And just like that I handed off Ruby to her teacher for her first day of school. With her outstretched arms, I felt a piece of my heart being ripped away with her. I could see the nervousness in her brow and as her new environment overwhelmed her developing senses. I stood there, utterly unsure of what to say or what to do as if my entire world instantly flipped upside down. A tiny voice in the back of my head told me to take her back and leave this place immediately while a cold wave simultaneously washed down my neck and through my spine. Then, Hazel’s voice pierced the veil of that inescapable moment, “Dad, lets go to my room!”
I’m not good at remembering these things, but I vaguely recall the first day of daycare being a lot easier when it was Hazel. Maybe it was because we spent almost every day together for six months intimately getting to know each other during countless walks in Central Park and our coffee shop crawls on the UES. How I miss feeding her a bottle on a bench as locals and tourists alike would fawn over her chubby cheeked smiles. Perhaps, through the gender role reversal that was my first stint in daddy daycare, I was better prepared to pass her off to someone else when it was her first day. Then again, I could be fooling myself into thinking my memory is better than it actually is.
And just like that, my wife and I made it out of the fog once again. Any parent can share with you the chaos that ensues during the first six months of a child’s life. Diets are ruined. Sleep goes missing. Stress is set to its maximum setting. And just when you’re about to lose your mind, a clearing appears. It’s almost as if someone or something knew not to give you more than you could handle. It’s crazy how that works. But whether it’s sleep training an infant or reaching the top of the market—like most things in life—something’s gotta give. Nothing lasts forever.
We’re not good at remembering these things. How seldom we recall the cyclical nature of just about everything that surrounds us. Seasons, markets, sports, economic cycles, fashion, politics, our personal and professional lives all go through some sort of waxing and waning as a function of time. And yet, even though we know that this is the natural order of things, we stand frozen at the precipice of change, just like I stood in Ruby’s classroom on her first day of school, completely forgetting I had already done this once before and with much success.
I can’t think of a better deeply personal example of this kind of forgetfulness than a discussion that recently took place with my psychologist. During a recent session, she pointed out how I always seem to be surprised I had achieved a personal goal or completed a large work related project. That I not only completely forget that I’ve consistently done these things before, but that I would also go one step further to rob myself of enjoying whatever accomplishment took place by replacing that sense of achievement, bracing for the next thing to inevitably land on my plate.
And just like that, a new chapter begins. The girls are together at school, my wife started a new job and I took the reins of a newly formed RIA with capabilities I haven’t even started to deploy. Of course, last time was no different. After Hazel was born, we bought our house, moved to the burbs, wrote a book and launched Bone Fide Wealth. Both were hard and intense times that we thought would never end. But they did and we found ourselves on top each time. Better than before, even. Now what if I could remember that the next time we find ourselves bogged down deep in the thick of it?
Last month, I attended a bris for my friend’s third child. At the end of the ceremony, the cantor reminded us all about how these moments are of the highest significance in not just in Judaism, but in most religions as well. There are very few events deserving of greater celebration than bringing a new life into the world, which is why during a bris, anyone in the community is welcome into your home to celebrate. The cantor encouraged us to not wait around for the difficult times to bring people together, like remembering those who have left us, and that we should go out of our way to celebrate all that we have today with each other.
Due to the cyclical nature of life, we should expect that someday things will become hard again, which is why my wife and I have decided to follow the cantor’s advice celebrate more often than we do. We are going to make an effort to commemorate both the small and big things in hopes they serve as a reminder of the light that exists at the end of every difficult road we will inevitably venture down together. Moreover, we are going to make the conscious decision to invite those we love to join us in our celebration in hopes that it will become that much less of a surprise when we are presented with life‘s challenges.
Come celebrate with us in the online party room that is Twitter.
I miss the old days of getting $200 off my new iPhone, selling the old one on eBay for $1M to someone in Europe and retiring.
— Douglas A. Boneparth (@dougboneparth) September 10, 2019