Hormones and happy times

                                                         By Dave Hamby

              I’d like to think as I go through life that the path I choose is one that comes from careful thought and wise decisions.  Reflection and experience dictates that this is most often not the case.

              A recent epiphany made me realize that most often the terms of my life are dictated by happenstance and hormones.  In this same awareness I also came to know that often the hormones that alter the path of my life are not of my own making.

              Hormones are, if I may waste some column space on the obvious, the things that make a man a man, a woman   a woman, and people of mixed gender confused.  

             Hormones are also the things that make teenagers what they are, teenagers.

              This is not always a bad thing.   If it weren’t for hormones we would all be living in “Leave it to Beaver” land and all the young men would be like Wally Cleaver and all the young women would be like,….. Well, I don’t know. They didn’t show much about how young women act in the episodes that I can remember.

              The point I’m trying to make is that hormones add reality to life.  If it weren’t for them we would all still be sweet kids and still be living with our parents who would still be living with their parents, assuming they’re still alive. I’m guessing the reason my 45 year old cousin is still living with his mom is a hormone deficiency.  

             Not only do hormones make kids into adults through the trials and tribulations   of teenage-hood, they prepare the parents for that sad day when their child goes off into the world to make their own way in life.  In fact, these hormones not only prepare the parents for that eventful day, in many cases they make the parents look forward to it.   I know that from my own experience that if it weren’t for these hormones, the sadness of parting with your child would be too much to bear.  Toss in a few years of living with a teenager and this unbearably sad day comes with much anticipation and joy.

              When my kids leave home I’m going to miss them terribly.  What I’m not going to miss is being wrong all of the time.  I’m not going to miss having to wait in line to get on the computer.  I doubt I’ll miss not being able to use the phone because it’s busy, or not having people return my calls because all they get when they try is a busy signal. I won’t miss the messy house or the fridge not having the food items I thought I just bought.  There’s a lot I won’t miss.

              I really will miss the fun talks we have.  But these hormones are making these talks less common.  I’ll miss laughing with my girls and seeing a whole new world through their eyes.  

             Just yesterday I read Peggy Linial’s column about living with her dad all of her life but not knowing much about him.  I thought I’d try asking some of the questions she brought up in that article.   

           I asked my girls what my favorite color was.  Kate said blue and Nan said green. They were both wrong.  I then asked them if they knew what my favorite song was.   They both answered correctly with “Particle Man.”  (If you have access to a teenager, get them to play that song for you, it’s a hoot.)   Then they wanted to know why I asked.   I told them about Peggy’s column and how she lost her father last summer and realized she didn’t know what his favorite prayer was or what his favorite song was.  “Well we gotcha covered,” Nan said. “Yeah,” chimed in Kate, “when you die we’ll have you cremated and then we’ll play “Particle Man” while we scatter your ashes.”  I laughed so hard I was afraid that day might just be here.  I’m really going to miss those type of interactions.

              I know that my kids have plenty of hormones and that someday soon they’ll be off on their own with their own families.  I also know that as my kids grow older I’ll go from being one of the dumbest people to have ever walked the earth to being a cool old man with some measure of wisdom.  At least I hope so.  

              Grandpa made that transition some years ago and I’m lucky enough to have him for an example.  

             I should just be grateful that even though I’m a moron right now, I’m still having some real fun times with my kids.

This article originally appeared in the Round Rock Leader.   It has since been modified and is available for your publication.