John Wolcott says that fatherhood is a journey and growth comes from the struggle.
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No doubt, fatherhood has changed me for the better. Fatherhood has been an incredible journey, a journey which has inspired me so much that I’ve dedicated most of my free, waking hours to writing about The Father’s Journey on my blog, The Offbeat Dad.
Despite the time and effort I put into bettering myself as a father, fatherhood remains a struggle . . . It’s the nature of growth.
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I’d be lying if I said I was a great dad. I like to think I know what I’m doing but I’m just learning as I go, using what works and throwing away what doesn’t. When I write these posts about fatherhood, it’s not because I instinctively know how to overcome said flaws; it’s that I know I’m weak in certain aspects, and I want to become stronger. In other words, I write these posts mainly for myself. Then I rewrite them so that other dads and moms will benefit from them.
Despite the time and effort I put into bettering myself as a father, fatherhood remains a struggle, a struggle that will always be there. It’s the nature of growth.
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Here are four flaws I face as a father that I still haven’t overcome:
I hoard my time.
Because I have little of it nowadays, time has become the most important asset in my life.
I plan and account for every minute of my day. The days where I could wake up and mosey through life as if I’ll live forever dissolved as I transitioned from dude to dad.
My time now goes to projects or people which add value to my life. It sounds selfish, I know, and digesting this discipline has been difficult. The first people to get my attention are myself, my wife, and my daughters, not always in that order.
I’ve become a central character in the story of my daughters’ lives, not some flat, fatherly archetype whose sole job is to provide.
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I love spending time with my daughters. Leaving my 14-year-long career has given me time with my family that I would never have had if I had stayed. I’ve seen them hit their milestones. I’ve been there for the first steps. The first spoonful of food. The first word. The first time Big M went #2 in her pink potty, dumped it into the toilet, and cheerfully said, “Bye-bye poopy,” waving her hand back and forth as the mass of brown fibers spiraled down the drain.
I’ve become a central character in the story of my daughters’ lives, not some flat, fatherly archetype whose sole job is to provide. That man who leaves the house too early to see his children rise, and who comes home too late to see them rest is exactly what I would’ve become if I had stayed in my career.
Some days I want to use my free time on me. Instead of taking Big M to the park, I stay inside and work on my latest project. Instead of bonding with Little N when she wakes from her slumber, I walk her back to sleep so I can return to my work.
On some days I forget to look my daughters in the eyes—I mean really look at them—and connect. To share a laugh, a frown, or my time.
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I make empty promises.
Whether or not a person can keep their word defines that person’s character. If I say something and follow through, it says something about me. If I say something and don’t follow through, it also says something about me.
I make promises to Big M and don’t kept my word. I promise to take her for ice cream. I promise to take her swimming. I promise to bring her to the library. I break these promises.
Children differ from adults. They love unconditionally and forgive easily. If I break a promise she’ll look past it. But for how long? Even though she’s young enough to forget my unkept commitments most of the time, it bothers me that I do this.
Teaching her that bribery will get her what she wants goes against my parenting philosophies.
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Telling our kids what they want to hear, rather than what they need to hear, makes up a big part of adult logic. It’s a way to get out of uncomfortable situations. If my daughter doesn’t cooperate, I negotiate with her. I tell her if she does this, I’ll give her that. If she does that, I’ll take her here. But these negotiations excrete emptiness.
I should instead teach her to follow my requests because it’s the harmonious thing to do, not because she’ll get something in return. Teaching her that bribery will get her what she wants goes against my parenting philosophies. Teaching her that bribing someone with empty promises is even worse. Sometimes, my negotiations amount to such.
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I lose patience easily.
At the end of the day I have little left to give the world. Every day, I wake up at 4am so I can write before the family wakes up. I take Little N for our early morning 30-minute power walk. I come back and entertain Big M in the morning. I do my dad duties around the condo in the afternoon. I teach English to groups of adults in the evening. I fight the terrible and torturous Bangkok traffic on the way home. Come nighttime, I’m empty.
So when Big M doesn’t cooperate, I lose my patience. If she doesn’t hustle when brushing her teeth, it bothers me. If she’s slow putting on her pajamas, it irks me. If she whines and cries before bed, it irritates me. I have to remind myself to breathe and let it go, that she’s just a kid, and I shouldn’t take anything personal.
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I procrastinate with father-daughter projects.
I have a list as long as a log of the things I want to do with my daughters. I keep saying I’ll get around to it, tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll build Big M the learning station for our journey into homeschooling. Tomorrow I’ll take Little N to the pool and get her accustomed to the water. Tomorrow I’ll take Big M to the rock climbing gym and see if she likes it. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow.
It’s difficult for me to organize my day around meals and chores and the kids’ naps and personal obligations. I have to get better at making a simplified list of priorities for each day, and then follow that list.
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Conclusion
On The Father’s Journey, we’ll always have something to overcome, which isn’t necessarily bad. Admitting faults exposed by the experiences of fatherhood, and working toward fixing them, means we haven’t settled. It means personal growth still resonates within us.
What do you struggle with as a father? Let me know in the comments section below or on Twitter by using #afathersstruggle.
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This post was originally published on the author’s blog at TheOffbeatDad.com and is republished here with his permission.
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Photo credit:Flickr/Paul