The power of fathers (Carl)
So this is my post about Carl and Noah, which sort of touches on Thursday.
The thing is…I can walk out of my house 4 hours after a vomiting episode. And I will still feel bad and guilty because I just want work to STOP and stay home with my kid (and yes, I can if it is “an emergency” but one thing I’ve learned about the job-kid-life dance is that it’s not the clear-cut emergencies that are hard; it’s working out when to give up trying to decide if it is/find alternate care/etc.)
But I will know that Noah will be having the best care. Maybe even just slightly better than me, when it comes to illness, only because I tend to get a little more nervous and communicate that nervousness to Noah. Whereas Carl still will respond and take him to the doctor, but he doesn’t get as tense about it.
And that’s the thing about Carl as a dad…he’s not the second parent, he’s the other-first-parent. There was a time, around when Noah was one, that I didn’t think this would happen. And in some ways I think going back to work hastened the process because as far as the morning routine goes, after Noah and I eat breakfast together and I leave, I have no idea what happens. He shows up eventually at school clean and dressed and with the proper snack/paperwork/whatever. He and Carl have their thing. It helped, to carve out that space without me.
But of course the root of the goodness is that Carl’s an excellent dad. He’s much more in the moment than I am, and it’s a good match - I plan things, sign up for swim lessons on time, and get the laundry done while playing Magnet Man/Baby Cat with Noah along the way (two different games, in case you were wondering); then we head out together to the library and cosy up with some books for quality time. But Carl sits down with Noah and focuses on painting or Legos for 30 intense minutes and then has a mad tickle-fest. He’s really good at just being there in the moment and not obsessing on the mess. It’s quite lovely.
He’s also gentle and kind. He’s always treated everyone in the system with pretty much infinite patience (I’m sure I don’t know who screamed down the stairs that this wasn’t her life and she was going to go fuck random strangers to prove it *cough*) within firm boundaries (I did not go do the fucking) and it turns out that’s the kind of dad he is. He has loads of patience with Noah, but he doesn’t just give him carte blanche to behave however he wants either (when necessary).
When Noah is having big emotions, Carl helps him identify them. Sometimes they paint them out. Sometimes after I leave in the morning they paint a dream Noah had or a nightmare. So I come home a lot of days to a whole little history in art. (We have an easel set up in the kitchen.) They laugh together a lot (actually we all do). There is an ease between them that is so genuine, and so primal. When Noah was in pain today he cried for me and in the next breath he cried for Carl. He truly feels safe with us both.
It’s really lovely. I really hope there is nothing that ever really interferes with that; obviously, if mythology is to be believed, there will come a day that Noah has to take Carl on in some way. But I have faith it will work out. Noah has a real man and a real father. It’s super neat.
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