Perhaps more than anything, I love being a Dad.  I am proud of our girls.  I am proud of my partner.  I am proud of our family, and I am proud of myself for stepping into the many different shoes that one needs to wear when it comes to the topic of parenting.  I am proud of being able to navigate the delicate nuance and balance that hovers between being a friend, a guardian, a clown, a provider, a listener, an enforcer, and, honestly – carrying countless other qualities that exist in between everything I’ve already listed.   I am proud.  Despite me stating that over and over, it should go without saying.  I am proud, yes.  But I don’t always love what gets me there.

I like to think that I always knew parenting had it’s challenges – the moments where I wouldn’t know what to do, how to answer or how I’d react in the moment whenever ‘x’ happened.  Questions about our place in the galaxy?  I feel like I should know, but I don’t.  Asking me the meaning of whatever word it was that I just said in the direction of the driver that just ran the stop sign?  Not sure how I was going to approach that.  First kiss?  Still can’t wrap my head around that one.  These were all moments that, while I couldn’t necessarily answer for, I could at least anticipate and come to terms and peace with the fact that I simply won’t know how to answer until the question is asked.  Being a parent, however, is not about anticipating what will be thrown your way, it’s accepting that to try and do so is impossible.

My kids surprise me at every turn with how they approach the world.  Yes, they ask the questions, but they also have answers.  They are insightful, in tune and aware of who they are.  They are powerful negotiators, capable beings, and can handle more than I tend to give them credit for.  Just last night, while trying to appease one child, the other let me know how it feels to prioritize ones desires over another.  While it was not my intention to do so, their comment and observation was not without merit, which is my round about way of admitting she was right – I was prioritizing one over the other, and so we had a conversation about it.  One in which I did my best to apologize but also try to explain – which is different than making excuses, I swear.  And there in lies one of the primary challenges I face as a father, because while our kids may be wise and insightful, it’s also my job to try my best to provide context in complex situations, showcase that vulnerability is a strength, and, with any hope, support them towards making good decisions.

Our conversation last culminated in my daughter opening up that she was not upset with me, and that she does understand why certain situations play out the way they do, but that it’s hard being an older sibling sometimes – expectations and responsibilities tend to fall on you, not the least of which is an expectation from the parent (that’s me) to inherently appreciate and accept that the younger child is still developing the maturity that the older is supposed to now have.  She let me know that it’s a feeling I could never know because I’ve never been the older sibling.  Damn.

Besides the fact that my kids are always passing me lessons, being a parent came with so many other unexpected feelings, challenges and complications that the pre-Dad version of me would have sworn would never occur.  Not only do I not have the answers to everything, I am not guaranteed to have the right reactions, either.  I’m a pretty level-headed guy and while I don’t enjoy conflict, I can face it with maturity and an even keel – at least I can with adults.  Kids.  Man, communicating with kids are a different bag of emotions.  I get frustrated more than I care to admit.  I raise my voice with impatience.  I lose my ability to articulate inexplicably often.  Frankly there are times when I don’t like how I’m acting and it’s a struggle to get out of it.

We talk often about our ‘zones’ – Green, Yellow and Red, each representing what you can probably draw your own conclusions to.  No one likes being in the red zone, namely because once you’re there it’s hard to get out of it.  It’s also embarrassing, at least for me, to be in the red zone, hearing yourself getting frustrated, knowing that your being unreasonable, but yet not being able to easily get yourself at least back to yellow.  We are complex creatures with many layers of emotions, and I guess I didn’t realize just how much would come to the surface once becoming a Dad.

To be clear here – I’m not talking about losing my cool about major things.  In fact, on the big subjects I find myself to be the most calm.  I’m talking about trivial things:  not brushing teeth, not moving fast enough to be on time for anything, leaving socks on the couch, arguments over whose turn it is to pick the movie.  These are not situations that will move haven and earth, yet here I am writing an entire blog about their effect on me.

Look, being a Dad is still by far the greatest thing on my resume.  We have fun, we are in the green far more than yellow or red, and if our family can do one thing better than anything else it’s laugh.  Our days are steeped in adventure, gratitude, open communication and fun, all while still appreciating responsibility.  The energy of our home is a positive one, but, in the interest of the aforementioned vulnerability, that battery can also drain from time to time, and that’s not something I anticipated.  The good news, form what I understand, is that the teenage years will get easier…