Sacrifices & Stuffed Bears

I would love, one day, to see Ryan Howard hit a home run in person. I’ve had tickets to two games in which he was on the field, and he has hit four homers in those two games. I saw him rounding third base after one of the blasts, and the others I missed entirely.

The reason for these misses is simple: I attended those ballgames with my children. And when you’re at a ballpark with young kids, watching the game is typically not their first priority. I was thinking of this yesterday, as my younger one celebrated her fifth birthday. I stood in the Build-a-Bear Workshop at Menlo Park Mall and watched a bunch of 4- and 5-year-olds place little red hearts inside newly stuffed bears, rabbits and dogs, and I recalled the day a few years ago when that Build-a-Bear store on the main concourse of Citizens Bank Park kept us from watching Mr. Howard land his mighty blows against the Atlanta Braves. In that case, the girls were begging for a stuffed Phillie Phanatic. We listened to their pleas, and eventually they settled for a Phanatic picture book over in the nearby souvenir shop.

Sacrifices. We make an awful lot of them when we enter this crazy racket called parenthood. We give up so much for our kids, and most of it is way harder to take than a rabid baseball fan missing a superstar’s home run. We begin by giving up sleep, one of our life’s necessities, for the sake of our kids. And then our free time becomes their own. Then our financial decisions become ruled by their needs. Eventually, our career paths, home decisions and vacation choices all become heavily influenced by the little ones we have.

There are times when it gets to be too much. Times when we find ourselves wondering when we are going to get a full night’s sleep again. Or when we’re ever going to get that weekend away – and if not that, perhaps just dinner and a movie? And if not that, then maybe just at least one hour in which we can get something done without a little creature climbing up our leg?

It can seem endless sometimes. And for moms, it’s even more difficult, as the young child so often looks to the mother as the lead parent. A trip to the gym? An hour at a coffee shop? A night out with friends? These are fantasies, better suited for the Travel section than our daily planner.

And yet, then these little creatures keep growing, and they find a way to climb not only onto your leg, but into your heart as well. They learn how to smile and welcome another kid to their birthday party. They ask you to turn on your iPod so they can dance to the Ting Tings with you. They ask if they can say grace before dinner. And then they actually eat their green beans. You ask them to flex their biceps, and they show you how strong they’re getting. They ask you to read a book, and together you learn something new together.

Tonight, as Chelsea was getting ready for bed on this birthday night of hers, we sat down at the computer and I showed her other famous people who were born on this date. We talked about Isaac Newton, and Louis Braille, and Floyd Patterson. After we looked at Julia Ormond, and the guy who did Winnie-the-Pooh’s voice in the Disney short films, I showed her my personal favorite of the January 4th celebrity birthdays: Michael Stipe. I played her REM’s pop song “Stand” on the iPod, and she smiled and swayed to the music. We watched the video to “Shiny Happy People,” and she wanted to know who the drummer was. I told her, then segued over to a clip of REM singing that same song, but with the words “Furry Happy Monsters,” for their Sesame Street performance. Chelsea had seen that clip before, and she seemed to find it really cool that this man who sang neat songs for a living was born on her birthday. I resisted the urge to play her “Orange Crush” or any of the darker REM songs, and led my shiny happy person off to bed.

So this little kid is cuddling with me on our couch, letting me teach her about the world, listening to songs I like, and singing along with me. Not such a bad night, actually. Pretty much worth about a million and a half sacrifices. I’ll take it, kid. Maybe next time we can even watch some clips of Ryan Howard’s home runs. You might like it.