Sometimes, being a parent is as much about learning what not to do as anything else. Fortunately, in my seven years as a father, I’ve seen ample cautionary tales and bad examples of parenting to avoid in order to be a good man in general and a good dad to my kids. One of the most obvious givens to me over the years has been putting my family’s needs ahead of my own whenever I can, and at least putting their needs in front of my wants. So imagine my surprise when I encountered two fathers in a week who chose to loudly express their annoyance with their families because dad hadn’t eaten recently enough – or as I like to call them, Hangry Birds.
The first was in the pediatrician’s waiting room when my wife and I took our newborn son for his day-after-discharge well visit. Any parent can picture this scene. The glass partition separated the healthy kid waiting area from the sick kid waiting area. New, first-time parents kept watchful eyes over their newborns. Sick schoolkids leaned their heads on their moms’ shoulders, pouting and red-faced. Parents checked their watches.
The guy next to me was an early 20s frat boy whose girlfriend was carrying their newborn, his car seat, his diaper bag and her purse, despite having just given birth. The dad sat back with his head leaned back against the glass wall, legs spread, feet out in front of him, looking bored. I didn’t notice them until he drew attention to himself with a restless, annoyed sound. It was a bemused half-sigh half-scoff, the kind you make when you want someone to know you’re in a bad mood so they’ll ask you why, thus giving you an open invitation to complain. Apparently his baby mama wasn’t taking the bait though, so he did it again and adjusted his tattered baseball cap. Then she looked over with patient eyes.
“What?”
“Like…I’m just really hungry, babe. I didn’t eat before we left.”
“Sorry,” she said.
My wife and I exchanged quick glances but ignored him otherwise until he looked at the reception desk and brought it up again.
“Do you know how long these things take?” he asked. “I mean is this gonna take long? I, like, totally need food.”
Clearly, this wasn’t their first rodeo. Her face said she knew it was pointless to respond, although she seemed to be growing exhausted with him. He kept fidgeting and scoffing, eroding her patience the way a woodpecker needles a tree. Even my wife sighed through her nose and rolled her eyes as he continued.
“I’m just saying, babe, my stomach is like…unh.”
Precisely at this moment, the nurse called them back for their appointment in the middle of his third plea. Hungry Bro shuffled his way towards the exam rooms, rubbing his stomach and practicing his Resting Jerk Face while his Birkenstocks scraped along the hardwood. Babe gathered their things and followed him.
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Several days later I had the opportunity to see a decade into Hungry Bro and Babe’s future. I took our almost-7-year-old daughter to play at the public playground next to our apartment complex. She played with some kids while I sat on a bench with her water bottle and grapes reading Frank Herbert’s Dune. I didn’t pay much mind to her playmates’ parents until the dad caught my attention with a similar airing of grievances to Hungry Bro the Woodpecker, albeit more aggressive. This guy wore a white graphic t-shirt and pastel-colored plaid shorts. His wife was juggling their three kids, all between the ages of 3 and 8, with the patience of Job while they sporadically played with my daughter. Meanwhile, this new Hangry Bird started audibly chastising her for not bringing him lunch during his shift at wherever that day, despite him not asking her to do so.
“Now I’m starving ‘cuz I didn’t eat all day,” he said. “Is it that hard to bring me lunch?”
She just shook her head and pursed her lips, never looking at her man, understandably frustrated at him. He was, as the moms of the universe would call it, “making a scene.”
Eventually, Lunchless Dad left her alone and crossed the playground to sit with his friends who awaited him. The volume of his voice doubled when he got there even though his friends had clearly overheard (and ignored) his tiff with his wife.
“Oh sorry, I’m just in a bad mood today,” he said, turning his head and craning his neck to make sure she heard everything. “My wife didn’t even think to bring me food while I worked all day. If it were the other way around, I’d have brought her food. I guess I’m not important!” Lunchless Dad wasn’t a woodpecker, needling at his wife’s patience like Hungry Bro. Lunchless Dad was a squawker, honking around like a goose with a drinking problem.
By this point, my daughter had looked at me more than once from the playground, giving me her classic “Should I be worried?” eyes. I slowly nodded and mouthed “It’s okay” to her, but she remained uneasy the rest of the time at the playground.
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I’m not concerned that my daughter picked up on Lunchless Dad’s tone of voice and got worried. Most things roll off her like water off a duck’s back. Nor was I angry that Hungry Bro annoyed my wife with his feeble whines on our first morning home from the hospital. In fact it’s the type of thing we joke about on the drive home. What I don’t get is the lack of compassion for their kids’ mothers. Why did neither man imagine the stress and embarrassment he caused his special lady when he sulked around like a baby? Or the example he set for his children? I never heard either man ask if his significant other were hungry or had had enough to eat; who wouldn’t make sure mom was eating too? Having kids is an amazing but difficult experience; ruffling feathers serves no one.
The lesson here is simple to the point of obviousness. Don’t be a selfish nag on your significant other. Use compassion and goodwill to take care of your family; think of them first. Eat breakfast before you leave the house, pack your own lunch for work and don’t be a Hangry Bird. Maybe nobody will come to your house and steal your eggs, but eventually someone will want to fire you out of a slingshot into a wall.
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This post is republished on Medium.
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Photo Credit: iStock
My husband gets grumpy when he doesn’t eat, but would NEVER blame me for his failure to eat or expect me to bring him a sandwich at work! Once I had kids, I learned to keep a case of water, box of granola bars, box of fruit roll ups, and a package of baby wipes (not just for babies!) in my van. Hubby laughs that we could survive for a week in my van. Oh, and I never get on a plane without a family size package of Oreos. I may not have what you “want” but no one is… Read more »