A One Man Wolf Pack
I used to really enjoy being alone. As an only child you learn how to make your own entertainment. As they say, necessity is the mother of invention. I always had friends, played sports and engaged in other activities but there always came a point in the day when friends had to go home and I was left to my own devices. I got quite good at creating my own entertainment: pillow and blanket forts, target practice with my various Nerf weaponry or jamming out in my one man band…..I knew how to have a good time.
This mentality continued through upper education and into young adulthood. I always had a great time with college roommates, post-graduate roommates in my shitty city apartments and later on living with my girlfriend (now wife). But it never bothered me when those various friends and roommates weren’t around. That only child ingenuity came right back and I would party solo. Granted, as an adult this typically included alcohol and vintage video games but still, I was entertaining myself.
Cut to a decade later…
I am now in my 30s with a wife, three young children, a dog and a rabbit. Alone time is not on the docket unless you count various trips to the bathroom. Sometimes during the never ending chaos that is my week, I catch myself missing the ol’ lone wolf. Between work, school sports, music lessons, home maintenance and pet care, there really is not many spare moments in my week.
Recently I was granted an opportunity to reacquaint myself with the young man who managed his solo time so aptly. My wife was away for a night on business and after a day with my children, the older two were shuttled to various sleepovers. Granted my one year old was still in the house but he is asleep by seven o’clock so I am still counting it as being alone. I rolled up my sleeves and waited for inspiration to strike. Would I spend my time delving into some new creative project or perhaps unwind in front of the tv with an rated R movie that could never be watched for fear the kids would overhear? I found myself unsure what to do. Surely something must be very wrong. I was the king of making my own entertainment.
Slowly a terrifying realization dawned on me. I have been domesticated. I enjoy the craziness that is my house. I missed my eight year old boy stomping up and down the stairs kicking a soccer ball, throwing a football and asking me to wrestle with him. I missed watching my daughters’ various gymnastic moves that I have to pretend to find impressive. I even found myself wishing the baby would wake up so we could engage in a lovely game of “DADDY’S GOING TO GET YOU.”
Gone is the one man wolf pack of my youth. The pack has grown by four. I knew they were one of my own (hoping you are getting my Hangover movie references. I am hitting them pretty hard).
As much as I would like to complain that I have lost something from my youth, the disgusting fact is that I am happy. There is a contentment I never knew in having a house full of crazy maniacs. Someone is always around to talk to, play with or even yell at. I think back to George Clooney’s line from the movie Up in the Air:
Life’s Better with a Co-pilot. The happiest moments of our lives are not spent alone.
While it’s important to know how to entertain oneself, I am very thankful to be surrounded by several co-pilots on my journey.
