My name is Howard Balaban.
Some of you know who I am. Some of you don't. Some of you
think you know who I am. Some of you have heard things about me, and others of
you have actually heard me on the call for Lockport Express games on the
internet.
So consider this column an introduction of sorts, with more
semi-regular entries to follow.
I have a college degree from a school that has churned out
many successful people and many well-known people in my chosen major. I like to
think that maybe, if I'd made a few different choices, or shuffled priorities,
or had a completely different outlook on life, I could be one of those famous
alums.
Alas, I'm not.
Instead, my job title is three letters: D-A-D.
When my wife and I welcomed our first child in 2006, we were
living in Ohio and I was working nights as a copy editor. She was just starting
her medical residency. Three months into our son's life, the newspaper where I
worked downsized, and they let me go due to having the least amount of
seniority, or at least that's what I was told. So the grand plan of having me
stay home was accelerated.
In 2009 we added a daughter to the mix, and I was still
home, meaning child care was going to once again fall on my shoulders.
Now, there is one thing to keep in mind when talking about
medical residencies. And that is this: They are NOT anything like depicted on
TV. My wife worked long, strenuous hours and was barely able to make it through
the door to get to the bed to sleep whenever she got home post call. And for as
much as she wanted to be the stereotypical Hollywood mom, we agreed it was in
everyone's best interests to once again accelerate things. So the kids and I
moved to Medina in the summer of 2010, just in time for our son to start school
at the ground level in the fall, and with the vast majority of the kids he'd be
with through 12th grade.
By the time the next summer came around, we were beyond
ready to reunite our family. And, just in time for my 31st birthday, we were
once again a whole unit.
A year later I started freelancing for the dearly missed
Journal-Register, and another year later I joined the staff full-time, doing
everything I could to keep the community news front and center. I heard good
and bad things about my reporting, especially as it concerned one or two key
local issues, but it was when people talked to me about my columns that made me
feel like I'd done something good.
You see, the job of a reporter can be fortuitous in that the
writing can be done anywhere. I did a lot of work at home, leading to very few
changes to the status within our household. Essentially, I was still a SAHD - a
stay-at-home dad.
A few months before the paper closed for good we found out
the third time was a charm and that we would be adding baby no. 3 to the
picture. Sure enough, two weeks before the J-R was shuttered, she was born.
Now it's been two years, and I still haven't found full-time
work outside of the home.
But for the past 10 years my "job" has been Dad.
First and foremost.
There is no manual for parents, no matter how many books are
sold on the subject.
I'm not perfect, and no one is. However, over the past 10
years (well, 10 years in August), I've witnessed what many parents would call
perfect moments.
I've seen each of my kids take their first steps. Seen their
faces light up at that first-ever bite of chocolate. Laughed hard - and as
quietly as possible - as they've said things they shouldn't. Watched with pride
and misty eyes as siblings met each other for the first time.
And even though I was ticked at the time, I've enjoyed
certain moments of getting backtalk, for it meant there was a growing
understanding of sarcasm.
Being home, though, also means most of the stuff that goes
into keeping up a home falls on my shoulders. Stuff like the cooking, cleaning,
and other daily chores that I far too often let slide.
Guess what, though? My kids are happy and healthy. And the
two older ones are starting to realize that if they help out even just a
little, there is some sort of benefit. Possibly extra time to watch a movie or
play a game. And with my wife working more regular hours for the past few
years, all of us have found that being home is quite often the best place to
be.
And one day, I promise to them, it'll be clean. First,
though, I have to go finish planting a few things outside.
Cleaning after, I swear!
Til next time.