My beautiful little girl is four years old. I’m cheating a little; actually, it’s October 15 as I write this, and her birthday is the 16th, but by the time most of you will read this, she’s four.
Look, I’m not gonna lie to you. The last few months have been high stress at Casa RickJay. My Beautiful Wife lost her job, and at the same time my job has been absurdly busy, including a lot of travel in August, and blah blah blah, we were both in super high stress mode. There have been… other stress factors, let us say. (MBW has found a job just today, so that just reduced the stress level a lot.)
Sometimes… sometimes, you know, when you’re sitting in another stupid meeting with stupid people and you can’t concentrate on their stupidity because a thousand other concerns are crowding into your head, sometimes you think “It would be better if I could just start over.” Push a reset button. I sometimes wonder what I’d do if I could somehow transport my consciousness back into myself when I was 18. Oh, the mistakes I’d avoid! The money I’d make! (Just betting on sporting events would make me a rich man.) Or something else, I dunno. Come on, you have these too; if only I could drop all these problems. It’s a variation on the Lotto 6/49 dream without having to calculate the odds.
Ah, but I wouldn’t do it. Because of the Small One. You see, I have hit the lottery, and the jackpot was the Wiggler. And nothing is worth trading her for.
I can have the shittiest day imaginable, but when I get home and Madzilla says “Daddy, can I have a peanut butter sandwich pleeeeeease?” and I get her one and snuggle next to her on the couch and she leans against me and giggles as she watches Monsters Inc., and I can feel her giggle through my whole body, well, friends, that is simply as good as it can possibly get. No money, no wealth, no advantage or fame or power, will ever top the joy I had just two hours ago watching a cartoon with my Wiggle Pie.
Honestly, I do not know how four years went by this fast. She was born just a few months ago, it seems, and learned to walk just after that and to talk just after that, and we just had her first, second, and third parties, didn’t we? She was a baby just yesterday, small enough to hold in my hands. Now I look at her and it shocks me to see she’s not really a baby any more, she’s a kid. I blinked, and she went from being an infant to being a preschooler. I’ll blink and she’ll be twelve, trying on makeup, and then I’ll blink again and she’ll be taking the car out, blink again and graduating from university, blink again and I’ll be walking her down the aisle. It’s going way, way faster than I ever thought possible. I wish I could live the last four years again, but I do so want to see what happens from here on out… what sports she plays, what friends she has, what things she’ll love and laugh over, the sort of person she’ll become.
Since Maddy was born I’ve tried to be an involved father; I take care of her, make her dinner, take her out, play with her. I’m usually the one who puts her to bed, a special little time we enjoy together. Yet it never seems enough. No matter how much time I spend with her I wish it was more. No matter how many times I’m the one to pick her up at day care, to take her for walks, play balloon catch with her, the time flies by so fast.
I wish I could be her Daddy through a thousand lifetimes. Ten thousand. It would be worth it every time.
But I can’t; I get one shot, and have to make it my best. You don’t get a trial run or a restart; we’ve been handed a little girl and get one crack at doing it right. So, we’ll treat her to McDonald’s tomorrow, and then Saturday she has a birthday party. Then we’ll be back into the grind, my wife starting her new job, getting ready for Hallowe’en (inexplicably, the Small One’s favourite holiday, by a long shot) and then Christmas, blah blah blah, next thing you know she’ll be five, six, ten, and on.
That’s how life works, you see. I just want to make sure I appreciate her for what she is all the way through. I think I’ll bookmark this and read it every week, just to make sure I do.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to sneak into her bedroom and give her a kiss on her cheek while she sleeps. I’ll only have so many chances. Gotta sneak in as many secret smooches as I can.
Happy Birthday, Small One.
