Creativity While Dad
Field notes from a clinically rational man
In the 2010s I spent a lot of time in airports. Flying was a necessity for both business - where I worked as a mechanical engineer for a large multi-national company - and for pleasure - where scattered-to-the-winds college friends were committed to regular get-togethers.
Life was good. I was earning real money, aggressively paying off student loans, seeing the world and having quite a bit of fun. The shoe fit and I saw no reason to stop wearing it.
The question of “children” was not top of mind, but when it floated into view, I found no compelling reasons to engage in the project.
As one of my friends put it, aspiring parents seemed to want nothing more than to “play personal god to a mini-me”.
One day I was checking in to a flight using a self-check-in kiosk. The kiosk politely asked if I would be traveling in the company of any children under the age of 2.
No, I selected with a smirk.
Then it offered something strange: “Check the box if you never want to be asked this question again”.
I froze. I think I knew instantly that I could not check the box and yet the implications of not being able to check it were rewiring my brain in a way I was not prepared for.
“Click here if you need more time”, the kiosk prompted gently.
Yes, goddammit, United Airlines. You’ve asked me an existential question. I need more time.
A decade later I was happily married. The shoe was different but it also fit and I was confident I could wear it indefinitely. I remember thinking about the prospect of parenting and having concerns that centered around time management.
The left-brain logic went:
The project of parenting a child requires a significant time commitment.
I have very little spare time
I’m going to have to give up time somewhere in my life to have a child
The only category that offers any flex is making music
Therefore, having a child means I will have to give up making music to some extent
Creative pursuits, while vital, often feel like indulgent luxuries. Maybe you know what I mean.
There was also the emotional zero-sum game of love. Perhaps the overwhelming love one must feel for a child would start to elbow out love for other parts of my life that were crucial to my identity – like, you guessed it, music.
On top of that, now having many friends with kids, there was something fishy going on with the whole enterprise. It was like they all agreed to do some version of a comedy bit where they complain for 10 minutes without repeating themselves about how tired they are, how bored they are in the presence of their kids, how unsexy their marriages have become, how much of their day is full of literal poop, but then always ending with “seriously though? Best thing I ever did”. Spending time with some of those friends became…less fun.
Fast forward another decade, I have two kids of my own and, while I can understand the experiences that motivated my friends’ screeds simultaneously in favor of and against parenthood, I also understand some things that were not said - but ought to be.
So, if you’ve ever found yourself unable to answer some form of the “check the box if you never want to be asked this question again” question, allow my left-brain to offer three points of consideration
1. It’s still you
My oldest son was born in 2022 – just slightly over 2 years since I went part-time with my engineering work to focus on the music production business. His birth was an emotional experience. I cried. A lot. After the exciting bits were over, there was a lot of waiting. I found myself sitting in a passably comfortable hospital chair while my wife and newborn were snoozing. In the dimly lit room, my thoughts began to drift and I found myself in the pleasant headspace of working on a song I had queued up at the time for a client.
“oh”, I thought. “I’m still interested in the same things!”
This effect never wore off. I’m still interested in and energized by the same things and though preferences do evolve, I think this is more a function of living and growing than it is of the binary change from not being to suddenly becoming a dad.
2. Love is the only force that violates the laws of physics
Let’s get schmaltzy. There’s a photo my father-in-law took of the first moment our older son met our younger son. I look at it often because it captured this beautiful and completely unexpected sense of the limitless nature of love. I would venture that there is no better example of the zero-sum fallacy of love than having a kid. You love your partner. You love your craft. Now imagine getting to share both of these things with a brand new being who’s 1/3rd you, 1/3rd your partner and 1/3rd something the world has never seen before. Love is a positive feedback loop. The more you have, the more you are capable of – and, in my experience, this expansion extended to my studio-based soul craft as well.
3. Again, with feeling
On a rainy Saturday afternoon, I’m lying on the floor with my son. We’re building a little fluorescent puzzle and listening to one of my favorite records. I’ve heard it thousands of times. He has never heard it. Because of genetics, or environment, his nascent tastes already align with mine quite a bit and I can tell he’s enjoying it. I realize that, in a sense, having a kid lets you have that thing that movie critics are always wishing they had: the ability to see their favorite movie again for the first time. On top of that, where on earth will inspiration for your art come from if not from the harrowing, beautiful, exhausting experiences you have when you’re not making art. It’s hard to imagine a life change that will offer more opportunities for inspiration.
So, if you don’t want to have kids, you absolutely shouldn’t. There are so many ways to lead a fulfilling life. But if you kind of do and you’re just on the fence, fear not. Go boldly forward without checking the airline kiosk box. Someday your art may even thank you.