Daddy Life: The Sucky Parts 👶😭

Being a dad can be incredibly humbling and sometimes harder than I think or give it credit for. When I was younger and single and had no kid, I was responsible only for me, and honestly, I wasn’t very good at that some of the time. And now, I’m here with his mama, trying to keep a little boy happy and healthy and teaching him things and enforcing boundaries and limits and it’s a lot.

What makes it easy to forget I think is that most of the time, Oliver is a really good kid. He laughs a lot and plays well on his own and with us. He’s sweet and gives hugs and kisses and high fives and fist bumps. So I know that I’m fortunate to like those things and get those things from him and to appreciate them, but that doesn’t mean that I also don’t feel the hard parts when they come up.

I know that Ollie loves me and needs me and likes to see me. He proves it to me every day. But that doesn’t remove the real deep down wish I have that he’d call me dad or dada or daddy. Other kids do it. I see videos on Facebook and Twitter and Instagram. I see my nephew do it. I see friend’s kids do it. But I don’t get to see Ollie do it. It doesn’t make me love him any less. It doesn’t make me feel like he loves me any less. But some days, often when I least expect it, it just hits me and hurts that one of those words can’t just come out of his mouth when he points to me or needs my help with something.

You know how some days you just feel a little bit more vulnerable to an attack, even when it’s unintentional or small or imagined? For me, being a dad feels like every single one of those days is going to have a moment of being hit dead on. The not calling me dad thing, that cuts deep sometimes when all I really need is just a little something extra to make me feel like things are good or going to be okay. Or asking if I can get a hug from him, and him shaking his head no and walking away – that can feel pretty shitty (even though I know that he’s learning to make those decisions about what he wants and needs too, and I need to help him do that).

As we get closer to the traditionally terrible twos, Oliver can be prone to breakdowns when he’s upset or told no. He might scream or cry or slap himself in the head, and he might do all three of those things. It can be over something as simple as “I need to put you down so I can flip these grilled cheese sandwiches in the frying pan” or as important as, “don’t stand on that wobbly thing because you might very well fall and hurt yourself.” But as logical as that seems, he doesn’t get it, and he breaks. And so I’m here looking at this little face turning more vibrant shades of red, and he’s looking back at me with daggers in his wet little eyes because I told him no. Reader, let me tell you, it sucks.

It sucks to watch this little person that I love with all of my heart just screaming in my face because I told him he can’t have a treat or watch TV or play with a knife or stand on a chair. It sucks to hear him call me mama – but to come to me when his mama says, “go get daddy’s help.” It sucks when I don’t get a hug.

And someday he’ll call me dad and that won’t be an issue anymore. And sometimes he gives me a hug even when I don’t ask and it warms my heart to its core. And sometimes we tell him no and he just turns around and walks away to do something else. And all of that is A-OK.

But man, this isn’t an easy or straight-forward gig.

Here’s hoping you’re all as able to soak in the good moments as well as I try to. It doesn’t negate the bad ones, but for me, it outweighs them. And I’ll take that ten times out of ten.