Own Up And Be A Dad

Today's guest post is from Toadman, at Synaptic Disunion. Toadman is one of the more thoughtful fathers I know, and he describes his website not as a blog, but as a journal, where he's continually searching for answers to life's, and parenting's, great mysteries. He is that rare working father who puts his kids and family above all else. And that is the subject of his guest post...


Own Up And Be A Dad
by Toadman, at Synaptic Disunion

I could have been anything, really. I could have been a rock star, I’ve got the voice of an angel, you know. I could have, by now, been an Anthropology professor at a major University, being published, and going into the field and getting research grants…all of that. But I’m not. I chose something more challenging than any of those. I chose something that doesn’t garner me accolades from crowds of adoring fans, or even awards from fellow intellectuals. In fact, what I chose is something that I always tell people is the hardest, most difficult thing, I’ve ever done. I always tell people, don’t do this, unless you really think it over, a lot. What did I choose? I’m a dad.

By “dad”, I don’t mean “father.” Any man can father a child…that’s the easy part. Being a dad, being present and accounted for, being fully engaged as a dad, is what I mean here. I’m by no means perfect, good grief no. I fly off the handle, I sometimes think “if it wasn’t for all these kids in the house!!!” I have my moments of regret too. I really did have rock-n-roll chops back in the day…voice and keyboard…but I’m rusty now…and it’s all because of these darn kids. But you see, I made a conscious choice. I’m living with that choice. I don’t resent or regret that choice. I’m a dad. Above and beyond what I do for a living, I’m a dad.

My own dad gave his sons and sons-in-law some written advice on the event of my parents 50th wedding anniversary. Well, there was a lot of advice, actually…but the one that stuck with me is this: “When you leave work, go home. Just home. Nowhere else.” That’s all he had to say. What he meant was, don’t swing by the bar, don’t hang out with your buddies. Go home, that’s where you’re needed.

My dad came from a time when men and women had rigidly defined roles. He came from a time when men were more distant from their children than the mothers in their lives. A time when men were discouraged from showing any softness of emotion toward their children. A time when men DID swing by the bar before heading home. A time when men all thought dealing with children was exclusively women’s work. We’re fooling ourselves if we think that this kind of thinking is gone from society. Not long ago, someone asked me if I had to “babysit” my kids often. I replied “no, I don’t ‘babysit’ my own children…they’re MY children. I raise them, I’m their dad.”

If you’re a father, own up and be a dad. Don’t worry what your so-called manly man friends say about you helping with the kids, it’s more manly to help with the kids, than it is to go hang around on the golf course anyway.


Be sure to visit Synaptic Disunion for more contemplative writings about life, the universe, and being a dad!


Photo by Toadman