Fatherhood and Grace

I feel like parenting is a repeated series of mistakes and occasional triumphs. When you’re at your best, there isn’t a greater feeling — the sound of kids playing well together. A genuine smile on your face as the house is clean and you don’t have anywhere to go. It’s the feeling that makes you want to propose an afternoon of ice cream sundaes before dinner because why the heck not?

And then there are days when nothing goes right. The type of days where you open the refrigerator and the brand new tub of sour cream sneak attacks your floor. The type of days where tears stream down your kid’s face as you dare deny their cookie request at 10 a.m. The days when you’re stressed, tired, and generally not in a good mood, and as you turn the radio on, you hear Daniel Powter’s “Bad Day.”

Well, this afternoon, I wasn’t at my best.

I’m in the middle of writing what I hope to be a book on fatherhood, so inevitably, when I feel I’m not acting as a shining example of fatherhood, my failures feel exacerbated. These are the moments where I feel less than worthy of writing a book for dads.

My girls were being kids. Truly. They weren’t being bad. They were being kids. I was tired, and as I prepped the living room with blankets and the nugget, I thought we’d have an afternoon movie session where we could all relax, eat popcorn, and watch A Goofy Movie. As I brought them into the room, expecting them to be excited, their focus went to a list of movies they’d rather watch instead.

Now, if there’s anything that I can’t stand, it’s entitlement. When you do something nice for someone, and the recipient of a good deed can’t bother to be grateful, or at the very least not show their disappointment, I get upset. It’s so easy to say thank you. It’s so easy to acknowledge someone’s kindness. It drives me crazy when people feel entitled to turn away kindness.

Applying that same logic to children is insane. Unfortunately, that’s what I did.

“Well, girls. If you don’t like the movie I chose, we don’t have to watch one at all.”

I packed the blankets like a child myself and told them to go play in the front room. As I put the blankets away, and one of them complained that they were bored, I could feel my anti-entitlement gene kick in as I yelled, “Go play in the front room right now!”

They did. They went and played with their Barbies in the front room quietly. I went to my room to sit for a minute as I knew my reaction was harsh, over the top, and a clear sign that something was wrong with me, not them.

I thought about a piece I recently wrote on how parents rarely apologize to their kids when they make mistakes, though kids need to see their parents show humility and admit when they’re wrong.

I sat there, feeling worse and worse while feeling like an idiot for declining 90 minutes of peace and popcorn. I was wrong. I knew I had to apologize.

I won’t rehash the whole conversation. The conversation was meant for my kids, not for content. In short, I apologized for my shortcomings and asked for their forgiveness.

To make me feel worse, they immediately accepted my apology.

While I don’t feel comfortable rehashing the conversation, there was one part that I always want to remember. That’s actually why I’m writing this story, to ensure these words never leave me.

I told my girls that I am always trying to be the best dad I can be but that sometimes I will fall short of my goals. My youngest daughter looks at me as earnestly as can be and says, “Daddy, you are perfect just the way you are.”

As I smiled and expressed my desire to be a better dad, she looked at me and said, “You’re doing your best.”

Kids, man. I’m so lucky to be their dad.

I’m overreacting to my kids being kids, yet in one minute, my daughter had shown me more grace in my shortcomings than I could extend 15 minutes earlier.

Fatherhood is a beautiful journey filled with countless highs and lows. Kids will teach you something about yourself in your worst moments, but how you respond to their words matters the most.

As we stumble, learn, and grow, we must repeatedly remember to be kind to ourselves. As far as fatherhood is concerned, perfection was shown the door a long time ago. You can release that sentiment from your vocabulary right now.

As stress piles up and you don’t feel at your best, I pray you give yourself the same compassion and grace my four-year-old showed me. Our success as dads won’t be measured tomorrow, but no matter what stage you’re in, we can all start learning how to be better dads today.

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Looking for a new children’s book? I wrote one! It’s called Is This Your Favorite Ice Cream? and it’s available in paperback and hardcover. You can find more info on our website, Be Ice Cream Or Be Nothing, a space dedicated to family, ice cream, and connections.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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