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The Monster in the Closet |
The
Monster in the Closet: A Father-to-be's Fears Go Bump in the
Night
A monster used to live in my closet. When
I was a kid, he would make an appearance almost every night. With his
ram horns curling around his head and his gaping mouth full of shiny
white fangs, he would emerge just as I was about to fall asleep. The
talons that extended from his extra-long grey toes would clack against
the hardwood floor as he crept slowly toward me.
When I could stand it no longer and when the paralyzing fear
finally loosened its grip, I would plunge myself under the safety of my
sheets and blankets. As every child knows, this is the only shield that
will protect you from the monsters in your closet. Only when the
clacking stopped and the shadow sank back into the darkness would I
emerge from under the covers. Sure enough, I had fooled him into
thinking that I wasn't even there.
The courage
that came with this apparent victory was enough to help me get to
sleep. I never saw how close he actually got to me, but there were a
few times when I was sure that I could actually feel his hot breath on
my face through my thin cotton camouflage. During the day, I wondered
if it would be during that night that he would take the next step, tear
back my covers and do what monsters do to little boys who have been
fooling them for so long. That particular night, thankfully, never
came.
As a grownup, the scariest things
currently residing in my closet are yesterday's socks, and although
they might smell like monsters, it's just not the same thing. The
things that wake me up in the middle of the night now are not the
shadowy shakes of a horned head or the scratches of monster feet.
No, as a guy whose daughter is due any day now,
today's fears are more likely to be about whether or not my new health
insurance will cover all of the same things that my old health
insurance did. How much can I afford to contribute to her college
savings? What if she doesn't do well at school? How will I ever let her
bring boys home and let them take her right back out again? After all,
I used to be a boy - and I remember.
Any bumps
in the night these days are much more likely to be my very pregnant
wife, Charlotte, making her way to the bathroom, or perhaps the dogs
scrambling downstairs for a drink of water. In fact, the idea of a
monster in my closet now seems downright quaint. There are few things
that wake me up in the middle of the night anymore. But please don't
ask me about the state of public education right before I go to sleep.
And please don't mention that the paint on the crown molding doesn't
seem to match the rest of the trim in the nursery. And certainly don't
bring up the fact that I will be more than 50 years old when Corinne
graduates from high school (assuming that both of us escape any myriad
of catastrophes between now and then).
I go into her room every now
and then, looking for any potential mishaps-in-waiting. Any screws
loose (in her furniture as opposed to in my head)? Are all of the
electrical outlets covered? No loose sheets or stuffed animals in her
crib? Can a stranger walking by our house in the middle of the night
see in? Or heaven forbid, sneak in? (The fact that her room is on the
second floor does provide some comfort here.) I even check her closet
to see how much room any potential monsters might have if they decide
to pay her a visit. There are so many clothes and toys in there that
even a pair of my monstrous-smelling socks would barely fit.
For the time being, this room is monster-proof and
child-safe in every way that I can think of. Everything is in order
every time I go in, but that doesn't stop me from visiting everyday. I
suppose that I will have to wait for an actual child to take up
residence in order to determine what safety precautions still need to
be taken.
My greatest fears no longer have
anything to do with me. In a way, that makes them even worse, because
there is relatively little that I can do about them. I can cover every
outlet, but how can I stop hurt feelings? I can make sure that she
doesn't run with scissors, but is there any way to prevent a broken
heart? The first time she gets teased, falls off her bike or gets her
name on the board at school - all necessary steps in the inexorable
process of growing up, but all painful nonetheless.
Perhaps I am being selfish because these things will hurt me as
well. Like every other father, I wish that I could feel these pains for
my child. But even if this wish were to come true, I understand that it
would make me even more selfish. Hard times and the resulting emotions
have a lot of teach us about who we are, and to deprive a child of that
experience is to stand in her way as she begins to navigate life's
tough waters.
I have a responsibility to protect
my child, and I intend to honor it with every fiber of my being. The
hardest part of this responsibility is the realization that my
protection of her can never be complete, no matter how hard I try. Life
is full of skinned knees, bumps, bruises and tears. I will try to
prevent them whenever I can, but perhaps more importantly, I have to
find a way to teach her how to deal with them when they inevitably
occur. And I'm scared that I will not be up to that particular
task.
Maybe my old monster will return to
Corinne's closet (if he can find the space) and make his nightly
visits, not quite hidden by the shadows in her room. It will be good to
see him again and not be afraid this time. It will be even better to
guarantee my daughter that pulling the covers over her head will
provide all the protection that she needs. Daddy knows how to fix this
one.
There are no monsters in my own closet
anymore, but tonight, I am going to pull the covers over my head one
more time, just for the heck of it. After all, there are still a lot of
things out there that Daddy doesn't know how to fix. And those are my
biggest fears of all.
Yeah, as scary as that
monster used to be, I sure do miss him now.
Mark Stackpole is a contributing writer for iParenting
Media.
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