Parenting is a hostage situation: you’re in the car, but your child is the one driving it—and he doesn’t know how to drive. You can’t get out, because you decided to love him before you knew who he was—before he even was anyone. Your life split at that point into multiple tracks, and one of them is not under your control. The worst part is: you can’t even cover your eyes. You have to keep them open, to try to talk him through it. He needs your help, at least for now. One day, of course, he will stop noticing you sitting there.
Yesterday was the first time I was out at the BB&T Pavilion in Camden, NJ, for a concert (or for anything, really). Months ago, I picked up some tickets for the Beck, Cage the Elephant and Spoon Night Running Tour. It’s always a risky move to plan an outdoor event in the thick of summer. You know it’s either going to be super hot. Or super wet. In this case, it was both.
In that moment of profound clarity, I realized there were only two options. I could allow things to go on as they always had or I could burn the house to ground, with her in it. The choice was obvious.