Daddy Diary – Giving Them the Best That I Got – My Shortcomings as a Father & the Hopes They Do a Little Better Than Me

Today, numerous posts regarding Father’s Day will reflect upon the magnificent triumphs of fatherhood, or the profound gratitude expressed for the sacred opportunity to raise a child. I wanted to write something slightly different. Sure, a thoughtful inspection of a gentleman’s social media content would project a portrait of nobility, compassion, strength, and dutiful sacrifice – mine included. However, no one is above imperfection, and that includes me. Yes, I am quiet and mild-mannered, but my temper can flare terribly given certain circumstances. And, as my years on Earth have grown longer, conversely my patience is seriously shorter. So, when my annoyance and irritation has reached critical mass, I silently retreat within myself and shutdown. And I can elevate my voice to intimidating, frightening decibels.

I am, nevertheless, human. I make the common error of bottling my emotions. So, when stress and anxiety build, my emotions detonate. Still, I tend to believe there are more than enough rewarding attributes I encompass than the negative ones. I add meaningful value to the lives of people around me. And it is my hope that the best of me is what is most impactful in my children’s lives. There are a multitude of parenting books on the market, but parenthood is really on the job training. And on occasion, when even functioning as the most well-meaning father, we sometimes come up short. We just need to keep striving; we need to show up as the best version of ourselves for our kids. Today, I wanted to share my shortcomings, how I am improving, and examples of areas where I do feel accomplished as a dad.

I was born in the inner city of Detroit, Michigan – single mother household with two younger brothers. Our family did not have much; government assistance and grandparents aided us. We probably lived below or at the poverty level, but we never wanted for anything. You cannot want what you never had, nor want what you never heard of. Life was simple. Life was relatively happy. So, with that frame of mind, it has been difficult for me to view current times through my children’s eyes. Life is much different for them. Juxtaposed with my generation, I am challenged to adapt to their world. Let us talk the basics of life for them: two working-parent home, a house in a safe neighborhood, great schools, food on tap in the refrigerator, clothing in the closet, healthcare, etc. And now the extras: vacations, special school programs, electronic gadgets, fine dining, etc.

Now, I know that may even be basic to many of you, but again with my upbringing, a trip to Boblo Island and dinner from McDonald’s was a TREAT! In my early childhood, we had: one black & white TV (special shout out to those who needed pliers to turn the channel because the TV knob was stripped), received food from Focus: Hope, wore knockoff clothing (shout out to Pro Wings sneakers and Goodfellows), received food stamps & Medicaid, and lived in residences with pest issues. So, when my kids pout, express a negative attitude, or display poor behavior (especially in school); I cannot wrap my brain around it. Their life with all the bells and whistles should equal gratitude – at least in my mind. You must understand how my upbringing molded my thinking. So, when a parent’s efforts and sacrifice to provide more than their own childhood is seemingly not appreciated, well, we have reached critical mass. In addition, if you consider my work-life balance is not truly balanced; a day of absorbing the shenanigans of coworkers has me on edge. At the end of the workday, my mental and emotional tank is empty. I lose my cool. I get angry. I yell. I have popped a bottom or two.

Now, growing up in a household with only brothers, little emotion was expressed. Our mother loved us, but our mother was stern. She was no nonsense. She handed down discipline the old-fashioned way. I do not believe that “gentle parenting” was even a thing back in the eighties. However, raising three boys in Detroit, I can understand why she tended to be tough on us. Life in Detroit at that time was unforgiving. My mother did her absolute best to keep us safe, healthy, well-mannered, and educated. All three of us grew up as successful, productive African American males with good jobs, families of our own, never in trouble with the law, no drug use, etc. You can say all three of us are conservative gentlemen. Shout out to my brothers Michael and Raymond.

However, growing up in that stern environment shaped my personality today. There is not much fluff with me. I can deal with emotions, but sometimes I cannot relate to them. I am an introvert, so I do not talk much unless I am comfortable around you. People have told me I am hard to read. People have said I am anti-social. I am stoic. And so, I tend to be the disciplinarian in our household. I am the hammer in the parental tool bag when discipline and order need to be driven home. As a parent, I know my kids fear me to a certain degree. If they are disobeying my wife, and they hear my footsteps, a hasty scurry ensues as they course correct and retreat to what they should be doing. If they are being chastised, they peer over her shoulder and look in my direction. Sometimes, I need to be order to the chaos, and deep down I hate it. It is mentally exhausting as you either mete out punishment or deliver an unfavorable decision. I fear my kids will harbor resentment toward me. It absolutely crushes my spirit when a scolding is required. It is a delicate balancing act – deliver enough discipline to correct behavior, but not so much where they hold disdain and shut you out.

Fatherhood is a heavy weight to shoulder. I want to do what is best for my children, but sometimes you second-guess your parental decisions. No generation is perfect. So, you try not to pass down any trauma from your upbringing and unknowingly instill it within them. I have no ill will toward my father. But I must believe that I am doing a little better than him. I am a working father fully present in my children’s lives. Alcoholism and domestic abuse did not carry over into the man I am today. I iron school clothes. I fix breakfast. I pack school snacks. I decorate the house for Halloween and Christmas. I attend every school event possible. I help with homework. I do school projects. I volunteer at the school. Packed into a week and a half: I dropped off & picked up my daughter for play rehearsal, decorated the house for my son’s birthday, attended all three nights of my daughter’s play sitting front row, and chaperoned at her school dance. I have to believe I am doing a little better than my father before me, and maybe even my paternal grandfather I never met.

However, I recount the times I had to speak to my son’s teacher nearly every day due to his behavior in the classroom. Grades were never an issue; it was following classroom rules that was a problem. I dreaded picking him up from school because the likelihood of speaking to his teacher was high. A conduct chart was posted near the classroom door. And as I slowly, anxiously walked down the hallway with that chart coming into view, I could see he was at the bottom, in the red region – again. Lord. The motivational, inspirational pep talks I conjured up every morning on the car ride to school would seemingly fall on deaf ears- for nearly three years. It was mentally and emotionally taxing. And so, I yelled. I took toys. I popped a bottom. And then more pep talks. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Thankfully, he is much better today. However, for whatever reason, my daughter started slacking in her schoolwork. Lord – now this. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. I am just trying to get this fatherhood thing right. I am trying not to react with anger. I am trying to talk quietly, yet firmly. I do not pop bottoms anymore. Instead, I take away allowance, take away electronic devices, or ask for push-ups. I am trying to be a better father. How so? What am I doing?

  • Keep showing up and be fully present for your kids. Go to those school events. Volunteer and represent for them.
  • Be hands-on when you have availability. Help them with homework. Read to them. Read with them. Watch educational programming and discuss the content. Teach them something. Take them to a museum, a zoo, or local event.
  • Communicate. Communicate. Communicate. I will call the kids down into my home office just to talk about what is going on in their life and life topics in general. I do not sugarcoat anything. We have had discussions about drugs, bad influences, racism, adults that prey on children, adult content online, the dangers of social media – you name it, we talk about it. I recently had a conversation about boys and crushes with my daughter. Lord, please grant me strength.
  • To be sure, you will need to reprimand your kids. Nevertheless, do not forget to express love to them, and express your pride in them.
  • And when they mess up, sometimes it is okay to give them a pass. Like a police officer catching you speeding but happened to be in a kind mood that day; you can let your kids off with a warning. Hopefully, that goodwill builds trust over time.
  • Therapy. Yes. I have a coach to hold me accountable for my health. I have a therapist to keep me grounded and structured in my well-being. A gentleman’s selfcare and mental health is important.
  • I go for long walks. I go for short walks. Regardless of either, I walk. It is good for your health, both physically and mentally. It is a time I quiet my mind, brainstorm, and just think about life in general.
  • You need to go to the gym and lift something heavy. And by heavy, I mean heavy relative to your strength. No? Well, knock out some push-ups, free squats, sit-ups, jumping jacks, I do not really care. Just get moving and get active! It clears the mind, reduces stress, and provides a sense of accomplishment.
  • Sometimes you cannot call your therapist in the middle of the night. You need to get yourself a trusted confidant. And no, not the friend that will just spew the toxic nonsense you read online. You need someone trustworthy that will listen intently and offer wise counsel.
  • Offer yourself grace. You are human and you are going to mess up. You will not be perfect all the time. Failure is not failure in and of itself, failure is abandoning the pursuit of success. So, do not get down on yourself, continue to pursue greatness for yourself and your family. And hopefully, your kids will be a little better than you.

Salute to all the fathers out there just trying to do right by their family. Happy Father’s Day.

Valentine’s Day project. Stayed up past midnight. And packed candy bags. Oh yeah, ya man has skills.

Daddy Diary – Oh, What, Wow – He’s the Greatest Dancer (That Never Got the Chance to Dance)

So, it is safe to classify the following circumstances as a forgivable miss by good old Dad here. The evening event was advertised as a school dance. It was simple enough. Now, perhaps, I did not carefully read the information contained in the school e-mail as required. Perhaps, I was too excited to embarrass my child on the dance floor with the old man cutting a rug. Nonetheless, I obviously overlooked the fine print regarding the dress code for the evening event. And nowadays, I admittedly embrace the opportunity to slide into stylish threads given the years spent hiding in oversized clothing.

And so, about a month prior to the dance, lessons commenced in the family room to correct my daughter’s two left feet. I carefully curated songs from the 80s and 90s to serve up the appropriate vibe. Once we mastered the simple two step as our foundation, we were good to go. Next, I accepted the mission of procuring outfits for us both with hues of pink and purple as our core colors. I found a cute dress for my daughter at Von Maur. I procured accompanying stockings and shoes from Target. With the school dance one month away, we were ready to show up and show out. Imagine my shock as we pulled into the parking lot; kids were dressed to impress in tee shirts, shorts, and jogging pants.

With exasperation, Ava sighed, “We were supposed to be dressed for a neon lights party.” In other words, this was not the glitzy, formal affair that I envisioned in my bald cranium. Nevertheless, I reassured Ava that without any doubt, we would be the best dressed tandem at the dance. She could still accessorize her outfit with neon paraphernalia and still embody the central theme for the night. We walked past a few parents I recognized, as they chuckled at my newcomer mistake, and they confirmed that this was a dance truly for the kids. However, that irony was not lost on me because this was anything but a dance. 

To utilize the word dance to describe the event would be to use the word dance loosely. Rather, it was much more like a mosh pit of flailing limbs with all the coordination of a baby giraffe learning to walk – stuck on repeat. Amongst the arrhythmic chaos, small groups of boys decided that the auditorium was an indoor playground. They chased each other around, tossed party favors at one another, and wrestled around on the floor. I had to break up two scuffles. As a chaperon, Dad was recruited to guard the stage because hard-headed kids kept bum-rushing the stage and accosting the DJ with requests. Eventually they destroyed the neon lights party sign. 

Through it all, I did not even get a chance to dance with my daughter. Honestly, I do not believe I would have been granted the opportunity because the music was warm dumpster juice on a hot, muggy afternoon. Now, I am not blaming the DJ, but the music these kids listen to nowadays (yes, I am going grumpy old man here) is atrocious. No beat. No cadence. Nonsensical lyrics. I am sorry, Travis Scott is NOT an artist that has music worth hitting the dancefloor. As FE!N blared over the speakers, and I watched rhythmic challenged suburban kids bounce around like drunk kangaroos having a seizure, I frantically checked my watch praying the lights would come up. Overall, I represented for my daughter, and we looked good together. She had fun with her friends, so that is all that counts. However, next year, I am definitely dialing back the stylish threads.

Living Your Best Life – Finding Beauty in a Broken Landscape

Hopefully, when a person has lived a requisite number of years gleaning wisdom from life; there should be an understanding that said life can be a masterpiece of flawed beauty. Our existence can be a perfect picture of imperfection filled with a complex compilation of uneven and damaging experiences. Life, sometimes stubbornly, does not proceed as planned. It can certainly be ugly out there. And yet along the broken landscape of our lives, beauty can spring from unfamiliar and unexpected places. Disrepair need not fuel disbelief or foster discontent. Be encouraged that the discovery and/or creation of something beautiful – even with less than desirable conditions – can positively affect and bring about joy to not only your life but perhaps someone else. Be the reason someone smiles today. Be blessed and be well. Talk to you later.