‘We’ is a three-letter word (Lessons my children have taught me)
When my boys and I posed for the coffee table book Our Father, I thought my obligation and commitment to Jun De Leon was over. Well, Jun called earlier in the week and requested that I participate in this Sunday’s Father’s Day event at Fully Booked, some promotional effort on behalf of the book. Being such a Jun Junkie, I had no choice but to say “Yes” and we agreed that I’d give a short talk about the “Lessons I’ve Learned from My Kids.” So much has already been written or said in the context of “the fruit never falling far from the tree;” and we’ve waxed rhapsodic about how children are spitting images of, or are mini-Me versions of, their parents. I, in turn, feel that the converse is equally true, that my boys have been invaluable tools in my handling my middle age with a hint of defiance, and a laugh for every tear. And for that, I’ll be eternally grateful to them. So this is my own little tribute to them; the ones who, with apologies to Milan Kundera, made me see the “Bearable Lightness of Being.”
My three sons — Quintin, Matteo and Luca; they’re now 16, 13 and nine. Part angels, part Tasmanian devils. On good days, rays of benevolent sunshine, and on other days, searching for one more confederate so they can be this year’s Four Horsemen of the Darkest Apocalypse. The fundamental thing I learned early in my role as father, was never underestimate the enemy... I mean, my boys! All the guide books to fatherhood will talk about patience as a lynchpin to successful fathering, but I don’t think it’s a coincidence that lynchpin and lynching have the same root word! And similarly, that “being (a) patient” can mean having fortitude and lassitude, while also meaning one is afflicted and/or victimized and in a hospital. My problem was I never knew who was playing aggressor and had the advantage, Me or Them!
My basic philosophy in dealing with my boys is to assimilate, adapt and learn. My adjusting to them (instead of the other way around) has done wonders in terms of them feeling I totally respect them as individuals, and am ready to meet them on their own terms. Better that than be laughed at behind my back, or thought of as living in my own time warp! I remember when they asked if Transformers were from “My Time;” and I had to confess to their clueless faces that my time consisted of Popeye cartoons and the Wacky Races. Of course, assimilating and adapting are easier said than done. No sooner am I familiar with all the residents of Winnie the Pooh’s 100 Acre Wood, then Christopher Robin and Ee-yore are jettisoned in favor of the various Pokemon and Yu-Gi-Yo characters. Thank God there’s been a revival of Marvel and DC Comic heroes as I actually knew most of them from my own childhood, and could leave Luca’s mouth agape by knowing who Tony Stark and Bruce Banner were, and that Odin is Thor’s father.
And of course, there’s always their game of “Let’s See How Low-Tech Poppa Is and Laugh Out Loud!” This entails my being drafted to play games on the X-Box, Nintendo DS and of course, the more hilarious Wii (Yes, three letters in that word) as it now has me even ape-ing motions in front of the TV, and not just proving how I have 10 thumbs when working the control box or joystick. According to Matteo, there are lowly chimpanzees who have been trained, and have better scores than I manage to accumulate. Remember back in our school days when teams for PE were being picked, and the total spaz would be left standing as name after name was called? I’m now bloated on humble pie, thanks to the number of times they encourage me to join, only to laugh in derision when one of them has to end up with me as their teammate.
From my boys, I’ve also learned how to appreciate “bad” movies. I used to be such a movie snob, glued to the screen only when films by the likes of Scorsese, Kurosawa and Polanski would be playing. Now, I’ve learned to remember lines and scenes from Ben Stiller’s Zoolander, Mike Myers as Austin and his “Oh, behave!,” the farting jokes of Jack Black and Adam Sandler, and have actually sat through such high concept films as Alien Vs. Predator and Garfield.
Music is another arena where hanging out with the boys has actually opened my eyes.. and ears... to a lot of the current stuff. It’s too easy to recall how back when I was in my teens, I’d feel the musical tastes of my parents came from another planet. Thanks to the boys and my innate love for music, I’m tuned in to the likes of Fall Out Boy, Chemical Romance, Kanye West and surprised Matteo by having Soulja Boy on the CD I’d play in the car even before the CD was released (thanks to iTunes). There are limits though to what I’ll apply myself to. I’ll raise my hands in surrender when it comes to Calculus and Trig — I said goodbye to those subjects back in high school and you can’t drag me back to them no matter what. Araling Panlipunan brings a depth of Tagalog I’m not quite ready to be of much help with; and while the spirit is willing, knowing Quintin is now taller than me and can block my lay-ups and jump shots at will means I’ll only play basketball with Matteo and Luca. Never underestimate the power of vanity and false pride!
Back when Quintin was seven and Matteo was four, we were headed to some party and Quintin being the worrywart he is, he was asking who would be at the party, whether he’d know people, what kind of food they’d serve, if he had to play the games, and so on. Matteo cut through all that when he quipped, “Quintin, relax, it’s a party!” And I remember how we all laughed. That pretty much sums up my life with the three boys and what they mean to me. Thanks to work, and my marital status, I really only get to spend time with them on the weekends, and that makes those moments that much more precious. In life there are things you’ll regret, things you’ll grasp at and treasure, things you’ll be frustrated by and lose sleep over — but at the end of the day, it is a party, something we all have to be thankful for and make the most of.
Each moment with them is a potent reminder of just how priceless their presence in my life is, and how life is that struggle to rise above the flak and din, and make the right kind of people and moments linger and count. They’ve taught me that and it’s a lesson that I’ll take with me even when I’m old and gray... or when I do turn gray, since they always tell me I’m already so old.
