How Not To Scream

Investors Wanted

As newlyweds, one of the things Elisia and I liked to do (other than what all newlyweds like to do…you perverts) was to fantasize about quitting our jobs. We figured that in a world that lamented high divorce rates and that egged on reality television, surely there was at least one soul who would be able to recognize the intrinsic value of a young couple in love. We thought if we could find that person it would be an easy task to convince him/her to invest in us. In return, we would guarantee the success of our fledgling marriage by doing all the things we did when we first started dating.  That is, we would vow to sleep until noon, read books for hours on end, sip wine, watch movies, and occasionally go dancing. It was a perfect plan. All we needed was some venture capital, a forward-thinking entrepreneur, and zero employers. This fantasy made us both smile.

Then our first boy came along.

He Who Could Do No Wrong

The fantasy needed some revision. As new parents we immediately saw the flaws in our initial plan. First of all, we realized that we were being far too selfish. Who would benefit from the two of us lying around in bed? Nobody, of course. There was no return on the investment…until now.  Now we had given birth to the most perfect child ever conceived! We imagined quitting our jobs so as to devote all of our time to the proper rearing of the future King Duncan. To satisfy our investors we would cram each day with academic activities, artistic endeavors, social interactions, and cultural explorations. We would expose him to the best music, art, and literature; Dr. Seuss to start, but by age two we’d be onto Treasure Island, no doubt.

As King Duncan grew, he’d eat only organic foods, drink sugar-free juices and milk from cows free of unnatural hormones and antibiotics. He’d breathe ridiculous amounts of fresh country air. He’d be out of diapers by the age of two—cloth diapers, mind you—not the disposables that overwhelm our already toxic landfills. And he’d be reading on his own shortly thereafter. With this superior upbringing He Who Could Do No Wrong would go out into the world and make it right again. We only needed to quit our jobs, and then the investors would begin lining up. This less selfish, more realistic, and rational version of the fantasy made us both smile.

"There'll be time enough for sleeping when we're dead." - The Magnetic Fields

By the time Tobin came along we were up to our eyeballs in Thomas the Tank Engine DVDs, disposable diapers, gummi snacks, and high-fructose juice boxes. All we fantasized about was sleep.

Needless to say, the investors never came. But the bills did.  We both worked hard and did our jobs well. We did our best to raise the boys in a thoughtful way, and we’ve done a damn good job if you don’t mind me saying. We were tired but happy. Things weren’t balanced, but they weren’t yet out of control.  Looking back on it now, it’s pretty clear that the path we were on was more or less sustainable, but at a cost. It was not the path we had imagined when we started out. It wasn’t even close.

Time went on and our workloads increased while our energy levels sagged.  We seemed to be working in order to send the boys to day care. When it seemed a good idea to hire help just to get things done on the weekend, we began to wonder why we had kids if we didn’t really see them that much. What were we doing all this for, exactly? Finally, the ludicrousness of the situation became clear.

We talked it out, crunched some numbers, and decided to take the plunge. Come January 1st, Elisia would stay home with the boys. She would try to pick up some editorial freelancing work, and would ultimately turn her attention toward starting up her calligraphy and quilling business—something she had long dreamed of doing. I would take on the role of bread-winner in our family of four mouths with only my lucrative teaching salary and a small nest egg of cash to support us. I was terrified. I wanted to scream.

The reality of our decision really came crashing home when we decided to tell the boys about the changes that would soon be coming.  One morning, they ambled in from their rooms to hop up into our bed for their Saturday morning canoodling.

“Boys, Mommy has some exciting news to share with you, ” Elisia said. “You know how we always have to rush for the train in the mornings?  Well, I’ve decided that I don’t want to do that anymore and that I’d rather stay home and be with both of you. So I’m not going to go to my work place anymore.  What do you think about that?”
Both boys smiled at this.  Duncan, ever concerned about following the rules and fairness, chimed in to ask, “Did you tell your boss?”
“Yes.”
“Did she say it was okay?”
“Yes, she said it was okay.”
“Will we still go to day care?”
“Yes, but not as much. You won’t go every day anymore.  You’ll go for a few hours on two days every week.”
“How come not every day?” asked Duncan.
Elisia and I then tried our best to explain to Duncan about money and about how going to day care cost a lot of money, and how that now, since Mommy wasn’t working, we wouldn’t have a lot of money to pay for things like day care. Duncan looked unconvinced.
“Besides,” Elisia went on to explain, “I want to be home with you and Tobin more.”
Duncan smiled and announced, “Well, I have some very exciting news to share with you.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m going to give you all of my money. I don’t want it, and I don’t need it.”

After we collected all  the pieces of our hearts that had just burst from our chests and shattered on the floor we tried to list for Duncan and Tobin all the great things that they would be able to do now that Mommy was going to be home. Elisia talked about going for walks, driving to find unexplored places, play dates with local kids, cookie baking, seedling planting, art projects, and story-time at the library.
“Doesn’t that sound exciting?” she asked. We both looked at the boys expectantly.
Duncan immediately declared his unconditional enthusiasm for the venture and jumped up to shower us with hugs and kisses.
“Congratulations, Mommy, on not going to your job. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you, Dunc! What do you think, Tobin? Are you excited?”
“Um, yeah,” said Tobin after a moment of thought, “Can we play monsters now?”

I won’t be able to describe the feeling of the fear being lifted from me that day.

"Fear is the mind-killer." -Paul Muad'Dib

I hadn’t realized until then just how frightened I was about what was to come.  I spent a lot of time silently fretting about money, worrying about our security, wondering where we would end up and in what shape we’d be in, and trying to imagine just what my new role would be in the family.  I was quiet about it all.  I didn’t want to squelch Elisia’s enthusiasm. And the larger part of me knew that we were doing the right thing. Still, I spent a lot of time trying to convince myself that all would be well.

So, I remained stoic and blind to most of what was going on around me. When the time came to tell the boys, it still took me by surprise. But listening to them ask their own questions, make their offers of aid, and finally seeing them jump feet first and smiling into this new world order was astounding. It was like the first time I put on glasses back in third grade. I hadn’t even realized I was practically blind when, suddenly, BAM!  Streetlights no longer had halos, signs became readable, and Liz Watts was even cuter than I thought.

Suddenly, things were different. I was still afraid, but now it was the kind of jitters you feel before your first airplane flight, your first jump off the high dive board, your first kiss. It was a thrilling fear not a crippling one.  The investors I had imagined so many times before had arrived in the form of two impossibly cute, lisping midgets.  They trusted our enterprise completely and brought their capital in armloads, which they flung about our necks and pasted on our cheeks. They knew how not to scream because they didn’t know how not to love.

I decided that I could take a lesson from them. Want to know how not to scream?  Talk to my sons.

Venture capitalists