A Dad's Heart

Letting Go

2011-09-23T12:56:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid, every year on my birthday my mom would make me promise that I wouldn't have another birthday for an entire year. First I thought she was trying to be funny. Later, I thought she was nuts. Now I get it.

I was growing up way too fast.

Those very thoughts were going through my mind as my just-yesterday-he-was-a-baby son and I walked up to his new school for the first day of kindergarten. It seems like only moments since this little newborn was nestled into his sleep-deprived father's arms. Today, we were starting school.

As we marched toward the covered play area to scan the class lists, I felt a little hand slip inside mine and give me a squeeze. As the cacophany of pre-pubescent voices grew louder, the little hand squeezed tighter. Eventually, we found his name on the list, stood in the appropriate line, and awaited his teacher to usher us into the class room.

Despite the cliche moment which was charged with such emotion, calmness prevailed.

Until it was time to let go.

As Connor's new teacher guided us to the classroom, the tears began to well up...in my eyes. As we reached the doorway to his latest life's adventure, that same little hand slipped out of mine, reached around my neck for a big hug, and then was gone.

As much as anything, parenthood is successive stages of letting go: the independence that comes with first steps, the day you discover you are no longer needed to give pushes on the swings, the first day of school.

I'm convinced the best parents are the ones who can let go--who celebrate the moments of growth and independence as their child comes of age.

I'm just not so sure I fit into that category yet.

Congratulations! It's a Kidney Stone!

2011-08-16T14:30:00.000-07:00

“You know,” said the paramedic as I was writhing on the floor of the ambulance, “they say that kidney stones are the closest pain to childbirth."

“Yeah,” I gasped, “but at least my wife got five minutes between one minute contractions…plus we got a baby in the end.”

Frankly, I think it is largely men who give the “kidney stones are like childbirth” line (I’d love to hear from any stone-passing moms out there) but without starting a gender war, if childbirth is only a fraction of the pain of passing a stone, my already heroic wife deserves another medal. I can honestly say that having kidney stones was the only time in my life I begged a paramedic to bash me upside the head with an oxygen tank and then run me over with an ambulance.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I was in complete awe of my wife when she gave birth: no pain medication and no epidurals. But now I have even more respect and admiration for her, if that is possible.

And for the record, I am totally revoking any utterance I ever made like, “Oh honey, if I could go through this childbirth for you, I would. I really would.”

I'm not one for traditional gender roles, but I'm happy to leave childbirth to women.

The Other "L" Word

2011-03-28T13:03:00.000-07:00

Remember dating? Remember the early courtships—the excitement, the titillation and eventually the feeling that you were really falling for someone? I can recall a lot of those relationships. And I can recollect the anxiety around whether to use the “L” word or not.

I am the first to admit I grew up in a house where we threw the term, “I love you” around like cheap confetti. I’ve never really had a hard time saying those words. In fact, I was actually accused once for saying it too often. Now I realize that perhaps I’m outside of the norm when it comes to men and expressing feelings, but I think most of us can relate to the trepidation around leaving yourself vulnerable by proclaiming, “I love you” for the first time.

So what often came out instead?

“I love spending time with you” or “I love being your boyfriend.”

What potentially sounded like a fear of commitment to a girlfriend is music to the ears of your child.

I get that there are men out there who still aren’t comfortable with, “I love you.” They often tell stories about their own father like, “He never really told me, but I knew he loved me.” Frankly, I think that is code for, “Damn it, why couldn’t he have told me he loved me?” That is totally natural. We all want to be loved, whether we are good with our feelings or not.

Of course, I encourage all fathers to say “I love you” as often as they can to their children. More importantly, I urge them to back up those words with actions.

But I think there is immense value in saying, “I love being your daddy.”

The other day, my wife and sons came home from a friend’s house and my oldest was pretending to be asleep. “Oh, you’ll have to carry him in daddy,” my wife co-conspired.

With his eyes closed and the hint of a smirk on his face, I lifted him out of his car seat. His arms lay limply around my neck as I carried him in to the house.

“It’s too bad he’s asleep, I was going to see if he wanted to play some Wii.” I said, trying to call his bluff. He didn’t budge.

“I guess I’ll have to eat his dessert” I teased.

Nothing.

I turned to carry him up the stairs, and whispered in his ear, “I love being your daddy.”

Involuntarily, his body began to squeeze mine. I was getting a giant bear hug and my son couldn’t help himself.

“Oh, momma, I think he might be waking up,” I said. At which point he went limp again.

“I love you” is a beautiful thing. But on some level, it’s what’s expected of parents. “Of course you love me, I’m your kid.” On a most basic level, child-parent love is as much a product of biology as anything else.

But “I love being your daddy” in many ways can be even more powerful. It almost implies there is a choice in the matter. It’s a value statement. And just like we all want to be loved, we all want to be valued, too.

To Love Your Spouse Is To Love Your Kids

2011-02-14T12:18:00.000-08:00

One of the complaints I’ve heard from some men when it comes to marriage is that their wives always put the children first. Sometimes, those comments have come from men who don’t have the maturity to recognize that priorities change once you have a family and who can’t seem to cope with not being the centre of the universe anymore. Sometimes, however, these comments can come from a thoughtful, fully engaged father and husband who is frustrated at his wife’s inability to leave the kids for longer than an hour or two. “I’d love to take her away for a romantic getaway, but in the four years we’ve been parents, she hasn’t let us leave the kids overnight with the grandparents even once!”

I am a full believer that the best thing that couples can do for their kids is to keep their own relationship healthy and strong. Not only does it help maintain a loving and secure environment in which the kids can thrive, it sets the example for what they should expect from a healthy relationship when they reach adulthood.

In no means, however, is this lament of “always putting the kids first” uniquely uttered by fathers.

I should know. I'm guilty of doing it with my own kids.

I do it for two main reasons. First, I adore being a father more than just about anything in the world. Loving them is as easy as falling off a truck. Second, it’s much simpler when there is spousal stress to spend time with two little boys who can find no fault with you than with a partner who has grounds to find many.

I'm guilty not so much in terms of being unable to let the kids out of my sight, or dropping everything on the spot to attend to every whim: I do it more on an emotional level. My kids often get the lion’s share of my love, patience and attention in the day and frankly, my wife deserves better.

Now, I am not going to fall into that destructive, tired old stereotype of long-suffering-yet-patient-wife-tolerates-inept-yet-well-meaning husband. That crap still gets played time and time again as a bad punch line and does nothing but widen some of the “traditional” gender role divides which can cause a relationship and a family a great deal of strain.

I will say, however, that my wife is remarkably patient. She has seemingly limitless patience with our children and she has demonstrated the patience of Job with me. She has shown unwavering faith in me and my business, not only when others must have questioned my sanity, but even when my pursuit of it threatened the financial well being of our family.

She has loved me unconditionally through two major bouts of depression and was somehow capable of finding something loveable in me when I was near-useless as a husband. She loved me when I was at my most vulnerable and naked, and for that, I will never have the words to express my gratitude.

She loves me even when I succumb to my own personal albatross -- verbally lashing out at those I love when I perceive their comments reflect a disappointment in me. It is an ugly side of me which has long outstripped its use, but can still return in the form of a sharp tongue and a dismissive tone. It strikes with lightening speed and then disappears, leaving me with a giant mess and an enormous sense of remorse for having hurt my best friend.

But my wife also brings out the best in me. She never fails to encourage me to be my best, simply by tell me what an amazing father I am. She inspires my sense of integrity by applauding rather than cringing when I stand up in very public ways to rail against injustice. And her laughter, and even her groans (here I will admit to her putting up with me with gentle, good humour) at my sense of humour and out-and-out silliness remind me that life should be filled with joy and gratitude.

On this Valentine’s Day, I want the world to know what an amazing woman I’ve married. She has her faults as I have mine, and at times our first wedding dance to “Lost Together” by Blue Rodeo has seemed more like prophecy than love song. But marrying her was still the best thing I’ve ever done.

I know my sons think so, too.

Me vs. Wii

2011-01-28T12:59:00.000-08:00

Sorry for my lack of regular posts of late. I am now balancing solo at home parenting (as my wife has gone back to work) with a working dad project for my company “Bettermen Solutions.” At any rate, I know holidays can be very trying, but I hope everyone had a happy one. As some wise person once said, “If you think you are enlightened, try visiting your family.”

The challenges for me this Christmas stemmed from the same source of many of my joys: mainly, my four-year old, Connor.

Christmas doesn’t get much more magical than when you are four—old enough to “get it” and young enough to believe whole heartedly. Not surprisingly, the verbal lists of “I want, I want, I want” began sometime after Hallowe’en and seemed to grow longer by the day.

I didn’t want to quash his pure joy, but I also didn’t want the season to be about greed and “give-me.” One potential solution came to me during one of our bedtime routines.

Some nights, instead of a book, we have “Once Upon a Time”. This is when I make up some story where Connor is the protagonist. It usually involves adventures, dinosaurs and/or Batman and Robin. On this night, it involved Santa and some sorry and destitute children.

It is worth mentioning that Connor’s greatest wish this season was for a Wii. The immensity of his desire had little to do with the monetary value and everything to do with fun. In his mind a Wii cost the same as a chocolate bar, so holding this Wii so dear was solely based on Connor’s love of playing it this past summer with his older cousins. My wife and I have both wanted to put off video games for as long as possible, but saw some merit in having an indoor sweat inducing activity on a nasty winter’s day. We finally agreed and the grandparents generously offered to chip in for one from Santa.

So as we were getting into bed for once upon a time, I started to make up a story. It involved one excited little boy writing a long list of things he wanted from Santa for Christmas. On Christmas Eve, a sound asleep Connor was awakened by a tap on the window. It was St. Nick, and he wanted to take Connor on a little adventure.

“Will you come with me?” Santa asked.

"I have to ask my mom and dad first,” my son replied (no fears that he’ll ever be abducted by a man in a Santa Claus outfit!)

So off they went. Santa whisked Connor up into the sky, drawn by his familiar reindeer with snow whistling all around. At one point, Santa pulled up to a broken down little home and asked Connor to peek inside. Connor saw a little boy, asleep, with no presents, or even a Christmas tree. At that moment, Santa pulled a Darth Vader light saber out of his bag.

“Connor,” I began to ask in Santa’s voice, “What should I do with this light saber?”

“Give it to me,” my son whispered under his breath.

“I can understand why you would want it, Connor. But you are blessed with so many toys and this little boy will wake up tomorrow with nothing. Now, what do you think I should do?”

“Oh, alright,” he relented. “Give it to him.”

Over and over, the same scenario played out: Santa stops at the home of an impoverished child, pulls out a gift, and asks what he should do with it. Now the really cruel part was that each present Santa pulled out of his bag was one that Connor had asked for. It was bordering on torturous for him as he gave away toy after toy that he so coveted. It was becoming unbearable for Connor, but Santa still had one house left.

At the home of the last penniless child, Santa pulled a brand new Wii out of his bag. Before I could even ask the question, Connor’s face twisted up like some captured and tormented spy at his breaking point, “Not the Wii!” he groaned in a sort of anguished guttural whisper.

To his credit, he still managed to give it up.

The story ended with Connor waking up on Christmas morning with a whole pile of presents, and a note:

“Dear Connor,

Always remember that Christmas is about the giving.

Love,

Santa.”

Bulletproofing our Kids

2010-11-05T17:36:00.000-07:00

Recently, I blogged about my 4 year-old’s first case of heart break. It had to do with the departure of his best friend, Louis, as he left daycare to start kindergarten. I was amazed by my son’s level of both understanding and acceptance, fully imbued with genuine sadness.

Connor and Louis had their first post-break-up play date a while back. As we waived goodbye to Louis while pulling out of his driveway, Connor began to weep and wail like a Southern Baptist at a revival …so much for acceptance.

What I loved about the day, however, was how the two boys reunited like long lost soul mates. Connor hopped up and down with excitement as Louis bounced up the sidewalk to our house. The two hugged with such vigor and genuine delight. Then, like all best buddies, they played and talked like they’d never been apart.

This time, however, there was something new to their play routine.

In the middle of playing wolf-hikers or any one of their other made up games, Connor would suddenly proclaim, “I love you, Louis.” Louis would reply, “I love you too, Connor.” Over the course of the day, this exchange took place numerous times, sometimes initiated by Connor, sometimes by Louis. Each time it was said very matter-of-factly.

Needless to say, both my wife and I were on the verge of tears each time we heard this. It was another beautiful example of how our children are still so unspoiled at that age.

I pray he never loses that ease with which he told his dearest friend, “I love you.” My heart already breaks for the first time someone makes fun of him or teases him for expressing himself so purely. But just maybe, as I try to build his self esteem by reinforcing that he is most loved and valued just for being him, those future barbs will bounce of him like bullets off of Superman.

I can always hope.

Fathers and Sons…and Fathers Again.

2010-10-18T18:16:00.000-07:00

I’ve never met a man who hasn’t been profoundly affected by his own father (though I’ve met many who’ve never recognized it). I am no different.

As I write this entry, I am sailing across the Strait of Georgia from Vancouver to Vancouver Island; my father is having anything from a triple to a quintuple bypass tomorrow morning in Victoria.

I’m long past the age where my parents are starting to appear mortal. Between my parents (and their various spouses) there have been hip transplants, cancers, surgeries and several strokes. It isn’t like I’ve never pondered the prospect of losing one or both of my parents.

I don’t anticipate anything going wrong with my dads operation tomorrow, but still, I can’t help but be reflective. My father is a good man, who like the rest of us, has had his fair share of struggles. He was on the wrong end of two divorces, seemed to have more career setbacks than successes, and saw way less of his four children than he would have liked. He has his passions, too: for Joseph Campbell, Carl Jung and New Physics. For several years he has been working on a book which he feels can change the world. I admire his ambition.

I have regrets in my relationship with my father as I know he has with me. Most revolve around the time (or lack thereof) we spent together. And when we were with each other my father often seemed lost in thought. My dad would always find time to throw a ball or play a game of chess if I asked him, but he was never one to seek that engagement with me.

It’s no surprise then that as a father I seek out unsolicited activity time with my boys and am committed to being fully present to them when we are together. Even when I’m working, I find ways to have them work along with me. It’s no coincidence that my business revolves around helping absent, workaholic dads better connect with their kids.

In many ways, the mistakes our fathers made can be the greatest gifts they ever gave us. This isn’t to beat up on fathers by any means. This is borne from a sense of optimism that fathers and men are slowly evolving, and that awareness is the next step in that process. I certainly hope my sons will one day be able to learn from my countless parenting gaffes and become better fathers as a result. I want to know that my scaring errors won’t be in vain. Don’t we all?

I know my father feels very deeply that there are no accidents—that everything happens for a reason. As he goes over the tally sheet I hope he takes great comfort in knowing that I am a better father for having him as a father.

This past June, he sent me a Father’s Day card. In it he wrote, “You are the best dad I’ve ever known.”

It would appear he recognizes that his mistakes were not in vain.

Best Way to Improve a Working Mom’s Work Life Balance? Advocate for Men’s Work Life Balance.

2010-10-12T10:48:00.000-07:00

I posted this on my Bettemen Solutions blog (my business where I help companies improve employee retention and productivity by addressing the unique work life balance changes faced by men.) However, I think it is applicable for this forum, too.

I came across what I see as destructive press regarding work life balance. Ironically, it was advocating for work life balance, but by its content, unwittingly reinforcing the standard paradigm.

It came from a UK Magazine called “Netmums” which advocates for working mothers. It is entitled “Employers ‘should give flexible benefits to mums.’” It goes on to say that “Flexible benefits are an especially good fit for busy working moms.” The inference in that last statement is that with all the extra responsibilities mom has as child raiser, home maker and career woman, she needs more flexibility than dad.

Now I’ve never argued that men and women share the domestic workload 50/50. I have argued, however, that if we want to move closer to an equal workload, we must deviate from the ridiculous idea that certain genders are better suited for specific roles.

The best thing a working mom can do for her own work life balance is to advocate for men’s work life balance. I know that sounds like a sexist comment so hear me out. We have women to thank for the strides that have been made in the last 40 years when it comes to workplace flexibility and leave policy. They have fought and lobbied to be recognized as moms and career women. Men, in spite of suffering from work life imbalance more than women (according to several bodies of research) aren’t likely to rally and advocate the way women did (and do). Likewise, men won’t start taking advantage of those hard fought policy victories by women in until they stop perceiving that doing so will be detrimental to their careers, and by extension, jeopardizing the well being of the families they work so hard to support. As long as the term “work life balance” is synonymous with “mommy overload”, we can continue to expect her to look after the house and kids. And the less we do to change attitudes in the workplace that the best thing a man can do for his family is get ahead in his career, men will continue, not only to burn out at a higher rate than women, but make more and more work for mom at home.

In short, work life balance is unlikely to improve for working moms until it improves for working dads. (We still live in a patriarchal society. Once a problem becomes a white male problem, we start to do something about it.) As long as we stay rooted in the old paradigm, men, women their families and their employers will all continue to pay the price.

The Renewal of a Father (and the Death of Customer Service)

2010-10-03T13:57:00.000-07:00

I’m sitting in the Calgary Airport as I write this. I have a four hour stop-over on my way home from the at home dads convention and despite having room on earlier flights, Air Canada wanted to charge me $75 when I requested they put me on an earlier plane--seventy-five dollars for an act which costs them nothing. Glad to see customer service is alive and well.

Anyway, I’m not going to allow abysmal airline policy ruin my terrific mood. I had such a fantastic weekend with the at home dads. We had two fabulous keynote speakers: psychologist, Dr. Bowers from the famous Boys Town facility and the incomparable trailblazer and author of rebeldad.com, Brian Reid. Dr. Bowers shared some valuable insights into the way our children think and offered some great parenting strategies; Brian got us up to speed on the various ways census and others try and refine the definition of an at home dad. This is why you can find verifying reports on the number of American AHDs, ranging from 158,000 to four million.

The weekend was great for so many reasons: hearing the way other men parent their kids, shooting the manure about everything and anything, and simply being with a group of like minded men who truly “get it” when it comes to being a parent.

I thought often about the life of an at home dad vs. the life of a loving, caring father who is working 60 hours a week. In my workshops with working dads, they so often feel torn between wanting to spend way more time with their kids and providing for them by working such long hours. I realized that these men get out of the rat race cold turkey. Once they are at home full time, their roles are much more clearly defined. These men, unlike the working dads I meet, aren’t torn at all. When they transition back into the workforce (as most usually do) I trust these men will carry the torch of fatherhood to their respective workplaces, and help raise the profile the woefully neglected needs of the working father.

The other thing I loved about this weekend is that it solidified my own philosophy in raising my sons—namely that they grow up knowing that they are loved unconditionally. That doesn’t mean they get hugs and kisses for setting the sofa on fire, it just means that they know they are loved just for being themselves-- just for being born. That way, they don’t spend a lifetime looking backwards wondering, “What do I need to do to get the love and approval of my dad?” They already have it---in spades.

Volcanoes, Self-Esteem and Travel tips for Dads

2010-09-30T11:00:00.000-07:00

You are looking at a photo of Mt. Rainer from my flight from Vancouver to Omaha for the 15th Annual At Home Dads convention. I’ve seen Mt. Rainer a million times, so why take a photo today? Read on.

I think almost universally among fathers, what we’d like to give our children is more time. I can say almost unequivocally, that is what our children want from us more than anything else. I’ve yet to meet anyone who said, “You know, the problem with my dad was that he spent too much time with me.”

In my corporate workshops for dads, I spend a great deal of time helping dads overcome the challenges of being busy to ensure that their child still gets the message that they are important. Some of the tips I give to traveling dads include skyping from the road, recording a bedtime story before you go away, putting pins in a map to mark where you are going (a good way to teach geography, too) or even setting up a little treasure hunt where dad can give the first clue from the road. Yesterday, my son inadvertently helped me come up with another.

When I told my four year-old son the other day that I was going away on a plane trip today, he asked if he could come with me.

“I’m sorry love, it’s just a trip for daddies. We are going to all get together and tell each other about how much we love being dads.”

“Please?” he begged. “I want to see all the things you are going to see.”

“Right” it hit me, “I’m going to take pictures of what I’m doing and email them to you every night.”

I know I’m shaped by my own experiences of having a father who lived 500 miles away, but I think it’s safe to say that children, especially younger ones, don’t understand it when dad says he has to get to some work first before he can play, or that he’s leaving town for another business trip. The danger in this scenario is that if it repeats, children can wind up feeling like a second priority.

It doesn’t take much effort to let them know they are always first and foremost in your mind. “I know you love volcanoes so here is a picture of one from the airplane. I saw it and it made me think of you,” might not seem like much, but it will mean the world to my little boy.

The Power of Traditional Gender Roles

2010-09-27T10:15:00.000-07:00

I had an essay air on the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation's radio program, "The Sunday Edition." It was originally scheduled to air on Father's Day, but wound up getting bumped. If you want to listen to it, it's in the last five minutes of hour two.

If you wish to avoid the effort, I'm posting the essay below. It deals with my own struggles in battling what can be the powerful forces of traditional gender roles. I'm not saying this is true of everyone, but I think it is true of a very significant number of us--men and women--mothers and fathers.

This essay alarmed my family a great deal. Please know that I don't need to talked off a ledge or anything. The depression has long since lifted and has turned to inspiration. It is this experience which was the motivation behind creating my company, Bettermen Solutions where I show businesses how they can thrive by learning to champion fatherhood.

Everything happens for a reason.

-----------------

I’ve never been one to care about money. I’ve toiled as a freelancer in one form or another since my early twenties and I’ve always preferred the question, “What sorts of experiences are you having?” over “What sort of experience do you have?” Earning more than I needed to survive was simply an indulgence.

Until I became a father.

It was shortly before getting married that I first began to feel the responsibility. “You have to start earning more money,” said a friend of my fianceé. “That’s what husbands are supposed to do.” I was taken aback by her antiquated comment. Nonetheless, I recognized that raising a family meant a new financial reality.

I began to focus more on building a “career” and not just having a series of jobs. I was still determined to do what I loved to do; I just had to find a way to earn a decent living doing it.

"Honey, I’m pregnant!”

“Congratulations, you got the job!”

I found out I was going to be a father and that I had landed a dream job in the same week. Everything was falling into place. We could now start planning renovations on the little tear down we’d bought, and my ascendancy to adulthood would be complete.

When my son was born, my heart opened in ways I never knew possible. I worked hard at being a good father. I resented any comments that smacked of gender superiority when it came to parenting. I was just as at home knee-deep in dirty diapers as any mother has ever been.

I loved my new job, but I also envied my wife for getting to spend all day with our son. It was always assumed she would take the parental leave. Not only because I was much newer in my career but because like the many women who earn 70 cents for every man dollar, my wife earned less than I did. With the added cost of a new baby and renovations going well over budget, I was grateful that the work I loved could provide security for my family.

And, then, it was a year later.

“You’re fired!”
The news devastated me. I felt like a complete failure.

I hid my pain like a good alcoholic can hide his drinking.

“What a great experience it was,” I grinned when people sympathized. “Totally worth it.”

I tried to find the bright side and convey it to others. “I get to spend more time with my son,” I’d boast. “And I’m looking forward to supporting my wife now that she’s back at work.”

Little did they know that, on most days, my wife came home to a messy house, an empty fridge and a shell of a man.

She valiantly tried to hide her mounting frustration with my ineptitude, but that only made me feel smaller. I knew I was disappointing her. I was depressed and withdrawn. The incredible shrinking husband. I was lost.

Time spent with my son was my only sanctuary. But even that would come crashing down. “Sure, he loves me now,” I’d say to myself, “but what would he think of me if he really knew I was a failure?” I felt like a fraud… like some glad-handing shuckster trying to pedal snake oil to my own son.

I used to feel so virtuous. I’d walk through the door after work and offer to start cooking dinner. On weekend mornings, I’d strap my son in the Snuggli while my wife was snug in bed, getting some well-deserved sleep.

But it’s easy to be virtuous when you are making eighty five thousand a year.

Was that it? Was this all about money?

I was taken aback by my own reaction. Me? Involved father and husband reduced to catatonic bystander when it came to work around the house. Me? The man who was not ashamed to leap about in a giant flour sack for $8 an hour only a few years earlier was feeling totally powerless for not making any money.

In my mind, I wasn’t a failure for losing a job. I was a failure because I was no longer able to fulfill the primary function that people still expect from fathers. Without that role, I felt useless to my family. I was left to flounder in the dark…emasculated…impotent. Maybe my wife’s old-school friend’s way of thinking was more pervasive than I thought. Men really are first and foremost regarded as financial providers.

Now you can disagree with me…and I can tell you to piss off. Lord knows that’s what I wanted to say to a few women to whom I made the grievous error of opening up.

When I talked about how my depression stemmed from failing to live up to society’s expectations of the male breadwinner, I don’t know what I was expecting. But I sure as hell wasn’t looking for abuse.

“Put your club down and act like a man”

“Cry me a river. Try being a woman – you have to earn the money AND do everything else!”

The feminists who told me to quit my whining failed to see the irony: we are fighting the same battle. Remember that 70 cents per dollar? It tells me my place is at the office, bringing home the bacon, just as much as it tells a woman her place is at home. The cultural forces that still want to define women by their mothering skills are symbiotic with those which make a man judge himself by his salary. It’s all part of the same equation, isn’t it? Or I am I just delusional?

Prior to losing my job, I had known there were still forces at work promoting adherence to outmoded gender roles. I just thought I was above that.

I was wrong.

Even now… . Even now, after identifying the power of traditional expectations. Even now, when I am hell bent on showing my two boys a different idea of being a man. Even now, when I work with men grappling with their own money-driven demons …I struggle.

You could say I’m struggling with money.

I like to say, I’m struggling for change.

This photo has nothing to do with my blog post...

2010-09-20T10:30:00.000-07:00

...I posted it because I love it. That's my now 9 month old son, Nathan.

I've did a guest blog today over at daddyshome.org. Among other things, daddy's home is the organization behind the At Home Dad's Convention coming up in Omaha in just a few weeks (to which I'm going!!!Woot!)

Heartbroken at Four and a Half

2010-09-02T16:31:00.000-07:00

I didn’t ever think that my son would first experience true heartbreak at the age of four. And I certainly didn’t think he would have had his heart broken by another little boy.

My son has been going to pre-school for three, four and five year olds since September. He has many great friends there, but he has had a magical relationship with one little boy in particular. His name is Louis.

While Connor will play trucks or lego or paint happily with any of his boy or girl friends, when it comes to play with Louis, it is all imagination. They play one game they made up called “Wolfhikers.” I don’t know much about Wolfhikers other than they are animals that like to eat owls and pointed sticks. Another favourite from the recesses of their collective imagination is to play “Scary Cat of the Deejen” (your guess is as good as mine on this one). When I come to pick up Connor at the end of the day, if he’s with Louis, he always runs over and asks, “Can I just have five more minutes?” before scurrying off under a tree to some other magical world they’ve created together.

In short, Louis and Connor are soul mates who need nothing other than each other to have a great time: which was why Connor was crestfallen when Louis left school yesterday to start kindergarten.

According to one of my son’s teachers, she’s never seen a child cry like mine did as they were giving each departing five year old his or her special photo album. Despite our weeks of gently mentioning that Louis was off to kindergarten soon, it had suddenly hit Connor like a freight train. His best friend was leaving.

That night at the dinner table, my son just sat there, shoulders slumped, staring blankly at his plate.

“Are you OK, my love?” I asked.

“I’m just sad that Louis left,” he sighed.

“I know. I’m sad too,” I genuinely empathized. “I bet you that Louis really misses you, too,” I added.

He nodded vacantly as his face got redder and his breathing got shorter.

“We’ll make sure to see him soon,” I said reassuringly.

“It’s just..." he began to sputter. "It's just that I love him so much!” he proclaimed, as tears welled up in his beautiful blue eyes and started dripping down his cheeks.

I scooped him up, loving him even more in that moment for being so unabashedly genuine.

“You know how Granny cries when we leave her house sometimes?” I asked.

“Yes,” he whimpered.

“That’s because she loves us so much that it makes her sad when we leave. Aren’t we lucky to have friends like Louis who we love so much and who love us back?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Would you like us to call him?”

We gave Louis a call to set up a play date but mostly so my son could hear his voice and know that he hadn’t gone to the international space station, or worse, been eaten by a Wolfhiker.

“Hi Louis...I’m really sad that you’re gone but I’m happy that we are going to see each other soon,” my son gushed the instant he heard Louis’ voice.

I wish I could describe how I felt in those moments. I don’t know if I’ve ever been as simultaneously heartbroken and proud. My son was so vulnerable and child-like in his loss, but somehow seemed so grown up and mature in his acceptance. No tantrums, no wailing. Just being. It was all strangely beautiful to behold.

I hope the next time I face adversity, I can handle it with such honesty and grace.

The CBC Must Be Broke...

2010-08-23T21:42:00.000-07:00

...because they are replaying my radio documentary on at home dads, "Beer and Braids" for what must be the 17th time since it first aired last Christmas Eve.

Oh well, I will use it as an excuse to promote this year's At Home Dads Convention coming up this October 2nd in Omaha.

I can't stress enough what a great group of guys go to this event. It's unlikely that I'll be able to make it this year, but if you can attend, I highly recommend it.

Oh, and if you can't and want to listen to my story about last year's event, you can tune in your local CBC Radio One station at 9:30am local time on Tuesday, August 24th. If you don't live in Canada, you can go here, then click on a province. My story will air at 9:30 local time in that time zone. In other words, if you are in the Eastern Time Zone and it's 12:30pm, you can click on British Columbia (Pacific Time Zone) where it is 9:30am local time.

Get it?

Ah, Ain't Summer Grand?

2010-08-05T21:34:00.000-07:00

I’ve been a lousy blogger this summer, but I’ve been a terrific dad!

This has been one of the nicest summers I can remember. I’ve reveled in watching Connor go from timorous land lubber to prune fingered Aquaman wanna-be in a matter of days. We’ve had barbecues with dear friends, reunions with distant family and I’ve made my annual pilgrimage to the MLB All Star game where I have the joy/privilege/dumb luck to interview some of my childhood idols from the world of baseball.

Since becoming a dad, this has been a bitter-sweet event as it means I am away from my family for eight days. This year, however, my wife and two boys came along. It gave me untold pleasure to watch Connor sprint so determinedly around the bases at the All Star Fan Fest—even though he failed to touch any of them. I saw little of my family as I was pulling 12 hour days, but it meant the world to me to come back to the hotel, take a dip with my 4 year old, and then tuck him into bed. I’ve come to the conclusion that even though I like the concept of “time away”, I miss my family dearly when we’re apart. This isn’t to say I need them 24/7—it just means that my day seems a little less fulfilling without good night kisses, the sound of my 4 year old making my 8 month old laugh hysterically, and sliding into the same bed as my wife. A king size bed can be a lonely place when you are on the road.

That said I had a great time with three of my buddies on our 21st annual golf trip. Every summer, we take off for some region of the Northwest for four days of golf, beer drinking and general sophomoric behavior. I wouldn’t miss this trip for the world.

The morning I left, my family was still asleep in bed.

“Bye bye my precious boy,” I said to Connor as I kissed him goodbye.

“Bye bye my breakfast dad,” he groggily replied before crashing back to sleep.

Before I left, I hid three little “treasures” for Connor. Each night I was away, I would call him in the evening and give him a clue as to where I had left it. He went on a little hunt and turned up a sugary treat from his dad. On the third night, my cell phone rang just after dinner.

“Hello?” I said.

“Dad, where is the treat?”

Perhaps I shouldn’t have resorted to high fructose corn syrup to win his love, but I liked the idea of him knowing that I took the time to do that for him. As he gets older, I can make more complex clues that will take him all over the house before he finds, oh, I don’t know, a box of shredded wheat (unfrosted).

When I think back to my childhood, or even my present, I feel most loved and secure when I know that someone is thinking about me and letting me know I am important to them. That’s what I wanted to do with my son.

Then I just had to be sure to come home with a nice present for my wife, who had to tend to a sugar fueled four year-old all by herself.

Hurrah! Lesbian Moms For Everyone!

2010-06-18T12:47:00.000-07:00

As I writer who has been misunderstood and assaulted by readers blinded by their own pre-rehearsed rants, I will try to season my rage with Pamela Paul’s article, Are Father’s Necessary? with a sprinkling of reason.

If you haven’t read the article, Paul’s general thesis is that fathers have nothing of distinction to offer their kids, and might therefore be unnecessary. Paul claims that all the studies which show the positive benefits of father involvement are bunk as they are only compared to studies about kids raised just by single moms. She does make an astute observation when she writes “Most of the data fail to distinguish between a father and the income a father provides, or between the presence of a father and the presence of a second parent, regardless of gender.”

To illustrate her point, Paul then touts the results of a study of families headed by lesbian moms. She quotes two academics who conclude, “…based strictly on the published science, one could argue that two women parent better on average than a woman and a man, or at least than a woman and man with a traditional division of family labor.”

She then wraps the whole thing up saying heterosexual parents secretly embrace the traditional gender parenting roles and that “there is nothing objectively essential about (a father’s) contribution.” She then puts down her pen, goes into the den, and throws butcher knives at an effigy of her dad (ok, so maybe I added that last part.)

The biggest flaw made here, from a simply “scientific” viewpoint (keeping in mind I was an arts major) is that we don’t have any data in her article around kids raised by gay fathers. Perhaps those results are implied: the more men we add to the equation, the worse things get. Kids from lesbian parents do better than kids from straight couples; children raised by single moms have healthier relationships than kids from single dad families. I guess the logical conclusion to that pattern is that kids raised by two men devolve into depraved, crime ridden and flesh easting terrorists who will stop at nothing to kill you and everyone you love.

Paul is missing two profoundly importing things (and perhaps a few marbles). The first: children need to know they are loved and valued by the two people who are supposed to love them most—their parents. I don’t care if those are gay parents, straight parents, divorced parents or rhesus monkey parents. When a child grows up with, say, an alcoholic mother, who is incapable due to her own illness to give her child the unconditional love and support a child needs, that child will suffer. Period.

The second gross oversight is that it is because of traditional gender roles that we are taking dads away from their children. Workplace culture, societal forces and yes, even the gate keeping mothers to whom Paul alludes are all guilty of reinforcing the idea that a man is best serving his family at the office. And how has that worked to date? I know a heap of adults who are haunted by unresolved issues with their dad because he was rarely around. I’ve never met anyone who has ever lamented, “You know, the problem with my dad is that he wanted to spend too much time with me.” As long as we adhere to traditional gender roles, and deny fathers the same cultural and workplace leeway that is given to working moms, kids will continue to ask themselves, “Why is my dad never at my piano recitals?” with the eventual inferred answer being, “…because his work is more important.” It is not until you are an adult that you realize why dad was making such a huge sacrifice but by that time the damage has already been done.

Perhaps Paul is one of those gate keeping mothers. A recent University of Texas study showed that the more competent a man is as a father, the lower his wife’s self esteem is around mothering. (Here is another fine example of how reinforcing traditional gender roles can mess us all up—look at the pressure we still put on women to tie their self worth to their apron strings). Perhaps Paul thinks the solution here is for men to imitate Hollywood and Madison Avenue and put the diaper on the baby’s head from time to time in an effort to make her feel better.

What is ultimately insulting to me in this piece is Paul’s implication that men (and women) are happy secretly clinging to traditional gender roles. She suggests I am really content to just teach my son to throw a spiral, give his hair a tussle, and then leave everything else to mom. While I agree traditional gender lines are more rigid than people think, I would vehemently argue that people are unaware slaves rather than clandestine subscribers to them. Those who feel they are personally above such antiquated notions are largely still bound by them. Even the most progressive couple who wants dad to be the at-home parent is still restricted by the fact that we still pay women less than men. Even here in progressive Canada, moms will often get parental leave top ups from employers where dads do not.

Anyway, Pamela, enough of this silly girl talk. Now go get me my pipe and slippers, honey. And before you get to scrubbing the toilet and wiping the kid’s butts, be a good girl and pour me a scotch, will you?

Why Aren’t Dads Lobbying for Better Work Life Balance?

2010-06-17T10:09:00.000-07:00

Over on my men’s work life balance blog, I’ve been writing about several recent studies, all which point to the fact that men, more than ever before, are struggling with work life balance. Today’s father is waking up facing a whole slew of issues that his father never really had to consider, yet we are still burdened by the expectation that our fathers did face—namely, to be the primary breadwinner.

There are countless examples, of course, of families where mom out earns dad, or dad is the stay at home parent. This is great. We need to hail families like these as trailblazers for turning traditional gender roles on their ear. However, men have a larger battle on their hands, and for the sake of our children we need to arise to the challenge.

It is safe to generalize that men today want (or perhaps, expect) to be more involved with their kids than previous generations of dads. This, I believe is the source of our increasing dissatisfaction with work life balance—we want to be more involved with kids, are rightly expected to do more domestically, but are conditioned to believe we are of most use to our families at the office rather than the dinner table. It is an ugly game of tug of war where, ironically, both families and employers get less than they had bargained for.

Although work life balance is a societal issue—one that affects moms, dads, single people and same sex couples, it is still largely framed as a “mom’s issue”. And why not? Moms brought work life balance to the forefront as they blazed the trail for all aspiring career women who still embraced motherhood. But today, according to the Families and Work Institute more men (59%) than women (45%) are saying that work life and family life are interfering with each other.

I came across an article by Courtney E. Martin who co-authored a report for the Centre for American Progress. In it, she fully acknowledges that men are facing the work life balance crunch and largely get ignored in WLB discussions. But she asks a great question: “…what will motivate men to embrace work/life policy issues as their own?”

She goes on to say that as a woman, she shouldn’t have to answer that question, and that women are tired of asking men to “meet them half way.” Though I understand where the fatigue is coming from, I think her comment is short sighted.

However, her question (and the implied answer) is spot on. Men aren’t organizing and rallying against one-sided work policies (not to mention, work culture) that act as inhibitors to us being more involved fathers. We need to stand up as men, in the workplace and elsewhere, and demand that we no longer should be seen as second class citizens when it comes to parenting and that we deserve the same flexibility policies that are granted to mothers. And we need to feel proud, not emascuated, if we choose to put time with family ahead of time at the office. It’s sadly ironic that the whole world seems to know that involved fathers are the best way to keep our kids in school and out of gangs, jail, and the delivery room. Yet we do little in terms of workplace and social policy to support and foster that involvement.

Like women have done, we need to take responsibility for our actions and our future. We are the only solution to the problems that plague our work and family balance. As we approach Father’s Day, think about how proud you are to be a dad and how much you love being with your kids. And the next time you have the chance to stand up and speak out in support of fatherhood, be it at the work place or the bar, do it with your head held high. One day, your sons and daughters may thank you for it.

Calling all At Home Dads

2010-06-10T13:13:00.000-07:00

If you are an at home dad (or know one) you owe it to yourself to check out the At Home Dad Convention in Omaha, NB.

The event is scheduled officially for October 2nd, but for those who can come for longer, events usually get underway earlier. Last year we watched college football on Thursday night, and spent Friday at the Strategic Air and Space Museum before a welcome reception at the hotel that night. Saturday we had a great line up of speakers including "Daddy Shift" author, Jeremy Adam Smith as well as a full slate of great break out sessions.

This convention is men at their best--drinking beer, watching football and embracing our "guy" side one minute, and actively participating in forums of styling your daughters hair the next.

If you can get to Omaha for this event, I highly recommend it. If money is an issue, I know there is a scholarship available and the local hotel gives participants a great deal.

I hope to make it there again myself this year and I hope to see you there!

"Home, Away" is a Home Run!

2010-06-09T12:34:00.000-07:00

When I was offered a free copy of Jeff Gillenkirk’s first novel, "Home, Away" (Chin Music Press ) I jumped at the opportunity. As this book is about my two favourite passions, fatherhood and baseball, I couldn’t say no. Had the author somehow managed to incorporate Belgian beer into the plot line, I would have written a glowing review without even cracking the spine.

Before I give a little review, I want to make it clear that I don’t see my blog as a review site. My goal is to help portray fathers as the capable and loving care givers we know we are, to expose some of the unique challenges men can face when it comes to parenting and to challenge men to be the best fathers we can be. Having said that, I reviewed the documentary “The Evolution of Dad ” because it adds to the important discussion of who dads really are. Likewise, I am writing about "Home, Away" because it is a refreshingly positive, albeit starkly honest, portrayal of fatherhood.

The story revolves around an emerging young baseball star named Jason Thibodeaux. Less than a year after pitching in the World Series, Jason turns his back on a $45 million dollar contract to care for his estranged and troubled son, Rafe. This isn’t the first time Jason does such a selfless act. The book opens with Jason redshirting his senior season at Stanford to care for his toddler son while his wife finishes Stanford Law. We learn that Rafe was the product of a one night stand. But rather than running away from his responsibilities, Jason is committed to be the father his absentee-oil-rig-working-father never was.

Over the 23 year course of the story, we go from Jason’s acrimonious divorce, to custody fights, to life as a single dad, to the pain of being unfairly vilified by his ex wife, and eventually, completely alienated from his son. Through it all, Jason struggles with his own demons from his relationship with his father. And although Jason makes mistakes as a dad, wrestles with guilt and at times appears to be taking the easy way out, his love for his son and desire to be an active co-parent is evident throughout.

As both a father who would kill for his sons and a boy who grew up with divorced parents, I found myself living the lives of both characters. Early on, I identified with Jason, sharing his pain and anger as his wife and the courts unjustly took his son away. As Rafe grew into an innocent 8 year old boy I was suddenly in his shoes--feeling his anguish of separation and wincing with his desperate attempts to not disappoint either of his parents.

I love the fact that this story of busting stereotypes is set in the ultra-macho context of professional sports, where all too often the true headlines are about fatherhood indiscretions and actions which hurt, not help, the family. And while at times the baseball side of the story bordered on the fantastical, it was not enough to distract me from this wonderful book.

"Home, Away" is inspiring and heartfelt and would make a great Father’s Day gift for the baseball fan and caring dad in your life.

Good-bye, Junior!

2010-06-02T23:21:00.000-07:00

This blog for the most part, is about dads and kids, and childhood joys and fatherly revelries.

Today, it is about baseball.

I have had an obsession with baseball since I was a boy. We are all aware of the clichés surrounding fathers and sons and the greatest game of all time, but they are clichés for a reason: baseball has been connecting fathers and sons for generations. My own father was never a huge baseball fan but he took a greater interest in the game because of my passion for it. In retrospect, that was one of the greatest gestures my father has ever made.

I have been a fan of the Seattle Mariners since they first took to the field in 1977. I was eight, and in the 33 ensuing years since, I have endured much more hardship than celebration. In other words, the Mariners have largely stunk.

In Little League, I was teased mercilessly by my Blue Jay loving friends for rooting for such perennial losers. I didn’t care. I had gone to my first major league baseball game with my dad at the Seattle Kingdome. In spite of the concrete and the artificial turf, the expanse of green was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I was hooked. Baseball was magic. The fact that I could share that moment with my dad, whom I saw all too infrequently, meant even more to me.

Baseball elation came to me in earnest in 1989 in the form of Ken Griffey Jr. The Mariners drafted him out of high school and he was considered far and away the best prospect in the game. He did not disappoint. In his first major league at bat, he hit a double. The first pitch he ever saw in his home stadium, he belted a home run. Griffey was the real deal.

Griffey was electric. Every at bat was filled with tension, and the possibility of greatness. Even in blowout games, fans stayed until the end to watch him play.

Early in his career, Junior and his own father became a part of baseball lore, when one night, playing as team mates, the two hit home runs, one after the other. It has never been done before, and it’s unlikely to be done again.

The day he was traded to Cincinnati, I was a grown man, and I cried. Griffey was baseball to me. It was like my first love had spurned me for another.

When Griffey returned to Seattle a season ago, a shadow of his former self, I cried again. Griffey was home, even if he was past his brilliant prime where he could change the course of a game with one swing of the bat—one flash of the leather.

Tonight, I wept a little once again. The greatest Mariner ever to play—the man who saved baseball in Seattle and who was one of the greatest in the history of the game— announced his retirement.

It sounds silly coming from a grown man, but watching Ken Griffey Jr. play gave me joy. Watching him play as I sat alongside my father made it even more meaningful. And holding my first born son at Safeco Field as we watched “Cran” Griffey Jr's (as he now calls him) triumphant return to Seattle, was one of the most inexplicably moving moments in my short tenure as a father.

Thank-you, Junior. You’ll never know how much your playing of a beautiful game with such grace meant to so many.

The Adventures of Iron Man (shoes)

2010-05-31T15:21:00.000-07:00

My four year old son got his first pair of shoes with laces the other day. It had less to do with wanting laces and more to do with wanting Iron Man shoes that light up when you run. I was somewhat hesitant, fearing countless painful scenarios of trying to rush out the door while facing the inevitable, “No! Let me do it!” I also thought his preschool would be a little less than thrilled, seeing as the kids are going in and out of the building about 400 times a day.

Sure enough, each time we headed out the door he would want to try and tie his shoes. I usually gave him three tries and then did it myself. I hated to curb his independence and desire to learn a new skill, but as usual, we didn’t have the time to practice for a half an hour when we were already five minutes late for swimming lessons. I would kick myself because I kept intending to find a non-rushed time to encourage him to practice, but it always slipped my mind.

The other day my son and I were at the YMCA. I had been having “one of those days”—which for me usually devolves into a pathetic self pity. I was having a bad work day, my bad back was causing me grief and my wife and I had engaged in one of those stupid fights that only married couples can have. I had just finished a workout and had fished Connor out of the swimming pool. I got him showered and dressed and was about to begin putting my clothes on, when I actually remembered.

“Hey, Connor. Why don’t you practice tying your shoes while I get dressed?”

“Ok, Daddy.”

I finished toweling off and put my clothes on. As I was pulling my sweater over my head, Connor said, “Daddy, Look!”

I looked down to see my beautiful boy beaming and a perfect little bow on his shoes.

“Connor, you did it!” I gave him a huge hug. “Great work!”

“Let’s go home and tell mommy.” He said.

He raced out of the change room and down the hall. He was telling every stranger he passed the huge news.

“I just tied my shoes!” he boasted. Some people got it an offered an enthusiastic, "Way to Go!" Others just shrugged and grunted something inaudible. The front desk staff all gave him high fives.

Talk about living vicariously through your children! I was filled with such joy watching him. Not so much at the impressive feat of learning to tie his shoes, but because he was brimming with pride in himself and was giving in to unabashed elation.

Needless to say, my wallowing dissolved. Once again, my son had given me a gift without even knowing it.

How can you feel sorry for yourself when your little boy is over the moon?

"The Evolution of Dad" -- A Review

2010-05-21T16:48:00.000-07:00

If I were reviewing “The Evolution of Dad” as a fictitious film rather than a documentary, I’d say this film has all the makings of a great movie. There is drama and conflict, triumph and tragic storylines, poignancy and laugh-out-loud humour. And there are enough love stories in the first five minutes of this film alone to make Casablanca look like a war flick.

Like any great film, there are great players. We meet heroes like Kevin Knussman, a Maryland State Trooper who is forced to take on his employer when they refuse to grant him a leave to tend to his ailing pregnant wife. “Do I abandon my family?” asks Knussman, “or do I abandon the job that feeds my family?”

We have our corporate villain who, when told that America keeps company with four third world countries as the only ones on the planet without paid parental leave, responds cold heartedly with, “Well, I guess someone who really wants it should consider moving.”

We have the unconventional and unwitting champion, Ralph Benitez (seen above), whose bravery and self-sacrifice would shame any glossy father of the year candidate. Not only do we discover his once downward-spiraling life is saved by the birth of his own child, but we witness his selfless devotion to his fatherless granddaughter.

Having said all of that, The Evolution of Dad isn’t fiction—it’s fact. And that makes this movie all the more compelling.

Some of you know I run a business which attempts to help companies realize the work life balance challenges faced by dads. Frankly, I should show this movie to all my potential clients, because this movie does a brilliant job of portraying the numerous and unique challenges faced by men who want to be nothing less than a full and positive presence in the life of their children. From working dads who are confined by archaic workplace culture to at home dads who have to fight antiquated attitudes, the men in this movie are trailblazers and heroes.

This film is also a celebration which goes far beyond heroic dads and heart rending stories. And while this documentary tells us the facts about involved fathers and what benefits they bring to their children, more importantly, it demonstrates a greater truth: involved fathers are good for fathers themselves. They are good for all of us.

Evolution of Dad- Men's Work Life Balance

2010-05-18T10:42:00.000-07:00

I'll be giving you my review of the new film "The Evolution of Dad" in the next day or so. In the meantime, I have a clip from the movie about something that is near and dear to my heart: men's work life balance.

I don't know how many of you know, but my burgeoning business, Bettermen Solutions, is dedicated to help businesses thrive by helping their male employees with better work life balance skills. I am also the Work Life Balance editor over at The Father Life. You can google "work life balance" and you'll find a billion posts on "moms and work life balance"--these are important and it's essential that they be written. However, statistically speaking, it is men who represent the fastest growing group of people complaining about a lack of work life balance. You just never hear us complain about it--men aren't allowed to whine, remember? (unless we have a tiny cold, then we have free licence!)

At any rate, I hope you'll watch the short three minute video below. You have to enter the password, "workingdad."

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Dads & Work/Life Balance from Evolution of Dad on Vimeo.

"Happy Mother's day?" redux --or "Why I am boycotting Pampers"

2010-05-14T16:10:00.000-07:00

There is an interesting little “dad-centric” event happening going on over at Brian Reid’s Rebel Dad web site.

For those of you who don’t know Brian, he is a pioneer in the dad-blogosphere and a staunch advocate for dads to be recognized as equal parents. To boot, he is a very funny guy.

At any rate, Brian has started an impromptu boycott campaign of Pampers. The reason? Four consecutive years of letters like this:

Hello BRIAN,
Happy Mothers Day!
Thanks, Mom for all that you do.
On this special day, check out the tribute that Pampers has for you! Come join us and other moms on Facebook and YouTube, and take a moment to share what you love best about being a mother.

Pampers had got Brian’s email address in the first place from their points collecting program. As Brian is an at home dad, he was the one buying the diapers, changing the diapers and subsequently entering the ‘code’ into the on-line points collector.

At any rate, four years of stupidity was enough for Brian so he decided to write Pampers and let them know he’s boycotting until they wake up to the fact that there are involved dads out there, too. Before you know it, people were tweeting things like this:

I'm joining @rebeldad and boycotting Pampers until they recognize that dads do diapers, too. #pampersboycott http://bit.ly/d0dTGY

Now, nearly 10,000 people on twitter have been made aware of the boycott.

A few days later, Brian thought he was getting a peace offering when he saw something from Proctor & Gamble (the makers of Pampers) in the mailbox. However, what he got was this:

I don’t know if you picked it out at first glance, but while mom is playing happily with her two kids, dad is SLEEPING ON THE COUCH!

In my business, I do a lot of talking about the forces at play which make it hard for men to break away from the restraints of the old paradigm when it comes to their relationship with their kids. I argue that society still keeps men at an arms length by reinforcing that mom is the superior, go-to parent, and dad is better serving his family by being at the office. A lot of people scoff at me when I say that. Intellectually the overwhelming majority of us have moved beyond those antiquated stereotypes. However, these sorts of images, subtle though this one may be, serve to do nothing but help keep dad on the couch.

If you are a proud, involved father, speak out. Let people know that you aren’t a lie-on-the-couch dad. And let Pampers know that sort of advertising does nothing but reinforce old gender lines that hurt everybody.

Brian’s boycott on twitter is #pampersboycott and Brian’s twitter address is @rebeldad

Happy Mother's Day?

2010-05-10T17:23:00.000-07:00

To all my mom readers out there, I wish you a belated, “Happy Mother’s Day.”

And I hope I’m not the first man to wish that to you.

I was alarmed to discover from my wife yesterday that five of her friends/acquaintances got nothing—I repeat—nothing from their husbands (or their kids via their husbands) on Mother’s day. I know of one dad who didn’t even let his wife sleep in; he snoozed while his wife got up with the kids! And lest these dads want to use the lame excuse, “Well, you’re not my mother” their kids are either in pre-school or diapers and not likely to come up with a mother’s day present without a little help.

I’ve met all of the dads in question, and think they are all good guys and great dads. I am beyond wordless that these men would be so utterly unconscious as to do nothing for the mother of their children on her special day.

I am far from the perfect husband. I forget things, I’m easily preoccupied, I can be selfish and I’m not as good at acknowledging everything my wife does to keep our family together as I should be. My wife is patient with my shortcomings as I try to be with hers. That said, if I didn’t do anything for her on mother’s day, I might as well walk into the nearest open sewer and die.

The point, as much as I want to, is not to berate these fathers for their utter cluelessness. The point is to express what has to be fathering (if not parenting) tip number one: be good to your spouse and put your marriage first.

A healthy marriage will benefit your kids in countless ways. You are modeling a strong adult relationship; you are demonstrating to your son how he should behave to his future wife; you are setting a positive example for your daughter of what she should seek in a husband. A healthy marriage will result in a happier home where your children will have an opportunity to thrive. Take your spouse for granted too many times, however, and it is a recipe for disaster.

I sure hope these guys aren’t expecting anything for Father’s Day.

The Evolution of Dad

2010-05-05T16:54:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to give a heads up. The groundbreaking documentary “The Evolution of Dad” is now available for order. I’m not just saying this because the above photo of my oldest son and me appears in the first five minutes, I’m saying this because it is a very important film and one which I can’t wait to see.

It has also been a labour of love for the film maker, Dana Glazer, and I hope it will be as monetarily fruitful for him as I’m sure it was emotionally.

You can check out the first five minutes of the film here.

Nobody's Perfect

2010-04-26T21:21:00.000-07:00

The Human-Blur that is my son at the moment.

Lest I’ve portrayed myself as an infallible father in some of my blog posts, I need to open up a bit.

Parenting my four year old right now is a pain.

My son is in a near perpetual hyper-annoying state right now, where he is commanding and defiant—bellicose and belligerent. His favourite pastime at the moment is trying to get his way all the time.

I know this is a natural stage for kids. They explore their limits and test your boundaries. Sometimes it’s even funny when he’s looking incredibly stern and proclaiming things like, “No daddy, it’s not your choice!” and “I’m going to count to nineteen!” As I listen to him, I wonder, “Is that really how I sound?”

There are other times, however, when the constant conflict is plain exasperating. Everything—from getting dressed to going to bed—is a battle. Sometimes, I can’t win for losing. The other day he was barking at me to help him put on his socks. After calmly getting him to change his tone and say “please” I sat him on my lap and started putting on his socks.

“No, let me do it!” he snarled.

“Connor, you just asked me to…”

“WAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!” he shouted while throwing his head back.

My inner monologue at moments like these (at least the part I can write without being investigated by social services) go something like this: “What am I doing wrong? I’ve tried everything. I’ve had the patience of Job, and I’ve been short and firm. I’ve given him a long leash, and I’ve shortened it. I’ve been polite, and I’ve laid down the law. I’ve given him choices, and I’ve taken them away. Maybe I’ve just totally screwed him up with a total lack of consistency.”

In short, I beat myself up. I’ve been blessed with a happy, healthy son who has largely been a dream to parent and now he’s the Tasmanian devil on steroids. Surely, it has to be my fault.

Then the other morning, after stand-offs over teeth brushing, face wiping and turning off the TV (all punctuated with great “harrumphs”) I thought we were headed for another conflict over putting on his shoes. Instead, as I was bent over about to tie up his laces, he put his hand on my back and said, “You know daddy, even when I’m grumpy with you, I still love you.”

“Me too,” I said choking back the instant tears. “Always.”

Now maybe my son has just learned that the word “love” will make his dad melt on the spot, but I like to think at moments like that, maybe I’m not doing such a bad job after all.

Don’t forget to cut yourself some slack as a parent from time to time. While it is essential to want to take responsibility and raise a healthy child, sometimes your kids can just be little shits—just like we can. And that’s OK.

Dads, Sharpen Your Pencils!

2010-04-22T21:11:00.000-07:00

When I worked at CBC radio, I had the chance to meet a lot of creative people. One such person was Cori Howard, who among many talents, is a terrific writer and writing teacher.

By complete fluke, my wife ended up taking one of Cori’s workshops—“The Momoir Project”. In this class, women were given the chance to write about children, childbirth, husbands, partners, fear, pain, misery, joy and the myriad of other emotions that come with being a mother. Many women who have taken Cori’s class have wound up getting published themselves.

I’m really excited to announce that Cori is having her first ever “Dadoir” workshop. (I told her she should do a Harlequin Romance class and call it the “Boudoir Project.”)

As Cori writes, “Yes, it’s true. For the first time ever, and much to my surprise, we are hosting the first-ever Dadoir workshop. I’ve been asked many times over the years if I would do something for dads, but I never thought it would work to have a woman, like me, teaching men how to write. To have a woman, like me, asking men to divulge all the personal and juicy details of their marital, sexual and emotional lives. So when Dan McKinney, a professor at the UBC Journalism School and internationally-acclaimed documentary filmmaker, offered to lead it, how could I resist?”

Evidently, she couldn’t. It's on Sunday, May 23, from7 to 10 pm at the Simply French Cafe, at 10th and Alma.
On a personal note, I’ve found that blogging about being a dad has brought me even closer to my wife and kids. Writing about fatherhood has really made me think about fatherhood. It has been a great way to deepen, and become more aware of my feelings (sorry men, I used the “f” word”).

If you live in the Vancouver area and you want to sign up, click here.

I hope to see you there!

Super Birthday!

2010-04-15T16:40:00.000-07:00

I had my 41st birthday over the weekend. It beat the hell out of my 40th, if only for the simple fact that I wasn’t in the hospital getting shot up with meds due to severe back spasms.

After having a great sleep in and a yummy breakfast, we spent a sunny Vancouver spring afternoon at one of my favourite childhood (and adult) places, Stanley Park. We had a great picnic and I opened my gifts. My 4 year old gave me a pillow case with hearts that he had sewn (you can imagine my response) while my wife gave me a DVD of the Superfriends (from season 1—1973—without those lame wonder twins.) This has to be my all-time favourite Saturday morning cartoon and my 4 year old was as eager as I to watch it.

We then went to “How to Train Your Dragon.” I don’t know which was more fun—watching the movie, or watching my suddenly Elton-John look alike son in his 3-D glasses, mouth agape, taking in the movie.

After we got home, we had a yummy dinner, some cake, and then…the Superfriends! I was totally taken back to my childhood. I could remember things just before they happened, and was floored that my aging memory was suddenly so vibrant.

The next day, I was doing a little yard work, including over-seeding some bare patches on the lawn. As usual, Connor was there, rake and gardening tools in hand. It was a beautiful spring day—not hot—but one where you felt like summer isn’t that far off. I got the sprinkler out to water the new seed. Before I could even turn it on, my son was jumping up and down shouting, “Let’s run through the sprinkler, Daddy!” I was about to say, ‘It’s a bit too cold, Connor” when I looked at his giddy, beaming face. How could I deflate that?

“Alright,” I said. “You turn on the hose.”

“Woo-hoo!” he shouted.

We spent the next ten minutes running and laughing until we were both looking like a couple of drowned rats.

This was truly a weekend of letting my son do what kids do best—giving us an excuse to act like kids and to embrace play. I used to joke with people before I became a dad that I needed to have kids so I could have a legitimate excuse to watch Sesame Street again.

Our kids give us permission—actually, they entice us—to experience the light heartedness and pure joy of play.

Jump at it, any chance you can.

What's up, Chuck?

2010-04-08T11:02:00.000-07:00

Warning! This post contains graphic descriptions of the stomach flu!

A few days ago, my 4 year old walked through the front door complaining of a tummy ache. His words belied his actions as he had pranced up the stairs, and according to my wife, had just had a fabulous swimming lesson. He got two words out of his mouth before he let the barf fly. I scooped him up by the underarms and got him to the toilet just in time for round two.

While my wife bravely cleaned up the pool of vomit by the front door (just one of the many benefits of being married to a woman with no sense of smell) I rubbed my son’s back as he heaved away over the toilet. When the retching subsided, I stripped off his soiled clothes and got him into the tub.

As we all do, my son rebounded somewhat after the barfing episode, and I was crossing my fingers that this was a one-time puke. We got out of the tub, put on some jammies and crawled into the guest room bed. In no time, he was asleep, even though it was only late afternoon. A few minutes later he surprised both of us by throwing up in his sleep. Between the heaves, he was wailing from both the horrid sensation of vomiting and the fear and surprise of being awakened so violently. This pattern of barf-sleep-barf played itself out every 45 minutes or so until about two in the morning. After each round of barfing, he would snuggle up to me and seek comfort in my hair strokes and back rubs. I was all too glad to do it, and like all parents in this situation, felt awful that I couldn’t do more.

At around 3:30 after an hour and a half of barfless sleep, he woke up. “Daddy,” he croaked, “I’m so thirsty.”

I gave him an ounce of diluted apple juice to see if it would stay down. It did. Twenty minutes later I gave him another ounce. Success! After another 20 minutes, I let him finish off the glass.

As he settled back down into bed and snuggled up to me again, he looked like a broken prize fighter, splayed face down on the canvas. As if reaching for the ropes, his little hand moved upward and found my face.

“I love you so much, Daddy,” he mumbled, before his hand fell to the pillow and he was down for the count.

There was a time and a place when being where I was and doing what I was doing would have been “woman’s work”. Some families might still adhere to that old model, but I think it is a safe bet to say that they are in the minority.

The point I want to make here is, had this been a time when tending to a sick child was mom’s job, I would have missed out on that heartwarming exchange with my beloved son. A lot of families still have arrangements where, for example, bath time is dad time and story time is mom time. I would urge you not to fall into those routines. Firstly, you are potentially creating a troubling situation with your child if mom always does a certain task and then, for some reason, can’t make it. Secondly, there are magical moments to be had with your children, even amidst the seemingly most menial or even unpleasant moments.

The gifts your newborn brings

2010-03-30T13:06:00.000-07:00

For those of you who saw the previous picture to this post, you saw my oldest son dressing up as Robin for his 4th birthday. We also put a mask on our 3 month old, who, in this picture anyway, resembles Dame Edna.

I think all those clichés about being more relaxed as a parent the second time around are true. I was at the stove flipping bacon with one hand and my 3 day old in the other just after he was born. Had that been my first son, I’m sure we would have had him in a hazmat suit at least 30 yards from the stove.

The other miracle that comes with being a parent for the second (or third, or seventeenth) time—you can’t believe you have enough love in you to love the new one as much as you did the first one.

I often just stare at my infant son and marvel at him—“baby TV” as my sisters call it. I can just stare at him and become quite emotionally overcome. I’ve met some men, however, who have been brave enough to admit that when their child was born, they didn’t “get it.” They loved their child, of course, but they weren’t overcome with emotion as they were made to expect. They then often say that after a few months, when the baby becomes more interactive, that bonding begins to take off.

If you are a new dad, or expecting, don’t beat yourself up if you are one of those aforementioned men. You aren’t alone and you aren’t a bad father. Trust that those feelings will come in time.

I’ve written before that I am most overwhelmed with feelings of love for my children when I am totally present to them. I think Eckhardt Tolle would say that in those moments, I am fully in the “now” which, he preaches is the only place in which we can really live.

If you are struggling a bit with those nascent feelings, take a page from Eckardt’s book (unless it’s a library copy ;-) and try and be in the present with your newborn. Try little things. Watch their little chest rise and fall with each breath. Marvel at the teeny little dimples between their knuckles. Caress their impossibly smooth skin. Hold them gently to your body and take in that wonderful baby smell. Let them fall asleep on your chest and just feel them there.

With each of these suggestions, don’t have any expectations. Don’t try for any results. Just let your baby take you into the present and let things be.

Bringing you into the present moment is one of the greatest gifts your child will ever give you. And when it comes to that gift, no one is better at it than a newborn.

Happy 4th, Connor!

2010-03-22T22:47:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday my beloved Robin. You possess the superhuman strength of lifting up a grown man every day!

How do I best serve my family?

2010-03-22T12:38:00.000-07:00

I recently wrote a very short, very cursory article for website dedicated to working moms. I was trying to offer a 101 of why some men might not be as involved with their kids and domestic duties as some moms would like. In brief, I made three points—1) We are at the office all the time because it is in our genes to provide for our families 2) We can compare the housework we do, not with the work of our spouse, but with the work of our fathers 3) Maternal gate keeping chases some men away. (To read the short article, click here.) This wasn't a "one size fits all" article. This was intended to be a "if your husband is doing this..." article.

The responses have been fascinating—I’ve been called everything from “bang on” to a chauvinist pig. What has surprised me, however, is how many people have disagreed with my first point—men are hardwired to provide. Now, when I say “provide”, I mean in the traditional financial sense. I am a firm believer (and have based my business on the point) that men need to broaden their definition of “provide” to go beyond a strictly financial one (this is in no way to bash hard working, responsible, breadwinning dads, but rather to better understand them.)

I know we have a lot of at home dad readers on this blog, who have done just that—they realize that they have so much to offer their children and their families beyond just a paycheck. They are leading the evolutionary process.

Having said that, I’m guessing if you asked the average working father what are his two greatest fears concerning his family he would say, in order:

1) That someone gets sick, hurt or dies.

2) That I will no longer be able to “provide” for them.

There is a reason that more men than ever are saying that their work lives interfere with their family lives. Men are becoming more involved dads, and more is expected of them on the home front than was of the previous generation. They want to spend more time with their kids. However, there is still a pull (push?) from society and our genetic make up that says we are best serving those we love by earning money. We feel guilty being away from our kids like never before, but still feel we are doing the right thing.

Do you feel genetics and society still puts pressure on you to earn? If society still portrays women as sex objects, do they portray men as "money objects?"

I’d love to hear some of your thoughts..

...of GI Joe and Barbie

2010-03-15T17:49:00.000-07:00

Already programmed to save damsels in distress!

When it comes to gender issues and kids, as individuals we can all celebrate differences and we can criticize practices and beliefs which seem outdated. I still feel that society as a whole, however, reinforces some gender stereotypes. At a very early age, little girls are pressured to become women and little boys are channeled to grow up to be men. You don’t have to look far to find examples. When have you ever seen a TV ad with a little boy playing Barbies? Or a little girl pretending her GI Joe truck is under attack?

Though I celebrate the differences inherent in gender, I have never pushed that “boys do this, girls do that” crap on my son. I have never admonished him for showing his emotions. I have never told him to stop crying, be tough or “suck it up.” And I think I’ve set a fairly good example for my son by not hiding my tears in front of him on numerous occasions (usually when the Mariners lose.)

This is why I was so disturbed by something that happened to my son the other day. I was dropping him off at daycare, and had to talk to his teacher for a moment. When I was ready to go, I asked my son if he wanted a hug good-bye. He went to leap over some toy to get to me, had his feet taken out from under him, and came crashing down hard on his tailbone.

Both my wife and I have never been a “sprint-to-your-child-the-moment-he-tips-over,” parent. Our philosophy is to wait a second or two to see how he will react on his own and then provide him with what he needs. Sometimes, however, you can tell right away that a fall is a big one, and this was a big one.

I scooped him up and asked him if he was ok. He was choking back the tears as he said he was fine. I kept rubbing his bruised little bottom and was using empathetic language, “That must have really hurt. That was a big fall!”

“I’ll be ok, daddy” he winced, and limped off to play with his friends.

I was shocked. Neither my wife nor I have ever told him to be tough…to be strong. So why was he compelled to choke back the tears?

Could it be that at the age of 3, my son had already been flooded with enough examples of boys being tough that it conditioned his response?

I don’t have any answers, but I do have a reflection. If society puts that much pressure on our sons and daughters to act like “men” and “women” respectively, we owe it to our children not to reinforce the negative stereotypes. Afraid too much roughhousing with your little girl will make her “less feminine”? I wouldn’t worry about it. Think that being to affectionate with your son will make him into a “sissy”? Not likely.

Hell, I’m the “sissy” in our family and look what sort of a “tough” son I have!

I am the Gatekeeper...

2010-03-09T16:54:00.000-08:00

I’ve written a lot about what you can do to deepen the bond and make the most of your time with your child. Despite your best intentions, however, there can still be barriers—sometimes within your own family.

No matter how “enlightened” we might be when it comes to our attitudes about traditional gender roles many men still define their primary role as that of breadwinner. For many men, losing a job isn’t just a financial hardship; it is failure to carry out the one function that society expects from us as fathers.

I think a similar situation arises for many women when it comes to parenting. No matter how successful a woman might be in the professional world, many women feel like society still judges her by how good a mother she is. “Abandoning” the family in pursuit of a career can cause feelings of guilt. When that feeling becomes too prevalent, the end result can be something called “gatekeeping.”

A maternal gatekeeper is someone who, at the same time, wants a greater sharing of child raising and domestic responsibilities, but who can’t give up control at home. It can be subtle, like always taking the crying baby out of dad’s arms. Or it can be overt, like demeaning dad for the way he dresses his child. The end result is often that the father becomes disengaged and the mother further resents her uninvolved husband.

By no means is every mother a gatekeeper. Likewise, gatekeeping is not uniquely the domain of women (just ask my wife, who has given up on loading the dishwasher since I just reload it anyway.)

If this is an issue within your family, it needs to be talked about. Before you approach the subject, however, realize that your partner is not gatekeeping to be mean. She may be feeling threatened or dealing with her own self-worth issues. Or maybe you really are just crappy at vaccuuming. Either way, it needs to be discussed in a sane and rational manner.

Begin any conversation about gatekeeping by expressing your gratitude for all that she does for your family. Then you have to let her know that her behavior is having a negative effect on the family. You can remind her that we all respond much better to praise than criticism, and that by overseeing your parenting, she is making you feel more like a helper than a partner. You can also offer to make an effort to do things in her particular way in one or two areas that are of vital importance to her, but remind her that she has to give you some latitude to do things your way. As my friend and author Hogan Hilling says, “Focus on what your husband is doing, not how he’s doing it.” Lastly, if she can’t see the effect her behaviour is having on the family, consider marital counseling.

As for "giving up" on your fatherly duties because she’s just going to criticize you? It’s a cop-out. If the boss came into your office and told you he didn’t like a few aspects of your report, you wouldn’t throw your arms up in the air and storm out of the room shouting, “Fine, you do it!”

Anything that is getting in the way of you being the best, most involved father you can be needs to be addressed, not only for your kids sake, but for your own.

Evolution of Dad

2010-03-08T12:10:00.000-08:00

I'm normally a "live in the moment" kind of guy, but having just seen the trailer for the upcoming movie, The Evolution of Dad, I'm looking forward to Father's Day, 2010.

I encourage you to check it out.

"Sorry" is the hardest word.

2010-03-01T11:55:00.000-08:00

The other night I was struggling to get my son into bed. He was wired. He’d been to a birthday party and crammed his little cake-hole with plenty of junk. It was well past his bedtime to boot. I was aware of the combination of circumstances, which was the only thing that was preventing me from an outburst. I was tired. I knew that this wasn’t usually how my child behaved at bedtime, and was able to cut him a bit of slack. But it was still trying.

I managed to wrestle him into his pajamas and got him to snuggle down for a short story. Finally, I kissed him goodnight, and was heading out the door. I hadn’t really seen my wife all day and was looking forward to some child-free time to catch up. Just then, my son spoke up.

“Dad,” he said, “you forgot my glass of water.”

Part of the nightly routine is to get him a glass of cold water. He likes it cold so I let the tap run for a second or two to get it beyond luke-warm. That is, I do that every time except on this night. Feeling tired and a little grumpy myself, I let out a sigh, ran to the bathroom, got him some water, set it by his bed and wished him goodnight.

I got half way down the stairs when I heard him again.

“Dad,” he called, “the water isn’t cold.”

“It’s cold enough, sweetheart. Go to bed”

“But dad, I want cold water”

“Good night”

“No, but dad….”

“Good night, Connor”

Then came the wailing.

I grumped my way down the stairs, and could still hear him howling for cold water.

“What’s going on?” my wife asked.

“Ah, he’s all upset that I didn’t get him cold water” I said half annoyed and half chuckling.

“But we always get him cold water at bedtime. What do you expect?”

I stopped in my tracks. My wife was right.

Feel free to question my parenting skills for establishing a nightly routine of cold water in the glass. I have no problem if you think that is spoiling my child. I think you would be hard pressed, however, to say that my son’s reaction was out of order. From months of routine, he had come to expect something from me. To change it arbitrarily must have made no sense to him at all. His response was totally understandable.

I went upstairs, and sat on the foot of his bed. “You know what, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I was wrong. Let me get you a glass of cold water.”

Letting him cry himself to sleep wouldn’t have killed him, but what would that have served? I suppose there could have been a “life isn’t always what you expect” lesson but he, like the rest of us, gets enough of those on a day to day basis. I thought it was more valuable to show him that it’s ok to admit when you’ve made a mistake: that there is nothing wrong with saying, “I’m sorry.”

As dads, we’ve all gotten into a battle of wills with our kids, and quietly asked ourselves, “Now why did I pick this fight?” There are, unquestionably, moments where to not hold your ground is a mistake, but it isn’t always that way. In those moments, I challenge you to look beyond “winning” for winning’s sake and see if an admission of error and an apology can set things right. It might feel odd, but I think you are actually teaching your child a valuable lesson.

I have something to say.

2010-02-19T10:02:00.000-08:00

Not long ago, I was at the local community centre when I spotted a poster. A university professor was doing research on fathers and their attitudes towards their children’s safety. Long story short—I called and volunteered to be a part of the study.

A few days later we met, and I was asked a series of questions. Not surprisingly, I couldn’t shut up. At the end, I apologized for going on so long and asked how the study was going so far. Dr. Brussoni told me she had been overwhelmed by the number of enthusiastic men who wanted to participate and offer volumes of information. She was surprised that she had to turn some of them away.

“That’s because no one ever asks us our opinion when it comes to parenting,” I said. “They are probably just as thrilled as I am that someone actually wants to listen to what they have to say about being a dad.”

On an individual basis, I’m sure there are many people who care what men think about parenting. But on a societal level, it’s all about the moms: from magazines to media to marketing.

The purpose of telling this story, believe it or not, is not to rant about how society still largely sees dads as “the person who helps out” with the parenting (which, sadly, is the case in many instances.) This story is about the power of listening.

I can’t tell you how refreshing it was to have someone really interested in my parenting philosophies as a father. Instead of being pegged into a hole, I was being valued for my opinions.

We need to do the same for our kids.

If you are the father of a teen, you know how hormones and coming into adulthood can be turbulent. I can certainly remember as a teen resenting that no one outside of my peer group seemed to care what I had to say. I felt like society didn’t give a damn about my opinion; society just expected me to be a trouble maker.

If my three year old asks me a string of questions, at some point, I usually ask him what he thinks. I do this partly for the comedic responses. Mostly, I do it to strengthen our bond.

Asking your children what they think will help them develop critical thinking and deductive reasoning. In short, you are encouraging them to think for themselves. But more importantly, when you ask your child his or her view, you are showing them that you care. Our kids see us as knowledge keepers and benevolent dictators. By seeking their outlook, you are now teaching them that what they have to say is of value. You are empowering them. You are helping foster their self esteem.

Burned as the Olympic Torch passed

2010-02-15T12:29:00.000-08:00

The Olympic torch was passing through our neighbourhood last week, so my wife and I took our two boys out to see it.

Our two month old slept (future Olympic champion in this discipline) but Connor was quite excited. We got some free hot chocolate, a Canada flag, lined the street and then waited…and waited…and waited.

Connor was a little tired, so he sat on my feet. I actually told him to sit on them as the ground was rather watery and I didn’t want him to get his bum all wet and cold.

After a while, my feet were starting to get numb and sore, so I said, “Alright Connor, it’s time to stand up.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because,” I said, before continuing a conversation with my wife.

“Daddy,” he grumped, “‘because’ isn’t a very good answer.”

The little scamp had me.

“You are right, sweetheart. ‘Because’ isn’t a very good answer. I need you to stand up because my feet are starting to hurt.”

“Oh, ok,” he said cheerily, and popped right up.

For some odd reason, I thought of Cal Ripken Jr. I’ve witnessed him give several baseball clinics, and one of his mantras when he is talking to parents and coaches is, “Always explain the ‘why.’”

His logic is that kids will digest and learn better if they understand why they are doing something rather than just being told to learn it by rote.

“Keep your butt down,” is far less effective than, “Keep your butt down. That way, your eyes are lower to the ground, you can follow the bounce of the ball better and you are less likely to get hit in the chops.”

I’ll mail $10 to any adult who found “because” or “because I said so” to be a satisfying answer when they were a child. So why do we pull the same BS on our kids? Your kids find it as unsatisfying and maddening as you did. “Because” is nothing more than a power game; it says, “I am more powerful than you, you will do what you are told.”

Don’t agree? If the boss asked you why the monthly report was late, would you ever consider barking, “Because I said so!”?

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: dads can be saddled with the lion’s share of the disciplining of a child. By default, our actions in these moments can almost be unthinking—dictated by how we saw our dads act.

I challenge you next time the situation arises to “explain the why”—not only to your child, but to yourself. I can understand, when your child is stringing you along with seventeen ‘why’s in a row why the ‘because’ might come out, but most of the time it is a cop out.

Socks and nose rings

2010-02-10T10:39:00.000-08:00

Socks, the former "first cat" who has nothing to do with this post.

Remember being a teen?

I remember when I was around eighteen having my ears pierced (for about a week), and a friend’s dad told me that if I was his son, he wouldn’t let me through the door. I’ve never understood that “no child of mine will have purple hair” mentality -- which is why I was a little taken aback when I found myself arguing with my three year old this morning over his desire to wear two socks that didn’t match.

My first thought was, “But what will they think at his daycare? That we get our socks from the Salvation Army? That we neglect our son and leave him to do his own laundry? What if Fashion TV unexpectedly pops in to his preschool?” Fortunately, this was quickly followed up with, “What do I care what anyone thinks about my son’s socks?”

Part of your bounden duty as a teenager was to try and shock your parents—usually in the form of loud music, outrageous clothes, or coloured hair. If you did any of those things, you probably did so mainly because you thought it was cool. But I also think teens do those things to express who they are, or perhaps more accurately at that stage, who they aren’t: namely their parents. There is some testing going on there, too. Teens are hoping for a partial conniption from the parents (shock value) but are ultimately hoping to be accepted for who they are.

My son, though not trying for shock value (sock value?), was surely exercising his independence. The reaction I was having was less a concern about what people would think about him, and more a concern about how people would judge me as a parent.

Generally, dads aren’t overly concerned about a matching wardrobe when it comes to dressing a toddler. But we are often the ones who rail when our child comes home with a tongue stud or purple hair. We’ve all had the experience as parents when we hear ourselves uttering things from generations-gone-by and then catch ourselves saying, “Oh my god, I sound like my father.”

Let it go.

If your three year old puts on mismatching socks or your teen comes home with a ring in her nose, look past the exterior to the person within. You can tease them and roll your eyes a little so they still get to enjoy the shock value (or you can tell them you really like it and totally take the wind out of their sails) but then let them know that frankly, you don’t care what they look like on the outside—it’s the person on the inside that you love.

Good boy or good job?

2010-02-08T09:48:00.000-08:00

My wife and I are currently finding great humour in a general societal trend we’ve just noticed.

Our little two-month old, for whatever reason, seems to be a very happy baby. If he’s not sleeping, he’s happily gurgling away, either to himself, or to a doting parent or grand-parent. More than once, when we’ve been out in public—at a movie or a restaurant—we’ve had people come up to us and say, “Oh, what a good baby! He hasn’t made a peep.”

It makes us wonder, if he’d been crying the whole time would people say, “For heaven’s sake, what a bad baby you have!”?

This leads me to think about good and bad. I have never uttered the words “good boy” to my sons, and I never will. Why?

Well, let’s say my son does something positive—picks up his coat, takes his plate back to the kitchen, or even hits a baseball. If I say, “Good boy” then what is implied when he refuses to pick up his coat, doesn’t clear his plate, or strikes out? Surely, if doing those aforementioned things makes him a good boy, not doing them makes him a bad boy. I think we teach kids about good and bad early enough that they can easily make that interpretation.

Early childhood educators will tell you to praise or condemn the behavior, not the child. One study I came across aptly illustrates why that is sage advice. In the study, kids were divided into two groups, divided as equally as possible across academic, cultural and socio-economic lines. Each group was given a test. As you would expect, the averages panned out to be more or less the same. Then, for two weeks, one group was told, “Wow, you guys are so smart” with the emphasis being on intelligence. The other group was told, “Wow, you kids must have worked so hard for that test.” For them, the emphasis was on effort. After a few weeks of this pattern, the kids were given the same test again. The group that had been praised for effort saw their average mark go up. In the group where intelligence was lauded, the marks went down.

The researchers came up with two hypotheses. The first was that the praise for smarts made the first group complacent. The second was that, while children could not control how smart they are, they can control how much effort they put out. Praising effort, in other words, was an act of empowering these children.

We all want our kids to succeed. As I’ve mentioned in the last couple of posts, we dads sometimes push our kids hard to achieve, particularly in the hyper competitive world of sports. If you are one of these dads, try to adopt terms like, “great work,” “good job” and “super effort.”

Calling your child a “good boy” when he hits a baseball, by default, means he is a “bad boy” 70% of the time.

Connor vs. the Zamboni

2010-02-04T22:16:00.000-08:00

My three year old has been taking skating lessons since just before Christmas. He loves it and he seems very proud of his progress, from learning how to get up from a fall on his own, to gently stepping across the rink, to now taking three or four giant strides before getting scared by his own speed and hurling himself down on the ice. Although my wife and I joke about kissing our future Saturdays goodbye, we have taken such pleasure in his pleasure.

And then something happened.

The other day, at his lesson, his instructor suddenly plucked him from the ice, and skated him over to the boards. He had tears streaming down his face and he kept crying that he didn’t want to skate anymore.

“What is it, sweetheart?” I asked. Did he hurt himself? Were his skates too tight? Did he suddenly have visions of playing for the Toronto Maple Leafs?

I got nothing from him other than, “I don’t want to skate anymore.”

I gave him a minute or two to regain his composure before I tried to send him back onto the ice. He went into ‘limp’ mode, and recommenced with the sobbing. He started screaming that he wanted to go home.

I began with a speech about commitment—about finishing what you’ve started. I reminded him that, after we finished his first set of six lessons, we asked him if he wanted to take another six lessons. He had wanted to take more lessons, so we were going to finish them. If, I went on, he wanted to stop taking lessons after we finished those to which he’s committed, that was fine by me. But, by golly, we weren’t going to quit before then.

Nothing doing! He was having none of it, and I was powerless.

Over the next few days, as I looked back at his behavior, it bothered me. Not that he was crying—I’ve never laid the “boys don’t cry” bullshit on him—but that he just quit. I don’t care if I raise a son who isn’t good at anything; I just want to teach him about trying your hardest and having fun in the process. On the other hand, I told myself, my son is only three, and maybe I need to just let it go.

Shortly after, we discovered that my son was terrified of the zamboni. I had forgotten that the last time he was on the ice prior to the meltdown, he freaked out when the loud buzzer sounded. He thought the zamboni was coming, not only to flood the ice, but to swallow us whole.

There is often more to our children’s emotions and subsequent actions than we know. My son wasn’t even able to really vocalize his own fears though, in his eyes, they were very real. He still won’t step out on the ice, so we’ve decided to hang up the skates until next fall. If he’s going to become an Olympian, a few missed lessons at this age aren’t going to make a difference.

My son’s three year old reasoning and intuition were telling him it wasn’t safe to go out onto the ice, even if he was incapable of articulating that. If you have young children, try to keep in mind that the emotions behind their actions are very real and logical to them -- even if they seem silly or irrational to you. It is really important, especially for us dads who tend to push our children more, to let them come to trust their own instincts. My son was visibly shaken at the prospect of going back onto the ice, though I was hell bent on “teaching him a lesson.” The only thing he would have learned had I thrown him back out there is not to trust his intuition when it comes to his own personal safety.

Take a time out!

2010-01-28T16:44:00.000-08:00

I was reading a great post from Jeremy Adam Smith over at his blog, Daddy Dialectic. It had to do with dads, their sons and the sometimes painful dance that they do around playing sports---in this case, hockey.

It got me to thinking about my own relationship between sports, my father and me. I played just about every game under the sun (ironically for a Canadian kid) other than hockey. I excelled at some, floundered at others, and mainly just tried to have fun playing the rest. My father rarely got to see me play anything. I lived primarily with my mother, and dad lived too far away to come to games. Like many fathers and sons, sports became a talking point, and it was my dad who took me to my first professional baseball, football and basketball games.

When I was ten, our little league team went undefeated. I had been a steady-if-not-flashy important part of the team, and had at least one hit in every game we played. My dad drove the seven hours to see our semi-final, and hopefully, final game. This was the first time he’d ever seen me play.

Well, we won both the semi-final and the championship, but I didn’t get one hit. I think I had more strike outs in those two games than I had all season. After each one I looked to my dad. To this day, I am still grateful to my coach who recognized how desperately I was trying to please my father, and who, in front of me, told my dad how I was a real leader and contributor on the team.

My dad was never a boisterous or pushy sports parent. He never drove me to succeed nor did he ever seem disappointed by any failures on the field. Yet I was still so desperate to impress him—to make him proud.

I once asked retired Major Leaguer, JT Snow, if he pushed his son harder because he himself had played professional baseball. “No,” he said immediately. He said if anything, he pushed his son less because he knows how much pressure a kid can be under if he shows major league potential. “After the game, give him a hug, tell him you love him and take him for ice cream.”

Keep that in mind if your children play sports. They care more about impressing you than anyone else: team mates, coaches, even scouts. Conversely, they will agonize if they feel they have let you down (which, statistically, will happen more times than not.) If they are going to defy the odds and make it to the pros, it isn’t going to be because you barked at them all game long. By having no vested interest in the outcome of the game, and by loving them just for being them, you will be helping to create an environment where your child can thrive—whether they ever win a game or not.

No boys allowed

2010-01-25T14:29:00.000-08:00

I was at a conference on Friday put on by the Father Involvement Network of British Columbia. It was called “Focus on Fathering” and it brought together all sorts of professionals who work with Dads at many different levels. We had some terrific speakers and took part in some great discussions.

It was both inspiring and saddening.

I was inspired by the men and women who are dedicated to making families stronger, and doing everything in their power to help men be better, more involved fathers.

I was saddened that we even need such a conference. As one presenter put it, “can you imagine anyone holding a ‘Mother Involvement Conference?”

At first, it’s easy to default to the idea that uninvolved dads are alcoholic welfare bums, but that is wrong on two fundamental levels. Firstly, that assumption carries the subtext that we should just write off that portion of society that is mired in poverty and many of the complex problems that go with it. Secondly, it overlooks the fact that under the tragic umbrella of uninvolved dads, you will find doctors, lawyers, politicians, and businessmen earning 8 figure salaries.

At any rate, that night my wife told me a dear friend who is expecting was having a baby shower.

“When is it?” I asked.

"Next weekend, but you’re not invited.”

I’m not invited. The grandfather-to-be is not invited (though he’s expected to help make sandwiches) and the father is not invited.

Now, for all I know, maybe the dad doesn’t want to be there. I can imagine the conversation that happened might have involved the wife telling her husband her girlfriends wanted to throw a shower. Maybe he rolls his eyes and mumbles something about wanting to watch hockey, and she tells him he’s off the hook because it’s for the ladies only.

There is so much wrong with my little imagined scenario. Husband should have said, “Great, when is it so I can clear my calendar? Wife should have said to her girlfriends, “My husband is coming or we’re not having it.”

I seem to recall with our baby shower, me rolling my eyes and my wife flipping out on me for not wanting to go. Frankly, she was right to do so, and I am ashamed that I didn’t dive in willingly.

Perhaps I’m being over sensitive, but if we want men to be involved with their children, we can’t default to the old stereotypes. If we want men to be involved fathers, we need to invite them to be a part of every aspect of their child’s life. Not only do we need to invite them, we need to expect them.

As our keynote at the conference pointed out, we condition little boys to grow up to be good men and little girls to be good women. Why aren’t we teaching our children to be good people?

I will always say that men have to be responsible for their own actions when it comes to being a good father. But women and society as a whole can do their part to smash some damaging stereotypes which can automatically push the men to the outside.

Tough Love?

2010-01-17T21:37:00.000-08:00

This photo is from a day trip we took over Christmas up a local ski hill (which is currently alarmingly devoid of snow with the Olympics less than a month away.) At one point, while my son was feeding “Dancer” and “Vixen,” I noticed a dad and another small boy. I’m guessing the boy was around 2. His dad kept telling him not to go to this little precipice where the big kids were sliding, warning him that he could slip down the hill and hurt himself.

Sure enough, the self fulfilling prophecy came to be, and the little guy took a ten foot slide. He lay, not hurt physically, at the bottom of the hill, wailing his head off. His dad stomped down the hill, and yanked him up. As he stomped back up the hill, the little boy was seeking comfort from his dad. Dad, however, was holding his son at arms length and sternly barking, “Don’t hug me…do not hug me!”

Now, I don’t want to judge. Who knows what was going on in this guy’s day or life. However, I wasn’t sure what he was trying to prove by not comforting his small son. Was he trying to teach him to be a “man” and not cry? Was trying to impart the idea, “If you defy me, I’ll deny you love”?

I still think to some degree men are expected to teach life’s tough lessons. I think society still generally expects us to mete out the punishment and deliver discipline.

I would have liked to see this dad scoop up and comfort his little boy, wait until he calmed down, and then say, “Do you see why daddy was telling you not to do that?” On some levels, no words were even needed—by tumbling down, this child learned his lesson.

Don’t fall into the tough-guy trap when it comes to giving your child the love and comfort they need. You aren’t going to turn them soft, and there is plenty of time to discuss life’s lessons afterward.

Time? What time?

2010-01-14T22:30:00.000-08:00

My 3 year old has been taking skating lessons for the past few weeks. Each Thursday, before he sets off to preschool, I dress him in his “cozy pants.” They are just fleece lined jeans but they are ideal for keeping him warm and dry during the inevitable countless slips to the ice.

When I picked him up at pre-school today, he was wearing his “back up” pair of pants, as the “cozy pants” were mud-soaked from the outside playtime earlier in the day. We now had to frantically race home and change into an older pair of cozy pants and still hope to make it to the rink on time.

In the car home, I already started prepping my son. “Alright, we’re going to have to cooperate and change quickly if we are going to make it on time. Can we do that?”

“Yes, daddy.”

What it turned out he really meant was, “Ha ha ha…are you kidding me?”

The dallying began the second we got in the door. First we struggled over getting the old pants off. Then I realized the underpants and socks were drenched, too, so they’d have to come off. Then we had to get dressed again and out the door. He was dawdling at his own pace as he is wont to do, so I would try and help. Every step of the way, my attempts to “cooperate” in getting his pants or socks on were met with independence and struggle.

“We are going to be late,” I kept repeating with a rising intensity in my voice.

I found myself loosing my cool. As my frustration mounted so did his. By the end I was huffing and stomping around like a three year-old myself. Finally as we were about to head out the door, I was trying to wrestle his shoes on and he was resisting. Then, under his breath, he muttered in a frustrated voice, “I’m tired of this crap up!”

It took every ounce of me not to fall apart laughing.

On the drive to the rink, I realized that time is an artificial concept. Kids don’t care about time. Sure, they have to learn it like the rest of us, but it is hardly in their nature to worry about being on time. My son wasn’t trying to be difficult, he was being three.

If you are a dad who has limited time with your child, try to avoid falling into the same trap I did. To some degree, men are still required to play the role of disciplinarian and “bad cop.” Don’t add “Mr. Grumpy” to the list. If your limited time with your child is spent barking and chiding, he’ll eventually tune you out.

When time is going to be an issue, try to budget a little more room so you don’t wind up getting bent out of shape when your kid is just being a kid.

Beer and Braids Redux

2010-01-12T11:44:00.000-08:00

My CBC Radio documentary, "Beer and Braids" is being given an "encore presentation" on a program called, "In the Field."

If you missed it, my documentary took a look at the 14th Annual Stay At Home Dads Convention in Omaha back in October. All the dads that were there are the primary care givers for their children, while mom brings home the bacon. These men are doing what they are doing by choice--and I didn't meet one who would do it any other way.

In my opinion, these men are broadening the definition of what it means to be a man. These men are loving, caring nurturers, capable of tending to scraped knees and hurt feelings. They also like beer and football.

To the best of my knowledge, none of them has lost their penis as a result of being a stay at home dad.

In short, it is a documetary about men and balance.

If you want to have a listen, click here. You'll want to listen to 'part 2.'

I dedicate this to all the amazing men I met in Omaha.

We all love the lists.

2010-01-05T20:42:00.000-08:00

If you are looking for a good book to open up some constructive dialogue between you and your spouse, I suggest The Modern Mom's Guide to Dads: Ten Secrets Your Husbands Won't Tell You. It is co-written by my friend, Hogan Hilling. Hogan has just been commissioned to write a new book, 35 Things Future Dads Should Know About Pregnancy.

Hogan asked a few people to submit a few suggestions, so I came up with the 10 below. Feel free to add your own!

10 Things Future Dads Should Know About Pregnancy

1) Pregnancy is a HUGE deal for your wife.

While you may from time to time forget your wife is pregnant, your wife does not. She is changing physically, mentally and hormonally. Dads need to be as involved as possible—go to medical appointments, rub cream on her belly, talk to the baby, ask her questions regularly about how she’s feeling. When you are exhausted, try to remember that she is probably even more so. And if your enthusiasm is waning, fake it.

2) She will still (most likely) want to have sex.

While the thought of getting it on won’t likely cross her mind while her head is in the toilet, hopefully her nausea will be short-lived. Many women actually report an increased libido at various times during pregnancy. Some guys feel weird about having sex “when my kid is in there.” Sex with your partner when she’s pregnant is completely safe and normal. You aren’t going to poke your kid in they eye and you aren’t going to hurt him. Talk to your midwife or obstetrician about it if you are worried. Sex is an important part of any relationship—it can still be during pregnancy. It can also be reassuring to your wife when she is as big as a house that you still think she’s beautiful.

3) Find someone else to whom you can complain.

If your wife has been barfing all day, peeing all night or watching her body transform into a dirigible, she doesn’t want to see you feeling hard done by about taking out the trash. You surely have some legitimate gripes that we all have from day-to-day; you just aren’t likely to get much sympathy from your wife when her feet look like float plane pontoons. Find a buddy or even a counselor on whom you can unload if you can’t keep it to yourself.

4) Sympathy pounds do happen.

God knows why, but as women put on the pounds during pregnancy, men often do, too. Don’t let this happen to you. Try to keep (or get) fit when she is pregnant. You are going to need a lot of energy when your little one comes—especially in those first few crazy, early sleep deprived days.

5) Trust her intuition.

No, I’m not talking about who is going to win game four of the NBA Finals—I’m talking about her body. Your wife is experiencing things that she has never gone through before. If she is concerned about how she or the baby is doing, suggest going to the doctor or calling the clinic. You can’t lose here. You are being caring and supportive and putting your family first---even if everything is “perfectly normal.” Trying to reassure her that everything is fine or telling her that she is just imagining things won’t get you any brownie points.

6) Be the protector.

Embrace the cave man within. Tell strangers who try to rub her belly to back off. Ask sick would-be visitors to stay at home until they are healthy. Halt women who are about to tell their “labor horror story” (every woman loves to tell one) and ask them not to continue if it entails accounts of 36 hours of pushing, forceps and a caesarian. Your partner will find this endearing (as long as you don’t punch someone’s lights out) and you get to swell your chest a little, too.

7) Ask questions.

Ask your wife how she’s doing. Ask other dads about their experience. Ask other moms, too. Read books. Ask questions at medical appointments. Ask. Ask Ask.

8) Don’t let the hormones get to you.

It’s a pretty safe bet that at some point, that wonderful cocktail of hormones which are concocting the perfect home for your growing baby will also have some pretty trippy affects on your wife. This isn’t to diminish her feelings, nor is it an excuse to get you off the hook if you are being a dud of a husband. This is simply to warn you not to take things too personally if the hormones do turn your wife into some B horror film character.

9) Make a big deal of pregnancy number two.

Chances are if you are reading this, you are expecting your first baby. Tuck this away for any and all subsequent pregnancies. People make a huge fuss over you when you are expecting the first time. They say “congratulations” the second time and then get back to whatever they were doing. This pregnancy is no less magical for your wife, however. Try not to slip into “been there, done that” mode. Even if others fail to recognize the significance you must give it the attention it deserves.

10) Share your concerns about her pregnancy/child birth/becoming a dad.

As men, we like to have all the answers and we like to be in control. Just as your wife will experience things you can’t possibly imagine, you will have feelings and concerns that aren’t on her radar. While point #3 suggests you can’t have concerns, you can. Just be diplomatic. “Honey, I know that you are doing the bulk of the work here, and you are doing it beautifully, but when you are up to it, I have some concerns I’d like to talk about, too.”

Cross words with crosswords

2009-12-28T22:07:00.000-08:00

I was delighted to have my father get to spend a bit of time with his new grandson over Christmas. On more than one occasion, my dad spent over an hour just holding my son and gazing at him lovingly. I daresay this is what my father has enjoyed most about parenting/grandparenting—just holding and loving.

At one point, somehow, we got on the topic of my father’s love of crossword puzzles. I was recounting to my wife how, when I was a kid, my dad used to walk in the door from work, immediately pick up the paper and spend the following 45 minutes doing the crossword puzzle. I then told of the time he came home and turned to the crossword page, only to find a giant hole where the puzzle should have been. I had cut it out.

I kind of chuckled at my pre-teen cleverness for a second before realizing that my actions were more than an attempt at humor. As a boy who only saw his father part-time, I was pissed off that my father’s priority was to his crossword and not to his son, who had been awaiting his return since 8:30 in the morning.

To his credit, my dad recognized this as soon as I said it and apologized.

As a dad, I fully understand the need for “me” time. Every dad needs a little time to himself. In fact, I think it is essential to find some time in the day to do whatever recharges your battery—go to the gym, meditate, or hit a bucket of golf balls. My suggestion to you is this, however - don’t make your “me” time your main concern when you come in the door. It sends a message to both your spouse and your child that your quiet time is a bigger priority in your day than they are. Chances are your spouse has had just as exhausting a day as you have and it’s a sure bet your child will want to share their news of the day with you.

Greet your family like coming home to them is the best thing that has happened in your day. Chances are it is.

Monkey worship

2009-12-15T12:48:00.000-08:00

Just before my second son was born, I was finishing up some “nesting” jobs, including installing a shelving unit in my son-to-be’s bedroom. As usual, my 3 year old was helping with his tools and tape measure. His every move seemed to mirror what I was doing. If I grabbed the tape, he grabbed the tape. If I reached for my drill, he picked up his.

At one point, I was in the back yard, cutting the clothing rod with a hack saw while he was working away at a Christmas paper roll with his little Black and Decker. It was starting to sprinkle, so as I finished my cut, I wiped the rod dry under my arm. Connor was studying me intently. Then, meticulously, he took his paper roll and wiped it under his arm.

It would be easy to fall into the “monkey-see, monkey-doo” sermon, here, but I wont. We all know that kids will imitate what they see—that’s how they learn. I think there is another valuable lesson here.

Your child worships you. (Unless he’s in puberty ;-)

We all question our parenting abilities from time to time. We all have days where we feel like if the authorities found out, we’d have our parenting license revoked for negligence or truancy. Whenever you are feeling a bit down on yourself, remember the fact that in the eyes of your child you are a god.

Now this doesn’t mean you get away with a lifetime of negligence and truancy and come away smelling like a rose. It also doesn’t mean that there can’t be great pressure in being a deity in the eyes of your child. What it does mean is that you are entitled to cut yourself some slack.

When I was in the early days of a fledgling acting career, I remember my greatest fear was that something unscripted would happen on stage. Someone would accidently knock over a glass or drop a book. We would then do this odd dance around the object pretending that nothing happened instead of just picking it up and moving on. Then one day a far more sage individual let me in on a little secret: when you forget a line or break a glass, don’t worry about it---the audience WANTS you to succeed.

Your child wants you to succeed, too. More than half the battle is already won the moment your child is born. She loves you just for being you. You don’t have to do anything or act a certain way. Allow yourself to revel in that comforting thought the next time you feel like kicking yourself.

Welcome Nathan!

2009-12-08T22:10:00.000-08:00

A funny thing happened to me as my son Connor walked toward our hospital room to meet his newly born little brother.

He was no longer my baby—he was my big boy.

I couldn’t believe how instantaneous the change was. I saw him wander down the hall way with his Omi and he just looked so big and capable and sure of himself.

I have no words of wisdom to attempt to impart at the birth of my second son, save to say that the lyrics of that old song might be trite, but they still hold a great deal of truth.

“Where are you going my little one, little one?
where are you going my baby, my own?

Turn around and you’re two,
Turn around and you’re four.
Turn around and you’re a young boy
Going out of the door.”

They grow up so fast. Enjoy every precious moment.

The Beatles were right

2009-11-26T21:21:00.000-08:00

We’ve had a crazy week with dusty, costly, last second renovations. Our builder has gone over time and over budget and could seem to care less. Yesterday, the workers left the deck door off our bedroom open, and the room was coated with sawdust. Today, the junior man on the job miscalculated a few cuts, so I had to spend $50 to rent a truck big enough to carry three lonely 16 foot baseboards. Then, when the other carpenter drove a nail into a new piece of door casing, all the power in the kitchen instantly went out. We thought he had driven a nail through the electrical wire.

In the few hours before the electrician arrived, I was feeling overwhelmed. We were broke, in the dark and covered in sawdust. At any moment, my wife was surely going to go into intense labour and have our baby on the spot. I would have to deliver my second son into a world of toxic made-in-China-melamine-laden sawdust. He was going to look like a shake-and-bake pork chop seconds after coming into the world. If that wouldn’t give him cancer, surely the lethal fumes from the paint and the calking would give him brain damage.

Then I had to endure the recent pattern of struggles with my son over dinner (which began, not coincidentally, the day after Halloween), followed by the tooth brushing wrestling match.

Finally, I got him into bed and read him a story. As I was kissing him goodnight, he caressed my face, fixed his eyes on mine, and said, “I’ll never stop loving you, Daddy.”

My heart burst. “I’ll never stop loving you either, my son.”

“I can’t turn it off,” he said.

“That’s a good thing,” I said.

After thinking for a second, he added. “Love is important.”

“Yes, love is very important,” I answered.

“Glasses are important, too,” he said, fixing mine snuggly to my face.

As well as slaying me on multiple levels, this was an almost cliché reminder of what is truly important in life. Time with your children can put your true priorities in order often as you let it.

Tonight also reminded me of how easy it is for children to love. They come into this world wanting to love, and little else. Let your child remind you of a time in your life when loving came so easily.

It seems fitting that one of my son’s favourite songs at the moment is “All you need is love.”

You were right.

2009-11-23T22:50:00.001-08:00

Think back to your childhood. When you were a boy, what did you think it meant to be a dad?

First of all, you probably thought dads were supposed to go to work; dads were providers. Dad set the rules and meted out the punishment if you broke them. It was dad’s job to make things and fix things. Dads were tough and strong and never cried. As you hit your late teens you probably became convinced it was also your dad’s job to be a clueless asshole who made your life miserable (that’s a knock on you, not your dad, by the way…hard to be facetious when you’re blogging sometimes.)

Now think back to your boyhood and ask yourself what you wanted from your dad. You wanted him to play catch, go fishing, build soap box derby cars and come to your little league games. You wanted him to hug you, tell you how special you were and maybe if you weren’t already made to feel embarrassed by such things, you wanted him to tell you he loved you.

The point here isn’t to knock your father at all. Dads who worked, fixed things, maintained discipline, provided for their families and tormented teen agers were doing essential and laudable duties. This is what society expected of a dad forty, thirty, even twenty years ago. By society’s definition, men who did the aforementioned were candidates for "Dad of the Year."

However, you probably noticed something. There is huge discrepancy between what you saw as your father’s duties, and what you wanted from your father. All you wanted from your father was time. Society expected something else. It only goes to show that society isn’t always right—sometimes, six year old boys are.

Being a great dad is about balance. Try to keep this in mind the next time you feel like you have to put your “dad” hat on. All you child really ever wants from you is time and unconditional love. Make sure, no matter how much or how little that time is--that it is undivided and open hearted.

Forty-seven

2009-11-15T22:10:00.000-08:00

I’ve been doing still more hammering and sawing preparing for baby number two’s imminent arrival (which makes me sound far more adept at using tools than I really am.)

This morning I was putting up some more shelves in the guest room closet when my son came into the room wanting to play.

My first instinct was to do the, “Just a minute, I’ve got to finish something first” routine. I realized that I was going to be saying, “Hold on a minute” about fifty times before I could stop and play, so I just told him to go and get his tools.

Within minutes, we were both hammering and drilling away, fixing up the closet. I would ask him to measure something for me (he loves tape measures) or to mark some lines where I would need to cut the wood. He would shout out things like, “It's forty seven, dad” and I would thank him for his help.

As I’ve mentioned before, it doesn’t take many instances of a father saying, “Not right now, I have to get this done” before a child feels like they are second fiddle. Now this is not saying that you should drop everything every time your child wants you—learning patience is a valuable lesson—but if you can engage them while you are doing your important work, isn’t that so much the better?

Next time they want your attention and you are in the middle of important work you can’t put down, try to find a way to include your child. Drawing plans? Get them to draw some, too. Writing a report? Get them to sit with you and write a story—or just squiggle some lines depending on the age.

It won’t work every time, but when it does it will make your child feel valued and wanted. It will also strengthen your sense of togetherness.

Memories vs Milestones

2009-11-08T21:14:00.000-08:00

While transforming the guest room in to the new baby room, (my wife and I are expecting at the end of the month) I came across something.

For a radio skills workshop I took a few years ago, we were asked to write about something—anything—in 250 words. What follows came from an experience I had when my son was around 14 months old.

“Who knew a little pat on the back could mean so much?

I never saw it coming as I scrambled after my one year old son through the posh restaurant.

Babies of that age gravitate to all that is verboten: light sockets, steak knives, the side of tartar sauce on the table of a complete stranger.

Following him is exhausting.

I look at my wife. She’s swirling a ruby glass of pinot noir. I envy her. She laughs with friends and savours ahi tuna. I lunge to keep my child from jabbing a fork in the waiter’s foot.

Finally, he is spent.

I plop him into his wooden highchair and settle next to him. My cold steak mocks me.

Inside, I wallow in self pity. Why am I missing out? Why does my wife get to indulge in all the fun?

Then it comes.

It feels like the brush of angel wings. I sense a tiny hand gently pat me on the shoulder blade. I turn to my son. He beams. He makes an ‘L’ with his thumb and forefinger and raises it to his temple.

To the uninitiated, it looks like my son is calling me a looser. I know he’s doing sign language. The sign for ‘daddy.’ The sign for me.

He grins a toothy smile.

‘Da da.’

My son nuzzles his head into my side.

'Da da,’ he sighs.

Who knew a little pat could mean so much?

Who knew such a little hand could cradle a grown man’s heart?”

You know, I’ve already forgotton my son’s first word, and I vaguely remember his first step.
The day he nuzzled his head into my side and sighed, “Da da” however, I’ll remember forever.

We anticipate that the big milestones in our children’s lives are the moments we’ll never forget. They are the memories we will cherish.

I disagree.

Life with a child is filled with so many glorious, unscripted, unforeseen moments. These are the ones that endlessly fill your cup. And these are the ones you can share with your child, simply by being with them and being fully present to them.

What's my size?

2009-11-06T21:56:00.000-08:00

I've gotten into a fun little morning routine with my son. As we are getting ready to head out the door, I pretend to be a shoe salesman. I don't know where it came from, but it has stuck. I welcome him to my little store, offer him a wide selection of first rate socks from which to choose, and then suggest just the right shoe (usually the ones with Iron Man and Spider Man.) This morning, in my haste I suppose, I forgot to slip into "shoe salesman" persona.

"Daddy," he asked, "can you be the shoe guy?"

My son, like most 3 year olds, has a vivid imagination, and likes to play various games of make believe.

I do too.

It's cheap, its fun, and it brings my attention fully and solely into the present moment.

If you want to be closer to your kids, go into their world, no matter what their age. Look for the invitations and the signs. Hell, don't even wait, just throw yourself right in.

This doesn't mean you have to spend 24/7 in the land of Thomas the train or Henrietta pussycat, but its a great way to connect with your child. This is especially true if your work schedule demands that you pull long hours at the office or have to be on the road a great deal.

Point of View

2009-11-01T21:20:00.000-08:00

One of my favourite bastardized sayings is, "If you don't like someone, try walking a mile in his shoes. After, if you still don't like him, at least you'll be a mile away, and you'll have his shoes."

Have you ever tried to walk a mile (or at least a few blocks) in your child's shoes?

We were out trick or treating last night, and found ourselves in a scary alley. A group of neighbours had put together this wonderful display that ran the length of the alley. It started off as mildly spooky, and concluded with the Grim Reaper swiping at you with his scythe if you tried to pinch any of his chocolate.

At any rate, we had just entered the alley, and it was packed. I saw a few parents leaving with children who were less than amused by some of the scary stuff. At that moment, I squatted down to help my son put on one of those glow in the dark bracelets that one of the alley hosts had just handed to him. While I was down there, I just happened to look up.

It was overwhelming! There were all these large bodies in dark costumes and strange masks swirling and racing overhead. They had little regard to what was going on down at their feet. At that moment I was swept with a sudden realization of the perspective of a three and a half year old. It was quite remarkable, frankly, that his little head didn't explode (though that would have been a cool Halloween effect ;-)

As an aside, he made it to the very end of the alley, standing face-to-waist with the Grim Reaper. With all the courage he could summon, and with a scythe swooshing down, he managed to grab an Oh Henry from the bowl. I was so proud of him. Not for cheating death, but for soldiering his way down that alley when he really must have felt like he was being swallowed up by a swarm of strangers.

Don't forget to get down to your child's level from time to time. It will give you a sense, or at the least, remind you, of the challenging perspective they face every day.

Let me do it!

2009-10-27T21:48:00.000-07:00

I’ve been having some epic battles with my son these past few days. I don’t know if it’s been in direct relation to our sleep training (see previous post…hell, see all the posts, they are really good!) but he has been as hard nosed as I’ve ever seen him.

My son has been defying me at every turn. This isn’t like him, nor is it like me to have to be much of an authoritarian largely due to his happy, compliant nature. The bulk of the standoffs have to do with me asking him to do things. He has also taken his independence to a new level. I can’t do anything for him at the moment—pour his milk, brush his teeth, wipe his bottom—without huge resistance. Now I am all for independence as well as learning, but at 3 1/2 , if he does any of the above on his own, he’ll be swimming in milk, riddled with cavities and stinking like poop. Not even the usual, “let’s do it together” for the afore mentioned tasks seems to placate anymore.

My cool and patience has been tested a lot in the last few days. But every time I come close to needing my own “time out” I’ve tried to focus on the positive; my little boy is growing up. Whether as an act of protest or learning, my son is gaining independence daily. I remind myself that this is a good thing; I want my son to be independent. Much better that than the opposite. It’s funny, however, that each little step towards his own independence, even at this age, is a further creep towards me letting go.

That is my tip for today. At times like these, when your child is railing against any attempt at help on your part, let it go. If it takes him five minutes to button his coat, so be it. If he spills a little milk trying to pour it, well, we all know what they say about spilled milk…

I’m not saying it isn’t frustrating to be told, “let me do it” at every turn. But it’s probably no less frustrating than being told when to get up, go to bed, what to eat, what to wear and when to pee. At times like these, take pride in your child and her desire to be independent.

First or Last?

2009-10-20T21:31:00.000-07:00

My heart is breaking as I write this.

Ever since we went on a two week family vacation where my wife, son and I found ourselves crammed into one bedroom accommodations, we have grown accustomed to one of us snuggling down and falling asleep with our son. After stories, one of us will lie with our little boy until he falls asleep. Sometimes that takes 5 minutes, sometimes it takes an hour. We’ve been doing it for over a year.

As you can imagine, when one is trying to work, maintain a household and have some sort of relationship with one's spouse, giving up an hour a night to lie with a squirming child is not a luxury that most of us can afford.

The problem is, despite the regular frustrations and the time constraints, we love it. It is glorious to feel a little hand slip inside the sleeve of my t-shirt and squish my arm, or to hear a great big contented sigh followed by, “I love you so much, Daddy.”

We are about four weeks from the birth of our second son. We know with the impending birth will come the inevitable sleep deprivation, the exhaustion and the short fuse. We know that one of us lying down with our eldest son will be next to impossible. However, we want to get him used to sleeping on his own before his little brother arrives so he won't have something else to blame on his sure to be less-than-popular-already sibling.

Tonight is the first go. We set up a fountain with soothing gurgles and soft glowing lights. He thinks it’s beautiful. But when I just left his room seconds ago and told him to look at the beautiful lights while I go work on the computer in our bedroom, he said, “But daddy, I can’t feel you when you are in your bedroom.”

My wife is currently taking a moms writing course. The assignment the other night was to write about a “first”: a first step, a first word, anything to do with baby’s “first.” It got me to thinking; we are great at recognizing firsts, but not so great at recognizing lasts. How would you look at things differently if you knew you were holding your child’s hand for the last time? If you knew this was the last time he’d want to play catch with you, or kiss you goodbye in front of his friends?

Try to savour the simplest little pleasure you get from your child like it might be the last. It will force you to slow down, make you focus on the present, and deepen the love you have for your child.

Providing...it's not just for breadwinners anymore!

2009-10-15T10:19:00.000-07:00

I’ve just returned from the 14th Annual At Home Dads conference in Omaha, Nebraska.

If the misperceptions about being an at home dad can be boiled down to one over simplified generalization, it’s this: at home dads are men who’ve lost their job and who are now expected to look after the kids while mom goes back to work. In other words, men, due to economic circumstance, have been forced into parent duty.

Certainly, in the current economic climate, some men do find themselves in that position. Some will find a job and get back into the work force. Others will come to realize that getting out of the rat race was the best thing they could have done, and will fall in love with being a full time care giver.

The men I met at the conference are at home dads by choice. With their spouse, they’ve agreed that having one parent at home is the best decision for the whole family. In their cases, obviously, it’s the dad that stay at home.

Numerous studies about at home dads and involved fathers point to the obvious: their children will do better at school, have fewer social problems and be less likely to get involved with crime and drugs. The bottom line is involved dads make for healthier children. As far as I can tell, however, no one has ever attempted to measure what being an at home dad means to men.

Here is my humble observation on that last point: none of these men have lost their penis.

What these men have is an amazing sense of balance. Our workshops on quick and easy hair styling, or coping with ADHD were punctuated with drinking beer and football games. These men reveled in what it is to be a man, yet they are all loving, caring fathers who have grown immeasurably as a result of day to day contact with their children. Hardly a masters thesis there, but I’d still wager it is true.

At one point, a father named Charles was recounting how he would sometimes worry if he was doing a good job raising his daughter. He liked to roughhouse and wrestle with her and he questioned if he was somehow warping her with his male version of parenting skills. Then he told how one day, while at the park, another little girl fell down and tumbled down a hill. Charles’ daughter promptly went over to the fallen girl, helped her up and asked her if she was alright.

“At that moment,” Charles said, “I knew I was doing a good job.”

We all question our parenting skills. As men, we sometimes face the added pressure that we can’t do the nurturing as well as the women. My message to you is, “trust yourself.” Society likes to suggest that women are born with the parenting instincts and we are just the providers. Well, guess what? All those at home dads are providers; they just aren’t providing the money.

If you are struggling a little bit with parenting your child, trust that you can do more than just be the disciplinarian or the hero that swoops in and whisks the family to Disneyland. Trust that you know how to nurture and “provide” for your child beyond being the breadwinner.

For one of the breakout sessions at the conference, we were asked to begin by giving one example of how we are a good dad. I’m going to steal from that wise man. If ever you are struggling, start all over again with that question: “What is one way that I am a really great dad?”

Give yourself some credit, and move forward from there.

Once upon a time...

2009-10-01T12:10:00.001-07:00

I’ve just registered for the At Home Dads Convention in Omaha, Nebraska. I’ll be there talking to dads, doing some research, and putting together a radio documentary for the CBC.

I’m looking forward to gleaning some great parenting tips from all these at home dads.

Since we’re on the subject of tips, I have one of my own to offer. This is particularly for dads who are away a lot on business, or who pull a lot of late nights at the office and often miss bedtime.

If I’m going away for a few days, I’ve taken to the habit of recording bed time stories. After my son has brushed his teeth and put on his jams, he and my wife cuddle up and watch a video of me reading him one of his favourite stories.

If you have a busy life and often find yourself saying, “just a minute sweetheart” or “daddy just needs to finish this work first,” it isn’t long before your child will pick up on the fact that they are less than your first priority.

Think of your own life. Think of how you perk up when you get a post card from a traveling friend or an unexpected cup of your favourite coffee from a coworker.
We like to feel like we are being thought of. It is good for our well being and the health of a relationship when someone demonstrates thoughtfulness.

A child is no different. When you record an audio or video tape of yourself reading them a bed time story, what you are really saying is, “I love you.” You are telling your child that, even though you can’t be with them, you are thinking of them.

Don’t we all want to be remembered like that?

He shoots, he scores!

2009-09-23T13:48:00.001-07:00

Have you ever had this experience when you have company visiting you? You partly dread their arrival, not because you don’t like them, but because you feel that heavy obligation to show them around and make sure they have a good time. Then, part way through their trip, things begin to change. You notice what a great time they are having, and you start to see your own little corner of the world again through their eyes. Suddenly, you have a whole new appreciation for something you’ve seen a million times.

Being a dad is the same way. The obligations of being a dad are overwhelming. You feel bogged down by the same things you’ve seen and done a million times. But if you allow yourself to experience them through your child’s eyes, you can regain that sense of wonder.

I’ll give you an example.

I was at a minor hockey game just a while back. My son was just shy of 3 and it was the first time he’s ever seen a game. We were a little late arriving and the game was already underway when we took our seats.

My son sat on my lap, staring inquisitively at the players on the ice. His little brow was furrowed and I could tell he was trying to figure something out. This went on for a few minutes until he finally turned to me and said, “How did they get in there?”

He was referring to the players, of course, wondering how this group of gladiators got into what seemed to him like an impenetrable fortress of boards and Plexiglas.

His curiosity tickled me to no end. I spent the rest of the game explaining to him what to anyone else would be the most obvious of details—why the goalie was wearing pads, why the players have tape on their sticks. It was a joyous evening of discovery and rediscovery and I owed it all to my little boy.

The next time you are feeling frazzled by the endless array of whys, try and use it as a chance to see the world with the same awe and wonder you child does.

Sins of the father

2009-09-17T13:08:00.000-07:00

I have a theory when it comes to being a dad. Most fathers subscribe to one of two main types of parenting. One is the “it was good enough for me it is good enough for my kid” theory. The other is the “there is no way in hell I’m going to do to my kid what my dad did to me,” theory.

You can’t really say one is more “enlightened” than the other. You may have had a terrific father, in which case, you see no need to do anything differently. However, you father might also have subscribed to the “I’ll beat you within an inch of your life if you ever talk back to me again” school of parenting, in which case you are not making the world a better place or your child a better person by carrying so much anger forward to another generation.

Recognizing your dad’s faults and refusing to repeat them is a great way to break some negative cycle, but simply taking a contrarian approach to parenting isn’t necessarily any better either.

For example, with a father who was both emotionally and geographically distant, I was determined not to be that way with my son. I remember the first time I had to leave him and my wife for a few nights. He mustn’t have been more than a month or two old. As I was saying goodbye, I began to sob uncontrollably. I was blabbering to him about how much I loved him, how going away didn’t mean I wasn’t coming back, and most importantly, how my absence didn’t mean I didn’t love him.

Afterward, I reflected on my behaviour. I concluded that the tears and sobbing were the little boy who felt emotionally abandoned by his father. Although I know my father loves me to no end, he was always unemotional whenever we parted —- often when we wouldn’t be seeing each other for months at a time. Years later he told me he was breaking up inside, but he felt the best thing was to be strong. He, like most fathers, was doing the best he knew how at the time.

I was aware that his stoic behaviour had, despite his best intentions, caused me scars. The message I was left with as a child was that he was indifferent to our parting. With my own son, I was determined that I wouldn’t make the same mistake. Although my blubbering and bawling caught me off guard, I had no regrets. My son was going to grow up and see a father who was emotional. My son would see that tears were a sign of strength, not of weakness. And my son would know that his father loved him so desperately, that it tore him up inside to be away from him.

This parting behaviour on my part continued, unabashedly, for just over a year. The following summer, my wife’s cousin and her three kids were visiting from Germany. My wife was going to take the Germans and my son for a few days of sight seeing. Once again, as I strapped my boy into the car seat, I began to cry and blubber. My wife’s cousin pulled me aside and said, “what the hell are you doing, can’t you see how upset you are making him?” I looked to see my always happy one year old, straining against his car seat restraints, tears streaming down his face, arms outstretched and reaching for me. He was wailing. He wanted his daddy.

“My son will see my emotions” I said defiantly. “My father would leave me without so much as a hint of sadness. My little boy will know how much it pains me to be away from him.”

“You mean you want to create separation anxiety in you son?" she asked. "You want to teach him that each and every time he leaves you, he is hurting you? Is that what you want?”

She was right.

I had never thought of it that way. I was just so determined to do the opposite of what my own father had done, just because it had been so painful for me. If my dad’s way of doing it caused me pain, certainly, the opposite of what my dad did would be better. Not so. I realized that what I was really doing when I left my son was reliving all those painful partings with my father.

The point here is not that you need to go through therapy to fully understand your relationship with your own father (though I wouldn’t dissuade you from it, either), you just have to be aware of what you are doing and why you are doing it. Neither the “it was good enough for me” or the “no way in hell” schools of parenting would have served my son in this instance. If I had carried on, I would have created a dynamic where my child would grow up guilt ridden or resentful that his father was reduced to a weeping heap every time he left the house.

What I do now when I leave my son for a prolonged period of time, is I give him a huge hug and a kiss, I tell him that I love him and that I will miss him. Then I tell him it’s kind of nice to miss people because it reminds us of how much we love them. It’s also great when we get together again because we can share great stories of all the things that happened to both of us while we were apart.

What do you do differently from you father when it comes to parenting? What do you do that is the same? Why?

Breathe

2009-09-01T11:59:00.000-07:00

I had one of those days yesterday.

It was one of those dragging, burdensome days where everything seems heavy. It was a day of obligations and responsibilities. It was one of those days where the word “should” seemed to be attached to every thought and every action.

I’m in the process of starting a business geared towards helping men achieve better work-life balance. Much like this blog, the purpose is to help men fully embrace the gifts brought to them by their children in order to make their lives more happy and meaningful. Anyone who has ever started a business knows how much work it is and how many risks are involved. There are many internal battles. On one hand, there is the vision and promise of fulfilling and meaningful work and the potential for more freedom at home and time with my family. On the other hand, there is the risk and financial uncertainty that can put your family’s security in jeopardy. On some days, like yesterday, the latter got to me. I was feeling the weight of doing the “responsible” thing—settling down in some 9-5 job to put food on the table. The thought of that made my stomach churn and my head ache, but the call to “responsibility” would not relent.

Finally, after a day of brooding and struggling, I came home. I had left the house before my son had gotten up, and he was now asleep. I entered his room and sat on the foot of his bed. He looked so peaceful as he slept—so light and unburdened by the grown up world. I watched him breathe. I watched the way his little back raised and lowered with each breath. I saw his little nostrils gently flare in and out.

As I sat with him in his stillness I was overcome with love. Tears welled up and flowed freely down my cheeks. There was such wisdom in my little boy’s simple act of just breathing.

Breathing is at the core of so many of the world’s religions and philosophies. Focusing on the breath is designed to bring us into the present and be fully aware of the now. Inadvertently, my son was doing just that. Just by breathing—by being, he was inviting me into the truth and beauty of that single moment.

As a simple exercise try this with your child. The next time she is asleep, sit with her. Don’t think, just observe her breathing. If you are suddenly overcome by feelings of love or sadness or joy, just let them happen. Don’t judge it. Don’t question any of it. It is a gift from your child, a gift of bringing you fully into the present moment, a gift of opening your heart.

Why do we even need to change?

2009-08-31T16:30:00.000-07:00

I suppose it is a matter of perspective and priority. I feel like for all we’ve accomplished on this planet, we are still a mess. We still kill and wage wars. We continue to practice environmentally destructive behaviour against mother earth. We are still driven by the pursuit of more wealth and power, often at the expense of families and children on the other side of the world. We continue to elect and then turn a blind eye to leaders who wish to plunder and profit. We persist with using the wrong measuring sticks to judge happiness and success. Men continue to let bravado and testosterone drive the bus rather than compassion and reason. And as a whole we have long since lost sight that we are all connected to one another on this planet. When we kill, or bully or overpower, we are truly killing, bullying and overpowering our own children.

The short version of why we need to evolve as dads is because we need to evolve as men. We need to shed the illusions of power and wealth to help create harmony on this planet. Evolution takes time, however. At the rate we are going, time is a dwindling luxury, but hopefully our evolutionary steps as men and as dads will translate into huge strides for our children.

Fathers and men of this generation have made significant progress over dads of previous generations. But there is much more work to do. Until we strike a better balance as a planet —between the pursuit and the distribution of wealth, between the striving for and sharing of power and between testosterone and estrogen we will not evolve.

We have made mind boggling advances in science, technology, engineering, human kinetics and the ability to make something that has no chemical resemblance to butter make us say we can’t believe it isn’t. Don’t you think that parenting—particularly from a man’s perspective, needs to make this quantum leap, too?

A love like no other

2009-08-21T16:39:00.000-07:00

I got married in 2004 and became a father in 2006.

I always joke with people that when you get married, you say all those right things to your wife. “I love you so much—I’d lay down my life for you.” You say you’d lay down your life, but you never really mean it. It sounds good, so you just say it and hope to God you never find the two of you held captive by a terrorist who says, “I only have one bullet. Who is it going to be?”

The instant your child is born, however, you are prepared to hurl yourself in front of an oncoming bus just to stave off a case of the sniffles.

I used to laugh uproariously at those “Baby on Board” signs, until the day when I pulled away from the hospital with my one day-old son in the back. I was gripping the wheel so tightly I had lost all circulation in my fingers. “I’ve got a newborn in the car” I shouted as the car crept out of the parking lot, “now BACK OFF!”

I always thought those “Baby On Board” signs were designed to get others around you to drive more carefully. Now I realize they are really code for, “I have a baby in the car, please forgive me for driving like a ninny.”

I never knew love until I had my son. The moment I laid my eyes on him, I began to cry. I’ve been doing a lot of crying since then, but it is all good. There is an old Yiddish saying, “when the heart is full, the eyes overflow.” That more or less describes how I feel when I look at my son.

Little did I know before I held my son, I would be capable of so much love. Little did I know that this little person came into the world with a key in one hand and my heart in the other.

Guess what? Your child came into the world carrying both of those things (but holding your heart, not mine.) But the question is, have you let them keep the keys, or did you snatch them back?

From my perspective, our children will be the best teachers we will ever have. They can teach us patience, nurturing and unconditional love. They can teach us about change and enlightenment and eventually the ability to let go. They can improve our marriage, our work performance, and our free time. They can shape the relationships we have with close friends and complete strangers. They can save our environment and bring about world peace. If I could convince you our children would also help you lose 10 pounds in 3 days, lower your golf score, and cut the time you could cook a roast chicken in half, I’d sell you one for just three easy payments of just $19.99. But the fact of the matter is, that what sounds too good to be true isn’t. Your children have come into this world prepared to offer you the most amazing gifts. The question is, did you see the gifts, or did life, old habits, and conditioning get in the way?