My Non-Regrets as a Dad...

Tomorrow is a milestone. My eldest son turns 18. In Australia, that is the age of adulthood, though we have already welcomed him into the world of men a few years back. He can now vote. He can now legally drink. He can get his car licence. To all intents and purposes, our parenting "job" is now done...though we'll always be here for him.

And so I stand back and regard him as a man and I have to say I'm proud of his empathy for others, his sharp intellect, his wicked sense of humour, his faith, his brilliant people skills (he didn't get them from me!). And in reflecting, it shows me that there are many things I don't regret doing over the last 18 years of my role as a Dad.


My non-regrets include:

• reading to and with him at bedtime several times a week until well into childhood
• putting work aside to watch him do something or tell me something
• putting work and self-interest aside to play with him
• initiating him into manhood over the year between his 13th and 14th birthdays, with the help of some incredibly generous and wise other men (see http://freakedoutfathers.blogspot.com.au/2012/11/sydney-trip-nov-2012.html)
• listening to him when he was trying to tell me that he was too old for things like bedtime stories
• praying with him whenever he faced a challenge...and often when he didn't
• teaching him to tithe part of his pocket money (which was given to charity) until he was 14
• having that birds-and-bees talk (that had me crapping my pants)
• teaching him to have faith, demonstrating that faith, but allowing him to question it and come at it his own way (Thank God for wise mentors for me in this regard)
• paying for sports he never stuck at, buying him musical instruments (which he did stick at), taking him to interesting places
• vacations
• answering his questions after taking them seriously
• listening
• wrestling with him and giving him hugs
• tuning in to his sense of humour and opinions

My one main regret is the times I missed the opportunity to do any of the above. If I had my time over, I'd do more of that.

But it's interesting isn't it, that the things we focus on in the here-to-now (that report that needs

writing, that guy that wants to catch up for a coffee, that project we think will change the course of our destiny, that home improvement we think will make us look better to others) have so little eternal value?

Anything we do that is for and with and because of our children, is an investment. It stands the test of time. And it bears good fruit in the real world as they go on to perpetuate goodness on Planet Earth.

Live long and live large, son. It's been an awesome ride and I'm excited to see where you take your life from here.

4th Grade Fizzix.

I'd like to say I'm revisiting this anecdote for some serious social commentary. But in truth I was reading an old diary of mine and it just tickled my funny bone.

Kids are classic when it comes to interpreting the questions we ask them...and in terms of how simply they see a subject.

When Oldest Son was in 4th Grade, for some reason his teacher decided to teach them Newton’s Laws of Motion . When some time later, I found my son's homework sheet on the topic, some of his answers were priceless…

Newton’s First Law of Motion says “An object in motion tends to stay in motion & an object at rest tends to stay at rest, unless acted on by an outside force.”

To the question, “If you leave a cookie on a plate and no one else is in the house, where will the cookie be in an hour?”, he responded It depends on whether they come back to the house later.

To the question “The horse you are riding stops quickly; what happens to you?”, he wrote Depends how tight you’re holding on.

The 3rd Law says “Every action has an opposite and equal reaction.”

To the question “Two ice-skaters glide into each other at full speed; what will happen?, he replied They fall down, duh.

Sounds to me like he gets it.

The Fine Art of Meddling

Want to build a cubby house with your kids? Here’s how not to do it.

Many moons ago, I found myself building a “cubby-house” (or more likely -- knowing my lack of manly carpenteering skills -- a lean-to) for my oldest son. Only problem was, it shouldn’t have been me building it. Let me explain…

I’d been reading about how pre-teen boys need to engage with the outdoors and some have the instinct to build shelters to prove to themselves they could fend for themselves. It all sounded rather plausible and when my son came to me asking if he could build a “cubby” in the backyard, because his friend Nathan had just done that in his, I was all for it.

We went to see a friend of mine, a carpenter, who kindly made some suggestions about materials and even gave my son (and me!) a crash course in building and construction. We assembled the materials and went home to build it.

I know what you’re thinking: “What a great Dad! Giving his son space and encouragement to do it. I wish I had a Dad like that.”

… actually, you shouldn’t wish that.

From the start, this project was undermined by two tendencies that I battle constantly:

• the need to be seen as a great Dad – particularly by my kids – and
• the need to teach things … actually, let’s call that last one what it really is: the need to micromanage (to direct or control in a detailed, often meddlesome manner).

Things first came unstuck when I told him, no you can’t build it where you want to, you have to build it where I want you to. At first pass, this might sound like a good thing, and – look – if he had wanted to build it on the roof of our house or nail it to my wife’s car, then fair enough, I should say no. But he simply wanted to attach it to the back fence. I didn’t like that and said, no build it over here.

The next problem came when I stayed outside to assist him instead of going into the house and leaving him to it. Now, my excuse was he asked me to stay, specifically to hold the beams while he hammered. Again, good dadship to be there for him? But alack! and alas! I couldn’t keep my big mouth shut.

When he said “Dad I can’t do this!!”, struggling to get the nail into the wood, I could have said, “Yes you can; keep at it, champ.” Sometimes I do encourage him this way. But not this time. I could have said, “This wood is pretty hard, it’s probably not suited to this. Do you want to finish what we can with the other pieces then go out and find another piece that’s easier to work with?” That would have allowed him to stay in control and saved face for him. I could have said that but I didn’t.

I said, “Let me have a try.”

Those 5 little words resulted ultimately in the photo I have of the occasion. Where is my son in that photo? Nowhere. (My other son took it). Oldest Son had by that time gone inside, frustrated. After twenty minutes of rising tension about how to do things, he’d thrown a mild tantrum and given up. Because whereas I thought I was communicating “I’m here for you”, what he heard was “You can’t do it, give a real man the hammer.”

As usual from little things, big things grow. From my small action – well TWO small actions – discouragement flourished.

The results: four planks of wood loosely nailed together in my backyard and sitting there for months like that, a boy who lost interest in building things and a Dad still kicking himself.

You might say all sorts of things like, “The boy should have had thicker skin” and such. I seriously don’t think this one was about him being oversensitive. I think I royally screwed up.

The lessons for me were twofold:

1. be careful not to communicate to a boy that he can’t do ‘it’ [there are so many subtle and not-so subtle ways we can do this]
2. be careful not to discourage a kid from a passion of theirs in any way

In this case, there was a fine line between directing and discouraging, between placing boundaries around his activity and meddling with it. Knowing my son, what he needed and desired from me was my company, my pride in him, my encouragement.

Sometimes kids need to be allowed to make a mess of our backyards, to risk putting a crack in our fence palings, and even to try-and-fail without being shown “how to do it properly” (especially by someone like me ... who really didn’t know how to do it anyway.)

Daddy, What Does &$@*# Mean?

I’m firmly middle-class and Christian. And while I drop the odd swear-word (usually in traffic), our household is neither a prissy one nor a cussin’ one.

But we live in a colorful world and speak a colorful language. So I wasn’t entirely surprised when my 7-year-old  asked me one morning, “Daddy, what does c**t mean?”

This is the lad who – as a first-grader – was advised by a second-grader to Google-search images of “boys having sex with girls”! So this is not the first time we’ve had to navigate these waters…

But I must admit, I had one of those “How do I field this one?” moments.

When in doubt, I’ve tried to make it a policy to be affirming and answer the question as simply as possible, while adding my own message. Sometimes, I’ve gotten it horribly wrong, sounding like a cross between Ned Flanders and Principal Skinner. This time, it went a little something like this:

Me: “Where’d you hear that? …

Him: "I dunno."

Me: "Ok, well, first, it’s probably the rudest word there is and us Aldins don’t say that. Second, you asked me what does the word mean. Well, do you know what a vagina is? No? (Quick matter-of-fact anatomy lesson follows...) So this word is a rude word for that like d**k (I knew he knew that word) is for penis, but worse. Does that answer your question? … Ok. Mate, I’m really glad you asked me ’cause if you’d asked your teacher or Grandma … (then I ham up a horrified-old-woman-reaction – sorry Grandma – it gets some laughs) – You can always ask me anything, buddy.”

Him: “Ok, Dad and I won’t say that word. Ever.”

And five years later, he never has...

...to my knowledge...

That's What 6 year olds do!

Six years ago, I sat down with Jacob, a mate of mine who’s a psychologist. I began complaining about how crazy-making my youngest son’s behaviour was becoming in the evenings.

(Now, 6 years later, I can’t remember what the heck he was doing that was getting me so worked up).

He patiently listened to me describing the situation and anguishing over my inability to stop my son from doing whatever it was he was doing. When there came a lull in my whining, my friend leant forward and simply said,

“Pete. That’s what 6 year olds do.”

It was all I needed. It was epiphany. It told me that I was stressing about something that was normal. That I needed to put my energy into directing my son’s energy rather than trying to

shut it off. It was a vital reality check, a calming thought.

This kind of self-talk helps me overcome Gen X anxiety around having perfect kids.
AND Gen X guilt over not being able to make the kids perfect. (It’s stupid when you verbalize it, but it’s what many of us suffer with).

What do you tell yourself to calm yourself down, to give your kids some grace, to be more positive and proactive around them?

Violence as a First Response

I currently work 4 days a week in a high school, largely with young people for whom school is just one of the major struggles in their lives...

Without breaching confidence, I've talked over the course of this year with a couple of dozen young men (13-17 years old) who don't see any other response to being provoked than violence. There are different reasons for this, but the thing I've found common in all of them is the involvement of their father in crafting this attitude.

For some, Dad has actually taught them to solve their problems with their fists, to not let anyone push them around. For others, Dad has not taught them anything...verbally. But by example, he's hit them, hit their mother, gotten into brawls himself...he's modelled violence as a first response to being bothered by anyone.

For others still, Dad hasn't been particularly violent and hasn't actively taught them to be violent. What he has done is simply stood back and let dog eat dog beneath his own roof. He has let the kids solve their own conflicts by whatever rules the kids choose, only intervening when something of his gets damaged (wall, CD, window, coffee table, etc).

I was thinking about this again today after another conversation with a wonderful young man whose intelligence, talents and emotional intelligence is undermined by the ugly spectre of a belief in the value of violence to solve his problems. Dad fits into the first and last of my categories above, at least as my young friend tells it.

Geez, guys. My boys are now 15 and 12. I haven't taught them to be pussies. But they've grown up believing that violence is a very very poor method of solving a problem, if it ever does solve anything. They see it as a lose-lose. Maybe it's easier for them than many of my students (whose lives have taught them that the world is out to harm them). But I'm proud of the times we spent in early childhood talking about these things, debriefing movies and video games and incidents at school, and I'm grateful for the adult males in my friendship group and family who've taught my boys that humour and empathy and giving a damn actually defuse a lot of conflict before it grows too large.

Dunno where I'm heading with this. Just venting, maybe.

A possible question as a conversation starter here is: How have you taught your kids to deal with provocation and conflict?

Get Ready to Rumble!

Here’s something I find fascinating. In every Dads group I’ve run over the last three years, at least one guy in the room has said something like this:

• “My wife/partner tells me off for wrestling with the kids. She says I’m teaching them to be violent…”
• “My wife/partner won’t let me wrestle with the kids…”
• “My wife/partner makes me feel guilty for wrestling with the kids, so I try not to do it anymore…”

And then each time the fella finishes his comment much the same way:

• “…but I feel like it’s ok. So is it?”

My answer:

• “Yes. It is.”

I could finish this there. But. Every answer has to be qualified. And then when you’re writing (or speaking), you feel like adding more of your opinion as well. So here it is…

It’s a very very healthy thing for a Dad to play-wrestle with his kids. (Notice I added play there?) We’re not talking about molestation. We’re not talking about Dads beating up on their children or pushing them around. We’re talking about play.

Kids NEED to be physically touched by both parents. And at various ages and for various reasons, it becomes uncool to kiss or cuddle with daddy. So then what’s a dad to do? And what’s a kid to do? Shake hands? Nahhhh, you grab each other around the shoulder and start rumbling.

One of the other things this achieves, particularly with boys, is that it’s a way of teaching them boundaries, of when they’ve crossed the line and getting too rough. For boys to pit their strength against a bigger stronger male is a valuable way of learning to empathize and control-self.
Alright. So you’re saying (or your missus is reading this and saying) “Who are you Pete? What do you know about it? Why should I believe you? What makes you the expert?”

Okay, if you don’t trust me, go read these articles below. Then google dads wrestling with children. Or you could meet my sons and see the real life effects of a decade of Dads and Sons play-wrestling. Yes, I’ve gotten a couple of fat lips and a fair few bruises (and they’ve gotten virtually none!), but my 15 year old still gives me a hug. They’re both empathetic human beings (except with each other!). And they both play rough games with their mates without it ever escalating… Anyway, go read these other articles.

And feel free to share your stories (and objections if you have 'em) in the comments area.

• http://www.pacthawaii.org/images/hcdimages/HelpingDADSgetmoreinvolved.pdf (look at #3)
• http://www.dadmag.com/archive/060100mrsdad.php
• http://innerself.com/html/parenting/general/creating-a-happy-home.html (look at #20)