When we are small, we imagine our adult life and dream of owning cars and houses and more toys than we can play with. As we enter our teen years, those dreams seem to be just out of reach. We pretend we are adults, just like when we were kids, but now there is an air of legitimacy. We are almost there. College even further strengthens the dream of how awesome it is going to be when we get that piece of paper and then get paid.
Finally, we are there, but the dream isn't exactly as we imagined it would be. Suddenly, the job and the family and the money and the car and the house are there, but when did we become responsible? Sure, we can blow all our money, and money that isn't even ours yet, and we could take cruises and vacations to exotic places. But we don't. We plan and hope for our future. Our retirement. Our kids.
Kids. What a complex relationship kids turn out to be. These little creatures that question you incessantly, scream and cry at the least provocation, and make more noise than is logically possible from such little bodies, become your life. The craziest thing is that you are happy about that!
Our adoption of our second child, Olesya, is finally over. I'm not sure I could even list all of the stumbling and bumbling that has occurred with this adoption -- enough to make one believe that we should have stopped at some point and saved some money. Yet, I'm as optimistic and hopeful as when we started this whole thing, despite all of the set backs and frustrations. Of course, that might be because she is now home with us; although, there is something in the back of my head hinting that there is something more to that feeling. Maybe it is the hope for the future; the hope that this little girl will bring some joy into the world that was not there before her. I know other parents dream of great feats for their children, and constantly prepare them to do exceptional things. For me, if my kids turn out to be good people, then I'll be satisfied. Maybe that is not appropriate for a twenty-first century dad. Perhaps I'm foreclosing on my kids future by not pushing them to be part of the next generation of Harvard
or Yale freshmen. Perhaps. But at the end of the day, to have somebody look you in the eye and say, "You're good people," is the truest measure of a person's value. It's not their job. It's not their bank account. It's who they are, and I want my kids to be good people.
