I didn’t want to have children, and why would I? There was absolutely no benefit to having kids. I was repeatedly told this, and so I believed it. I had been fed the message that children were long-term burdens and expensive troublemakers who caused their parents to argue. I’m presenting the sanitized version here, but you get the picture. 

Those feelings did a 180 at age 30 with the birth of my first child.  My heart filled with a love that I never felt before—a love without bounds, a pure love that wasn’t contingent.  My marriage ended in divorce, and I became a weekend dad. However, my love and commitment to my daughter continued.

Others said that I was a kind person, but I never allowed myself to love someone unconditionally before then. I always protected my feelings, always held back, and always evaluated and re-evaluated the situation. With the birth of my daughter, I realized what I was missing. By loving someone unconditionally, I became aware of the true power of love and also became open to receiving that love. I have never regretted those changes. They have allowed me to become a whole person.

Eventually, I remarried, and when we decided to have children, there was no question that I was all in.  However, Mother Nature had other plans.   A year of seriously trying and months of fertility work followed before we conceived our daughter.  Two years later, we had our second daughter (my third child), and our family seemed complete.

Mother Nature turned the tables on us again and surprised us with a third (my fourth) child, a boy. I didn’t realize what new concerns a boy would bring me.

You may remember from previous posts that I had a number of challenges growing up, which included a childhood where I wasn’t valued much by my dad.  I also had significant central processing issues that went beyond dyslexia. 

In school, teachers reached out to me and encouraged my academic abilities.  This gave me the confidence to move forward and to come up with solutions to my brain’s shortcomings. I have a natural ease in learning, and complex topics are not difficult for me to master.  I have been gifted with an above-average problem-solving ability.  Combine these factors with a bit of teacher encouragement plus my refusal to allow others to define me, and you have a formula that allowed me to do well both academically and professionally.

However, I am still flawed, and those flaws are especially evident in one aspect of my life: my poor athletic abilities.  I understand why this is the case; let me share that information with you.

I have little natural athletic ability.  I grew over a foot in less than a year, which increased my clumsiness and poor coordination.  Additionally, I’m blind in my left eye, so I have no depth perception. In the correct environment, I could have overcome these issues somewhat.  Unlike the teachers who gave me academic confidence, I can’t remember any time when my father tossed a ball to me or positively encouraged me to improve. I was just criticized for my lack of sporty ability.

Regarding book learning and problem-solving, I had natural abilities that I could use to counter any criticism.  However, when it came to sports, my only path to improvement was through encouragement followed by practice.  Lacking encouragement, I didn’t practice. 

I was acutely aware of my clumsiness.  My point of comparison was the best athletes in my class, and it was clear that I fell far short of their abilities. I couldn’t throw a ball as far, and my lack of depth perception made it impossible for me to successfully catch anything smaller than a basketball.  I had a fear that I threw a ball “like a girl”  (forgive this misogyny; this was in the 1960s). I don’t know if that was the case, but I avoided sporty interactions as I already felt different from the crowd.

Let’s face it: a grade school kid obsessed with how the universe works is not normal.  I was comfortable rewiring  broken radios into new electronic devices in the 3rd grade. I built a successful chicken-hatching incubator out of lightbulbs and laundry baskets in 6th grade. None of my peers were doing that, certainly not on their own. I wanted to fit in with my classmates.  I could do my projects in private, but one can only be so odd.  I avoided sports, an area where everyone could see I was atypical.

Despite my fears, I don’t recall ever being the focus of ridicule from my classmates.  I had friends, and people seemed to like me.  I think my feelings were internally based as another one of my strengths, as well as one of my curses, is to overanalyze things.  However, I was what I was (poor English, I know). 

Now, at 48, I was about to have a son.  Knowing that we were having a boy filled me with intense excitement and fear.  Could I even raise a boy?  Did I have the ability to do so? I couldn’t train myself and become an athlete overnight; I felt I needed to correct all the wrongs I experienced as a child by becoming a coach as much as a father.  However,  I couldn’t do that. I could never be a perfect “Leave it to Beaver” dad. Would I be a failure as a father to my son?

I came to realize that I didn’t have to be the perfect dad.  Just like with raising my daughters, effort was more important than mastery.  The most important things were to love my son unconditionally, accept him for who he was, and encourage him to be the best he could be.

I couldn’t teach him the best way to pitch a baseball, but I could invest in him in countless other ways.  I could educate him in logic, expose him to the wonder of science and deduction, show him how to fix things around the house, emphasize creativity, teach him technology, give him basic life skills like cooking, build his self-esteem and confidence, and focus him on becoming kind and compassionate.  These were the things that I could offer him.  That was the best that I could do. That’s what I tried to do.

My son is not me; he is his own unique person. He has many of my characteristics, but he also has his own abilities.  He has the confidence to pursue athletics and has enjoyed the camaraderie of team sports.  He excels in science and will start graduate school studying evolutionary genetics this fall. He is creative and already plays the piano, trombone, and guitar.  Now, he is learning the drums. Most importantly, he is a kind and compassionate person.  I am incredibly proud of him.

Do you know what?  My son loves and values me. He enjoys spending time with me.  We share deep conversations. He helps me with projects.  We cook meals together.  We complement each other.  All of this, even though I wasn’t a sporty dad.

I love the outdoors, especially hiking and camping. I have gone on a number of short camping trips exclusively with my son. I wanted to go on a longer one after he graduated college, but would he be interested in being seen with his old (and I mean old) dad? The answer was yes. We talked about the trip for months and spent time planning it together. We shopped for groceries and packed Violet the camper van. We were both excited about our upcoming adventure.

Our trip was an exercise in teamwork.  We worked together to plan the day’s adventures and to keep Violet the camper van in ship shape. We cooked, explored, hiked, and talked together… and talked…and talked. Some evenings we watched movies.  He picked movies that meant something to him, and I did the same.  My little boy is no longer a little boy.  He has his thoughts and dreams for the future.  Some are similar to mine; others are different.  That is the way it should be.  However, it was clear how much we loved and respected each other.  And it was clear how much we valued our time together. I don’t know what the future holds, but I am so glad I have the present.

If a new father were to ask me what they should do to be a good parent, I would tell them the following:

Don’t…

-Give your child everything without having them work for some things.

-Fix all of their problems.

-Teach them that they are better than everyone else.

-Excuse their lousy behavior.

-Try to force them into the life that you wanted for yourself.

-Try to control every aspect of who they are.

-Fight all of their battles for them.

Do…

-Love them unconditionally.

-Give them reasonable consequences when they screw up.

-Allow them to “skin their knees” while protecting them from significant falls.

-Let them know that they are valued just for who they are.

-Teach them what you know.

-Encourage them to be the best that they can be.

-Encourage them to be creative.

-Focus on compassion and kindness towards others.

-Be honest about your limitations.

-Admit when you are wrong.

-Respect their reasonable opinions.

-Accept that they need to be their own person.

-Encourage conversation, but avoid making monologues.

Oh, and did I say that you should love them unconditionally?  I guess I did, but it is worth repeating it. Your kids know when you have their best interests in mind, even when they say the opposite.  They will accept you for who you are, warts and all, if they understand that you are doing your best. When you are less than perfect, you allow them the same privilege.  That is a good thing.

Mike