The Exhausted Dad: An overdue moment of relief
On the evening after I took the bar exam, an extended family member treated me, my wife and our kids to a delicious, celebratory meal.
I didn’t want him to treat us, because, well, feeding my children is expensive.
He paid for the meal anyway, and then he said what my kids have been repeating for the past seven weeks.
“We took the bar! We’re celebrating!”
He meant the “we” as a joke, but for my wife and kids, the task more than deserves the “we” distinction.
We took the bar, indeed. Sure, I did the actual studying, but the rest of them had to continue their lives this summer without much help at all from me.
Honestly, coming up with material for a parenting column can be tough when you’re spending several weeks NOT parenting.
In the weeks leading up to results, my stress only grew more obnoxious to everyone around me. My kids got sick of hearing me worry about not knowing the rule being tested in Essay No. 2. I know Constitutional law so well … how did I not remember the one stupid rule on that question?!
What if I failed? It would mean taking another two to three months to study again and retake the test in February. My 14-year-old daughter began to feel stressed once she understood the consequences of a failing score.
“You can’t not pass, Dad,” she said. “I don’t think I can take another six months of this!”
I asked it what she meant by “this.” She pointed at me and said, “All of this! You know what I’m talking about. It’s exhausting!”
I obviously knew what she meant. I am exhausting.
The hardest thing about taking the bar is memorizing pages and pages of black letter law. The second-hardest thing about taking the bar is waiting for them to tell you if you must take it again.
It’s a strange thing for a parent to be the focus of interest in the house. Usually, we’re all talking about the eldest’s band concerts, or my son’s orchestra, or my younger daughter’s gymnastics and Girl Scout projects or my youngest’s latest opinion on which superhero would win in a fight. On the eve of Results Day, they chattered on and on about me and what it would mean to pass. Honestly, I was touched. The kids care about me! They want me to go back to normal life! They want their dad to be emotionally and physically present again!
The results arrived after two of my kids had already gone to school. My wife and younger two kids watched me open the email. The subject line read “February Exam …” and the rest I couldn’t read without opening the email. My heart dropped. Was it telling me that I failed and needed to register for the February exam? Am I about to subject my family to another several months of an absent-minded dad on the steady verge of a complete nervous breakdown?!
Nah, it turned out the bar people sent the wrong subject line. The first word of the email read, “Congratulations!”
We passed the bar.
When I texted the results to my 14-year-old who was at school, she responded with the very teenager response of, “Yeah, I knew you would.”
Ah, back to normal. As much as I briefly enjoyed being the center of attention in the family, I’m happy to return to my preferred role of backstage assistant.
The best news for anyone still reading: I can finally stop talking about myself and go back to writing about my kids. For example, all four of them have already requested legal services for the various qualms in their lives. Apparently, I’m suing everybody on day one.
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Tyler Wilson is an attorney, a freelance writer, and parent to four kids, ages 8-14. He is tired. He can be reached at [email protected].
The Exhausted Dad