The Three Most Valuable Lessons I Have Learned as a Father

Summary

The author reflects on the profound lessons of patience, humility, and endurance he has learned from the day-to-day experiences of being a stay-at-home dad.

Abstract

In "The Three Most Valuable Lessons I Have Learned as a Father: The Stay-At-Home Dad Version," the author shares personal anecdotes that highlight the importance of patience, the realization that his child is the true star, and the ability to juggle numerous tasks simultaneously. He recounts a moment at the park where he recognized his practiced patience, an encounter with Anne Hathaway that underscored his role as a mere supporting character to his child, and a challenging trip to the beach that tested his physical and mental limits. These stories emphasize the growth and adaptability required in fatherhood, often with a touch of humor and self-awareness.

Opinions

Patience is not just a virtue but a skill honed through constant practice in fatherhood, and it evolves as the child grows.
The author initially harbored a misconception about being the center of attention during social interactions with his child, only to realize that his son was the true attraction.
Fatherhood involves embracing the role of a supporting character, putting the child's needs and happiness above one's own ego or desires.
The physical demands of parenting can be surprisingly challenging, yet they are accompanied by personal triumphs and a sense of accomplishment.
Stay-at-home dads may face societal stereotypes, but they can find pride and identity in the unique challenges and rewards of their role.

Patience is a learned skill

I was at the park with my son one day. I was always at the park. The park staff called me “the mayor” in a mostly mocking but sometimes loving way. Anyway, I logged some hours at the park. This was a Saturday and a dad was there with his son and he was definitely a weekend dad. His son and my son were playing and at one point the dad looked at me exasperated and asked, “How are you so patient?” I answered him quickly, “Practice.” I hadn’t considered it before that, but just being asked the question gave me an insight into a huge part of my life as a dad. You learn the skill of patience. You try and try and you get to a place where you can take that deep breath. You embody the skill of patience. Although, now that my son is eleven, he knows that when I take that deep breath I am being “patient” and he calls me out on it. He demands to know why I feel like I needed patience in that moment because clearly, he’s done nothing to instigate required patience. So, I have had to learn an even deeper and more subtle embodiment of patience. I call it Zombie patience. I am really good at it. Sometimes it’s very hard to tell if I’m even listening.

You’re not the star of this production

I wrote about this incident for my piece on baby Bjorns and it remains one of my wife’s favorites to this day because of how humiliating it was for me and flattering to her baby. We live in Los Angeles so star sightings are not out of the normal course of daily events. I had just started popping my son in a Bjorn to walk him around attached to my chest like an accessory. I was walking up a fancy street near us on our way to the park. My son smiled a lot at people when he was a baby. He still smiles a lot now but when he was a baby holy crap he was a smiling machine. He was not selective at all. No matter who we passed on the street he thought they were the most exciting being he’d ever seen in his life. If they smiled back, he kicked his chubby little legs wildly and squealed in delight. If it was an old lady, forget about it, we were standing there for twenty minutes at least while she clucked at him, played peek a boo and waved. Anyway, so there my son and I were walking down this fancy street. Actually, I was doing the walking, he was extremely lazy at this age. So, we are approaching this very attractive young woman and my son busts out his best smile. She tried not to react but then he started flailing his legs and she was done. She smiled wide and uncontrolled. So of course my first thought was ‘Check this hot chick out smiling at me. She clearly likes what she sees. Maybe I haven’t gained as much weight as I thought during my wife’s pregnancy.” Then my second thought was ‘Holy shit that is Anne Hathaway. Anne Hathaway is so into me that she’s smiling like I made her day.” A sharp kick in my round belly from the baby suspended on my chest reminded me of who the star was in this situation. This was reinforced as Anne Hathaway contorted her smile and did baby waves at him. It was possible I was just the supporting cast in this scenario. In this case literally.

You can carry more things than you ever thought possible

One day at the beach as I kicked the door closed on the Honda and teetered backward, I thought to myself, “Holy crap is this my life?” I was carrying two beach chairs, a cooler, an umbrella, a towel bag, a bucket with three shovels, a grocery sack and a boogie board when I realized I had forgotten to put the parking receipt in the front dash of the car. As I attempted to dig into my front pocket for the ticket I started to cry. Not tears from emotion but from just plain old physical pain. But I was a dad. I got my fingertips on that piece of paper and pulled it from my pocket. I bent my one good knee low enough to contort myself down to the open the car door and then I had one shot at it. I needed to flick the receipt so it would slide down on the dashboard facing up. I let it go. The paper did a loop, a glide and then floated to a stop right above the AC vent on the dash. All the pain washed away and I happily trudged off after my family. No one would ever know about my heroic actions. I mean of course I would describe them to my family but they would only half listen. It’s little personal victories like this that tell you what it means to be a dad. How much can you carry? How far can you carry it? And how joyful it is when you do the job right and it all comes together.