Ben Sloot

My parents were supposed to be visiting from central Illinois this week.  They planned to visit their first and (if she keeps being a tiny terrorist only) grandchild.  Unlike my wife, I’m an only child and come from a small family. This kiddo carries the last name of a very select few individuals.

Travel restrictions, social distancing, and certain (*ahem older) individuals being at risk meant postponement of their trip until later… and no one knows how much later.

Coronavirus or not, since Charlie was born, I’ve sent more texts, pictures, and videos to my parents than I did in the past decade… In the past month, we’ve even started using my wife’s iPad to Facetime.  I mean we aren’t on the cutting edge of technology here.  I just googled Facetime and it’s been around for a decade.  I could have chatted them up on video a few times since moving to New England five years ago, but I never did.

Until the perspective-altering event of having my daughter, I never understood what I should share with my parents.  Now I want to relay every experience and show them all the new things the baby does daily.  So tonight we dialed up my parents to display a babbling baby wide awake after her bedtime.

My Dad had his own news to share. 

Just like a bad movie, a guy goes into the doctor for one thing, and while they are looking at a picture of his insides the doctor sees something else.  “We’re lucky we caught it when we did,” they said, “and it’s slow-growing.” 

My Dad jokes “This is why they give you two kidneys.” 

The doctor and my Dad are right.  With a little more luck and some modern medicine, this one will just be a scare.  But scares are enough for a pause and some reflection. 

There are a lot of opportunities I missed sharing with my Dad.  I never said thanks for driving me to a town 30 minutes away every night for childhood swim practice.  When my parents pinned on my Army Lieutenant bars, I stuck out my hand for a shake instead of giving him a hug.  I didn’t invite him up to visit enough when I lived just a couple hours away in Chicago. Shit, he would have made the trip to every one of the 14 places I lived in over the past 15 years, both near and far.  I can’t remember the last time I told him “I Love You.”

I don’t want to have any more of those regrets.

I wrote earlier that having the baby changed my perspective.  I never would have guessed how hard this could be… A well-practiced dad makes it look easy.  I guess we’re lucky babies don’t remember the first few mistake-filled years. 

I never imagined how important certain things would become.  I rarely updated my parents when I struck out on my own.  Now I want them to see so many of these tiny ordinary moments.   

Tonight, we talked for a few minutes and ended the call when the baby began to fuss.  I wanted to talk longer, but it was past her bedtime.  I didn’t feel bad because I know my Dad completely understands. I’m a Dad now too.  I learned everything I know about this new job from him.  I love her as he loves me.      

I’ve never wanted to share anything with my Dad more.