It is morning and the sun’s nimble digits have just started to part our blinds.
It is Sunday, so I can’t be at the keyboard long since my Mini Me’s are already up and raring to go terrorize the neighborhood playground. But I bought myself a moment with a single orange sheet of construction paper, and so for the moment, The At-Home Toddler Daughter is content to diligently engineer “Swinging Paper Robots,” while I write. (a process that consists of, 1. Folding an orange piece of construction paper exactly in half.
2. Screaming “LOOK DADA I MADE A SWINGING PAPER ROBOT! repeatedly and unrelentingly for the next who knows how long.)
It has been my first, and widely welcomed, experience with attempting to field a barrage of comments. Engagement, they call it. Or at least that’s what they call it when you respond. While the experience has been surreal, mostly flattering, and all sorts of strange, there is one recurring comment I feel compelled to address “publicly” in the off chance that this brief bit of exposure has gained me some semblance of a “public” for a few days. This sentiment keeps rearing it’s, not quite ugly but sorely misinformed, head:
“Way to go Dad! If only there were other real dads out there like you! -Debbie”
As flattering as that may seem or may have been designed to be, I want you all, anyone and everyone, to know that I am not some Good Dad Lone Ranger.
I am not particularly special, I am just a husband and a father, head over heels in love with his family, who happened to be able to afford a laptop one summer. Of course I appreciate the recognition, and I am no crusader for any Dad’s Lib movement, but I can’t help feeling that it is an injustice to countless other dedicated, passionate and present Dads the world over, to single me out as one of the only Dads who spends most of his days at eye level with his ankle biters, and cherishes the opportunity.
So I just wanted to pause here a minute, and encourage you to read through the posts that I have showcased below. In them you will find the writings of just a handful of some of my most revered Dad friends. Some have received international acclaim, some I picture humbly scribbling post notes on the backs of napkins in some small, midwestern, railroad depot some where. All of them are heavily dedicated Dads who champion their own gorgeous families and personal causes, through aesthetically assembled words and poetic turns of phrases, daily. I thank you in advance for reading and sharing and engaging them with your thoughts and ideas and responses to their posts.
Thank you all for a rather wacky weekend. And for continuing to lend me your ears over here. (eyes?) Now, to the playground we go, my girls and SWINGING PAPER ROBOT in tow!
Ciao for now,
By day, I write massive amounts of code and construct cutting-edge mobile ads for many of the world’s top brands. I also develop innovative ad technologies with the pioneers and world leaders in location-powered mobile advertising.
I’m trudging along behind a red International Farmall tractor in the middle of a tobacco field. The tractor grumbles rhythmically. The engine’s stutter punctuated by a clanking rain cap over the exhaust as it crawls along the rows.
And then you have kids, and pretty much all of your autonomy goes out the window.
But, you both work long hours, your day doesn’t just come to an end at night, and you have to get up the next day and do it all over again and again, and again.
1) Treasure the memories that you have made. Discard the ones that you don’t like, but never forget the lessons they have taught you.
2) Friends will be with you. Along the way, you will make new ones, like some that you have now, there will be those who will be with you forever.
Do you know the saying: When the children are happy, then the parents are happy too? I think that’s right!
Spend this Saturday with the motto: Let the children decide!
But every once in a while there’d be an older, bigger and faster kid chasing us down and while I could keep pace for longer than most, they’d eventually close in. At that point, tag was no longer fun, it was scary.
I always humored my dad and chuckled along in customary admiration whenever he boasted about his hyper-evolved immune system, borne of “5,000 years of Chinese evolution.” He took great pride in never taking a sick day, and availed himself of every opportunity to remind us that this was the true metric of one’s strength and vitality as a human being. Of course this claim had nothing to do with the fact that he was a mere 130 pounds.