I write this while sitting in the waiting room of the pediatric dentist, where I have had to take my oldest to get a stubborn lower front tooth removed now that its replacement is growing through behind it.
The whole way over here I was worried — is she going to cry, is it going to hurt her, is this going to put her off dentists entirely?
I get her out of the car and start walking across the parking lot and she squeezes my hand and says, “Daddy, I just hope she doesn’t have to pull my sweet tooth.”
“What did you say?”
“I said I hope Dr. _____ doesn’t pull my sweet tooth. You know, the one that helps me like sugar.”
A phrase I've said way too many times over the last few years: this is a beautifully-written piece which I wish you'd never had to write.
I'm reading this from my desk inside one of the 2 schools between which my time is split. I don't want to be here today, but I'm thankful that I'm at the high school and not the elementary school today, because I don't think i could handle the latter.
“I don’t know how you can raise kids in a world like this.” At the risk of sounding like my mother, once you’ve had said children, you owe them no less. And if “all” you achieve is getting them to adulthood intact, loved, and willing and able to love others, then you’ve given them something amazing that, sadly, not all children get. And tragically, that some, like those poor kids in Texas yesterday, don’t get the chance to receive.
My kids are in the mid-20s. I still fear for them and, worse, wonder whether it's even appropriate for me to wish that they'll have children of their own someday. But I also really could have used a bouquet of dandelions yesterday. Cherish that.
This was so beautifully said, and perfectly expressed all the roiling emotions I've been experiencing. I'm going to work now and am going to try to allow myself grace, frequent pauses to cry or sigh or take a walk. I gave my kids extra hugs last night and this morning. We have to seize these moments of love, joy, and comfort and keep finding the flowers in the weeds. And to remember that it hurts because we care, and caring is a good thing.
I'll just say this, and understand that the relative anonymity clouds the words in some way, but it's something parents need to hear more often.
You're doing a fine job with your kids, Scott. One day they will grow up, understand the worry that you expended on their behalf, and show their gratitude in some way. Keep up the good work.
I often fear that I fail as a parent. Then my son smacks me upside the head by asking about a friend going through chemo, "Haven't seen him in a few weeks, hope he's doing well." Kid sure knows how to kick the dust up, doesn't he?
I looked at my daughter last night playing in the living room as I read the news on my phone and I felt blistering anger and rage that this happened again. I felt hopelessness that as I parent I will fail her in protecting her, in sending her out of the home to a safe place that will turn into a carnage filled horror house. I felt ashamed that I cannot do better for her, that we will live life with a roll of a dice on whether today is going to be the day where I will hear "thoughts and prayers," "too soon," "don't politicize this," "mental health," "if only a good guy..."
This morning as we say for breakfast she laughed and giggled as the blueberry rolled off her spoon. She wanted to know what she was having for food at daycare. And on the way to the van, the neighbor's dogs came over and loved up on her begging for pets and scratches, and she smiled and laughed. And I thought maybe just maybe things will be all right.
As I think about it, I hope that those are not the last thoughts I will have of her. I want her home next to me where I can protect her and keep her safe. I am tired of living in a minority rule country where the only things that really matter are about control of others and not the betterment of society. So yeah I wouldn't not want to be a parent, I just want her to be safe. Is that too much to ask?
Scott, I'm going to save you and your readers from me "soapboxing." I completely agree with you. The day that something happens positively in this area is the day you or I win a $500 million lottery jackpot.
Wonderfully said. One very good reason why we bring children into this world is the hope that maybe a new generation can figure all of this out and find a better way forward. We sure haven't done that.
Scott, I love this. It reminds me so much of that scene in ‘It’s a Wonderful Life,’ when George puts Zuzu’s petals in his pocket before giving her flower a drink. When you’re a father, that’s what it’s all about 🌺
I sat and watched my 17 year old sleep last night. And cried like a baby. It's all just so horrid. This morning I woke up pissed off, which I guess is a good start for making change.
I noted that Sen. Chris Murphy lashed out HARD at the Senate (those that were there, anyway), raking McConnell over the coals. And yet all we still hear is "thoughts and prayers". What a worthless sentiment, spoken by people who want to dispense with their feelings (?) as quickly as possible and get back to their lives ASAP. I know this is negative, but I'm just so sick of this rinse and repeat. Every day I see dozens of people carrying sidearms where I live. Some could be described as sketchy at best. I just want to go up to them and scream "WHY ARE YOU CARRYING THAT? WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF?" It's sickening.
I have to rebut this comment to myself as it occurred to me that so many out there who have experienced this tragedy may be heartened enough by those "thoughts and prayers" to be able to get through a moment, a period, a day etc. My cynicism is only matched by my thoughtlessness.
I also have to share this beautifully-written piece by my friend Noah:
https://noahafrank.medium.com/everything-except-f148a208e892
Thanks Scott
I write this while sitting in the waiting room of the pediatric dentist, where I have had to take my oldest to get a stubborn lower front tooth removed now that its replacement is growing through behind it.
The whole way over here I was worried — is she going to cry, is it going to hurt her, is this going to put her off dentists entirely?
I get her out of the car and start walking across the parking lot and she squeezes my hand and says, “Daddy, I just hope she doesn’t have to pull my sweet tooth.”
“What did you say?”
“I said I hope Dr. _____ doesn’t pull my sweet tooth. You know, the one that helps me like sugar.”
“Oh. Honey, I’m positive that won’t happen.”
“I’ll ask to make sure.”
I love this. Thank you for sharing it.
A phrase I've said way too many times over the last few years: this is a beautifully-written piece which I wish you'd never had to write.
I'm reading this from my desk inside one of the 2 schools between which my time is split. I don't want to be here today, but I'm thankful that I'm at the high school and not the elementary school today, because I don't think i could handle the latter.
Kids make a tragic world more bearable with moments where the world no longer extends beyond your house.
No one should give that up for the moments where the world disregards that boundary.
“I don’t know how you can raise kids in a world like this.” At the risk of sounding like my mother, once you’ve had said children, you owe them no less. And if “all” you achieve is getting them to adulthood intact, loved, and willing and able to love others, then you’ve given them something amazing that, sadly, not all children get. And tragically, that some, like those poor kids in Texas yesterday, don’t get the chance to receive.
My kids are in the mid-20s. I still fear for them and, worse, wonder whether it's even appropriate for me to wish that they'll have children of their own someday. But I also really could have used a bouquet of dandelions yesterday. Cherish that.
This was so beautifully said, and perfectly expressed all the roiling emotions I've been experiencing. I'm going to work now and am going to try to allow myself grace, frequent pauses to cry or sigh or take a walk. I gave my kids extra hugs last night and this morning. We have to seize these moments of love, joy, and comfort and keep finding the flowers in the weeds. And to remember that it hurts because we care, and caring is a good thing.
I'll just say this, and understand that the relative anonymity clouds the words in some way, but it's something parents need to hear more often.
You're doing a fine job with your kids, Scott. One day they will grow up, understand the worry that you expended on their behalf, and show their gratitude in some way. Keep up the good work.
I often fear that I fail as a parent. Then my son smacks me upside the head by asking about a friend going through chemo, "Haven't seen him in a few weeks, hope he's doing well." Kid sure knows how to kick the dust up, doesn't he?
Thank you.
I looked at my daughter last night playing in the living room as I read the news on my phone and I felt blistering anger and rage that this happened again. I felt hopelessness that as I parent I will fail her in protecting her, in sending her out of the home to a safe place that will turn into a carnage filled horror house. I felt ashamed that I cannot do better for her, that we will live life with a roll of a dice on whether today is going to be the day where I will hear "thoughts and prayers," "too soon," "don't politicize this," "mental health," "if only a good guy..."
This morning as we say for breakfast she laughed and giggled as the blueberry rolled off her spoon. She wanted to know what she was having for food at daycare. And on the way to the van, the neighbor's dogs came over and loved up on her begging for pets and scratches, and she smiled and laughed. And I thought maybe just maybe things will be all right.
As I think about it, I hope that those are not the last thoughts I will have of her. I want her home next to me where I can protect her and keep her safe. I am tired of living in a minority rule country where the only things that really matter are about control of others and not the betterment of society. So yeah I wouldn't not want to be a parent, I just want her to be safe. Is that too much to ask?
If we can't keep them safe--and not just our kids, but *all* kids--what's the rest of it even for? What's a country worth if we can't do that?
Scott, I'm going to save you and your readers from me "soapboxing." I completely agree with you. The day that something happens positively in this area is the day you or I win a $500 million lottery jackpot.
Wonderfully said. One very good reason why we bring children into this world is the hope that maybe a new generation can figure all of this out and find a better way forward. We sure haven't done that.
Scott, I love this. It reminds me so much of that scene in ‘It’s a Wonderful Life,’ when George puts Zuzu’s petals in his pocket before giving her flower a drink. When you’re a father, that’s what it’s all about 🌺
I sat and watched my 17 year old sleep last night. And cried like a baby. It's all just so horrid. This morning I woke up pissed off, which I guess is a good start for making change.
Well written, Scott.
GodDAMN. Gutted by that ending
Thank you, Scott. So much.
I noted that Sen. Chris Murphy lashed out HARD at the Senate (those that were there, anyway), raking McConnell over the coals. And yet all we still hear is "thoughts and prayers". What a worthless sentiment, spoken by people who want to dispense with their feelings (?) as quickly as possible and get back to their lives ASAP. I know this is negative, but I'm just so sick of this rinse and repeat. Every day I see dozens of people carrying sidearms where I live. Some could be described as sketchy at best. I just want to go up to them and scream "WHY ARE YOU CARRYING THAT? WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF?" It's sickening.
I have to rebut this comment to myself as it occurred to me that so many out there who have experienced this tragedy may be heartened enough by those "thoughts and prayers" to be able to get through a moment, a period, a day etc. My cynicism is only matched by my thoughtlessness.