Most of the life’s changes happen gradually, but not all of them.
I became a dad at 29. I knew things would change, but those changes wound up being far more dramatic than I imagined.
Four months later was when the world went into pandemic-induced lockdown, and two months after that was when I turned 30.
I don’t need to recount too much of the following year after that, as much of it was the same set of historical events you remember living through. I often felt thankful that, if I had to take a year-long hiatus from most of my life due to an outbreak, it overlapped with the year I’d spent wrapped up with the domestic duties of taking care of a newborn.
Then, two years later, as things started to slowly return to normal, we found out we were having twins. I’d have to wait even longer to return to normal.
Those kids are now five, three, and three. In many ways, I’ve been able to go back to things I enjoyed pre-parenthood. I can run regularly and stay physically active. I have a decent social life-especially by the standards of a 30-something dad. I also get to travel a fair amount, though it takes a lot of planning to minimize the impact of my absence, and I often spend a lot of extra energy and money just to make it home a little sooner.
At the same time, I realize I have a lot of trips I’d like to take that are on the “when-the-kids-are-older” list. There are several hobbies and projects on that list, too.
As your kids get older, you do regain the capacity to think beyond survival mode. To do things for fun. To have your own pursuits.
The thing is, it happens gradually.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
I recently finished a really good show.
I’m not going to mention it by name so I don’t spoil anything, but it had a premise that flirted with sci-fi and religion. Every episode left you wondering where things were going. And refreshingly, this one actually delivered a pretty satisfying conclusion.
In the end, the characters we were rooting for ended up “resetting the clock.” They undid a lot of the bad that was done over several seasons, landing back at a point in time before the adventure, aged down a few years, healed and reunited.
Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to hit reset on some of the things going on in the world right about now?
Here’s the thing. Nostalgia is a helluva drug. I wouldn’t be the first to speculate that a lot of our current political angst comes from the population falling for the false allure of nostalgia. 29 cent burgers. A Simpsons-esque lifestyle from blue collar work. Bachelor degrees that can actually get jobs.
I don’t fall for that, though! I know better than to roll back civil rights progress just to get back to a romanticized version of the 1950s, right?
Well… I do have my own version of the nostalgia trap.
Compared to the online doom, the bully culture of politics, and the angry echo chambers of our modern era, it feels like I grew up in a totally different world. The 90s of my childhood and even my 2000s teen years were generally optimistic. Emerging technologies seemed promising. Politics was… functional. At the very least, it wasn’t a distraction from people pursuing their missions.
I often find myself tempted to think of those as the baseline, and that whenever we snap out of the current drama, we’ll get back to that vibe.
But that’s just as much of a snapshot in time as 1955. Or 1945. Or 2020. And like all those years, it’s over. There’s no obligation for the world to revert.
Flamingoes’ pink hue comes from the algae they eat.
You probably already knew that, but bonus fact: when flamingo moms have children, they lose that pink hue. Those nutrients are dispersed among their kids.
But after a while, the pink comes back.
In so many ways, I feel like I’ve turned that corner. I’ve been able to be pretty active in the world of improv locally. I managed to train for and complete a marathon last year. We went to a concert last weekend. There was a four year window when the only live show I went to was Daniel Tiger live!
I can live it up, but this isn’t a return to myself at 29.
There are still things I have to say no to, or to wait on. My friend’s stories of playing in a rec softball league sound fun. Perhaps another time.
There are all these adventures, mountain expeditions, hiking trails that take at least a week that I have bookmarked. They’re saved for that mystical time of “when the kids are older.”
I’m realizing that, much like the societal norms of the 90s, my old life isn’t coming back. Even as the kids gain more independence, that comes along with baseball games and school plays for me to attend… maybe even coach. And even when they start driving or leave for school and I’m not logistically needed… that point is so far away, I’ll be a different person by then regardless.
On the other hand, all I need to do is compare our present reality with our demands and schedules two years ago to see that things have gotten way easier. We got some more breathing room and space to discover who we are now.
Reality is two-pronged:
1) Things aren’t going to be like this forever
and
2) They’re not going to simply revert to how things were
This feels extremely similar to Octavia Butler’s underlying philosophy of change being the only concept, but in early 2025, she’s gotten enough things eerily correct, so why not?
Once again, the world will be morphing into something new. And every person, regardless of belief, creed, or political position needs to decide whether to be reactive or proactive.
The reactives are, more often than not, participating in the movement away from how things were. Whether it’s from their shocked expressions, doomerism, or default state of panic, they solidify the fact that the old way of doing things is over.
It’s human to react to being uprooted from a familiar spot. I don’t think you lose points, morally speaking, just from having reactions to things that are drastic. Just know that this is a terrible vantage point for decision making.
On the other hand, those who are proactive are the ones building the world that is to come. They know that with change comes opportunity, and they’re ready and waiting to not miss their chance. They’re out there building community, because like Grace Lee Boggs puts it, revolution doesn’t come via critical mass as much as it does via critical connections. They’re sharpening their skills. They’re undistracted.
Right now, in a moment where chaos seems to be the new order… where so many norms and institutions are no longer considered untouchable… I know there are few things I have the ability to safeguard. But those include things like optimism, imagination, and a persistent belief in people. And I think that’s enough of a toolkit to contribute towards building something new, as long as I’m not going at it alone.
I don’t have the freedom that I had at 29.
I don’t think I have the freedom I might have at 49. In theory.
But right now I think I’m actually in the best of both possible worlds.
My kids are at a fun stage. They’re a pretty good combination of still-cute, lower-maintenance-than-before, and hilarious in their strides towards being independent. I always wanted a big family and the days I get to spend with them validate that it’s a good fit for me.
Of course, life is pretty complicated. There’s always a tension between doing the things that make me feel like myself, and the reality that part of being me means being a dad. There’s a very thin line in between, “hey, isn’t it great the kids are old enough where we can do this again,” and “I think we may have packed in a bit too much.”
Not only is the line thin, but it’s a moving line, oscillating with the seasons.
I am also very aware, maybe even too aware, of how quickly this season will go and how you never know when life might change drastically and suddenly. I do feel the need to live each year like my last, because in some ways it is. It’s the last year of my life having this exact composition of freedom and responsibility, of my kids at this stage, of it being colored in these shades. There’s no use in getting lost in nostalgia or daydreaming about the future.
I understand that living in an age of anger, anxiety, and chaos makes you want to hit fast-forward. Or rewind. Or to find some other means of escapism.
But I also think it’s necessary to stay grounded in the present. It’s the only way to plant seeds of the world to come.