Alexander

Opening Scene Page One Life is a series of small steps towards this grand destination. I look around. A little girl with pigtails on the swing, her smiling mother close by. An energetic boy in the sand pit, busy with his bulldozer while his mom checks something on her phone. An older woman, perhaps a grandma, helping her granddaughter up a rope ladder. I’m the only dad at the playground again. It wasn’t always like this. I used to have a corporate gig. Then Covid hit. Those first months after Leo was born were hard. Mom had five months of maternity leave, which was an absolute blessing. She nurtured and cared for little Leo while he struggled with feeding difficulties, aspiration, and acid reflux. Many nights she slept only an hour while I went off to work. To this day I don’t know how she did it and I continue to admire her strength. We had a rotating system of caretakers after mom’s maternity was up. Grandma came to visit, then mom’s sister, then Grandma again. As two working parents, we were extremely fortunate to have family around, especially during Covid. Eventually, Grandma had to leave, and my wife and I looked at each other and we didn’t know what to do. Daycares in the state, as well as around the country, were closed due to Covid. Even before Covid, the idea of daycare made us uneasy – anxiety about how ready he was for daycare as well as how ready we were to let go. I forgot to mention my job sucked. It was one of those soul-sucking, tortuous, look-at-the-clock- every-few-minutes type of job. I knew it wasn’t for me and it was only a matter of time before I was either graciously let go or I ended the pain myself. I decided the latter. It’s funny because you don’t realize what you have until you lose it. So much of my own identity was tied to work, to the idea of being employed and having a work life: coworkers, happy hours, scheduled meetings. There was even a kind of shared camaraderie among those suffering from the lash of 9-5 work. I felt lost amidst the never-ending pile of dirty laundry and poopy diapers. But over time my bond with Leo grew. We started watching cooking shows together and making basic recipes. He loved to stir with a big whisk while I added flour and sugar for my famous banana bread. We laughed over silly things, like how yeast and milk became “geese milk.” The other day at the park an older woman approached me. She made polite conversation at first, asking about Leo and how old he was. I asked about her granddaughter, who was sharing the sand pit with Leo. After a few minutes she handed me her card and I realized she was a nanny, not a grandmother. Amongst the other mothers and their children, I must have seemed out of place. Leo looked up and gave me a smile, one of those ear-to-ear smiles that just radiated happiness. I smiled back and gave him a big hug. Page Two The Universe Conspires Sometimes the universe conspires to turn men into fathers. To conjure forth destiny and weave together the fabric of creation, And place the burden of new life upon the lap of those unready. To test the boundaries, the very limits of patience and willpower. Sometimes the universe conspires to turn men into fathers. To bring together chance and circumstance and offer an opportunity, One rife with pitfalls and possibilities, pain and pure joy. But ultimately a journey into the unknown, a destination unclear. Sometimes the universe conspires to turn men into fathers. Some have experienced life without a father. Others wishing they did not experience life with. But we are all born into this great existence from one. All fated to some bond, some connection. To find meaning in it all, to find truth and acceptance and love. Because we are all the same, all the fathers of this world. Sometimes the universe conspires to turn men into fathers. Page Three Grandma used to have a saying. Kids give more than you give them. After she received a big hug from Leo, Grandma’s eyes misted over and that was the first time she said this. Initially, my thinking was kids have a whole bunch of love to give. An accurate statement but not quite what she meant. I got angry at Leo the other day. Leo’s been super energetic and vocal, screaming and laughing and running all over the place. Chasing the kid around the house while cleaning up after him should count as some sort of Olympic sport or at the very least recognized as a new form of CrossFit. Mom’s been working round the clock. She got promoted, and new responsibilities at work have kept her busy for the past week. It’s the end of the week and I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck, then run over, then thrown over the side of a bridge. It’s dinner time and Leo’s seated in his highchair, laughing and giggling. SPLAT. I hear a crash and turn around. Bacon and roasted potatoes all over the floor. Leo looks at me and giggles a bit and I just lose it. Anger consumes me, the kind of anger that flashes white hot and I run over to Leo and start yelling. “WHY! WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS? WHY WOULD YOU WASTE ALL THIS FOOD?” I slam my hand on the dining table. It makes a loud noise and Leo looks at me as if he’s about to cry. His tiny lip curls up and his eyes mist over and he gives me a look of fear. The anger melts away and turns to shame. I try to tell Leo I’m sorry, but he covers his face with both hands. Mom took over the rest of the day and before Leo went to bed he said, “I love you, daddy,” and that just about broke me. Kids are these little incredible monsters. They scream and cry and turn the house upside down, but they also forgive without hesitation, give you hugs when you feel down and find wonder in the smallest things. They teach patience and forgiveness and curiosity and love and so many other things. Kids teach us about life. I didn’t understand Grandma at first, but I think I’m beginning to understand now.

STORY STATEMENT Covid thrusts a working parent into full-time fatherhood where he must raise his young son in a world not accustomed to fathers. Thus begins a journey of discovery, exploration, identity, and learning as father and son sprint and stumble through life. ANTAGONIST There is no clearcut bad guy, no ultimate villain in my memoir. Instead, there are several antagonists or “antagonistic forces.” My Own Demons Parenthood is as much about the child as it is the parent. I grew up in a household, in a family that was starkly different than the one I have now. And I carried that, held onto all of those things well into adulthood. What manifested was this myriad of traits. Obsessive-compulsive disorder. An explosive temper. Attention-deficit/Hyperactivity disorder. And in my journey to successfully raise a young child, these are the demons that are persistent and manifest in ugly ways. The Outside World The looks from mothers at the playground, and the questions that subsequently followed. A trip to Costco at peak hour with an irritable toddler. A jaunt through the clubbing district of a large city at midnight with a sleeping child in stroller. As a full-time father, the outside world is this force that shakes you, that makes you question who you are, what you are doing, and if you are doing the right thing. It is a force that is at once isolating but also one that you must participate in. My Child Poop accidents in the bathtub, carefully prepared food thrown on the floor, meltdowns in crowded public places. Children can be these unpredictable forces of chaos and destruction that test everything within you. BREAKOUT TITLE A Father and His Son – This is fairly simple and straightforward. The Only Dad at the Playground – An enticing proposition with promise of intrigue. Forming a Bond: A Full-time Father and His Son’s Journey – More descriptive and evocative than the first title. Honorable Mention Leo and Me – A simple but endearing title. COMPARABLES Raising Raffi: The First Five Years by Keith Gessen Written out of the need to share and communicate his experiences and journey, Keith Gessen offers a starkly candid view about fatherhood and all its highs and lows, all its challenges and joyous moments. My own manuscript echoes the motivation, theme, and style found in Raising Raffi, and ultimately the hopes and dreams of a father with his child. Operating Instructions: A Journal of My Son’s First Year by Anne Lamott Raw and at times irreverent, Anne Lamott offers an unfiltered window into the world of rearing children. The format is journal entries, each day a new adventure, a new challenge, a new absurd situation, written in a way that is open and vulnerable, honest and endearing. My own manuscript is formatted as journal entries, and like Lamott, I strove to keep my writing honest, open, and vulnerable. Honorable Mention The Ultimate Stay-at-Home Dad by Shannon Carpenter Practical advice from a full-time father written with humor and relatability in mind. Everything from how to pick out the best stroller to seeking solutions for anxiety and stress, The Ultimate Stay-at-Home Dad is a guide to being a better father and a better human being. My own work is a balance of storytelling and advice, with the ultimate goal of sharing and helping others who may be on the same path. CONFLICT AND CORE WOUND A new full-time father, pulled by internal and external forces, must find a way to raise a child in a post-Covid era where his world has flipped upside down. OTHER MATTERS OF CONFLICT Inner Conflict Conditions There are these internal forces that plague all parents. As a father, it was hard for me to identify, to reflect, to mitigate those negative voices that spill over into a child’s life. I found myself thinking about the younger days, before kids, when I was free from responsibility. I thought about my previous identity, this working adult that was successful and earning praise and promotions. I dwelled on the influence my parent’s had on my own parenting style, my own ticks and traits that I didn’t want my child to inherit. It was this battle, this reckoning between what and who I was, and what my current reality looked like. Hypothetical Scenario – Inner Conflict I make this lovely dinner for Leo, carefully prepared to his liking. He takes one look at it, frowns, and refuses to eat. For the next hour, I battle him, coaxing and negotiating, bribing and threatening him. He takes a few bites, most of it ends up on the floor, and I lose it. My anger erupts, and I yell and send him to his room. Food is this trigger point because I was raised on this idea of not wasting food, and this idea that cooking for someone is an act of love. Interpersonal Conflicts Parents – I want my children to see and to love their grandparents. When they do come and visit, I am too often reminded about the way I was raised and it is this double pain, the pain from my own childhood and the pain of seeing my children experience the same treatment. The Wife – She is the most important person in my life. The one whose words matter. Her advice about raising children or her commentary about me as an individual trigger an instinctive defensive reflex. I hear the words but they are like knives, piercing into me and making me feel like I have holes. I have always been sensitive to feedback, a byproduct of my own upbringing. Hypothetical Scenario – Secondary Conflict It’s the first day of preschool for Leo. He’s nervous about meeting new friends, seeing his teacher, and being in a new environment. I’m nervous for other reasons. I walk into the school holding Leo’s hand and we are immediately greeted by a cacophony of noise – children shouting, screaming, and parents yelling. I’m the only dad, and the moms all turn to stare at me. I force a smile. A few minutes later and one of the moms pops the dreaded question, “So what do you do for a living?” My face gets hot and my mind races, struggling to come up with an alternative to “full-time father.” SETTING In a world where daycares around the country are closed due to Covid, a father must forfeit his career to raise a child at home. Home is a battleground, this cramped apartment overflowing with teethers and plushie toys, unorganized shelves of junk, and dirty clothes and dishes. There is little room to breathe, little room for escape. It is within these walls that he must find a way to persevere, to raise his son. It is within these confines that he must teach and mentor, must play and guide, must admonish and discipline. With boundless energy and enthusiastic curiosity, the child explores his home, often with sticky, unwashed hands and a penchant for throwing things. There are other places. The playground, the supermarket, the preschool. There is less control in these places, more opportunity for shame when the child is inconsolable and others are looking on, more opportunity for harm when the child is bullied by a peer and the parent must restrain his fury, more opportunity for judgment when the father is the only dad at the playground. But a child needs both. The inside world and the outside world, and the father must negotiate and navigate between the two, while keeping his sanity.