the 07/17/2008

Dads may miss heyday hobbies, but fatherhood lets you dream

bicycle engine kit   To see what fatherhood does to a man, don't just look at myhusband. Look at his stuff.

First look at his beloved drum kit, which once held court in itsvery own music room surrounded by other instruments and musicalequipment. It's now stacked in the corner of our guest room, rarelyplayed with force anymore, as such passionate solos have beendeemed too loud for our 1-year-old son's sensitive ears.

Then check out that former music room, which is now a sunny yellowand filled with Haba blocks and bedtime books and a stuffed rockingcaterpillar that sings "You Are My Sunshine."

Next, peek into my husband's garage (I never pretended it also wasmine), once pristine and organized with enough room to park a carand work under its hood. It now is a glorified baby storage shed,holding two strollers, a wagon, a child's bike seat, a kiddie pooland several large toys our son has outgrown. It hasn't seen avehicle inside its walls for months.

So you'll have to backtrack to the driveway to look at his car.It's a 2001 Chevy Blazer -- a mild, child-friendly sport utilityvehicle with airbags and A/C and a carseat base securely strappedto the backseat. It's sitting right where his beloved 1983Scottsdale stepside pickup used to be. She was a rare midnight bluebeauty with a small-block 305 engine with a full Edelbrock manifoldand carb setup. She roared like thunder. She also had no seat belton the passenger side, no heat or A/C, and no place for a carseat.So she had to go.

You also can take a look at his tackle box (bone dry), his bicycle(tires perpetually flat), and his skateboard (in the attic).

Sensing a trend here?

I'd like to tell you the point is that he doesn't mind that his oldlife is largely gathering dust. I'd like to say he's a new man whohas cast aside all former pastimes in favor of building blocks withhis son, 24-7.

But I would be lying.

The fact is, he misses his "stuff" a great deal. It's just thatwhen he spends time with any of it, he misses his son even more.

I admit I was a little curious -- all right, concerned -- aboutwhat parenthood would do to all of my husband's hobbies andinterests. Sports, music, cars, these things are important to him.He's the type who likes to be outside, who stays busy, who alwayshas the next big purchase in mind for whatever pastime he'scurrently focused on.

In a nutshell, he's a guy.

And I knew that fatherhood would ask a lot of him. I knew it wouldsuck up his free time, take away his ability to be guiltlesslyself-indulgent, and squeeze out -- at least temporarily -- some ofthe hobbies and rituals he thought made him who he was.

I couldn't help but wonder, when those identifying markers fall bythe wayside, who will he become?

A year later, I have my answer: He has become Daddy. Or, rather,"Dadadadadadadadadah!"

Like magic, fatherhood gave him a whole new set of goals, pastimesand life-defining moments that get the heart beating faster, andwith more purpose, than a 305 engine with a full Edelbrock manifoldand carb setup ever could.

The evidence of this is everywhere at our house. Beside that stackof drums in the corner are two old drumsticks sawed down to fit atoddler's hands, so that our boy can sit on Daddy's lap and bangaway. Beside that neglected tackle box is a special child's fishingreel bought with much nostalgia off eBay; it's the very same modelmy husband's own father gave to him as a boy.

And that stuff in the garage? It was all put together excitedly(directions invariably thrown aside, then quietly consulted an hourlater) by the same first-time dad who once mourned the loss of hismusic room, pickup truck and regular fishing outings.

This year I've learned that the best kind of father sets aside someof the dreams he had as a man to make room for all the dreams heholds as a dad. He doesn't lose who he is, or live vicariouslythrough his child, but he does hope and pray that his kid outliveshim -- in every sense of the word.

I know the day will come when our son is old enough to have friendsand hobbies of his own, when there will be more time for my husbandto use that fishing rod more often, and perhaps buy (back) thetruck of his dreams.

For now, though, we'll at least give him today to putter around inthe past, doing whatever it is he wishes he could do moreregularly. My guess is he'll go fishing, then come home and tell mehow he can't wait until our boy is old enough to go with him.

My wish for all dads today is that they spend some uninterruptedtime doing what they loved before they had kids. Dig out thattackle box, take the old bike for a spin, tinker with your tools inthe garage.

Then take note of the moment you feel it -- that pang in your gutof missing someone special, with the image of your little one'ssmile flashing in your mind -- and thank your lucky stars you're adad.