The idea of being a dad has, in my opinion, changed over several generations. In my grandfather’s generation, dads were providers. Mothers handled the household and the children. From what I’ve been told, they were more stoic, reserved and could be unapproachable. It seems there was an element of mystery around dads. I’ve heard people talk about how they never really knew their father. Dads didn’t seem to say, “I love you, I’m proud of you.” The next generation of dads, my dad’s generation, seemed to attempt to make up for that. I never went a day without knowing how much I was loved and appreciated, and how proud my dad was of me as I was growing up. It continues today. That set the foundation at an early age of the father I wanted to be.
Recently, my mother-in-law asked me a few questions about being a dad. Here’s what I had to say:
What do you like best about being a dad?
The best parts of being a dad are the little moments. My daughter and I were sitting on the couch this week watching the NBA Finals. She isn’t a sports nut, but she’ll watch with me. We were about 3 feet from one other. She scooted over, lifted my arm, put it around her shoulders and rested her head on my lap. She wanted to be close to me, to have me hold her. I realized that I was her security blanket. That’s a feeling you can’t replace or explain.
Seeing her little mind work is fascinating. When we play card games, I see her wheels turning, adding up the numbers in her head so she can write down the score. It’s a little thing that impresses me every time. Hearing from others how special my child is lights me up. Teachers, other parents, friends or relatives. Hearing that my child did something selfless or helped someone when they needed it makes me proud beyond belief. It tells me that I’m doing something right, that the morals I instill are not only being heard, but understood.
What’s the most challenging thing about being a dad today?
In the beginning, the challenges were selfish. Giving up parts of your life and freedom to make sure your child has everything they need. That challenge doesn’t last long. Quickly, you want to give up other things to make your child happy.
Her independence is fascinating. She’s doing so many more things on her own. While I absolutely love seeing her grow and develop, I know one day she won’t need me for everything. That’s something I’m sure no dad looks forward to. At first, you’re thrilled she can tie her shoes on her own. Then it hits you that she doesn’t need you to help her.
You question all your actions and are careful with everything you do. You are the example. It changes your relationships. Decisions that used to be selfish have become decisions based on how my daughter will see me. How do I treat others? I treat them the way that I want someone to treat her. How do I treat my wife? The way I would want someone to treat my daughter. I want her to expect to be treated the way I want her treated. You’re always an example; kids are always watching and learning with everything you do.
And, of course, attempting ponytails, buns and braids. No matter how many times my wife shows me, no matter how many YouTube videos I watch, I just can’t get it. But when I hear a sweet little 6-year-old voice say, “Good try Dad, you’re getting better!” it’s worth it. Even if she’s just being nice.
What do most people not know about dads?
Dads are sensitive. The idea of “being a man” has the connotation to many of toughness and being emotionless. Strength is valued; vulnerability is not. I urge anyone who feels that way to talk to a girl dad. The number of times I’ve laughed, cried, cheered and done things I never thought I would with my daughter would amaze people. It turns you into a person who gets weepy alone in the car when a certain song comes on that you and your daughter sing together. Especially if it’s one that you started listening to before she could talk, and now she sings every word with you.
Hugh Osteen is chief executive officer of Osteen Media Group.
