doing something dumbass when they are teenagers. I did a lot of dumbass (but fun!) things when I was a teenager and risked head and spine and limbs. I survived intact but there was a certain amount of luck involved. In all good conscience, I can’t tell them not to do what I had fun doing, even if it’s going to worry me.
