Daddy Days: Dealing with growing pains
Remember the days when the common explanation for almost any childhood discomfort was “growing pains”?
Legs hurt? Growing pains. Back hurts? Growing pains. Tummy hurts? Growing pains. You’ll be fine, go back to sleep. Contrast that with the rabbit hole of uncertainty parents often fall down today. A kid says their back hurts. Maybe the parent acknowledges it and says to lie down for a bit or something.
But behind the scenes they make the Pandora-level mistake of a quick Google search on the subject. All of a sudden, spinal infections, kidney disease and lupus diagnoses are doing their best to argue themselves into consideration. This is not helpful.
Sure, not everything is a growing pain, but the assumption that a mild discomfort — especially absent any other symptoms that increase the potential severity — is a routine part of normal childhood health is a more reasonable place to start than assessing every ache and pain against the possibility of a super rare disease. We should go back to growing pains parenting.
Ok, now that we’ve put that to bed, we’re going to pivot into a much more serious subject: fatherhood growing pains. See, as I’ve learned over the past 11 years, a kid’s growth means they are always at the exact right height to hit you in the groin. So these growing pains are really “groin pains.”
As babies, especially when you’re holding them while seated, their feet are primed to supply a sharp rabbit kick to the groin at any moment. Usually once they’re asleep and at the exact moment you’re gazing at their little angel face thinking how sweet they are. Wham!
As toddlers, their heads, which often double as battering rams for boys, are at the optimal level to bring you to your knees should the desire to charge into you take hold of them. The good news is that desire rarely takes hold of them every single day and never when they’re wearing a bike helmet with a point on the top.
A few years later and their elbows become fatherhood enemy number one. They may start playing tee-ball or sports at this age. Even if they don’t, father’s may want to start wearing athletic cups around the house anyway.
But it doesn’t stop here. In those late single-digit years, for some inexplicable reason, boys become part kangaroo. Suddenly they’re kicking everything and feet are flying everywhere. And once again, due to their height, their waist level kick is dad’s groin-level high. When I wrestle with the boys, the number one rule is NO KICKING. Followed closely by no cannonballs onto dad from the couch. Because both of these rules need to be established. Every. Single. Time.
Eventually they’ll reach an age where they better understand the common vulnerability here and these sorts of rules go without saying. But until then, I’m staying on high alert. Especially during kangaroo season.
Harris and his wife live in Pflugerville with their six sons. Please email comments or suggestions for future columns to thoughtsforcaleb@gmail.com.
This article originally appeared on Austin American-Statesman: Daddy Days: Dealing with growing pains
