Fatherhood 101

When I was a kid, I remember writing a simple card to my father on this special day each year. I would say something generic like, “Happy Father’s Day! You’re the greatest!” Maybe it was a little more personal than that. Maybe not.

My dad was certainly fun to be around, compassionate, adventurous, artistic, good at fixing things, never strict, easy-going, and always genuinely interested in others. He was a warm man, a good friend, and when he smiled, it was as if his eyes expressed a peace and happiness that he was with you.

For most of my childhood, however, he was rarely around. He lived in numerous locations across the country, always traveling from town to town, driving thousands of miles between the Midwest and California. Along the way, we settled into a sort of rhythm that converged for a couple of weeks during the summer, and we would camp, canoe, hike or explore some place, trying to catch up on the last six months or so since I last saw him.

We spoke on the phone about once a week, wrote letters, even sent “mix-tapes” (if you remember those) filled with our favorite songs interspersed with ramblings about school or work updates, silly stories, a few jokes, and an unspoken longing for a physical hug that could never be conveyed through a spinning cassette tape.

I loved the man. I just longed for him to be there for my school band concerts, baseball games, break dance competitions and birthdays. I was thankful to have an absent father who loved me, rather than a scary one nearby (like some of my friends). Most of my schoolmates were from “broken homes” with some pretty bad stories, so I was fortunate to have a loving mother and father who cared for me… they just didn’t live together, and that was okay with me. I knew he loved me, but I also knew we would never be like the Cosby Family – laughing and living together under the same roof.

When I was a little guy, maybe 5 or 6 years old, my mother asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. An Astronaut? Baseball Player? Fireman? President? My answer: “I want to be a daddy.” I don’t remember that exact exchange, but the answer doesn’t surprise me.

Today, I cherish this chance to “do fatherhood” in a way that honors the beautiful qualities of my own father, but also combines the eccentric passions of my mother (who raised me by herself), as well as my own sense of what it means to be a father. Even before my wife announced that “We’re gonna have a baby!”, I knew that I was created to be a father who celebrates the life of his little ones. I have a chance to help these little lives grow in love and wonder and be prepared for the adventure of life that lay ahead. What a privileged role to play during the short years we have.

I do remember something my mother told me when I was about 6 or 7, in a moment of that exasperation that overcomes every parent, single or married, about how to raise a kid. She looked at me and said, in full honesty, “It’s not like you came with a book. I’m making this up as we go.” And so we did, and I am the better for it. She taught me that it’s okay not to have the answers to every parental interchange with a child. It’s okay to “make it up” and figure out what works. Dr. Spock or Dr. Dobson or Dr. Pediatric Expert doesn’t have an FAQ section that gives you a formula to plug into the kid computer to produce the “ideal childhood” for your kid. Sometimes, in fact, most of the time, you just have to make it up as you go.

So now, as a father of two teenage boys, I often just make it up and love them along the way. I’m their biggest fan, coach, cook, chauffeur, confidant (or so I pretend to be), and I’m their dad – always waiting with a hug, a smile, a goofy song on the guitar, a baseball glove, a soccer ball, a book, and an opportunity to just sit and be. Sure, they’ve learned that, “Papa don’t take no mess”, and they are quick to respond when corrected, but they also know I love them more than life itself. And I think that’s all any father really can do.

I know my time is short with them. In less than five years, both will be off to college (or wherever), and I want to spend these next few moments pouring all I can into their lives as young men. They need to know how to be gentlemen, compassionate, wise, strong, courageous, skilled in changing flat tires and negotiating the social games of high school and beyond… and I know my role. It is this purpose for which I was born, and I only have this one chance. I will not waste my time.

“Fatherhood 101” is what we make of it. There are no lectures, only applied principles learned from practice changing diapers, midnight lullabies, living room wrestling and bedtime stories. The course is the test, and the test is the course, so have fun along the way, love your wife with all your heart, and enjoy the few short years you have with those little people in your home.