Fatherhood
Always Giving
Life as an adult is always busy and always full. It’s why when we return from vacation, we seem to find ourselves exhausted and in need of yet another vacation. Although we might get a quiet day, or weekend, or week, it never seems to be enough. That is because the idea that we will ever be calm and content alone is pure fiction.
The parent gives their energy for their children. The retiree gives their energy getting out of their house and seeking community. The single adult gives their energy preparing for what’s next. In every state and at every era, our energy is directed outward, where it should be.
There must be some degree of discipline and self-care. If we don’t do the little things, we will never have the strength to do the big things. But the desire for peace and calm is always rooted in the context of the family or community. I deeply enjoy the quiet day, weekend, or even week when my children are gone, the house is clean and calm, and my time is my own. When they are in the care of others, the subtle concern that is always alert for them is totally silent. But in those days, I also miss them. The thing that I thought I wanted, solitude, met one need but failed another.
I think the quiet, calm certainty we dream of is really an artifact of our childhood. In those days, others watched over us while we were clueless. We didn’t know how good it was to be protected, to be free to grow, learn, and experiment in the safety. We longed for the freedom and privilege of adulthood, not understanding what we asked for.
This is ordered disorder. Life is difficult and not as it was designed, but the challenges that we face and overcome do prepare us for our eventual return to Eden. The daily work of mending our every flaw is only possible with the time, space, and circumstances that life gives us. It’s why sainthood is always the goal; apart from Mary, no saint started perfect. But with the blessing of life, they had an encounter with God, and then sharpened themselves on the whetstone of human life.
The crown of sainthood is the objective, but what we then do with it brings the nature of our humanity full circle. We do not grasp it for ourselves, but cast it down in honor before the King.
Guy Club
Benedict attended a Catholic summer camp this year, a transformative experience that I still see reflected in his life more than 90 days since it ended. Although it only happened once during his five days at camp, there was a group event called Guy Club, where the boys huddled separately from the girls. This was the opportunity to deliver specific, relevant ministry to the boys using methods that would resound with them. Perhaps my favorite outcome from this session was their tagline/chant, “Red meat, monster trucks, and power tools. You need an F-150!”
Every parent knows the genius of boys and girls, and how adapting parenting based on their particular needs can compound the results. Children need, most of all, attention and affection, but delivering life’s lessons in a boy-specific or girl-specific setting can make a big different.
Benedict is entering the critical stages of his human development, and these coming years will set the stage for his transition into a happy, stable, and productive adult. I want him to be prepared for the challenges ahead, but also to continue to be an interesting and delightful person. So I did what any good parent would do, and I stole the Guy Club idea.
With our LEGO room finally organized, I asked Benedict if he wanted to do Guy Club with me in the evenings after the girls go to bed: Bros, Bibles, & Bricks. We started last night, first listening to the Bible in a Year podcast, then building LEGO and talking about what we heard, and whatever else came into his mind. It was a productive time together, and he seemed eager to read along as Fr. Mike went through Genesis and Psalms.
Yesterday was only day one, and I know that there will be many challenges even over just the coming year to stay on track. I’ll be tired, he’ll be sick, there will be other more pressing things on my to-do list, but what better way to spend my time than investing in my son’s growth, and my relationship with him?
Blending
We’re back from our annual family ski vacation, and had another successful year. Though more skiing is in our future, a unique aspect of our experience this week was that almost all of us had a ski lesson. In pairs of two, we set off for a few hours with an instructor to work on our skill.
I am still new to the sport, but what struck me was how everyone, no matter how long they’d been cutting across mountains, walked away from their lesson with something new. For me, as I begin to transition to more advanced techniques, our objective was blending.
There are three main skills to parallel skiing, and to be successful, you have to blend them together into a perfect balance. Too much of any one skill, and you could soon find yourself on the ground, collecting your equipment, and starting again. Too little, and as with too much, you don’t end up where you intended to be.
Blending is the quintessential skill of fatherhood. To a child, you must be a mentor, coach, and disciplinarian, all at different points during the day. You train your children in the principles that will guide them in life, encourage and cheer them on as they gain new skills and try new things, and correct errors to prevent them from becoming problems.
Too much, or too little, of any one blend and the results will not be what you intended. It is the art, and effort of a lifetime, for each parent to learn how to blend these skills, and tailor them to each child. It is an unimaginably difficult task, and one that must be done while maintaining work and family obligations. Leading a child is an all-consuming, and all-rewarding, experience.
As with skiing, mistakes will be made and crashes will happen. But we must get down the mountain, and the only way to do so is to get back up, reset set, and push forward.
Nothing to Do
Last weekend, I drove solo with my two oldest children across the country. There was plenty of screen time, but perhaps more surprisingly, there was a healthy dose of just time in the car. I played my soft music, and the two of them sat in the back seat. They read, they talked, and they played.
My children have constantly shifting friendships, but thankfully little conflict. Stuck in the car for two days, their imaginations sparked, and they found endless ways to pass the time. It is so gratifying as a parent to experience this; in the down moments, they fill the void with creative play.
As an at-home dad, I feel the pressure to be my children’s cruise director, curating activities to fill their day. There’s a time and a place for that, but there’s also plenty of benefit to them having nothing to do.
Forgetting to Shift
Life, and parenting, is full of shifts. From infants to teenagers, our children progress at a rapid clip. But it’s easy to find ourselves answering today’s challenges with yesterday’s solutions. Our children are always adapting to their changing worlds, but for adults, we can forget.
I find myself with a house of able bodied children, but I’m still doing the chores that I’ve done since I started staying home. Layer on top of these chores homeschooling and my full time job, and it’s an impossible solution. Time is always pivoting to one of these three areas of responsibility and something gets left behind. Another pivot is then required, depriving some other area of attention. On it goes.
What I need is to not only break my paradigms; I need to destroy them. I need to completely rethinking, from the ground up, our daily routines, division of labor, and calendars. My children need different things today than they did yesterday, and we need to commit ourselves to working not just on our chores, but our relationships.
Life is constantly changing, and if we forget to shift, we end up in the wrong gear. I have a big reminder on the horizon to shift, and perhaps this is your reminder, too.
Dig Deeper
It’s easy to wait for whatever’s next. Let this moment pass by, it’s nothing compared to what’s coming next. Life starts to feel like the Sims, where we check off a few things, kill time until bed, then wake up to do it over again. It’s easy to slip into this mindset because thinking about everything we have to do today, and tomorrow, and the next day, is paralyzing. Sinking into the couch and scrolling is cathartic escapism that soothes us in the now, but robs us blind.
I tend to think of my list in terms of energy. I wake up in the morning with x units of energy; how will I spend them? And when they’re spent, is it gone for the day?
Energy can be used up, in the way that you crash onto the couch at 8:30pm, the house immaculate, the to-do list done, and a good steady ache radiating through my muscles. It can also be stolen. It’s stolen when the first thing I do when I wake up is swipe through my phone. It’s stolen, really, any time I scroll. A rectangular brick in my pocket follows me everywhere I go, trying to lull me to relax when really it just steals my energy.
The funny thing is, when I conserve my energy, the mess piles up. Work, school clutter, all of which can only be conquered through focused, extended work sessions. If I do like I ought, a little each day, the system runs.
Rest is never earned; God rested on the seventh day. But on days 1-6, He dug deeper and got it all done.
Contagious
Late last week, my neighbor across the street was out attempting to finish mowing his lawn. It was hot, he was no doubt tired and just wanting to be done. As he worked on edging the front sidewalk, his toddler waddled over, pacifier in mouth, and gleefully observed his dad at work.
Children hit growth milestones without any fanfare. It’s only in hindsight that we realize, sometimes months later, that a previous behavior associated with infants, has been cast off for more mature behavior. My children do occasionally gleefully observe me in my element, but not with the same toddler-like sense of awe.
Children are inherently joyful, and their ability to be present in the moment and appreciate it for what it is is one of their greatest assets. Their happiness is contagious. Adults deal with serious and weighty things, but when you adapt the worldview of a child, the simple pleasures of live become visible once again.
Magnet
Summer continues, and my children still blissfully spend their days with ended self-directed activity. Audiobooks, creative play, play-dough, they have not a care in the world. For me, my work continues.
There’s a certain magnetism in children that I find amusing. When I’m at my desk, the children congregate. When I go down to the kitchen to get a drink of water, one discovers me, and the rest follow. No matter where I go, they curiously pursue me.
Sometimes they have an ask, something that they want. Other times, they literally follow me to the other room with their activity and establish a new base of operations.
In the times when I’m trying to find peace or get deep work done, it’s less than convenient. At most other times, it’s an endearing quirk of the human experience.
Summer Break
Summer, like all seasons, is racing past. When it seems like just yesterday school’s shut their doors, we’re now past the 4th of July and the new school year is coming in view. Three of my children are away and this week it’s just me and my youngest.
Veronica stepped into her new life as an only child with gusto and joy. Finally, she’s free to soak up the full attention of both parents, and to loiter endlessly at my desk throughout the day as I attempt to work.
I knew this was coming, but I didn’t anticipate how much her interactions with her siblings stimulate her throughout the day. Now, during work hours, she has only me to interact with. There’s plenty of self-directed play as she finds a single item and retreats to some corner of the house to play using her imagination.
I’ve reworked my schedule, allowing for less work during non-nap hours. It’s another great, periodic reminder of what it means to be a parent. There’s the providing and the protecting, but there is also the play. Children are a great gift, eager to experience life and far from jaded. It’s a vision of the world that God intended, and the one that is to come.
Custom Parenting
Last year, when we got a dog, I thought that life would be simple. Dogs, unlike cats, are thought to be loyal and obedient. When a family needed them to do something, they would do it in a no drama way. I was wrong. Our dog, a creature all her own, has an agenda all her own. Usually, she goes with the flow, but there are plenty of occasions each week on which she doesn’t want to get with the program.
Parenting is not just about forming functioning, happy adults. Parenting is about mentorship. Each child is their own unique person, who requires an individualized approach. This can be challenging for a parent who needs to organize the group all at once, but cannot deliver the same instruction in the same way to every child.
Things that are challenging to do bring the greatest satisfaction. If you’re naturally good at golf, it’ll require a very challenging course or an exceptionally challenging championship to derive an above-average level of satisfaction from a round of golf. The effort, though, is never wasted because satisfaction is what we innately crave.
Many young adults today shun parenting and its many burdens and challenges. Indeed, parenting is the hardest commitment that any of us can make, on par with marriage. It’s a life-long commitment, to will the good of the other, to build an authentic relationship, and to give them your full heart and attention.
Developing four sets of strategies and tools for parenting my four children is hard on an easy day, and Mt. Everest on my worst days. But every bit of time, attention, care, and love that I pour into them will pay dividends long after I’m gone. Every child is unique, and they deserve parents who love and respect them enough to parent in the way that they’ll be most ready to receive.