So my latest article for the Dallas Morning News Voices section was published this past Tuesday. This one has been a long time coming as I think it was submitted in early November, but due to space and time issues, did not make it into print until this week.
Nonetheless, I guess somewhere in here I should say thank you to my darlin wife who supports my ability to do these and so many other things. I hope the article is not taken as a missed opportunity to say thank you to her or my four children, but more a regret that I do not always have the opportunities to do those things I would like to, dropping in and out to fix a problem before moving on. I also regret not focusing on their needs better than I do sometimes. While this wasn't written for the holidays, perhaps it is a good time to remember what really is your area of focus and concentrate on that.
I ignore the rain and honking cars as I catch the all too common “see you soon” from my oldest, who goes back to his book. Anxious drivers behind us will just have to wait a minute while I steal quick kisses from my 4-year-old and 10-month-old daughters and remind my son that he needs to finish his schoolwork before the end of the week. The goodbyes and kisses that send me on my way make the elixir that keeps me going. My family’s strength lets me focus on what I do. My work-life balance is about to get tipped really far toward work.
I’m at the airport, about to catch a ride to my second home where I work as a flight paramedic in a remote area, transporting the sick and the injured to a hospital capable of handling their needs. I commute by plane so I can work on a helicopter.
My pilot, my nurse and I are the folks who come to treat you when others can’t. It’s not always as glamorous as TV makes it out to be, but it does have its cool factor. We drop in, make quick assessments and field diagnoses, stabilize the situation, and then drop you off so we can get ready for the next challenge.
Working so far from home for long stretches of time makes me wonder if I have gone soft on my kids when I am with them. The term helicopter parent describes characteristics that I neither support nor subscribe to. Who wants to be a helicopter dad?
Helicopter parents hover over their children and protect them from what they perceive to be a hostile and dangerous world. I know how dangerous the world is, and that if my kids don’t build some resilience and mental toughness now, their world will be more challenging later.
When I think of the toughest challenges that I face, I don’t think about the accidents and myriad gunshot victims I have treated; I’ve been a paramedic and those are easy at this point. No, I think about logistics and scheduling and how to make the most impact in the least amount of time as a father.
How am I going to get home to see this weekend’s baseball games? Who can I arrange to throw with my son during the off-season to help his pitching arm stay strong with me gone? Meanwhile, his younger brother has the skills to finish work in class, but has the same fits of lazy dreaminess that his dad once had, and he needs some extra attention. It’s hard to be there when you’re treating and calming bleeding patients during a frantic helicopter ride 500 miles away.
What about my darling princesses? How do I feed my 10-month-old or change her diaper? How do I even just sneak away from Momma with my older daughter on some shopping trip so we can accidentally drive by the frozen yogurt place that has the right combination of sprinkles and fresh-cut strawberries to make an afternoon without big brothers so perfect?
Oh, did I mention dating time for some personal attention for my wife?
Maybe it’s just what I am good at — dropping in, isolating a problem and then fixing it, before darting off to another. Maybe my family doesn’t realize how much I am playing paramedic even when I am home. Maybe the balance I seek is not to be measured over the course of a day or week, but rather a lifetime. Maybe I am a helicopter parent after all, but when can I just be Dad?
The drivers behind us honk again, but I need these moments with my family. Just a little longer.
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