It’s easy to outline what a good Dad is on paper.
Shit, most things seem easy on paper.
I attempt to write out what a good dad is on this blog.
But reading vs. doing has a big ol’ invisible gap.
It’s like watching someone on YouTube teach just about anything. At the end of the video you think “so that’s it?”
And then you try. And you suck ass. Step 1 is deceptively step -2 because you don’t have the tool, prep, or experience that made step 1 look effortless.
Same goes for Dadding. You see friends doing it. You read about it in books. You listen to podcasts. You watch other people struggle to parent, then smugly give yourself a premature pat on the back, thinking “I’ll never do it like that.”
Then your kid ninja-develops in ways you never thought possible, and waps both your kneecaps like some nightmare from Child’s Play.
You’re wounded and weakened, and start doing and saying shit all the books try to train out of you before you even have any reps.
You eat humble pie like it’s the last food on earth.
Then you go “Ohhhh…I guess I am doing it like that.”
We’re human, and humans have default settings. It’s really hard to filter out.
What’s the Dad default? Let Mom handle it.
Even though I preach hard about progressive fatherhood – helping with housekeeping, cooking meals, doing laundry, not being a total man child – I still slip back into 90’s-Dad mode sometimes.
Like last Cinco de Mayo. My buddy had a family-friendly backyard shindig. My wife and 2 boys arrived around lunch time. She was on our 11-month-old and I was on our toddler. I made him a plate, but he didn’t want to eat – just wanted to play with toys. So I said “Ok buddy, I’ll be upstairs,” thinking he’s 3, he’ll come find me if he needs something.
I was ready to let loose and hang out. Grabbed a beer, a plate of tacos, and chatted people up. Intermittently checked on the toddler, but mostly did my thing. Assumed wife was good.
I later found out wife was not good. Baby was making a big mess and being fussy. Toddler was off on his own with no adult supervision in the basement. Wife discovered independent toddler and didn’t like that I slipped into frat-boy mode while she managed both boys.
She hid her disgust until we got home, at which point she unloaded. I had no idea she was this pissed. I assumed we were both having a good time because I was having a good time.
Shit move. But in the heat of the argument I really didn’t want to believe I fucked up. My default setting was to get defensive.
It took a lot of self-restraint, but I tried doing that thing relationship therapists always recommend – listening.
And sometimes I still got defensive and made things worse.
Over the next few days I tried to just sit with the feelings and told myself “if my wife was that pissed, I must’ve done something wrong, even if I was oblivious of it at the time.” It was really hard to face that reality.
When something bad happens in life, you can be proud or reflective. The latter is way harder, because it makes you question your character. Am I really that guy? Do I want to be that guy?
If you’re proud, you don’t allow yourself to ask those questions because it could dent your ego. If you’re reflective, you not only ask them, you answer them with actions.
It’s like that cheesy lyric from that one song by The Fray:
Anyways, point is, I fucked up as a Dad and husband because I let my wife take all the slack that afternoon. And that goes against one of my cardinal rules: Being a good parent means being a good partner.
We’re gonna mess up as Dads and husbands. It’s unavoidable and inevitable. The manosphere wants you to believe that the manly thing to do is “never back down” and “be the man who wears the pants.”
But the most manly thing a guy can do is fess up to fucking up.
Then do better next time. And the next time, And the next time.
And maybe listen to The Fray to soften some of those emotional edges.