Yesterday on City TV's BT Montreal, Joanne Vrakas and I talked about Father's Day gifts. What was ironic was, just before going on, the make-up artist said to me, "I don't know what to buy my husband for Father's Day!" "Why Don't you ask him?" I said. That seemed to be a new concept. "Ask him at night, away from the children." I continued, "Tell him you really want him to be honest about three things he would like." That was part of this more philosophical conversation Joanne and I had about the evolution of Father's Day (which has been a pet topic of mine for a while), and the gifts that go with it.
I have always craved solitude. Perhaps this is a symptom of the fractious household I grew up in. Heaven meant alone time, either in front a mirror imagining myself the Garfunkel half of the duo while lip-syncing into a deodorant stick, or lying in the dark at bedtime being entertained by Bob Newhart’s standup routine threading through my cassette player.
Now I am a 44 year-old husband, a father of two children—ages 11 and 9—and the co-owner of a 1955 detached cottage which is making demands on my DIY skills that I can’t keep up with.
I am gainfully employed at a job which allows me to earn a decent wage while also being available to involve myself deeply in household chores, to coax my daughter through piano practices and stand at the sidelines during her soccer games, and be a committed volunteer at my children’s school.
I am a solid citizen.
I am an evolved male.
What do I want for Father’s Day? For it all to go away.
Photo: Looking for Sunset by Giuseppe Milo
There is one universal truth for parents: the moment you accept the responsibility of child-rearing is the same moment you abdicate the right to absolute selfishness, forever.
There will be date nights; there may be weekends away without the kids; and there are sleepaway camps which provide a sense of freedom while they ironically also instill a sense worry and longing. Even once alone, reclined in an Adirondack, it is impossible for a parent to psychologically transcend their role. We will read two pages of John Irving; then we may spend a moment spotting shapes of mammals in the clouds; then we will ease ourselves into a shallow dream; then, inevitably, we’ll wonder how the kids are doing.
You may have gotten away, but there are no direct flights to true escapism.
We are kind and loving, but not completely selfish and free.
I miss selfish and free.
There seem to be only two of the three-hundred-and-sixty-five days per year when a parent can attempt unabashed narcissism: Mother’s Day or Father’s Day, and on his or her birthday.
Despite that greedy right, there is an aura of Romper Room circle-time celebration surrounding Parents’ Days.
It is a day of gathering.
This is especially true when your children are tweens, as mine are.
They have outgrown the ignorance of toddlerhood—when they present you with a pipe cleaner stickman, and can then be led away and distracted by sandboxes and beetles. By the time they are teenagers, you are as relevant to them as a bathing cap in the Sahara, especially on Father’s Day. They yearn to give you the gift of abstention from your household on your auspicious day; a day with Daddy is uncool.
But, tweens? They still devote significant classroom time crafting keepsakes and composing poetry they can barely stand to withhold from you until the third Sunday in June.
“I’m so excited to show you what I made for youuuuuu!”
Crap.
They still want you, and they want you to want them.
“Daddy needs some alone time for Father’s Day,” is not only a bizarre and abstract concept to 9-year-olds, it is also hurtful to them. Once it’s run through the tween filter, it is received simply as, “I don’t want to be with you today.” The message is distilled into an empirical form of selfishness and rejection.
How can you want to be away from me? “Me” is love, “Me” is fun, “Me” is your children, you jerk!
Photo: Life's Pathway by Mariyan Dimitrov
But, I’m tired.
My Gen-X level of engagement and involvement is exhausting. I’m dizzy, perhaps due to too much helicopter parenting?
I want twenty-four hours of selfish unpredictability.
I want to lay on my bedroom floor and stare at the ceiling, listening to the baseboard heaters crackle until...until I don’t want to do that anymore.
I want to play half of a song on that piano I don’t play anymore, and listen to its sound echo off the walls of my empty house. Then I’ll play another half of a song, and then maybe a whole song. And I’d like to maybe play for an hour, or just for five minutes, and then maybe go back to that later.
I want to fall asleep in front of a movie—perhaps one of the Oscar nominees...any of them, really, I’ve seen none of them.
When I wake up from my nap, I want to rewind it and watch the rest without scolding myself for not having started dinner.
I want to stand in my son’s room and talk to his guinea pig in an honest way that I can’t do when people are home because they’ll think I’m crazy.
A heart-to-heart with a rodent who also has nowhere to be.
I just want time.
Time is that thing that, at 44-years-old, is in decline—certainly in terms of quality, if not quantity.
I’m in love with fatherhood. And loneliness, in a permanent state, is a tragedy. But, like a favorite dessert or a seat under a tree, solitude would trigger some necessary decompression.
I believe being a parent is a gift. But, by definition, it is a gift which requires you to give and give and give.
On Father’s Day, I just want to take one...full...day.
I’ve lost my corny imagination which convinced me I was Art Garfunkel; I’ve thrown out that Sanyo cassette player; I don’t want to also dismiss my need for solitude.
I just don’t know how to explain that to my kids without bruising their hearts just a little.
So, on Father’s Day, we’ll do something together, as the family we have worked so hard to build.
Perhaps I’ll call in sick the following Monday, and spend some time talking to that caged rodent.
"Yeah, but honey," Mom intervenes, "It is going up to fourteen today, he'll just end up stuffing it in his backpack. You're fine as you are, sweetie."
"Great!" Boy celebrates, "Thanks, Mom!"
Dad is not done, however.
"But, you're the one always worried about him catching a cold because he's not dressed properly."
"Well, sure." She answers, "When it's minus five and there's snow on the ground. Not when it's late spring!"
"But," He keeps going, "Six degrees is six degrees. Why is six degrees in March any different than six degrees in May?"
And so on. Welcome to parenting in 2016.
Have they been on the iPad for too long, or do they deserve some downtime after scoring well on their report cards? Before getting dessert, do they have to eat four pieces of broccoli, or six, or all of it? Did you give them as many florets as last time? If the number of florets has increase, they'll notice and refuse to eat them, and you'll have to explain yourself. They're playing with that new toy, because Dad said they could. But Dad was unaware that Mom told them they had to clean their rooms today. So, can they clean their rooms just a little later, since it's Saturday, and Dad, after all, did give them permission to play with their new toy. Mom said they could stay up later tonight, "What?" says Dad, "We just talked about how tired they are in the morning!" Mom replies, "I know, but they only have four days of school this week, so I thought we could have a special family movie night."
Photo - "Tired" by Kevin Baird
Are parents exhausted at the end of the day because of parenting, or because of each other? Any single parent probably would not need very much time to prove how much more difficult it is managing a household without a partner to support you. But, when there are two of you, do debating and nitpicking augment the stress level unnecessarily? There is a certain peace which comes with being able to make a decision, even a "bad" one, without having to run in by your partner. Too tired to make supper? I'm ordering pizza...without a conversation about budget and nutrition. I'm watching this movie with the kids,...because they want to, and I, just this once, don't want to defend whether it's appropriate, or explain the research I've done online to justify my decision.
Sometimes paradise is defined simply by being able to say "yes" or "no" all by your grown-up self.
One study, and article after article online describe moms who simply want alone time for Mother's Day. That's it. Time without their partner, without the kids, and without having to decide anything for anyone but herself.
We Gen-Xers and Gen-Yers have so much literature available to us (much of which contains information which will be updated and/or changed by the time we successfully implement those ideas) we think about and analyze nearly everything about our children. Not only can we still not reach a consensus of agreement from family to family, but we still even have a hard time presenting a united opinion in front of our children (which can destroy your children's respect for your authority, if you believe the literature).
I once heard the difference between the Gen-X/Yers' parenting style and the Baby-Boomers' parenting style described in the following way:
Yesterday's parents worry about what will happen; today's parents worry about what might happen.
I think that is absolutely on point.
So, for Mother's Day and Father's Day, how about this: let's move up our New Year's resolution date from January 1st 2017, to late May 2016, and resolve that, before second-guessing our partner, we will ask ourselves, "What real harm can come from what's about to happen? What do I have to gain, compared to the energy I am going to lose, by debating the number of broccoli florets on a plate, or the temperature at 8 AM vs 1 PM and how that temperature change should be reflected in my child's outerwear?"
Just breathe.
Let it go. Let it free your body, Let it move your soul.
As a Father's Day treat, I allowed myself (sandwiched between my children) to watch one of my favorite shows: CBS Sunday Morning. Their reports are timely and intelligent, sensitive and textured, and Charles Osgood is as warm and soothing a television host as there ever was.
Yesterday's theme was—appropriately—fathers. Lee Cowan's cover story—"Daddy's Home: Embracing Paternity Leave"— focused on the unforgivable lack of a nationwide parental leave policy in the U.S. (Cowan points out that the U.S. is one of only two countries in the world that does not have country-wide paid maternity leave!)
Steve Hartman invited cameras to follow him as he helped his widowed father move out of their family home in Toledo and into an apartment, leaving behind a trove of memories. (The report includes a wonderful montage of old pictures placed against the backdrop of present-day images of the cottage).
There was also a current events piece about the tragedy in Charleston, a retrospective on Jane Russell, and a feature questioning the future of Vietnam's floating market in an evolving economy.
My kids watched it with me. The three of us were full from the breakfast my wife had prepared (green eggs and ham, bacon, coffee, and fresh Quebec strawberries), the cards my children had constructed and colored lay next to my new paper weight: a rock from our garden decorated by my daughter so it resembled the moon.
Jim began his speech:
It's Father's Day. Ugh. How weird is that? A day to honor Dads? It doesn't make sense.
Mother's Day I get. They are mothers. They brought us into the world. Father's Day is like celebrating Darth Vader's birthday.
Great. Cuddle up kids. He continued:
"I guess since we honored mothers in May we should probably give a day in June to that guy who gets up early on his one day off to abandon us to go golfing."
And:
I'm sure there are some really good dads out there, and I commend both of them.
I do do things with my kids, but when I come back from an outing, just know they are going to be sunburned, covered in mosquito bites and, yes, I forgot to get napkins when I bought them ice cream.
Wait, I lost one of their shoes? Well, at least I took them out! You're welcome.
He went on. But, I think we get it.
We got it when it was Archie Bunker in 1971. We got it when it was Homer Simpson in 1989. We got it when it was Ray Romano in 1996.
We've been getting it for a long time. There were several decades when we even deserved to get it. But now it's tired, and insulting and—worst of all—counterproductive. I know, he's a comedian. Fantastic. If that's your brand of humor, yuck it up. But there are many of us dads who work hard to be what our children expect from a parent, and what society is only very slowly awakening to. We are fathers who are working hard, not to prove that we can do it just as well, but working hard to succeed, so it becomes a given that we are doing it just as well. We want the care and love we provide for our children to be taken for granted, as it has been for mothers all these years. We challenge dads like Gaffigan to understand that it is not about being lauded for taking an active role in their children's lives with a "Look he can do that!" But rather to assume that we should be doing that. We are all parents to these children. Mothers and fathers. Incompetence in not gender specific, it's an individual failing. Physical and mental nourishment and enrichment are not gender specific, they are necessities to be provided to children by anyone who happens through this child's life. That is why the dads in Lee Cowan's cover story are stitching together sick days and vacation time to be home with their kids. Unfortunately, that feature was also stitched into a Father's Day show which chose the easy way out, at the expense progressive parenting and social change.
My 6-year-old daughter put on her new snowsuit yesterday. "It makes me look fat." she said. Where does that language come from? Why does she care? Is she picking it up from school?
For anyone who has a daughter, language like this may not be surprising. A new study released by the Canadian Women's Foundation highlights how "relentless body shaming puts girls at risk".
The study "reveals the impact of the constant scrutiny of women's bodies has on girls aged 9 to 16". Here are some of the findings:
21% of Canadians know a girl who says she's fat. The number relating to boys is nearly one third lower.
18% know a girl who says she's on a diet. That is more than triple the number for boys.
17% know a girl who thinks she's ugly. Less than one third that number could think of a boy who felt similarly about himself.
Notice these facts have to do with how girl's feel about themselves, not how others view them. The CWF says "We would like to believe society is changing their approach to women's and girls' body image. However, Lululemon Founder Chip Wilson's recent comments about how some women's bodies 'just don't actually work' with his company's pants, highlight how far we have to go."
As with most patterns and lessons absorbed by your children, learning confidence and resilience begins at home, with their parents.
Here are the CWF's Top 7 Do's and Don'ts which will nurture resilience in your daughter:
1. DON’T bite your tongue. If people say things you disagree with or treat you in a disrespectful way, speak up. She needs to know it’s okay to stand up for herself, even at the risk of hurting someone’s feelings or causing disagreement.
2. DON’T talk about how fat you look. Never criticize your appearance in front of her or make negative comments about the way she or other females look. Let her know you value people’s inner qualities - like curiosity and courage - more than outward appearance.
3. DON’T put yourself down. Never make jokes about how incompetent you are, or make light of your own skills and abilities. She will learn to minimize her own accomplishments and may lower her future ambitions.
4. DO let her lead. When choosing school or social activities, ask her opinion and provide genuine choice. Rather than saying, “Do you want to take dance or singing?” ask open-ended questions like, “What interests you these days?”
5. DO let her take risks. Assuming her physical or mental health isn’t at stake, try not to be over-protective. Don’t rob her of the chance to be accountable for her own decisions and to learn from her own mistakes. If she fails, congratulate her for trying but don’t rescue her.
6. DO validate her experience. If she has ‘negative’ feelings or is having problems with her friends, don’t say “It’s not that bad” or try to cheer her up. Listen with respect, acknowledge that things sound difficult, and ask if there is anything you can do. Don’t pressure her to talk when she doesn’t want to. Instead, find lighthearted ways to strengthen your connection with her, like going for a walk or bike ride. If she is having problems with friends, encourage her to think more critically about the situation; suggest she pretend she is watching the conflict on TV or in a movie; what motivations and solutions does she see? If she is in genuine distress, get outside help.
7. DO provide fair and consistent structure. Presented in the spirit of love and caring, rules help young people feel protected and connected. Adolescents are less likely to engage in problem behaviours when adults know what they’re doing, and who they’re with. Set clear expectations for behaviour related to attending school, doing homework, sharing chores, and abiding by curfews.
Next week, I will post part two relating to this topic. It will include excerpts with the Director of the Girl's Fund at the Canadian Women's Foundation, Beth Malcom. We'll talk more specifically about the girls outside this age range, and how to better correct patterns which may have already started to take hold.
A fantastic edition of Pregnancy Magazine, featuring all aspects of fatherhood as it pertains to the periods before, during, and after birth. Information which treats fatherhood with respect. Also, a collection of essays from more experienced Dads (including yours truly on page 71) sharing their memories of the birth of their first child.
It's almost Father's Day. Once again, other than Heather Reisman's intelligent reading suggestions, the majority of radio and television ads are recommending you buy me a power tool as a way of thanking me for being your dad.
You may have overheard a recent Canadian Tire ad on the radio, suggesting your hugs may be fine, but that they certainly don't compare to a brand new power tool. I know you know better, but part of being a father is making sure you don't receive mixed signals, especially concerning my feelings towards you, or my priorities as a dad. I will never choose a reciprocating saw over one of your hugs; especially those special ones when you push me backwards onto the carpet in the den and bury your face in my neck while you're giggling. I love those. Don't ever bury a reciprocating saw in my neck, please. Perhaps the ad could have said: "We know your dad loves hugs; but he'd probably also love a belt sander!" But that would stray from the usual corporate Father's Day pattern of focusing on my janitorial skills, rather than those I've honed as a parent.
In what is becoming an annual tradition, I want to reassure you the way to my heart is not with a circular saw. I do love power tools, but not more than hugs. The way to my heart is you. The right tools just get the job done faster, and allow be to be with you that much quicker.
FatherDaddy is now a weekly contributor to "The Good Men Project". Every Wednesday I will have an article published on their site. There will be an even rotation between original content, and essays previously published on FatherDaddy. The link to any original content will appear here shortly following its publication.
An absolute truth: washing machine manufacturers are in the business of selling washing machines. A safe assumption: the majority of laundry loads are still managed by women. A distinct probability extrapolated from the women I know: on their wishlist of 50 Mother's Day gifts, a mechanism permitting them to do even morelaundry would be a whitewash.
Yet, here comes the parade of Mother's Day flyers, like marching bands through city streets, announcing sales on machines which are bigger, faster, more efficient, quieter, cheaper...guaranteed! If only these qualities could be applied to our children for this 24 hour annual celebration of motherhood, life would be grand.
Happy Mother's Day!!
We are parents of a grade-schooler and a pre-schooler. As any of you who are, or have been, in a similar circumstance knows: this brings with it its own set of challenges. The pace required to manage little children is not always hectic, but it is constant. There is very little breathing room between minutes with children who see every moment as a question needing an answer. Our friends who have older children warn me of the transition from fighting to get the kids into the car, to worrying they haven't brought the car home yet. For the moment, though, what we do most is chase, chase, chase. Chase for toothbrushing, for getting dressed, chase to the dinner table, to clean up their toys, chase them out of the room for the 5 minutes you're on the phone, and chase them into bed at night. Twice a year, on your birthday and Mother's or Father's day, a parent is in a position to dictate the pace, even for only a few hours.
So, on behalf of my wife, here are some Mother's Day gift ideas inspired by - but not directly related to - my washing machine:
SPIN: Destabilize mom with pleasant surprises: let her sleep in, stuff a gift certificate in her shoe, leave a note saying "I love you" hanging outside a window, have flowers delivered to the door, prepare her favorite meal, give her a massage, go for a picnic lunch.
SOAK: Fill the tub with warm water, bubbles, and a bath bomb. Surround it with candles, and a flower, and a book. And again: make it a surprise!!
DELICATE: Plan ahead to lighten her load. Strategize so the day is filled with more of what she enjoys and less of what she considers work. It is important to understand her pleasures may not be yours. My wife likes gardening; compost and a wheel barrow get her excited. I prefer movies theatres to poop-in-dirt and a means to haul it across the yard.
PERMANENT PRESS: Get dressed up. Feel like fancy-pants adults again. Upgrade from Domino's and Scores and dine somewhere where patrons speak in hushed tones and the washroom don't have baby change tables.
OFF: Stop. Stop everything. Take a breath. Read a Book. Sit in a quiet room under a blanket. Take a walk and hold hands. Drive up a mountain and look out the windshield. Don't worry, Earth and life will resume their normal cadences again tomorrow.
If you do need a new washer and dryer? Great! Have it delivered 3 weeks from now.
In this article: "Call it the Dad Effect.", the author offers what he suggests is a simple solution to bullying in schools: get dads more involved. James Watts is the founder and principle of Education Plus High School, an alternative private high school in the municipality of St. Laurent, just north of Montreal. He is also chair of the governing board of a local high school. In short, he is far more qualified to give an opinion on school bullying than I. With my lack of experience in the field of education, I am in no position to debate whether his solution is viable. But as a father, I take issue with his arguments and wonder whether a similar article could have been written about mothers, without a severe backlash.
To illustrate my point, I will quote some passages in the article, but will reverse the sexes: fathers will become mothers; men will become women, etc. Imagine a working mother reading the following:
"The few mothers who darken the doors of their child's elementary school miraculously disappear just when they are needed most: when the child gets to high school."
"Many mothers leave school and all things academic (with the exception of math and science projects) to their children's father. Maybe they see it as a logical division of labour; or it could be for strategic reasons; or because of availability or lack of it; or just plain laziness."
"Attend a school's bake sale, Parent Participation Organization event, or home-and-school meeting, and you will think you have stepped into a man-only zone. (Thank god for these amazing hardworking dads who offer many billable hours of service to cash-strapped schools.)"
"For a would-be bully knowing there is a mom and that she is often seen in the school is a strong deterrent."
"Finally, a mother who is involved in his child's school sends an unmistakable message that she cares enough to take the time to know what's happening in her child's life...It is this mother who will model to her daughter how to be a woman."
"So, moms, if you really want to bully-proof your child get involved in his or her school. Go into the school's office tomorrow and ask how you can help out. Join the home-and-school organization. Stand for election for the governing board. Attend sports events. In doing so, you will be protecting your child, and other children, from the potentially damaging effect of either side of bullying."
OK. If you were, or are, a working mother how do you feel? I'm a working father who is as involved as possible in my children’s lives from the moment I leave the office, until I return. In between, I'm often following up on e-mails, completing forms, and calling home. The truth of today's society is: as much as roles may be reversing, they remain largely assigned in the same fashion as twenty years ago. More mothers stay home than do fathers; and, as a couple, more parents decide mothers will dedicate their time to child-rearing than to being in an office. I have no opinion as to whether this is wrong, or right. It just is. In our house, it works well - for us. In this article, if the argument is "a father's participation is school reduces the risk of bullying", can the opposite argument not also be inferred: "a father's absence from school increases the risk of bullying"? Thanks, I needed that. Especially the part about laziness.
We have had a minor brush with bullying since my children began going to school. The solution was intervention by my wife and me in the way of talking to our child, informing the school, and remaining in constant contact with teachers and the principle who were stellar in their handling of the situation. An involved administration proved as vital as a hands-on parent. This may be something Mr. Watts would like to examine more closely, especially considering: "Fair or unfair, as a principle I grant more time to the complaint of a parent who has been involved in my school than I do the parent I have never met." Warning to the bullied child of two working parents. In his article's opening paragraph, the author refers to the research done on bullying: "A plethora of 'solutions' have been offered. And yet the problem persists." Why? because the problem is a complex one, dealing with human nature which, at it's heart, is fickle and jumbled. While there are dads (and moms) who could be more involved in their children's lives, let's not insinuate to the majority of parents that "lazy" working dads may be the cause of their child being bullied.
And, by the way, when I am at school, I do not darken the door - I'd like to think I brighten it up a little.