Angus Nelson's Mid Year Gut Check: Don't Try

Angus can be found on the internet at http://www.angusnelson.com

 I have forgotten how inspiring and awesome Angus Nelson can be.

I've seen him talk a few times at Dad 2.0 and some other blogging conferences.  I've had a few one on one conversations with him, and had a great breakfast with him a few years ago when he was passing through Chicago.  He's thoughtful and inspiring and great and smart and (all that jazz)

This past year, he and his family rooted themselves up from Nashville where they were living and moved to Lisbon Portugal.  I don't know the whole story why, other than he wanted a change, he needed a change, and this was a change. I follow him on Instagram and facebook and all the other socials and  he's having the time of his life there.  

Having moved to Barcelona Spain with my family about 6 months before Angus and his family for many of the same reasons, I have been feeling more of a kinship with Angus than ever. 

 Apparently the Instagram algorithm realized this recently, and showed me a video that Angus did about a week ago about using the word try as a way of not really committing or owning your desires and your plans.  

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This spoke to me on a number of levels.

 I am guilty as charged. I do this a lot. I do it to hedge my bets, to not disappoint my wife (Hey, I said I'd try to get that thing for you. I did try. I didn't promise. I said I'd try)

My dad was a "We'll see." guy. Dad can we go for ice cream? Dad can we go to Disneyworld? Dad, can I buy a comic book? My dad would say "We'll see" and that often meant no , but it didn't rule out No enough so it wasn't a definite no. It left open a possibility for me, it forestalled a potential disappointment or argument from the kids, it put off a potential conflict until a later date.

 I fear that I operate often with the same parameters-- sometimes a little unwittingly, but more because it makes sense to me-- the world is rife with possibility and who knows what will happen?

 I can see, however, thanks to Angus's no nonsense gut check, that it might be (no it is- let's not mealy mouth) that willingness to be indecisive that is holding me back.  I need to commit to more things.  I need to fail more.  I don't need to try.  I need to do.

Thanks for the reminder Angus!

You should totally follow Angus on instagram, where he's got some more great gut checks for you.  He's also got an inspiring podcast.

 I thought about compiling all of his gut checks here for you, but I decided that you can do that yourself.  I have faith in you.

Sledding... And my failings as a parent

Usually when I write about my experience as a parent, I'm writing about the wonderful thing I did with my kid, or how smart or funny my kid is, or how outraged I am that other people aren't parenting the way good parents should, or something along these lines.

Today, I will be writing about the mediocre job I did as a parent this past weekend.  And why it might be okay, even though I still feel bad.

We went to my wife's aunt's farm this past weekend.  It was a good passel of people, including our family, my wife's brother's family (2 kids a little older) , my wife's aunt, my wife's grandmother, and joining us on Sunday, my wife's aunt's kids (older).  The farm is a beautiful working farm/weekend get away place,  about 90 minutes from Chicago, and it's just gorgeous. There are outbuildings, and barns, and a fishing hole and horses and goats, and during the summer fresh vegetables galore.  It's my son's happy place.

We've had lots of parties and happy occasions there. We even spent some time living there this past summer while we had moved out of our house in NY and were waiting to move into our house in Chicago.

It should have been me standing over my son in the cold.

We went up there to celebrate a cousin's birthday, and for the sledding.  Here in Chicago the weather is finally warming up, and there is a big hill there with lots of snow and.... do I need to spell it out?  The promise of sledding there is remarkable for a 6 year old city boy.

All the way up to the farm, we were looking at dwindling amounts of snow, and patchy grass sticking through the snow, and trying to prepare the boy for the possibility that Pengy (his newly bought, never used plastic sledding device in the shape of a penguin) might not be able to get used.  But when we got there, there was plenty of snow.  And the weather was beautiful!

The cousins were already there, and as soon as we got there, my son suited up and ran to the hill, and proceeded to go up and down that hill about 50 times over the next 5 hours.  Plus build snow forts, have a snowball fight, learning to snowboard, getting cold, coming in for chocolate, etc.


Here's where I failed as a parent.  I didn't go out there once.  I had 100 excuses-- I didn't bring snow pants, I'm too heavy for the sled, I'd get all wet, I wasn't feeling up for it, I didn't want to.  Ultimately it came down to the last one.  Yes, I felt like I should have gone out there.  But I didn't want to go out there.  I liked it inside, where it was warm and cosy and I was reading and playing a video game.     I liked pretending my time was my own, and I could do whatever I wanted with it.  I didn't want to leave my comfortable area and get dirty and cold and sweaty and.... whatever. It was an excuse.

Here's where I was a good dad:  That night, he had worked so hard that he started having leg cramps.  He was supposed to sleep on the floor with the cousins, but it hurt so much, and he was in such pain that I put him into our bed, and I rubbed his legs, and held him and told him stories until he was able to fall asleep.

Back to being a bad dad: The next day came, and some more cousins came over, and the kids went sledding again, and I should have gone out there.  But somehow I managed to avoid it.  No bells went off.  No "bad parenting" alerts occurred, except the one inside my brain, the one that said, "Hey go out there!" But I ignored it.

 I'm pretty sure it would have been fine.  I just didn't force myself to do it.

Here's the part where it's okay.  My son had a wonderful time without me.  He was playing with his cousins, having a great time, and he didn't need me there.  He didn't miss me out there. But it would have been fun to share that with him.

Here he is in a slo-mo snowboard wipeout.  One that I missed:  (video courtesy of a cousin!)

Today, the next day, I am regretting not going, and sharing this fun time with him, even if it wasn't particularly what I wanted to do.

And the next time we go sledding (next year?) I am going to push myself to go.

I hope.