I heard an interview recently when the subject of having kids came up.
One person argued that having kids was overrated. He said people should carefully consider cost in terms of money, time, career, lack of free time, etc.
The other person said,
“You have to spend your life doing something – raising kids doesn’t seem like the worst way to spend it.”
Perhaps it isn’t the worst way, but the years I spent raising kids were not the best years of my life.
When I met my wife, she came with two kids.
Liz was 10 and Zack was 5.
I spent the next 8 years being actively involved in their lives before Liz left for college and Zack went to live with his father. My days included the good and the bad:
- Making dinner every night (and cleaning up)
- Daily homework and tutoring
- Snowball fights and sled races at the Blue Slide Park
- Saturday hikes through the woods
- 7 years of baseball games including 2 years of coaching (even though I hated baseball)
- Breaking up screaming fights
- Bedtime stories and back rubs
- Boyfriend and girlfriend advice
- Basketball games in the driveway
- Dealing with Zack’s delinquency and behavior problems
- Pizza and popcorn sleepovers
- Lots of hugs, plenty of laughter and some tears
We had some good times. We ate dinner as a family every night. We played kickball in the alley, watched movies, read together, celebrated holidays and escaped boring holiday dinner conversations by wandering off to throw rocks down the hill.
But I’ve got to tell you, I’m glad I don’t have kids today.
During those years, Ellen and I rarely had a moment for ourselves.
- Date nights were rare and expensive (except when their father had the kids). We had to find a reliable sitter (and the money to pay for one), schedule at least a week in advance and often rush to get home in time.
- Schoolwork was exhausting. For six years, we worked 2-3 hours a night, 5 nights a week with Zack trying to get him to finish his immense loads of homework before bed. He was whiny and resistant to doing the work. Liz needed less assistance. I’ll bet she spent less than 2 hours a week on homework.
- Work, school drop offs, pre and after-school care, sports, homework and commuting ate up nearly every free moment of time.
- Chores piled up until the weekend when Ellen and I would spend all day doing mountains of laundry and cleaning up the house. The kids never helped with any chores, at all. We were like their personal chef, butler and maid.
Then, after 8 years of running around like lunatics taking care of the kids, our child rearing days screeched to a halt. Liz went away to college and a few months later, we sent Zack to live with his father because we could not figure out another solution to keep him out of trouble.
Suddenly we were empty nesters. Ellen struggled. She missed the kids terribly.
I did not. I felt relief.
By this time, Liz had become quite independent and unbeknownst to us, addicted to heroin. The side effects of her hidden addiction included an inability to get things done, poorly made plans, hastily applied to college, bad boyfriend choices, wrecked cars, unpaid tickets, and other seemingly reckless, impetuous decisions.
Zack, on the other hand, had grown into a complete juvenile delinquent. He was stealing, cutting school, lying, sneaking out, doing drugs and fighting constantly. We had moved to the region’s #1 school district in an attempt to get him away from the “bad kids” and things only got worse. It turns out, he immediately found the “bad kids” in our new neighborhood.
After a year of escalating problems and an upcoming court case for another shoplifting offense, in desperation, we asked his father to take him to Florida in the hopes that being with his “real dad” might help Zack straight out.
With Zack and Liz out of the house, our lives immediately calmed down.
I loved having the freedom to come home after a long day at work, make a relaxing meal and have an intimate conversation with my wife.
I liked not worrying about the call from the police, the unexpected court costs, and waking in the middle of the night only to find Zack had snuck out once again.
Instead of being full-time parents and personal servants whose lives focused on the children’s needs and wants, Ellen and I were able to focus on each other.
We started going out every Friday and Saturday night for dinner, movies and concerts. We drank wine by the fireplace and took mini-vacations to Deep Creek Lake.
We bought a house. We got a dog.
Our careers blossomed and our finances improved now that we could spend time and effort on work .
We built a wonderful life together.
Of course, the kids never fully left our lives.
We supported Liz through 10 more years as she declined further into addiction. She bounced around between college, friend’s homes, her father’s and our home as she burned bridges and stacked up failures. When Liz overdosed and died at age 28, a part of Ellen died with her. Ellen had a permanent sadness that never left her once Liz was gone.
Zack became a part-time presence in our lives. We relocated to Florida 3 different times over the next 20 years to be near him and support him. We helped support him financially for most of these years.
Ellen adored and loved Zack. She spoke to him nearly everyday (when he was willing).
But there were many times when Zack cut her off for days, weeks or months. She always forgave him and never stopped loving him.
I, on the other hand, never became as close again to Zack as we were when he was a little kid. After he grew up, I expected him to act like a responsible, caring adult. When he didn’t act appropriately, I wanted little to do with him.
When he intentionally hurt his mother, I distanced myself further and only tolerated his behavior because of Ellen.
He clearly felt the same way about me since our relationship became a few phone calls a year during holidays and occasionally a visit from him when he needed money.
During our last 2 years in Florida, Zack visited us a lot. I thought it was because he finally reached a point where he enjoyed spending time with us. He told me later that was not the case.
After Ellen died and I went on the road, Zack stopped talking to me.
He sent me an email making it clear he no longer wanted anything to do with me. In the email he said some particularly cruel and unkind things about me, his mother and his lifelong resentments toward us.
I was shocked and disappointed. I thought he had grown to become a better man than that.
I am grateful that he never spoke of these things to his mother in her final year as she was dying. It would have broken her heart.
It’s been nearly two years since my wife died. It’s been nearly as long since I heard from Zack.
He made it clear he did not want me to contact him, so I haven’t.
Today, at 52, I am a widower, who once was part of a vibrant, loving family that was full of life, enthusiasm and love.
It was great then to be part of a family.
It was even better when it was just me and Ellen.
And surprisingly, it is still pretty good now even though it’s just me and the dogs.
It feels like my life has consisted of different chapters.
The growing up chapter. The being a stepfather chapter. The husband chapter. The career ambition chapter. The caregiver chapter. The death of my wife chapter. Some of these chapters were sad. Some have left me with wonderful memories.
None can be rewritten.
In hindsight, I would do some things differently. I have some regrets but overall am satisfied with how I’ve lived my life.
After Ellen died, I wasn’t sure I’d make it without her.
But I am making it without her. And without kids.
I didn’t plan to be 52, retired and alone. I wanted to have a long and happy marriage (I did). I had hoped we would grow old together and die together when she was 100 and I was 81.
Like every other chapter, this one hasn’t turned out to be what I expected, but that’s OK – you have to spend your life doing something.