The Hour of the Wolf

"Have you ever heard of 'the hour of the wolf'? My father told me about it. It's the time between 3:00 and 4:00 in the morning. You can't sleep, and all you can see is the troubles and the problems and the ways that your life should've gone but didn't. All you can hear is the sound of your own heart."
- Susan Ivanova, from the Babylon 5 episode "Hour of the Wolf"

Raising children is nothing if not an exercise in patience. Many times when living in California and being a stay-at-home dad I found myself in particularly foul moods, despite all attempts to be calm, get enough rest, and efficiently deal with my many responsibilities. I felt lost, resentful, imposed upon, and generally annoyed at the world. During the day, I could often distract myself from these thoughts; there was laundry to do, meals to prepare, children to feed, work to be done. But in the few quiet moments I had -- often at night -- those thoughts came back to me. I found myself pining for the way I used to live my life, before the needs of children trumped pleasures such as playing my guitars, enjoying a movie with my wife, or staying out late on Friday nights sharing beers with friends. I started to resent the fact that instead of having time to write, I had to change diapers. Instead of reading a novel, I had to try to catch an hour's worth of sleep while I could.

Realizing how annoyed I was at everything, I wanted to call my dad and talk to him for advice and reassurance. I recognized the irony of that desire, which made me laugh and improved my outlook somewhat; the first person I wanted to complain to about being a parent was my own father. It made me realize that I must have acted the same way as the twins when I was their age; I'm sure I was just as loud, inconsolable, demanding, and selfish as they sometimes seemed to be. Looking back, however, I can see that it was my family who helped me grow healthy, and strong, and taught me all the virtues I flatter myself to think I have. I suppose it's my turn now to pass that on to my own sons. And I'm not alone in it, by any means; Hanna, as always, is an invaluable partner for life's challenges.

As the twins have grown older, however, life has gotten somewhat easier. Certainly moving closer to family has provided us invaluable help when it was most needed. Life remains a challenge for both Hanna and I, however. The constant stress and fatigue impact us in different ways; she gets weepy and sobs aloud, I get angry and bottle my frustration up. Several times in California I daydreamed of doing other things, escaping my situation somehow. I had one particularly vivid fantasy of getting in the car, driving west to Highway 1, turning right and following the coast to Vancouver. I'd wonder how many tanks of gas it would take, and think about calling friends who grew up in Seattle to meet me there. I didn't want to abandon my family permanently; I just desperately wanted somewhere quiet, some place where I wasn't required wake up every three hours. Most of all, I longed for somewhere I could be alone, free of the responsibility of taking care of Hanna, of the babies, of the family and friends that visited to help us.

I've learned to recognize the signs that I'm becoming too stressed, and Hanna and I have learned the hard way how essential it is to prioritize our own well being in addition to the twins. Looking back after a visit from "the wolf", as I sometimes think of it, I can see that a lot of the thoughts and feelings I have during those dark periods are due mostly to fatigue. The rare times I get a complete night's sleep invariably restores my sense of perspective, and wipes out the self-pitying victimhood I sometimes wallow in. Adequately rested, I feel in control of my own destiny again, and that I am able to deal with whatever challenges are in my path with whatever resources I have available to me. Unfortunately, "the wolf" can just as quickly remove that sense of perspective, and even the knowledge that I'm being an asshole for no reason doesn't seem to allow me to change my attitude in the moment.

My Taekwon-Do instructor speaks often about the need to "Accept where you are." My dad has echoed the same sentiment to me of late, telling me to "let go of the past." Logically, I know that both of them are correct, but it is difficult advice for me to follow. The wolf and I still fight often; I am grateful that my training, and the patience and understanding of friends and family, continue to let me have the upper hand.