PARENTING REVELATIONS FROM A DIY PATIO
Here’s the listing photo of our deck/backyard from when we bought in May ‘21:
The deck was about 200 years old, which was weird because the house was built in ‘79. I could stand in the middle, sway my hips back and forth, and the whole thing would shake to the rhythm like we were dancing at prom. Safety third, as they say.
The deck was a project I had my eye on since buying, but I knew it would have to wait a year since we just didn’t have time before winter. We, meaning I, of course. More on that in a few paragraphs. So, we (meaning we) lived with it through the next year until the summer of ‘21.
The wood was so rotted out that I could basically pull the joists off the frame. It was haggard, and to be quite honest with you, I thanked God multiple times this thing didn’t collapse on us while it was still up. When construction on the new deck was finished, both Lo and I felt like we actually had a backyard to enjoy… for me, though, that joy eroded into restlessness because of what was UNDER the deck.
You can see from the listing picture, and the ‘before’ picture from the gallery above, what lurked beneath was the original patio made from a border of unorganized pavers decorating a bunch of left over roof shingles laid out as a surface.
Dude. WTF?
Anytime there was a rain, a snow, maybe even a heavy misting, this “patio” would turn into a mud pit that might give Woodstock ‘79 a run for its money. It was nasty. What good is a back yard to enjoy if every time anyone goes out there we’d have to take a shower afterwards?
This became my tell tale heart. Every time I walked by the window or the back door I was reminded of the unholiness below, and I shuddered. It loomed over me like a dementor waiting to suck out my soul. I knew, my wife knew, we needed to build a paver patio so Bray had somewhere to play, and we would have a comfortable home base to hurl instruction from while sipping on an iced beverage of some sort.
I must have built that paver patio 1000 times in my head for the next year. My YouTube history was DIY after DIY video on paver patios. If this was my Rocky montage, you’d basically get a bunch of shots with me in various positions on the couch, in various types of clothing (or not), eating or drinking various different consumables, watching the TV.
Then May ‘23 came screaming out of the gate, and our tax return was generous to us so it was FINALLY TIME TO COMMENCE! I give you, my dreams come true:
As amazing as this looks, and yes it looks amazing I know, I want to tell you about some things that occurred to me after sweeping the last bit of polymeric sand into the last crack and hosing this sucker down with water.
1. THINGS INEVITABLY TAKE 3 TIMES LONGER WITH A TODDLER… I SAID INEVITABLY.
Gone are the days when I would say something would take five minutes, and it would only take about ten. This kid is everywhere I go, and sometimes this can get incredibly frustrating. If I was digging the hole for the paver base, Bray would strut over with his shovel to “help.” When I needed to wheel another barrow full of base into the hole, he needed to do it with his wheelbarrow. His toys wound up all over my workplace, along with torn out roots and rocks replaced somewhere close to where they were torn from, so before I could start working for the day, I had to clean up his contributions to the job site.
The nerve, right?
My focus on doing the task at hand often inhibits the joy of experiencing the moment from the perspective of my boy. He’s not interested in doing the thing, he’s interested in doing it WITH dada. He couldn’t care less about the paver patio, but he’s super into trying to dig a hole with a huge shovel, and there’s something to that I have to pay attention to.
The moments I get to spend working with him will inevitably take 3 times longer because work isn’t the point, time spent experiencing whatever we do TOGETHER is the point. On top of this, he’s just going to get in the way because he’s two years old. He’s going to leave piles of crap everywhere, and that’s ok. I can maneuver around them, and encourage him to continue exploring. I can learn to balance that.
2. I MISS the joy of life often right in front of my face, and that has to stop
My brother in law Larry and I were meandering around a store in Breckenridge, CO one day and a little boy bounced between us with a parent in tow giving us the “I’m so sorry” eyes. Larry said something that stuck with me since - “ah no worries, it’s his world, we’re just living in it!”
The more I watch Bray do literally anything, the more I’m convicted in my hustle and bustle. It’s ironic because I’m always talking about keeping the wonder alive (I think it’s one of the most important parts of living), and yet while I’m around this mini-mind that literally doesn’t stop wondering, I’m caught worrying about what might or might not happen next.
This paver patio has been hanging over my head for a couple years at this point: what I need to do, when, why, etc. But Bray just wanted to explore the new world unearthed below the deck, and the two mounds of dirt a “BIIIIG Truck” dumped out now covered by tarps and heavy things.
I don’t have a lot of these moments left. Soon he’s going to be dressing up for prom and speeding off in his muscle car or something, and I’m going to look back on all the things I missed because I was too stressed out about finishing another DIY project.
Of course things need to get done, but sometimes I can just join the kid in his exploration and chill the F out on my wants. I think we can all take a bit of that chill pill, man. These kiddos are asking for company on their adventure, they want buddies to see the things they’re witnessing for the first time. I’ve seen a big truck dump some rocks before, but he hasn’t - especially in his own back yard. That’s as cool as it gets at this point.
3. THE IDIOM “live life like a child” is taken way out of context
This thought kind of came from left field as I finished the back yard, and I wanted to unpack it a bit. I’ve heard multiple times - more than I can count on LinkedIN - that it’s “important to live life like a child,” meaning experiencing everything with a freedom of exploration. It’s usually some influencer type that’s about to do a presentation for a conglomerate of CEOs at some conference somewhere. Rah rah type stuff.
It occurred to me that we don’t understand what it means to be this child. What we see is a pair of little feet and hands running around without an ounce of trepidation or worry about what anyone might think as they throw themselves into the next big thing - check. I likey, to a certain extent.
However, we need to peer a bit deeper into WHY this child is able to do this.
Trust.
Bray doesn’t fear exploration because he trusts I’m there, that I will defend and protect him, and that I have his absolute best in mind and intention. He expresses that when he blindly reaches for my hand before jumping off the ladder straddling the mound of dirt. When he gets hurt, he trusts that I’ll pick him up and kiss the booboo, blood and all.
As an adult, do you have that trust?
On one hand I do. I trust God has my best in sovereign guidance and love. I trust that as I jump from this proverbial ladder straddling the mound of dirt, he’s going to take care of me as I fall.
On the other hand, though, I don’t. As an example, my work situations the last few years have been less than ideal. I’ve dealt with some pretty dysfunctional workplaces, and as I battle through those situations, it’s been hard to feel like I have anyone who wants to defend me or my best.
Life feels like a battle against an enemy at times, and I wonder what it might be like if there was a physical trust offered at a moment’s request - like I could blindly reach out and someone would grab my hand and help me free fall.
I wonder how we can offer that to those around us, our children, peers, and significant others. How can we offer ourselves as a stable foundation to explore from, and with? If you’re like me, you might wonder about the current state of affairs in this world, and the constant pressure of threat and violence seeming to spew from all corners. I would like to enlist my skills to encourage the best from everyone around me, to offer a foundation to trust as I watch someone try something new.
Maybe you could close the computer or phone right now, and think about how you might do that for someone - your kid, your wife, your coworker, the dude on LinkedIN who’s telling you to live like a child… someone. I don’t know, call me nostalgic, but I think it all starts at home.
