Loser Dads

Here's to all the loser dads out there. I am a member of this sad lot of men who, though they try hard, cannot seem to get all the aspects of fatherhood balanced out. This week I confirmed (again!) why I belong to this motley crew.

It was Tuesday morning and getting the Brother and the Younger Sister ready for school was chaos. There was no milk for cereal and there was no time for scrambled eggs. I think we forgot to brush teeth, but I did manage to get a ponytail pulled up in the Youngest Sister's hair and a vitamin down their throats. I rushed them out the door in a hurry, hoping against hope that we might still pick up the kids in our car pool on time.

I breathed a sigh of relief as I made record time to pick up the other three kids, realizing we still stood an outside shot of being to school on time. We loaded them all into Dora The Explorer, took the corners on two wheels, and slid sideways up to the Kindergarten gate. All five kids piled out and I thought how glad I was they wouldn't get a tardy for the day.

I was mentally congratulating myself until, just as the door shut, I heard the Brother say to the Younger Sister, "Hey, your shirt's inside out!"

The look on her face was a mixture of panic and embarassment. I wanted to go back and help her, but the drop off line needed to move on. I knew that if I circled back they'd already be inside and I couldn't get to her without signing in through the front office. Since I had an early appointment I rationalized it all out. I figured she's old enough to turn her shirt right side out if it bothered her. Turns out I was right.

I went at 12:15 for her weekly violin lesson and afterward we took our routine walk down the hall to her classroom. I asked, "Hey, was your shirt on inside out this morning?"

"Yes," she replied matter of factly.

"How did you fix it?" I inquired, fishing for a good story.

"I went to the girl's room and turned it 'side-out.'"

"By yourself?" I asked, remembering that she usually asked me to do it for her at home.

"Yes. I'm really getting to be a big girl, Daddy. I can do things." It is appropriate to mention her comment was concurrent with an eye roll of epic scale. I think she scanned her entire brain on that one.

Maybe it's because our male DNA is programned to screw up the little things. Maybe it's because we're building on our role as father that we inherited from our father and still have a ways to go. Or maybe, God provides us and our children these little "oops" moments to create growth in both parent in child. I can hope it's the latter, can't I?

It left me wondering just how badly our culture is screwing up our kids by over functioning for them? Are all the helicopter parents doing too much to insulate children from some of the realities of life, as well as robbing them of opportunities for good growth?

Do we really intend to raise a child under heavy protection, limited choices and risks, and devoid of any pain? Or rather, should we allow them to stumble, maybe even scrape a knee? Does a kid need to know what it's like to get/give a bloody nose or a broken heart? As in nature, children need to experience risk and loss in order to prepare for this life.

Of course, it may be that I'm just a loser Dad who needs to pay more attention to what my daughter wears when she leaves the house. At least I learned the lesson while she's in kindergarten and not when she's 17.