Summary

The article discusses the emotional journey of fatherhood as children grow more independent, particularly focusing on the mixed feelings associated with a child obtaining a driver's license and the transition of a father's role from a hands-on caregiver to a long-term investor in their child's development.

Abstract

The "Next Phase of Fatherhood" delves into the complex emotions dads experience as their children reach milestones like getting a driver's license. While children see this as a step towards freedom and independence, parents often feel a mix of pride and fear. The article highlights that every achievement in a child's life brings bittersweet feelings for fathers, who are proud of their children's growing confidence but also face the reality of becoming less central in their lives. It addresses the fear of becoming replaceable, not just in the workplace where the threat of being outperformed is constant, but also at home as children grow up. The piece suggests that a father's identity should not be solely tied to his profession or his children's success. Instead, it proposes that fathers should embrace their evolving role, transitioning from immediate problem

The Next Phase of Fatherhood

Dads’ Survival Guide: Physicality — Our Health

My oldest is getting his driver’s license shortly. So…WATCH OUT!!

I have mixed emotions about this landmark.

For him, a license is liberation. Independence. With a vehicle. Freedom to go where he wants to go. Which is mostly back and forth to school. Practice. And the diner.

For us parents, it’s bittersweet. We’re thrilled that he’s thrilled. And terrified that he’s thrilled. It’s easy to agonize about the dangers of a 16yr old operating an automobile. Considering my record as teen driver, the roads are hardly as safe.

Truth is, every milestone our kids reach is bittersweet. For Dads.

On the one hand, we’ve accomplished our duty as fathers. Preparing them right. Teaching them the ropes. We feel a sense of pride in their achievements. And the added confidence they feel in themselves.

On the other hand, our kids are one step closer to growing up. And the more mature they become, the less they need Dear Ol’ Dad. That’s a fact.

Some Dads consider this liberation. Independence. With a full bank account. Freedom to go wherever we want to go. Do whatever we want to do. For others, fathering is what we really want to do. A gig that will be coming to an end. Just as we’re finally figuring it out.

And now, whether we like it or not, whether we’re ready for it or not, Dads are becoming more extraneous. Irrelevant. Replaceable.

Ugh. Nothing feels worse than that.

Replaceable

Replaceable is a way of life in the workplace. A dog-eat-dog, what-have-you-done-for-me-lately environment. Where getting to the top is a battle. And staying there, even tougher. Unless we run our own company. Like yours truly. (which may be the primary reason for starting one).

No matter what level we achieve, we all face a deep-seeded fear: being found out. Exposed. As a fraud. Totally and completely incapable of handling the job we have been given.

Imposter Syndrome. Believing we are not as competent as others perceive us to be. According to InnovateMR research, 65% of today’s professionals experience Imposter Syndrome. Which means most of us are worried that if we don’t deliver, they’ll find someone better.

And we’ll be replaced.

Identity

What makes this fear worse, is that so many Dads define ourselves by our work.

I’m a lawyer. I’m a surgeon. I’m a stock-picker. Or by title. I’m a CEO. Managing Director. President. Maybe not so overtly prideful. Rather though a humble brag: I run a fund. I run a start-up. I have my own practice (my favorite).

Dads should be proud of our workplace accomplishments. But when the “Who we are” is wrapped up in our work, we get overly wrapped up in our work. Protecting our status. And reputation. Leading to tremendous sacrifices in the name of career progression. With most of that compromise coming on the homefront. As a Dad.

Alternatively, one’s identity can be tied up in our kids. I’m Jimmy’s father. I’m Emily’s Dad. This centers us more around the family. All the childhood activities. Which is great. Except Jimmy and Emily are now extensions of our identity. Our success or failure as Dads is wrapped up in their success or failure of kids.

This can lead to the overzealous Dad. Pushing the kids too hard. Or living vicariously through their achievements. Which is not good for the kids. Or the family.

So, if we’re not about our kids and we’re not about our work, what are Dads about?

Hmmm. Good question.

Investing

Fortunately, as Dads, we can never be replaced. But that doesn’t mean it won’t feel that way. Quieter car rides. Eyes transfixed on their phones. Texting friends. Pondering other activities. Besides being with us.

Every Dad can sense this progression. And it’s inevitable ending. Being evicted from the center of their world. And fading into the periphery.

Yet, this is just the next phase in Dadhood. We’re moving past how to tie a shoe. Throw a ball. Flip a pancake. Less obsessed with immediate results. The score on a test. Recital performance. Or outcome of a game. Dads are no longer the teacher. Fixer. Protector. Or savior.

Dads are becoming the investors. Building more for the long term. Focused on the foundational pieces necessary to carry our children through life. Without us.

We’re observing the choices they make. Their decision process. Prioritization. Discerning between the urgent and important. Applying wisdom. How they develop relationships. Treat friends. Respect elders. And handle those in authority.

Dads are working to establish virtues and values. Create character. Integrity. As well as the ability to hold to one’s convictions.

As investors, Dads don’t get as many accolades as the early days. Plaudits are few and far between. Instead, our affirmation comes from seeing our kids mature. Grow wise. And stand firm.

This is the new phase for us Dads. An important time for our kids. And fortunately, we’re ideally designed to take it on.

Go, Dads. Go.