OVERCOMING OBSTACLES
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Asserting my need to dedicate the time for parenting and accomplishing life ’ s tasks often generates a suspicious air from others , both in the workplace and out . While many try to give equal credence to the needs of mothers and fathers , the reaction to a father ’ s needs can certainly generate a different vibe than that to a mother . No , indeed , we don ’ t all “ have wives ( or husbands ) that can do it .” Many of our spouses are vocationally engaged too and are on the tightrope with us . I have come to recognize an uncomfortable truth as a parent : as a society , and country , we are not quite sure how to grasp and value the myriad of permutations of working and non-working parents in any given household . Looking at a medical school class composite from several decades ago , is to understand we are not that far into our experience of working men and women , fathers and mothers , splitting domestic duties , ideally , down the middle . While the data would suggest we still don ’ t , in fact , split duties down the middle , my anecdotal experience would suggest we still don ’ t know how to do so without a suspicious eye .
In our house , we reject the stereotypes around childcare and participation in our kid ’ s lives . We both show up and depend on the other not to just dial it in . We do , admittedly , still adhere to some parental stereotypes ( my wife retaining near complete control of the calendar to compensate for my apparent genetic inability to keep one ) but we both pitch in to get the job done . While embracing my neuroses helps my motivation to be a taskmaster , I nevertheless recognize it is far easier to identify and complete a domestic task that needs to be done than slog through the muck that is having to be asked . Raising kids and working full time , no one has time for the muck and no one has time to have to ask .
I am now midway through parenting school aged children , my daughters staring down seventh grade and my son eagerly eyeing fifth grade king-of-the-school status . Twelve years on , I have developed a reputation for a pretty wicked sock collection , the goal that was interrupted by my daughters ’ birth , that now overflows my drawer , purchasing a pair on happenstance here or receiving a gift there . With all those socks made for walking , we are stepping out as a family into new activities and new dynamics , with two notable recent examples .
Last summer , brushing off COVID-19 cobwebs , I made a deal with my , then , 9-year-old son , Everett , for a boys ’ weekend in Chicago , just us two , if he would tolerate going to see the avant-garde , post-rock ethereal band , Sigur Ros with me . Eagerly , he agreed , and I snagged two box seats at the historic Auditorium Theatre , throwing him the bone of a place to curl up against a wall and sleep if post-rock ethereal music turned out not to suit him . Arriving at the theater , after tenaciously taking in all Chicago had to offer , we were introduced to our box mates , a father and son about 25 years our senior . While the pair could not have been nicer , nor more excited about my son ’ s first concert with Sigur Ros , I had a strong sense they were more chemically induced than we were from the outset . During what turned out to be a three-hour musical bender , our box mates produced a bag of psychedelic mushrooms and gleefully partook ( I politely declined their offer to share ). As the show proceeded to a transcendent apogee ( highlight : lead singer and guitarist Jón Þór Birgisson playing his electric guitar shoved against his face with only his voice vibrations ), so did the high of our box mates . At one point the adult son started rhythmically petting the face of his senior adult father while gyrating around the front of our box , clearly seeing and feeling things that Everett and I were not privy to in our relatively sober states . We left the show on our own high , having seen a sublime show , and walked down Michigan Avenue with the late-night crowd feeling cooler than cool . We gently danced around the issue of what our new acquaintances were up to during the show and it did not take long for Everett to re-enact the gyrating , face petting antics we had witnessed . We shared a few good laughs before we got back to the hotel and declared our intent to share our experience with our girls at home .
Fast forward six months : with the whole family still laughing about the antics of our box mates and our 9-year-old ’ s first concert witnessing illicit drug use , my wife and I gave our twin girls concert tickets . These were to Marren Morris ’ s final show of her “ Humble Quest ” tour in Nashville as a 12th birthday gift . It was past time for their first concert , and Everett had sold them on the concert experience . As a family , we all five attended the concert , enthralled both at Ms . Morris ’ s catalogue of country crossover winners and also by an A-list roster of surprise guests : The High Women , Kristin Chenoweth and Hosier . Echoing our Chicago experience , we left the show sometime around midnight , traversing our way through the Nashville late night bacchanalia . Too alive to go to bed , and knowing my wife had skillfully booked a downtown hotel with air hockey and pool tables in the lobby , we stayed up to play . I taught the kids to play pool into the early morning hours , over our favorite bubbly beverages , feeling , again , cooler than cool .
I have reflected on the experience of my kids ’ first concerts in the last many months , recalling how alive and youthful I felt with them , despite the many hours of lost sleep , stress and delayed sock acquisition over the preceding years . Raising children is not easy , we all know this to be a matter of fact . But the joy can sneak up on you . Sure , I spend a lot of time teaching my kids about life , the necessity of education , the importance of doing life ’ s mundane tasks and other boring dad topics . The opportunity to teach them , though , how to have a little fun was solid gold . Somewhere between a late-night walk down Michigan Avenue with my ears ringing and a hipster hotel lobby in Nashville after midnight , my kids gave me back some of what I foolishly thought they had taken away for good when we brought them home from the hospital . And nothing has ever , ever felt more balanced .
Dr . Kolter is a practicing internist with Baptist Health .
14 LOUISVILLE MEDICINE