The Importance of Dads - A letter to fathers

Dear Dads,

You are so important in your child's life!

I am sad that there is a belief out there that you are only good for working hard and "providing" for your family. I'm sad that you may have been lead to believe that you could never be as good at parenting your children as their mother and certainly not as nurturing. I'm sad that many women believe this. Because it flat out isn't true.

Research proves that you are so important. Kids who have dads that are hands-on involved in their lives have higher self-esteem, do better in school, and are socially more adjusted than kids whose fathers leave the majority of the child care to the mom. This is because you bring to the table qualities that most women don't. Not because you're better but because you're different, and kids need what you both have to offer.

A girl's sense of beauty and self-worth is largely influenced by you. When you are involved in your daughter's life, letting her know that she is precious and beautiful in your eyes, she is more likely to be confident in who she is and less likely to go seeking love and fulfillment in other ways and from other people. She learns what type of man to marry someday. She learns how men should treat her. What a great gift you can give to her!

Your son will learn from you what it means to be a man in this world. He'll learn how to treat women. He'll learn how to treat other people. He'll learn how to be a dad. Little boys want to be just like their dads. You have so much to teach them and an opportunity like none other to make a difference in this little life, and I believe that difference makes a difference in this world.

Moms need dads. It is difficult to raise children on your own. Some moms falsely believe that only they know best. Some even send the message that dads could never care for their kids as well as they can. But when dads work as a team with mom, family magic happens.

As a mom whose husband is deeply involved in my kids' life, I can't tell you how much deeper in love I am with him because of the great relationship he has with my kids. I can't begin to tell you how much it means to me to know that I have a partner in raising my kids. And I know that my kids are as great as they are because they get from my husband qualities and knowledge that I can't give to them. I feel so blessed to have an amazing husband who is an amazing dad!

Maybe you didn't have a great dad when you were a kid. Maybe you don't know what it looks like to be an involved, caring, nurturing parent. Maybe you only know how to be the "bad guy" or how to only be the "playmate". Most likely this is because that is what you were taught. It's not because that's how it has to be. You can learn to be so much more and it's so worth it!

But maybe you are one of those dads that is involved. You do parent your kids with love and grace and patience. You work as a united front with your child's mother. You take your responsibility as a dad to heart and see it as one of the most important jobs of your life. I want you to know that you are valued! Thank you for being the example to other fathers for what is possible. My hope is that what you contribute to your family doesn't get taken for granted and that you enjoy the thrill of raising your kids. Children bring so much joy to our lives!

Perhaps you've heard this all before. I'm sorry if this is the first time. Either way, you need to hear this. And you need to hear it again and again and again.

Blessings to you, Dads.

Tara

Sometimes I Don't Want to Be a Mom

Sometimes I don't want to be a mom.

There. I said it.

Sometimes I just get tired of always being "on call," no days off, no sick days.

My days are filled with caring for a baby who has a lot of energy and has discovered she can get to just about any place in the house...really really fast. I can't take my eyes off her.

My afternoons are spent shuttling kids to lessons or helping them with homework.

Evenings are about making sure every one has been fed, and bathed, and gotten ready for bed.

At 8:30, all three of my kids go to bed. My husband and I dwell in the brief moment of silence, soaking in as much of it as we can. We know it will be short-lived. Because our 10-month-old will wake up between 10:30 and 11:00 for another feeding. Then she will probably wake up around 2:30 or 3:00 again needing help to go back to sleep. Sometimes we're lucky and she won't wake up again until 7:00. Sometimes we're not and she'll wake up one more time.

My oldest daughter sleepwalks.

Morning comes and I drag my sleep-deprived body out of bed motivated by the fact that the baby is on my bed, wide awake and excitedly crawling toward the cat at the end of the bed. Yes, this is almost an every morning occurrence. I don't know what motivates me more, fear that she's going to crawl off the edge of the bed or fear that she's going to pull out a huge chunk of my cat's hair, getting bit in the process. I can't remember the last time I woke up on my own, well-rested.

My son is like me. He hates getting up and likes to move slow in the morning. Not a great quality to have when you don't have a lot of time to get ready and leave the house on time. Almost every morning has something that challenges us from getting to school before the bell rings.

Every day is pretty much the same routine.

Weekends come. They should be a time for rest. Usually they aren't. With all five of us now home the energy level in the house skyrockets. It's our opportunity to get the house back in order after the busy week. The kids don't hide their disapproval of this.

My son likes to be really loud. He thinks it's funny. The baby likes to copy his loud noises. All
three kids think this is funny. Dad and I don't.

The kids argue. Sometimes with each other. Sometimes with me.

And sometimes...well...I just don't want to be a mom.

I collapse on the couch. I pretend there are no kids around me. I do the math in my head. How many years left do I have of this?

Then, my oldest daughter sees me and snuggles up beside me. "You're the best mom, ever, " she says and snuggles in deeper.

As I put my arm around her, I notice movement on the floor. The baby is crawling toward me at warp speed. A huge smile is lighting up her face. She reaches the couch, pulls herself up and tries to pull herself up onto the couch to join us.

"Hi goofball, " I say. "You want up, too?" I swing her up and now I have my two girls beside me.

A moment later, the front door opens and in bursts my son. "Mom! Mom!" he says. "I have something for you!" He rushes over to the couch and opens his hand. Inside is a sparkly rock. "I found this rock and wanted to give it to you," he explains.

He crawls up on the couch so that I can have a closer look.

I smile. My three beautiful children are near. And I love each of them so very much.

The best part of being a mom is moments like these. Moments when my kids remind me of the bigger picture. When they take me out of my selfish pity party and point out how full my life is with these little lives in mine. I'm humbled by how much they love me and feel ashamed at how quickly I forgot.

Sometimes being a mom is tiring, and overwhelming, and hard. But I wouldn't change being one for the world!

Instead, I think I'll set up an appointment for a massage.

How Do You Know Your Mom Loves You (reprise)

Yes, this is cheating a bit. I am reposting one of my very first posts on this blog. It seemed appropriate given that Valentine’s Day is this weekend. If you have followed us on the Xylem Family Resource fan page on Facebook, you know that we’ve been doing a “14 Days of Love” challenge trying to add to a list of things we love about each person in our family until we have a list of 14 things by Valentine’s Day. So, while thinking about this season, I thought again about this post and decided to share it again to remind myself of these words and encourage and inspire you. By the way, this was written before my sweet Samantha was born. She’s not mentioned in this post, but rest assured, I am just as in love with her! =) Enjoy!

Posted 2/24/09

I just filled out one of those things that get passed around on Facebook. On this one, I had to ask my daughter a variety of questions about me and then write down the answers she gave.

One of the questions Isabella had to answer was “What is something Mom always says to you?” Isabella answered, “That she loves me.” Another question was, “How do you know your Mom loves you? Isabella answered, “Because she keeps telling me.”

I love that she answered these questions this way and without hesitation. It is so important to me that my kids DO know I love them. And I strongly believe that a parent can never tell their child too many times that they love them.

So, Isabella is right. I do tell her all the time. I always make sure it’s the last thing my kids hear from me before I leave or before they go somewhere. I say it before they go to bed. I will randomly say it for no particular reason when we’re driving in the car and there’s a lull in the conversation. I tell them when they’ve done something that makes me smile. I tell them as I kiss away their tears.

“I love you” is spoken when I find myself remembering I love them, like when they sing a really sweet song or turn into complete goof-balls making me laugh. And I especially love saying “I love you” when I got one of my kids all to myself, cuddled on the couch, no reason at all, and I can just whisper it quietly in their ear like it’s our little secret.

But, while I may tell my kids that I love them more than the average parent, I know that most parents tell their kids they love them, too. And I bet if we took a large group of kids and asked them how they know their mom loves them, many of them would say, “because she tells me.”

When I taught third grade, I had a girl in my class who it turned out was being horrifically sexually abused by her dad. Fortunately, the dad was easily convicted and sent to jail. While the rest of us were jumping for joy, my sweet student began grieving. She would stay after school and tell me how much she missed her dad. She would tell me she loved him. And despite all the things this man did to his little girl, my student would tell me how much her dad loved her. Because, even children who are abused believe at some level that their parents love them. Unfortunately, their understanding of a parent’s love for their child is twisted and distorted.

I have even worked with many families who tell their kids they love them maybe once or twice a day at the routine times, possibly more given the circumstances. But when I ask their kids why do your parents love you, they get stuck, or they’ll tell me because they’re supposed to, or because their parents feed them and take care of them.

Knowing this. Seeing this. It motivates me with own my kids.

I want my kids to know that I love them not just because I’m their mom and all moms love their kids. I don’t want my kids to know that I love them just because I tell them. I don’t want my kids to know I love them because I take care of them and buy them things and keep them safe. All of these do show them to some degree that I love them. But I want them to know I love them because they are lovable human beings. That it is them as a unique person that I love.

I love their blue eyes and blond hair and their little belly buttons. I love Nate’s soft high-pitched laugh. I could listen to it all day. I love Isabella’s enthusiasm for knowledge and how excited she gets when she learns something new. I love watching them play together and being loving and caring toward each other. I love their hearts and how they want to share and care for others. I love watching Isabella swing and the look of pure happiness as she goes higher and higher. I love how Nate is so much a boy in so many ways but loves more than anyone to give hugs and kisses and to just cuddle. These are the things I also tell them all the time. The specifics. The “why” behind my love. So there’s never a doubt that I love my kids, and there’s never an assumption that I love them because I have to.

I love Isabella because I love Isabella. I love Nate because I love Nate. And I want to make sure that my kids know that my love for them is more than just a mom loving her kids. And my hope is that if Isabella had to give more than just a quick answer to the question “How do you know your mom loves you?” she would be able to say so much more than “because she keeps telling me.”

Witnessing and Angry Dad

The other day my son and I had just picked up my daughter from school. As we were beginning our drive home, we pulled up behind a white SUV waiting at the stop sign to turn out of the neighborhood and onto the next major street. It didn't take long to realize that we had been sitting and waiting for a longer-than-usual amount of time. I turned my attention to the car in front of us and immediately saw what the delay was about.

Looking into the car, I saw a boy and a girl in the back seat, appearing from behind to be in maybe third and fifth grade respectively, and the face of a dad, fully turned around toward his kids, full of rage. Wild hand gestures and twisted facial expressions left no doubt that this man was more than just upset with his kids.

And now we, my children and I, and now the car behind me, were all sitting at the stop sign waiting while this father literally screamed relentlessly at his children.

At one point, the father raised his hand and began the motion to strike. Both children immediately shrank away and the father, glancing back at me, paused and retracted his hand.

I gasped.

Nate and Isabella, who had up to this point been catching up with each other on their days and oblivious to the scene in front of us, heard me. Isabella immediately turned her attention to me and asked what was wrong. I told her, "That daddy in front of us is very angry at his kids and almost hit them because he was so mad." Isabella leaned in so she could get a look, and for the first time saw what I was seeing.

"Mom, he's really mad!"
"I know, sweetie. And he's not cooling down."
"I bet those kids are really scared, Mom."
"I would be, too. I feel very sad for those kids."
"Mom, that daddy needs your help."
I chuckled. "Well, Isabella," I said. "I can only help those parents who want it." But my mind was already trying to decide if it was time for me to intervene. Quickly thoughts raced as to what I could do to help defuse the situation. Should I ask the man in the car behind me to come with me and help talk to this dad since he was in such a rage? What would I say that would be non-threatening but could offer a chance to redirect attention toward me and away from the kids? Being in differnent cars seemed to make it more complicated.

I never got a chance to execute a plan because at this point, the dad whipped himself back around and, just to make an extra point to his kids, accelerated quickly into his turn making the tires squeal a bit. I was left just to imagine what would happen next in that family. The inside of my car went quiet. Isabella and Nate didn't speak. So I did.

"You guys, the way that daddy was yelling at his kids is not OK, no matter what those kids did. Sometimes we do things that make others mad..." Here, Isabella jumped at the chance to give examples of things that she does that makes mommy and daddy mad and things that make her friends mad. Nate also chimed in to point out the things Isabella does that make HIM mad, although he offered no examples of what he does.

Instead of completing my thought, I joined the side conversation in order to point out that even I, as a mommy, do things that sometimes make people mad. I sometimes make them mad, or daddy mad, or my friends mad, or even the people I work with. Kids and adults make mistakes and bad choices. But (now contnuing with my original point) when you are mad at someone, it is NEVER OK to get so angry at them that you scream at them or that you hit them.

Isabella thought a moment and replied back, "Mommy, I am so glad you never get that mad at me."

Actually, I do get really mad at my kids sometime. So mad in fact that I want to hit them. And definitely mad enough that I want to scream at them. But I make a choice not to follow through with that feeling. Because I don't ever want my kids to be scared of me. I want them to know that there is NOTHING that they could do that would make me lash out at them in a way that could cause them to lose their trust in me. Because we all make mistakes. And mistakes, while they sometimes can hurt another person, are not the end of the world. And it's more important for me to love a person (and my kids are people) through their mistakes and help them come to a point where something is learned from them than allow our relationship to be damaged because I just want to focus on my anger and make it all about me.

I don't know the whole story of what was going on with those kids in the white SUV and their father. I don't know what kind of day that man had. I don't know the attitude of the kids as they interacted with their dad. And while those kids could not have been with their dad more than a few minutes since they had just gotten out of school, I don't know if there was a major mistake on the kids' part that was just discovered by the parent that was a "last straw" event. But I do know, that whatever the circumstances, that dad was not sending a message of love to his kids even when they fail. He was not teaching his kids that we all make mistakes, and while this is very upsetting, we need to learn from them so it doesn't happen again. He was not teaching his kids that he was a safe place to come to even when you mess up. Even a six and a four-year-old sitting in the car behind him could see that.

Children are no less human than adults. As parents, we need to remember to treat them that way, even when it's hard. And we ned to take advantage of every opportunity (even if it's witnessing an example of someone not behaving appropriately) to show our kids that we love them and that we are safe, whether they are making good choices or bad. If this is something that YOU struggle with, and you're ready to do it differently, check out the Xylem Calendar www.xylemfamily.org/calendar and come to the next Anger Regulation and Problem Solving class or set up a private consult. Do it for you, and especially for your kids.