dads, man the f up!

8/7/2019 Dads, Man the F up!

http://slidepdf.com/reader/full/dads-man-the-f-up 1/16

Guys: It’s Time to Daddy the F*ck Up

What moment made you the dad you are today? The answer to this question

will define a generation of men.

My bachelor pad was a penthouse at the corner of Massachusetts and Commonwealth avenues. I had picked itfor the silence, the view, and the morning light. But everyFriday my two toddlers, Kerry and Seamus, would pile intothe tiny elevator to ride up for an overnight visit.

http://goodmenproject.com/featured-content/guys-time-to-daddy-the-fck-up/

http://goodmenproject.com/featured-content/guys-time-to-daddy-the-fck-up/



At first I didn’t know what to do with them. Diapers,formula, Pack ‘n Plays were not my thing; money andbooze and women were. I had purchased bunk beds, even

though neither of the kids was old enough to sleep in thetop bunk yet, and a matching blond wooden toy chest. Butthe furniture didn’t prepare me to be a dad.

After getting beaten to a pulp by the effort required to dealwith children unwilling to take their baths, eat dinner, go tosleep, or sit still the first few times they visited, some faintintuition finally clicked. Something no one taught me oreven mentioned as a good idea.

I got on my hands and knees and became a monster. Ichased Kerry and Seamus around and around the tinyapartment. I counted to 10 and played hide-and-seek. Icaught them and tickled their necks. I smelled my ownchildren, heard their laughs, and watched joy dance across

their faces, and I felt joy in my heart for those fleetingmoments of physical connection. When we were done withan hour of roughhousing they slept immediately and hard—so did I.

♦ ◊ ♦

For dads there is one moment when all the things we havebeen told about what it means to be a father, and all thethings we have experienced as sons, get tossed out thewindow and we are confronted with the reality andmagnitude of taking responsibility for our own children.For some, the defining event is the moment of birth; for



others, it’s a moment of loss through divorce, maturation,or even death. But for all, a central questions is: Whatmoment made you the dad you are today? The answer to

this question will define this generation of men. We don’tneed to man up, we need to daddy up. Our kids are waiting.

Here is what some guys had to say.

♦ ◊ ♦

I remember a nurse demanding I “hold her leg!” Several

exhausting pushes by my beloved later and I was officiallya daddy. I felt dumbstruck but not anxious. The weight hadbeen lifted and replaced by awe. Shortly after a nurse hadcleaned up our son and approached me. She asked if I’dlike to hold him. I replied, almost unconsciously, “No,that’s OK”—I had never held a newborn baby. She smiledat me knowingly, handed me my son and I just stared for

what seemed like hours at this little life before me. My lifeas a dad had begun.

—Vincent Daly, blogger, CuteMonster

♦ ◊ ♦

Most dads have to let their kids go when they leave for

college. I had to let go of my 10-year-old when I movedaway from the town where he lives with his mom. I wasterrified at leaving him, as I was used to seeing him at leastthree times a week. It hadn’t been easy, but my wife and Ihad dealt with six years of pick-ups and drop-offs, sudden

http://cutemonster.com/

http://cutemonster.com/



cancellations by my ex, and long periods when my sonbarely spoke to us. Strangely enough, when I told him Iwas moving, my son wasn’t upset. Now that we live in

different cities, we Skype regularly, talk on the phone, andhe seems happier and more willing to share the details of his life. On Skype the other day I got to see the inside of hisroom, and he proudly showed me all his artwork on thewalls. It almost brought me to tears—after six years, I wasactually seeing where he lived.

—Anonymous

♦ ◊ ♦

The first moment that I was able to see and hold myfirstborn. You conceptualize what that moment will be like,but it’s not until you hold a life in your own arms and knowthat you are now responsible for this little untainted soul,

that it really hits home.—Christopher Lewis, blogger, DadofDivas

♦ ◊ ♦

My daughter was born when I was 19. I was buildingtransmissions in a small shop in Asbury Park during the

day and working in a restaurant at night. I got a waitressthere pregnant one night in the backseat of my ’67Mustang. A few months after my daughter was born, I wasin the supermarket buying Pampers and formula when I raninto my boys. They were buying beer for a night on the

http://dadofdivas.com/




town.

I was ashamed I wasn’t out chasing women and gettingdrunk. I felt I’d failed a vision of manhood that I’dinherited, both as my father’s son and simply as anAmerican male. I’d lost my independence to roam, seducewomen, and, most important, inflict or endure violence.

—Michael Kamber, “Shooting the Truth” in The Good Men Project

♦ ◊ ♦

Although there had been many small moments when Ithought to myself, “Wow, I’m a dad,” it wasn’t until aftermy marriage fell apart that the full significance of fatherhood finally hit me. I was at Walmart, standing in thecheckout line with two of my three sons.

The boys and I were enjoying one of the visitationweekends worked out by their mother and me before thecourts finalized all the details of the split. When it was ourturn to check out, the cashier looked down and smiled atmy oldest son as she rang up our items. “Hey there, cutie,”she said. ”My parents are getting a divorce,” he repliedwithout any hesitation.

The tone in his voice was devoid of emotion except for thatslight hint of dread kids reserve for expressing their fear of the unknown in anticipation of events like impending tripsto the dentist. Because my son was 7, his mother and I felt



that he was old enough to understand what was happening,and so a few weeks earlier, we had told him aboutthe separation. At the time he took the news with matter-of-

fact acceptance.Like me, my son’s brain has to stretch, dissect, andreassemble information before he will comment on it, andthere’s no set period for how long this will take. So thereality of his mom and dad no longer living together as afamily connected with him in same moment I was buyingfrozen pizzas for dinner. There was an awkward silence atmy son’s revelation before a sympathetic expression cameover the cashier’s face. I was equally unprepared for hisresponse, putting into context how even more unprepared Iwas as a parent in a broken home.

The only thing I could think to do was get on my knees,hug my boys as tight as I could and tell them how much I

loved them. That’s the moment when I understood that thetitle of father was an action and not just some guy withkids. And I had a long way to go.

—Ron Mattocks, author , blogger, Clark Kent’sLunchbox

♦ ◊ ♦

Despite the first day of school, recitals, soccer and baseballgames, and many accidents that end in blood, my pivotalmoment was a bike ride I had with my son. For an hour werode through the woods and he told me about a girl he liked

http://www.sugarmilkbook.com/

http://www.clarkkentslunchbox.com/


http://www.sugarmilkbook.com/





in class, asked me questions about my childhood, andlaughed at stupid dude jokes. Then we stopped for a fewminutes at an overlook to watch the river flow by. We

didn’t say a single word to each other; we just sat there,father and son, throwing stones into the water. Then hehugged me. The warmth that pumped through my body thatday was pride, and the understanding that I wasn’t just adiaper changer, sandwich maker, or boo-boo fixer. I amplaying a vital role in helping shape a human being’s life. Iam a father.

—Blogger, WhyIsDaddyCrying

♦ ◊ ♦

Jessica and I have been together three days in Iowa when Irealize I am inept. She is being noble to spare my feelings.Wrapped in a green towel, her bare shoulders still shining

with bathwater, she sits with her back to me. I work thebrush along the line her part should follow, push the brushto her scalp and tug. My kid tries not to cry out; she doeswhimper.

It is not courage. Jessica did not have a good year with hermother or her mother’s husband, and in her last hope for aplace that can be hers, she will not complain to me. Untilthat moment the hairbrush tangles, I did not realize thedegree to which my kid is at some psychological risk. Shewill endure any amount of pain rather than allow Daddy tothink she needs attention. What if Daddy does not want her,either?

http://www.whyisdaddycrying.com/

http://www.whyisdaddycrying.com/



I’d planned hot breakfasts. I’d stocked up on oatmeal. I’dbought a washer and dryer within days of moving into thehouse so that Jessica’s clothing would be washed spotless. I

practiced ironing. Jessica’s complexion would be creamy,she’d never, ever, catch cold, and her hair, her glorioushair, would always be lustrous.

But my idylls of perfect parenthood are wrecked by ahairbrush. Knotted about two inches from her scalp aboveher ear, it rests five inches from the tangled ends of her hairand a light-year from all I had imagined. I recall my mothertelling my sister it took a little pain to be beautiful, butpulling Jessica’s hair by the roots from her scalp seems toogreat a price to pay.

I give up and carefully scissor out the brush. Within days,her head resembles a bird’s nest in molting season. Shelooks like a perfectly happy child raised by wolves.

—Perry Glasser, “Iowa Black Dirt” in The Good Men Project

♦ ◊ ♦

It was an evening when mommy was off to class and wewere settling down before bed, my son and my daughter

both lying on my chest. Our arms were wrapped aroundone another and I swear our hearts all beat in time. On thecouch, just the three of us, it just hit me: This is what it isall about. This is what being a dad is. Any man can be afather; I knew this. But this moment, this one tiny moment,



summed it all up for me. I was more than a father. I am“Daddy.”

—John Taylor, blogger, TheDaddyYoBlog

♦ ◊ ♦

Becoming a stay-at-home dad seemed noble from theromantic distance of a boy with two stepfathers. Stay-at-home dad—why not? We are an older couple who’d beenwaiting a long time for a baby to come, and now that she

had, what were we to do? Fob her off on a stranger beforeshe had taken her first step?

As a reporter, your job is to write about history as it ishappening, so our grandchildren know how we lived. Thereporter holds up a mirror to society, going where fewwould, asking questions few dare. He is the arbiter of whatis interesting. That is what this stay-at-home dad would tellhis old self.

I also would tell him that once he stops being a reporter, thegovernor won’t call anymore. Neither will the oldcolleagues. There will be no more Hollywood parties. Noexpense account. No action.

It will be just you and the kid. And the kid will have noidea how good you were. And at that old deadline time, youwill find yourself staring into a dirty diaper as though itwere tea leaves, trying to augur some story.

—Charlie LeDuff, “Stay at Home, Dad” in The Good

http://www.thedaddyyoblog.com/

http://www.thedaddyyoblog.com/



Men Project

♦ ◊ ♦

When she just born she would curl up on my shoulder and Iwould kiss the top of her head and had no doubt that thesewould be some of the sweetest moments in my life. No mancan possibly know what life means, what the world means,what anything means, until he has children and loves them.And then the whole universe changes and nothing will everagain seem exactly as it seemed before. That goes doublefor having a daughter.

—Ted Rubin

♦ ◊ ♦

“You love this girl, right?” It was an unvarnishedchallenge, a test of no small order, and his eyes never left

mine.

“I do,” I said quickly. And I wasn’t lying. Never mind thatI was 24 at the time and a U.S. Army veteran with anoverseas tour of duty under my belt. There was still atremor in my voice, because the man staring at me was—and always will be—my father.

My mother died when I was young, and Dad raised mysister and me on his own. He was not to be trifled with.Admiration, respect, and a healthy dose of fear were mywatchdogs throughout adolescence.

http://www.tedrubin.com/

http://www.tedrubin.com/



So it was that I went to see my father, with his larger-than-life presence hovering over me still, to tell him I had met agirl, that I loved her, and that she was going to have my

baby. My stomach was in knots, and I was sweating despitethe cold, gray day.

—Ricardo Federico, “Whatever It Takes” in The Good Men Project

♦ ◊ ♦

That moment when the world is collapsing around yourchild—bully at school, bad grade, not being liked—and alevel head and some good old-fashioned love and hugsmake them forget the problem and you realize howimportant being a dad is.

—C.C. Chapman, blogger, DigitalDads

♦ ◊ ♦

I’ve been on the lookout for 10 years between two children,but I don’t think I’ve had my defining father moment yet.Maybe when they’re about to leave me? I don’t know.There was once when our first daughter was maybe threemonths old when I looked into her eyes, and saw myself. It

was absolutely moving. Chilling, even.—Jim Mitchem, writer, communications tactician,blogger

♦ ◊ ♦

http://digitaldads.com/

http://jimmitchem.posterous.com/

http://digitaldads.com/

http://jimmitchem.posterous.com/



My son, for some reason naked, was hiding behind thedoor, and it hit him when I opened it.

“I love you, Daddy.”

“You called me down here for that?” I said, mocking,bitter.

Manhood is determined not by organs or genetics, but byactions, and in that moment, when all my son wanted was alittle bit of me, I proved that as a man I had failed, and I

knew it. I went to my bathroom and fell to the floor,wishing I could die, wishing I were already dead.

But there was so much else to deal with. My son had beenacting like a beast. Daily talks with daycare providers andendless domestic disciplinary issues had ground me down.

Then I asked myself, Who’s the man? The answer was

humbling. I was, in theory, and I needed to act like it. Iknew that some of his behavior was of my authorship. Hewas 5, not yet old enough to have developed truly badhabits, not yet capable of the self-analysis needed tounderstand what he must have felt. Reacting and acting outwere the only means of expression he had. I was his father,and the man, and it was time to be both. I no longer had the

luxury of being melancholy.

I’ve always been a fan of the fake-it-till-you-make-itschool, so I applied its principles to parenthood. I forcedmyself to be glad, even thrilled, whenever I was around my



son. Every time I saw him, I hugged him. The kid showedhis face, and there I was, trying to squeeze the stuffing outof him.

Then a funny thing happened. Faking it turned into the realdeal. I’m still not sure when it happened, but I became gladto see him—genuinely glad. At the end of the day, I’m stilltired, and he still talks too much. I’m still frustrated by thekindergarten dawdling, but it’s not the martyringexperience it was even a few months ago. Thus freed, Inow participate more in my son’s life. It’s easier to give of myself, to read to him, to play with him, to listen, which iswhat he wants most of all.

That moment of fatherhood failure made me realize that Ihad to live even as I longed to die. It made me begin toheal, and in healing, to be there for my son as the father hedeserves. Or at least to try.

—Christopher Koehler, “Being There” in The Good Men Project

♦ ◊ ♦

I’m a career-driven man, which is another way to say aselfish one. I was about to begin writing a piece about street

gangs when I clicked over from another call with myeditor. It was my wife. “My water just broke,” she said. Shewasn’t due for another two weeks. The plan had been tofinish the story with about a week to spare before the duedate. In other words, the plan had been for my baby’s birth



to not interfere with my life as I knew it.

Harper was born the next afternoon. I didn’t work on thepiece until the following week, and, frankly, I didn’t wantto. I was no longer the center of my life.

—Paul Kix, senior editor, Boston magazine;contributing writer, ESPN the Magazine

About Tom MatlackTom Matlack is just foolish enough to believe he is a decent man. He has a 16-year-old daughter and 14-and 5-year-old sons. His wife, Elena, is the love of his life.

Comments

1. Dad of Divas says:

January 24, 2011 at 6:54 am

Thanks for sharing all of these and letting me be a part of it… there are so many moments, it wasdifficult to take just one!

Reply

2. Bob Stains says:


I appreciate the sharing of all these moments, and want to add one, though, as Dad of Divas notes,

there have been and continue to be many, many decisive scenes. My kids are all in college now.When they were younger I used to travel for business. Not too bad: a couple of days every fewweeks. Even so, I missed them terribly and they missed me as well. One time when I camethrough the front door after a trip, my two-year-old daughter ran across the house, leaped into myarms, hugged me and wouldn’t let me go. I carried her around the house with her head buried inmy shoulder for what felt like hours. Every few minutes she’d raise her head up, look in my eyes,say’ “Dad-EEEEEEE”, scrunch her head back into my shoulder and hug my neck tightly. Thosemoments remind me of what’s really important from my kids’ perspective, and of what I have togive as a Dad.



http://goodmenproject.com/featured-content/guys-time-to-daddy-the-fck-up/#comment-12578


http://goodmenproject.com/featured-content/guys-time-to-daddy-the-fck-up/?replytocom=12578#respond

http://www.publicconversations.org/






http://www.publicconversations.org/




Reply

3. Denis says:


“What moment made you the dad you are today? The answer to this question will define ageneration of men.”

Many men can’t “daddy the f*ck up” because of maternal gatekeeping! It’s pervasive at homewhere she makes the rules and in family law where she makes the rules.

Tell your lawyer wife, it’s time to “daddy the f*ck up” and start speaking out for truth, justice andthe best interests of children.

You can’t blame men for the discrimination that they face.

Reply

4. Homemaker Man says:


These were great. I feel like I have a mini version of one of these moments everyday. There’salways a moment where I have to stop and think about my role, or where I just get caught up inhow beautiful my kids are.

Reply

5. Perry Glasser says:

January 24, 2011 at 11:20 am

Proud to be among the writers above, I’ll note that the moment I became a Grand-Dad happened 8days ago when Jessica—the little girl in Iowa Black Dirt—delivered Maya, 7 lbs. 13 oz., full headof black hair and 19.75 perfect inches tall.I drove 9 hours from Boston to DC as soon as I heard Jessica had gone into labor and arrived justas Jessica went in for a C-section. Drove back 3 days later.Dads do stuff like that.Mother and daughter are doing well and both are now home.w00t-w00t!


http://truthjusticeca.wordpress.com/





http://www.musingsfromthebigpink.blogspot.com/




http://www.perryglasser.com/








http://www.musingsfromthebigpink.blogspot.com/







Reply

6. CreativePlayPlus.com says:

January 24, 2011 at 4:52 pm

Dads are awesome! We’re sure there will be many, many, many more decisive moments in thefuture and we can’t wait to hear about them. Looking forward to reading more posts.

Thank you

Reply

7. Chris Buckley says:

January 24, 2011 at 5:20 pm

A lifetime ago and long before I was ever a father, I was exploring a calling to ordained ministry,specifically in a career as a hospital chaplain. I opted to serve my pastoral residency in theneonatal intensive care unit of a major research hospital, visiting the families of critically ill orvery low birthweight newborns. While very many of these children did get to go home to live withtheir families, all too many only knew their parents through the glass of their medical isolettes oras a pair of fingers gingerly stroking them through latex gloves.

This experience helped shape the father I later became, by ingraining at an early age just howephemeral newborn lives could be, and how deep their parents’ connection to them was. As I satwith grieving parents whose options had run out, I had the privilege to help them BE parents evenif only for a matter of hours. All the children who died, and the families who went home withoutthem of my watch, live in my heart twenty years later and often spring to mind in quiet momentswhen I’m holding my own sons today.

Our entire culture is raised around sitcom notions of cookie cutter family life and fatherhood inparticular. What I learned was that the opposite is true: normal can vanish in an instant, and everyhug, every chance to hold should be cherished as if it were the last.


http://www.creativeplayplus.com/



http://storywiseguy.com/




http://www.creativeplayplus.com/





dads, man the f up!

Documents