An influential professor always told me that comfort is your enemy, which is why – every once in a while – we all need to pick up a brick and toss it through one of the plate glass windows which so neatly contain our lives.
In other words, if you want to grow, you sometimes need to make uncomfortable, life-altering choices.
Like that day in college when I realized words were cool things, and perhaps I could make a living arranging them for people.
Or the decades-later realization that my clients had email addresses, so maybe I could live near a good trout stream instead of the alternate universe known as the Silicon Valley.
Then there was the afternoon I realized life with a certain woman looked a more appealing than life without her, and that it was time to make this whole thing permanent.
Every one of those decisions seemed huge at the time – and each created its fair share of anxiety – but all worked out beautifully.
Time to pick up another brick.
Soon, my wife and I are saddling up a Boeing 777 jet and flying literally halfway around the world to meet our little daughter.
Our new little daughter.
Holy shit.
I’m about to become a parent.
The New Reality
And yes, since this process began over a year ago, I have often huddled in bed at 3:30 in the morning, eyes wide open, mentally bulleting the ways I could emotionally (and physically) scar a kid already facing the challenges of adoption.
The good news? While adoption rules forbid me from posting her picture or name here, the pictures we’ve seen clearly indicate Little M (my clever code name) is cuter, smarter and just plain better than all the other kids on the planet.
In fact, it’s likely she’s a world-class athlete, a brilliant chessplayer, and a natural-born fly fisherman.
I just know it.
You can tell by looking. Plain as day.
(And yes – I already have the whole Proud Poppa thing down pat.)
The Parent Trap
I suspect I’m not entirely alone in this, but as parent-to-be, I’m already excellent at cycling between excitement and sheer terror.
One minute I’m convinced I’m going to be a great dad, teaching my daughter all the really cool, important stuff while driving her to her next athletic triumph (track/tennis/soccer/etc – I’m easy).
The next minute I imagine falling prey to one of my absent-minded fogs, forgetting to feed my daughter, wandering off, then coming home to find her swilling drain cleaner from the bottle I left on the floor next to the gasoline-soaked rags piled on the accidentally left-on stove.
Clearly, anticipation is a two-edged sword.
Stepping beyond the glass window that defines the limits of your “normal” life means picking up a brick and creating a little chaos.
You throw the brick, life changes, and then you sweep up the broken glass – and notice the view is clearer, plus you’ve got more room to grow than before.
Things may be challenging for a while, but you remember that’s the way things are supposed to be, and you can’t really complain.
I mean, it’s what you asked for when you picked up the brick in the first place.
Keep writing, Tom Chandler.
Comments 12
Tom, you’ve made my day. Thanks for sharing that interesting bit of information. I threw a glass through the window too, recently, when I quit my stable job, rejected a raise, and joined a new place at a lesser salary. Why? Because I love writing. Today, I aim at an even darker window in a corner – I start to write my first book. I don’t know if this means anything to you, but if one day, I DO become a published writer, you will definitely hear from me. Thanks!
A book? I do want to hear about it. Good luck with the new adventure.
You already know I couldn’t be more thrilled for you. I just wanted to say it publically. :)
I like the brick through the window metaphor, especially the smashing part. Visceral.
You’ll want to stock up on the bricks, though. Once you’re a parent, every day is a brick-hurling, window-smashing event. Who knows? M might even help you throw ‘em since she’ll be a world-class softball pitcher or discus thrower, too.
Keep breathing.
Roberta Rosenberg´s last blog ..In Memory
Posted 22 Sep 2009 at 6:40 am (Quote) ¶Tom,
Just wanted to wish you luck with the adoption. Hope the transition goes smoothly. I’m sure it’s a window you wont regret breaking.
I’m smashing one of my own windows this week and upping sticks to live abroad.
As you say, change can certainly be scary, but exciting at the same time.
Matt
Matt Ambrose´s last blog ..Why You Should Redefine Your Services to Attract More Clients (and Better Pay)
Posted 22 Sep 2009 at 11:06 am (Quote) ¶Funny thing about those glass windows. They look scary, but once you step to the other side, you find it’s not as scary as it looks.
I climbed a mountain at Yosemite even though I don’t like heights, took up competitive target shooting when I thought I was anti-gun, got involved in politics in Ohio when I thought I hated politics, and started cycling 5 to 10 miles a day though I was sure that would kill my knees. And not a single scratch from all that shattered glass.
But a kid? That’s more like smashing a glass factory with a meteor. YOU, sir, are brave. Congrats.
Dean Rieck´s last blog ..Turn an angry client into a loyal client (with one word)
Posted 22 Sep 2009 at 6:23 pm (Quote) ¶Well CONGRATULATIONS Daddy! All those fears will disappear when your little one puts her arms around your neck and presses her cheek to yours. (Sigh) Those moments are priceless. I wish I could turn back the clock and have my son be a 3 or 4 year old again. They’ll believe anything at those ages–like there are rock farms, brown cows give chocolate milk and that all parents have real eyes in the back of their heads. LOL Once again, Congratulation!
Elizebeth´s last blog ..Illustration Friday: Infinite
Posted 23 Sep 2009 at 3:51 am (Quote) ¶Thanks! Truly an interesting time, and yes, I’ve cleared the decks a bit for the next couple months.
While the kid’s tearing apart the house, I’ll be tearing apart my own marketing presence; my business has changed dramatically, and it’s time for my online presence to reflect it.
Thanks for all the good wishes. The big adventure begins…
Well Congrats!
The hardest part is when they start throwing the bricks for you!
And don’t worry about the whole stove on/oily rags thing. I rarely have done both at the same time.
Seriously though, life will never be the same — and you’ll love it.
~Graham
Great message. You’ll certainly find everything is turned upside down and then some.
In moments of energy you will get different insights – you will see things afresh and do some of your best work. Then collapse and yearn for … comfort.
And kids are always a fresh inspiration every day – they really are seeing things for the first time.
Good luck and enjoy !
John York´s last blog ..5 places to get started on optimization
Posted 28 Sep 2009 at 7:20 pm (Quote) ¶Congratulations to you, Mrs. C and Little M.
I’ve gone from being disinterested in those who are incapable of correctly wiping their own noses to a father of two over the past five years. Windows shattered; life better.
You’re gonna have a blast. Fatherhood kicks ass.
Carson Brackney´s last blog ..Doing My Part to Police the Internet… Guest Post at The Irreverent Freelancer
Posted 29 Sep 2009 at 5:25 am (Quote) ¶Congratulations Tom! Now that you’re a dad, it’s time to learn some dad things — like teaching your new daughter to be a pirate ;-) You can read the free eBook at http://www.PirateParenting.com
TOM! I didn’t know about the adoption plans. Wow, Congrats to you, N and Little M!
Love the Draino-Gasoline-Stove paragraph. Hopefully the actual anxiety won’t be nearly as severe as the imagined.
Would love to chat with you when the jet-lag wears off.
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Posted 14 Oct 2009 at 8:53 pm (Quote) ¶Post a Comment