Every Day
Truthful Tuesday a little early.
I try and be a good father and a good dad to Gavin every day. I’m mindful of it as soon as I’m awake.
The father figure I am striving for is one of teaching. I want to have routines, teach him his manners, teach him the right way to say things (like don’t call it a truckie- it’s a truck), and to teach him respect. No hitting mommy, tantrums will not get you what you want, and we don’t step on the cat.
The dad figure is hard for me. I didn’t have one for a lot of years - I had my Grandad (28 years in the Army and well past his prime when he took me in) so I got the father figure a lot.
I try and make sure to do silly dances, play with blocks, read any book he wants read, be interested in the things he’s interested in (goddamn Wiggles man….) and always there to hold his hand (for safety or comfort) and always with the hugs.
Being a dad is not natural to me but it gets easier and more second nature day by day. I find myself having things that only we do together - our special little things (like popping shampoo bubbles) he won’t ever remember.
I look at a lot of dads on Tumblr and am inspired and in awe of how easy and natural they make it look.
lazydad, thedaddycomplex, how2beadad, ceconix, thegreencamel to name just a few.
I was terrified when he was born that I’d be no good and he’d hate me by his first birthday. The terror isn’t gone but tempered and I know there will be days he thinks he hates me but right now a silly song or a hug soothe the tiny guy when he thinks he’s a savage beast.
I am thankful to be a part of his world.
I am grateful to be a part of his world.
I am a lucky guy.
It’s amazing that it’s been a little more than 20 months since I first held him and hummed “Simple Man” to him while he slept.
I think if anyone else in this world would have puked on my beard we might not be friends anymore.
Let’s not talk about the number of times I’ve been peed on or had my gentleman sausage kicked or head butted.
Let’s also ignore the sleepless nights and crying sessions so long I just wanted to wail with him.
Except for the pain of being kicked in the nads (goddamned grocery carts and swinging toddler feet) it’s all pale in comparison to the crawling, walking, sign language, and the little tiny man that has enough energy to rival the sun.
I wake daily with resolve to be a complete parent - to temper my frustrations with love and kindness even when I’m ready to explode and never be too far away from having a bowl of cereal together and going to look at airplanes.
I feel he has made me a better human with better stories (hello beard puke), and a better outlook on life.
I hope my lessons and guidance are enough right now to repay some of that karma.
I would be remiss if I didn’t mention thelifeofromy - she is everything and more I knew she would be as a mother.
My truth is that I am a fortunate soul to be surrounded by such amazing people both in this little red house and around the world (that’s you guys and gals). Thank you all for the guidance and support you truly are like family and I wish I could have you all over for a cook out (that’s a bar-b-que for the non southerners) and party (but not too hard, I’m old)
All right, randomkeith. I left this as a comment on your post, but I’m reblogging to say more. First, my comment:
You’re kicking ass as a dad, man. Seriously. And I struggle every day to be a good dad. Some days I succeed, some days I fail. Don’t hold yourself to someone else’s standard. Do your best, love hard, and you’ll do great.
Now, let me elaborate.
electradaddy did a whole post about Capital T vs. Lower Case t parenting blogging. He nailed it—the difference between those who give the unladen truth and those who coat things with sugar. And while I try to be a Capital T parenting blogger, sometimes I’m a Lower Case t blogger. So, I urge you to look at what I post and what others you cite post and dig through the humor to see what we’re really saying.
We’re saying parenting is fucking hard as shit. And we don’t know what the fuck we’re doing. But, we’re trying. And we love our kids. And that’s the best anyone can ask. Because there’s no single playbook, there’s no single answer. There’s just hope and frustration and love and sleep deprivation.
I don’t know a lot for sure, but I know this one thing to be true: If you keep trying and keep loving, you’re a great dad.
