What Bonding With My Kids Has Meant For My Life
A job search provided the means to bond with my son in a manner I never experienced
I snapped the photo in May of last year when my azalea bush came into bloom. How could I not? He was posing, doing something snarky beforehand, then I showed it to him.
He flashed that gorgeous smile of his after he saw it. I loved it so much I saved it as the home screen on my smartphone.
When I took that picture last year, if anyone told me I’d spend the next 12 months bonding with my son, I would have chuckled.
But when one ceases to have a relationship with his father (at twelve years in age), the contrast of experience is mind-blowing. The love I have for my son is limitless.
Flashforward a year later, and this time, we’re walking around that same blooming bush. He’s a full-year older but the world and our relationship changed. Physically, his face is more defined and he’s got a “covid quaff,” which stems from my wife buzz cutting his hair in our driveway due to the closure of barbershops. He’s leaner and taller, without so much as an ounce of toddler chubbiness.
He’s a full-on boy, short of seven years old but one who is never short with questions. Comparing the photo this year to last, it’s been transformational.
And what a year it has been.
Despite the financial setbacks of a job hunt, the stress that it brings, and the storm clouds of a global pandemic, my son and I have formed a bond that words alone cannot define.
Nothing in life has made me as happy as the kindred love I share with my son. Sans the eight days I spent in the office of my new employer, at the beginning of March, I’ve spent an entire year with my son, Connor, and my loving wife, Allison.
I never imagined having this kind of relationship with my child prior to him being born because I never experienced this kind of relationship with my father. I shared a two thousand-mile relationship with my dad during most of my youth until there was no relationship at all. By the time I became a teenager, I shared an estranged relationship with the man who chose to cut off child support payments to my mother. With the exception of one get together for a few hours when I was 17 years old, I never saw him again.
He wrote a few times after I turned 20 to try to rekindle the relationship. Having witnessed what my mother went through, and missing the comradery and love of a father throughout my formative years, I never forgave him.
Yet, there I was standing on the path with my son that leads to a vegetable garden we’re growing and he’s smiling before that same azalea bush. Compared to the year prior, he’s sharper in wit and personality, smarter as he enjoys school, and my son exudes comfort from the bond he shares with me and his mother.
I have to be honest: I’m kind of winging it. My wife brought a stronger foundation of discipline and family structure to our marriage than I did, so in some respects, I’ve been a kid myself. I’ve managed the parental experience using only two rules:
Spend as much time as I can with my son, and share my passions with him so we can enjoy doing things together.
As he ages, I’ll gradually start to share life lessons that will make him a better-prepared adult when he gets older.
I’ve thought about espousing a strong work ethic, but then I think about grabbing our fishing rods and going off to hook a fish. That seems like more fun, so I’ve tabled the work thing for now.
Sometimes, I worry he won’t understand, “the value of a buck,” and won’t commit himself to earn and save. But he’s six, so I ask myself why I’m worried about these issues. I tell myself to stop and to enjoy the time we have together.
And then I stop in my tracks and witness how amazing this little person is, how life-transforming it is to be a loving role model and the benefits of providing my son with a stable two-parent home.
And around the corner of that azalea bush, our garden continues to grow.
It’s ironic that a global pandemic, one anchored in fear and death, has brought so many families closer together. We will look back and wonder how we survived and communicate a shared experience like none other — but our kids may well remember it as the time their family truly came together.
Maybe that’s something worth holding on to when all is said and done. Because in the end, is there anything more important than our loved ones?
Kendall Smith is from North New Jersey and the author of the forthcoming book, The Father Apprentice, scheduled to be released by Familius in the Spring of 2021.
