The Santos Family Guide to Complete Family Interestingness

Today’s post comes to us from Colin S., who writes:

Disclaimer: I am fixing to brag on my kids. It will be tasteful and concise.

On December 3, 2004 my fantastically pregnant wife and I checked into one of our fine local hospitals for what we thought would be a routine visit. Routine enough that I didn’t bring the overnight bag or any of my college coursework. “Our child isn’t due for another 3 weeks,” I thought, “We’ll be home for dinner!”   As the appointment progressed, it became clear that the time for childish things was past. I was going to be a daddy soon, and for the rest of my life. The anxiety over my forthcoming paternal status may have taken over, because as we were escorted into the birthing room for my wife’s impending inducement, I curled up on the vinyl recliner and pretended to be asleep for 2 hours.

In my defense I would like to say that I am not proud of this, but it is a funny story and I like to tell it to my daughters before bedtime. Also, it took like 3 hours for that inducing shot to kick in, and the nurses didn’t seem to be worried. I hoped that my fake slumber came off like one of those veteran soldiers that can fall asleep during an artillery barrage rather than what it was, which was a sub-species of playing dead. I am almost as embarrassed that, foremost among my worries that night, were whether my daughter would be weird looking, or dumb. Today I can see that these concerns are pretty trivial, and they evaporated quickly after I saw my daughter for the first time. Those silly fears were soon replaced, however, by a concern and confusion about how to help my kids attain the highest level of awesomeness. I don’t know about all of you parents out there, but nearly 7 years after the birth of my first child, I am confident that this concern will stay with me for the rest of my natural life.

It has been said, “No man can serve two masters.” And rightly so. In this case, however,   I feel that no Sunday School lesson has prepared me to create an environment in which my kids can be their most interesting and also not get in trouble at church or school. For me, obedience and memorization are important, but take a back seat to healthy skepticism and comedic timing.

I realize awesomeness can be a vague target, even to my own self, and I feel that I need to outline some of the boundaries of this highest degree of interestingness:

When my child receives instructions (be they moral, ethical, fashion or otherwise) I want her to roll them around in her mind a little and see if they fit the person she wants to be. Unless those instructions come from me, because I will not pick up another pair of dirty socks, I will not!

I want my daughters to have love for things that they are good at, and also get scholarships.

I hope they are good mothers to any potential children they have, but I would much rather see them be fulfilled with a COMPLETED secondary education in an area that is totally cool and fun to talk about with old dad.

Art is OK, as long as it’s Graphic Design or Illustration, in that order. I like to think myself open-minded, but sculpture is not a real job.

I want them to feel the wind in their hair. . .as they are traveling to an accredited institute of higher learning at which I pay in-state tuition. What do I look like, Daddy Warbucks?

At no point do I wish to hear the words cheerleading, tryouts, or any combination thereof.

They should try to be smart. And funny. Also, pretty. If they have to choose one, choose smart, but still run a brush through that hair.

So am I serving two masters here? Clearly the answer is yes, these awesomeness guidelines are somewhat unbalanced and internally conflicted. I’m sure that reflects the processes inside myself of which these feelings are a product.

But you know what? My guidelines for Complete Human Interestingness are totally working. Or, since correlation does not equal causation, my guidelines have not yet failed. Despite my anxiety over producing interesting humans, my kids are becoming so in ways that I could not have guessed, like when my oldest wouldn’t eat a chicken nugget because she thought it looked like a baby. Or when my youngest described her favorite meal as “Watermelon. . .and bacon.” Really, I could go on for another whole blog post. Seriously, I have notebooks filled with great material.

Am I going to enroll them in accounting classes or something to offset all this awesomeness training? Maybe, it depends on how tired my wife and I are when the sign-up sheet comes around. I will tell you this, though, I will keep pushing my kids to be awesome until the point where they push back. Then I will get their Mom to push them. After that, I will make some passive-aggressive jokes that cause them to slam their bedroom doors. Then we’ll probably make baby shaped chicken nuggets, topped with watermelon and bacon.