By: Alex Carter
“It’s time to get the car seat ready.”
That single phrase was a turning point, reshaping my entire existence in an instant. Before that moment, our child was merely an idea—an ethereal thought, like a hazy dream you can’t quite grasp. But everything shifted on March 3, 2018, when the call came, and by March 4, 2018, our little one made a grand entrance into the world, scrunched up and ready to redefine my reality.
Five years have flown by. Five years—1,825 days—44,000 hours. Wow. How has life transformed? What lessons have I gathered over these 44,000 hours? While I could fill several pages, here are five significant revelations.
Perfection Is an Illusion (So Why Do We Even Try?)
The title might remind you of an artsy album, but it raises an essential question many parents overlook: Why? Why am I putting so much pressure on myself? Will the universe collapse if my child doesn’t finish that last bite of their sandwich? If they stumble over their words at the diner, will they be destined for a life of servitude there?
Sure, there are moments when structure is necessary, but it doesn’t have to be the norm. Sometimes, we just need to allow ourselves to relax and say, “Forget it.” Forget it: pizza for breakfast. Forget it: wearing mismatched socks. Forget it: bringing a beach ball to the coffee shop. Like a coach in a lopsided game, sometimes we just need to accept a loss and give ourselves a break.
No Clear Path Forward
When playing a game of Solitaire, if you reach a dead end, the computer might say, “No useful moves detected.” That phrase captures the frustration of parenting perfectly. Occasionally, no amount of coaxing or comforting will resolve a situation. Tantrums can strike like sudden storms; sometimes, you can foresee them and act, while other times, they’re unavoidable.
The key is embracing the reality that it’s okay to feel okay. If you declare a “Forget it” moment and then feel guilty about it later, you undermine your own peace. You’re doing a fantastic job. When there are no clear moves, it’s not a reflection of you or your child; it’s just part of the chaotic journey of parenthood. Allowing yourself to be okay with imperfection makes things a little easier.
NostalJoyMent
This term, which I coined, blends Accomplishment + Joy + Nostalgia, capturing a unique parental emotion: feeling proud, happy, and a bit melancholic all at once. For example, when your child overcomes a fear, like a fear of monsters, you guide them through it. The moment they grasp that there’s nothing to fear, you feel immense pride in your ability to support them, joy in their newfound bravery, and sadness that they’re growing up so fast. It’s a whirlwind of emotions that occurs daily—whether it’s the monumental milestones like riding a bike or the smaller victories like pouring their own drink.
The Days Seem Long, But The Years Fly By
This phrase may sound cliché, but it rings true. One of the most challenging times during the weekend? Bedtime on Saturday night. After a long day, you’re ready for some downtime, but kids can sense your exhaustion and crank up the defiance. But the worst moment? Sunday night when the weekend is over. This cycle continues, each day blurring into the next.
Time is relentless. It can feel like a slow march on one day and a sprint the next. Before you know it, your child is no longer a baby but a full-fledged 5-year-old. Thank you, Time. And yet, amidst the tough and messy moments, five years have passed in a blink. I’m grateful for the 5-year milestone and apprehensive about how quickly they’ll be 10.
What You Leave Behind Is What Matters
As I approach another birthday, I’ve been contemplating life’s fleeting nature. Time is finite. What legacy will we leave? How will we be remembered? In my five years of parenting, I’ve realized my purpose is to nurture and raise incredible individuals. My wife and I were shaped by remarkable people, and now it’s our turn to pass that legacy forward.
Think of life as a quilt. Your piece, your parents’ pieces, and your children’s pieces all contribute to a larger tapestry. Once the quilt expands, your individual square may fade, but it has served its purpose. There’s a bit of self-centeredness in my quilt analogy, but it brings me comfort.
Writing this reflection is a challenge because so much of what I’ve learned in five years is beyond words. The journey only grows. The responsibilities, challenges, and love expand daily. Interestingly, despite feeling like I might run out of things to say, the well of inspiration continues to overflow. After a fulfilling day of parenting, where everything falls into place, you close the door to their room, heart full of NostalJoyMent, and into the adult world you go—satisfied and eager for the next day. What have I learned in five years? It just keeps getting bigger.