Life Lesson - The Van
“Daddy, will I see you tonight, or are you working late again?”
That question from my five-year-old son breaks my heart every time he asks. I work two jobs, and one of them requires 12 hour shifts in a local hospital. After I drop my three kids off at daycare, I do not see them until the following morning for a brief time on the way back to daycare. And repeat the following day. However, I am incredibly thankful for both of my jobs, and truly love what I do. But it’s that weird place of agonizing guilt of working a lot of hours and feeling proud of my work and desire to grow professionally.
That inner struggle is something I feel many father’s internalize. The feeling of wanting to be at every baseball game, or present for every holiday, and every moment of our kids lives, but also knowing the reality of life, and having to work to afford it all. As a father, I want to provide for my family. I want them to have everything that they need and want (within reason).
At a young age, I learned a lesson that I have carried with me and that is the value of a dollar. I believe I was in the 4th grade and I saw my friend and his family get into a new van that could hold everything a young kid could ever dream of. I looked at my mom and said, “I want one of those! Can you and dad buy one too?” I still remember her answer. She said, “Yeah, of course. But what are we giving up to afford it?” As a kid, I could not conceptualize the magnitude of that response. As I got older, what I learned is that everything has a cost. It might not be monetary, but there is a cost.
When my wife and I began dating, she told me she wanted to have three kids and live in the neighborhood she grew up in. At the time, I was 21 and in school studying Broadcast Journalism. I had already switched my major, and did not have a firm plan on what I wanted for dinner that night, let alone several years down the line. As our relationship progressed, I began learning a lot about life very quickly. Oftentimes it was through trial and error, but I reflected back on that experience with the van as a child. At what cost am I willing to pay and the answers became infinitely more difficult as a parent. When we had a third child, I remember talking to my wife about fulfilling one of her dreams of having three kids. We even had a boy, girl, boy which was a more specific aspect of her dream! Our careers were also progressing with the size of our family and we began to outgrow our small house. We decided it was time to look for a larger house, and eventually made the decision to move back to my wife’s hometown. It is a beautiful area in metro Detroit near Lake St. Clair and is the quintessential American town that epitomizes the importance of family and community. The schools are highly rated, the parks are plentiful and well-maintained, and there are an abundance of shops and restaurants. This all comes with a cost.
We moved in and I was elated. We were able to move to a great community and more importantly, seeing how proud and excited my wife was made me feel great! When our first mortgage payment came out, I remember the nauseous feeling in my stomach. I experienced severe anxiety and panic for over a week, and felt uneasy for much longer. As a man, I felt the urgency to provide. I ensured I had two jobs. I began to question our decision to move. I recalled the lesson of the van again and asked myself, what did I need to give up to make this all work? And at a deeper level, is it worth it?
As we know, there is never an easy answer. I work 60-65 hours a week and am away from my family a lot. I know many people who work far more hours, and do far more strenuous work. Unfortunately, I know some who work a lot of hours doing something they hate. With this house, I felt I needed to sacrifice time. I panicked and felt that was the only way. I feel like men have a tendency to do this. I feel like we are programmed with a sense of providing for our family. That fear of failure crept in and I lost sight of what was important. I began to blame the house, the move, and even myself.
Taking time to reevaluate decisions is critical. I have started to call it my internal cost analysis. Is this worth it? Is this house worth the time away? No. Nothing is worth time away from my family to be honest. But I forgot about my lesson as a 4th grader. Time at work is not the only way to solve my problems. The house is worth moving into for me and my family. But it requires sacrifice. I am likely never driving that new Ford Raptor truck. My wife and I may never take the kids to Disney World. My wife may never get the camper she has always wanted. And that’s ok. We chose a community in which we felt comfortable raising our family. The focus has always been on family. And even though I lost sight for awhile, those life lessons always seem to find a way to come back and ground us.
In closing, I tend to be reactive to a problem. That time to evaluate was critical. I still need to work more hours than I desire. But it’s not forever and I have made adjustments here and there to be home as much as I can. My son recently asked me a follow-up question when I answered him about working late. He said, “Why do you work so much?” I explained that everything we own has a cost. And every time your mom and dad buy something, we are prioritizing that item over something else. He thought about it for a minute and said, “I don’t get what you’re talking about dad.” I laughed and told him he will one day when he has kids.
