At 51, I thought I was done with children. Life did not agree

In recent years, I’ve become acutely aware that the needs of toddlers and teenagers can be surprisingly similar, yet wildly different. I remember how the teacher of our first-born, who had three big children, muttered “small problems for small children, big problems for big children.” Now that I have both at the same time, I know it’s not that easy. Our typical teenagers who, like many others, have somehow made their way through the pandemic and beyond. There is no free babysitter in their job descriptions. But they love little number three and enjoy spending time together, as well as keeping a close eye on their bedroom door.

Meanwhile, as an older dad, the playground has a different feel. Some of the parents I met at rock climbers thought I was a first-time dad. Maybe they are just mocking me. And some looked from my little one to the older child, offering me world-weary wisdom about what I had in store. “Wait,” they say, shaking their heads. I remember the same thing that happened many years ago when I really became a father for the first time. At the time, this advice infuriated me. Like people who see a firstborn and blurt out, “So when will there be another one?”

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Experience has taught me not to give young parents the phrase “wait”. Of course I know too much. I have teenagers. I’ve got some serious K’s on my watch. But this mileage is not necessarily an asset. At least not in this game. I’m sure that when you first become a parent, a big part of what you go through is complete oblivion: you have no idea what lies ahead. This may seem like a strange advantage, but it’s more convenient than you think. I’m more inclined to tell new parents that despite some of the bad press, teenagers are actually pretty good. They become your best roommates, the ones who enjoy cooking, improv board games, and the same TV shows as you, while annoying you like no other.

Our house is full of odd numbers that I could never have predicted, but I am no longer afraid of them. It’s a great place to be reminded of how quickly the years can go by and how important it is to make them count. This is the third time I’ve gotten old and I know how lucky I am to have a little one recording the memories of parenting that I thought were long gone. The little fool invents things that we would otherwise lose. He has just arrived here, and what he has added is beyond counting. Never mind the math, these are beautiful, countless moments.