Jon Vaughn missed time with his daughters because he was too embarrassed to tell the truth. The realization of what he missed changed everything.
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I remember telling my daughters’ moms that I couldn’t get the girls that weekend because I had something work-related that came up and I had to go out of town for something more important.
The truth is that I lied. I was broke.
Not only was my electricity about to be turned off, but so was my water. Payday was far away and I scrambled trying to figure out what I’d do, what I could pawn and how I could make just a little bit of money to get me through. My car payment was grossly overdue, rent was already ten days late, and I owed the neighbor $200 for helping me keep my water on from the prior month. The stress kept piling on, bills kept rolling in, and I was sure that I was destined for a busy intersection with a cardboard sign.
One of the most humbling experiences was going through my daughter’s piggy bank and taking her money. I remember making a promise to myself that I would pay her back one day. She didn’t have much in her bank but to her it was her life savings, and for me, it felt like I was trying to save a life. Mine.
After removing all of the couch cushions and finding mainly cracker crumbs and hair ponies, I went upstairs and started looking for all those little piles of coins I never valued before. All of a sudden they were like little mini jackpots to me. I started looking around the house deciding on what I could pawn. Most of what I had had little value, except my old wedding ring, which got pawned for $100 eventually. Those days were stressful, and my income wasn’t enough to keep me afloat. It seemed to me that I was slowly dissipating into a life of burden, and I began to feel what I never wanted to feel: Poverty.
Not having my girls that weekend made me cry, and I deserved it. I lied. My mind intertwined the fact that I was broke, therefore I must be a broke ass dad, which is what happens right before being a deadbeat one, so I thought. I started to believe that I wasn’t fit for the job of dad, and that I’d be a drain on society and a depressing experience for my girls every other weekend. I was afraid that they’d tell their moms that they didn’t want to visit me because dad’s house is boring. This was a very dangerous spiral for a single dad without hope.
But then I found hope. I found it through not giving up. What I learned though is that I don’t need money to have a good weekend with my girls. When I removed those couch cushions I realized I had more pillows and blankets throughout the house. I created a gigantic pile of fun to jump on.
When we went to Target, I started spending the first hour or so playing hide-n-seek with them in the clothes section. I didn’t have a bike for my littlest one so I’d take her to Dick’s Sporting Goods to ride their demo one throughout the store. (Santa eventually bought that bike for her for Christmas by the way, so I’m sure Dick’s doesn’t mind)
And when my oldest and I get together, we do stuff like this for hours:
My problem existed in valuing money over time. Money will come and go. Time simply goes. That weekend that I missed was the best weekend I could have ever missed. That lie that I told was the best lie I ever told. It helped me realize that I don’t need money to have these unbreakable relationships and unique experiences with my daughters. Needing money to have a good time is a lie. You need time to have a good time, and don’t let the time run out, you never know how much you have left.
Jon Vaughn is a single dad with two daughters. Feel free to write a comment, post an idea, or contact him through JonVaughn.com. Oh, yea, he would like your pledge too. Don’t forget to visit Jon’s Kickstarter Campaign and support Genesis, a mobile application that tracks custody, visitation and support for single and separated parents.
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Previously published on deuxdad.wordpress.com
jon, this is beautiful! i want to email this to all my guy friends who are dads or adult caregivers to children/youth. just yesterday, i was asking my eldest son to google for me a old TV ad (of an international fastfood burger chain) where the song’s refrain went something like, “…stop and smell the roses, isn’t that what they say…don’t let those moments from slipping away…”. this morning, out-of-the-blue, i caught myself singing seals and croft’s “we may never pass this way again”, and now, i chanced upon your article…here’s to making each moment count! and celebrating what really… Read more »
Thanks guys. Happy Father’s Day.
David, the answer is hope but not the kind you sit on your ass waiting for. Work it.
Great read.
Happy Fathers Day
Happy Fathers day, Jon. You rock.
Jon … Happy Fathers Day ……… One can be poor in monetary and/or material wealth but VERY rich in other ways. Jon, it’s great that you shared this in that it’s eye opening, or hopefully eye opening for many men that it’s not what we have (material/monetary), or the career position we hold that counts in the long run, especially with our kids. What’s sad is that it’s been and continues to be a weight on dads. Courts generally don’t concern themselves with how much time a dad spends with his kids but instead concerns itself monetary aspects. Jon, when… Read more »
Nice, would have been good to hear how he got out of it though
Thanks Brian. Happy Father’s Day to you. My daughters and I are doing a lemonade stand for Father’s Day tomorrow. We’re making the signs and lemonade tonight. We’re heading to a local golf course in the morning and setting up right in the middle of the cart path. They kept asking me what I wanted to do, and I really didn’t care, so I asked them what they wanted to do, and now we’re doing: Father’s Day Lemonade. We’re going to ad little slogans like “It’ll make you buff,” or “Reduces gas,” on the signs. Follow me @fulltimedaddy on Twitter… Read more »
This is really beautiful, and hits home for me as a kid who grew up under the poverty line. The good thing, though, was that for a long time I didn’t know how poor we were, because we still did things, as you detail here. I’m the same way with my son now, even though we’re not in the dire straits that I grew up in — though not financially well-off by any stretch either. In a way I’m thankful for my past, because I learned to *make fun*.
Cheers to you. You’re doing it right.