Guest Blog: I Don't Want to Grow Up

February 21, 2011, By Jason Avant 1 comment

Conventional wisdom says that if you are a dad, you need to set aside foolish/dangerous activities for the sake of your children. Before I had kids, I did plenty: I was an avid surfer, a frequent rock climber, solo backpacker, rugby player and a pseudo-adrenaline junkie. I also went to a lot of Phish concerts, partied in bars until the wee hours and generally behaved like a beach-dwelling twenty-something well into my thirties.

Several years ago, I went through a Harley Obsession. Many guys do; few of those guys have wives who tacitly approved of adding a big V-Twin to the family. My wife did not encourage me, but she didn’t put up much resistance. She bought my logic: Harleys are safer because they’re easier to ride than, “Crotch Rocket”-style street bikes, they’re bigger (thus easier for car drivers to see), and they come with a built-in collision avoidance warning system – their signature deafening engines. She wasn’t a Harley fan so much as a fan of the cool leather jacket she’d need to buy in order to be able to ride with me. I’d never ridden a motorcycle, so I did my research: there was a Motorcycle Rider’s School nearby, and my friends who owned Harleys assured me that riding them, once you got the hang of it, was fun and easy. (I didn’t think too much about the notion of “getting the hang” of riding a machine that weighs several hundred pounds, can reach speeds of 80+ mph, and only has two wheels.) I knew the model I wanted: the Heritage Softail. I took a few trips to Harley dealers, sat on the thing, and imagined myself rumbling up the Pacific Coast Highway, the wind in my face.

Ultimately, I did not buy one. A few months later, I found out I was going to be a dad, and that put the kibosh on the motorcycle. Nothing reminds you of your own mortality as much as being a father. In an instant, you assume the ultimate mantle of responsibility: a life is placed into your hands. There is an expectation that the silly and sometime dangerous things you did in your pre-kid days are to be set aside, because you have children to think about, and the nebulous question to answer: “What if something happens?” Everyone I know who rides a motorcycle tells me the same thing: at some point, you will lay it down. “Lay it down” is the nice way of saying “crash it”. Along with the fact that motorcycles are not baby-friendly, even with a sidecar (yes, I checked), I didn’t want to risk leaving the kid without a dad.

But postponing my dream of getting the motorcycle was my only concession to “responsibility.”

Seven years into fatherhood, and I’ve yet to slow down and “act my age." It occurred to my wife and I that if we were to be good parents, we needed to avoid falling into the trap that so many others do. We all know these people: their kids become their sole reason for existence, and their passions are put aside. They age in front of our eyes, stooped by the burden of sacrificing their lives for their children’s. They are like cars missing a wheel, and the truth is that by being “selfless”, they’re embracing a deceptive form of selfishness, martyrs to a shortsighted and unhinged view of parenthood. I know far too many dads who’ve become spectators, rather than participants, and I’ve heard all of the excuses. “I’m too busy.” “I have kids.” Or worse: “I’m too old.” As a parent, I want to lead by example, and I can think of no better example to set for my kids than to show them that getting older doesn’t mean you have to give up the things you love. And I want my kids to know that what I love in many ways makes me who I am.

So we’re clear: I’ll be 42 this May. I’ve got a bad right knee, I usually fall asleep on the couch at 10:00 (even during an episode of “Justified”), my hair is noticeably grayer, and I’m trying to cut back on salty foods. That said, I listen to Green Day, own four surfboards, ride my skateboard at least twice a week, plan on getting that motorcycle one day and I never use the word “still” when talking about any of these things.