Yes, that’s me. Those are my feet sticking out from underneath all of the couch cushions and accent pillows in our living room.
When that picture was taken, I was in somewhat of a meditative state; not simply because my oxygen supply was being fairly limited, but also because it was sort of relaxing in there.
In fact, I had no idea Mommy even took that picture until I was going through the picture folder on my flash drive yesterday, looking for a something else.
Sure, I heard what was going on outside my world of pillows:
“Hey Mommy! Daddy’s all covered. Look at Daddy. I finished his cage now.”
Then I heard your footsteps as you approached me. I saw a small opening appear between the pillows, with light coming through.
“Here you go, Tiger. Here’s your food!”
Apparently pet tigers like to eat (plastic) snakes.
This routine has become the norm. I can see why.
It allows you to completely make a mess and get away with it, as you pretend you are building a cage for your Daddy, who happens to be a tiger.
I really don’t mind it at all. Like I said, it sort of gives me 12 minutes or more of time to just zone-out on the living room floor.
With a schedule as busy as mine, I typically don’t make time for zoning out… other than when I’m running or sleeping.
It’s not so much a desperate attempt to make time for myself as it is me trying to multitask:
By being your tiger in a cage, I can spend quality time with you; because to you, I’m playing.
And I can rest my mind for a little while; because to me, being buried in a “cage” of pillows is actually relaxing.
Yes, that’s me multitasking. It’s Daddy in his… quiet place.
Last Thursday when you and I got home from school and work, I found a package on our doormat. This was odd, because aside from holidays, I never receive mail directed to me alone.
A couple of months ago, the author, RJ Licata, had asked me to write a little blurb about it to be featured on the back cover.
After creating the successful daddy blog “100 Things To Teach My Son” a while back, he recently published a book based on it.
Here’s what I said about his book:
“I think one of the most masculine things a father can do for his son is to communicate with him clearly and regularly; from the day to day to the big picture stuff. Therefore, it has been easy for me to be a fan of RJ Licata’s blog–and now his book. A good father is a good mentor. That’s why this book is special. It’s a glimpse of what hands on fatherhood looks like, fleshed out in the form of 100 lessons.”
I easily celebrate any fellow dad who publically and positively portrays fatherhood. Something I’ve learned in the 4 years of writing about you/to you is that I care less now about how the media so obviously makes dads out to be idiots.
These days, my focus is on spotlighting any entity that shares my passion of reinforcing the positive examples of fatherhood.
For example, I was pleasantly surprised to see the healthy relationship between the father and son the movie,About Time, that I recently wrote to you about.
It’s subtle, but it’s a big deal to me.
I read a fantastic article recently, called “Why Fatherhood Matters,” by Stephen Marche, which proclaims that fatherhood has never mattered more, as the definition of masculinity has evolved through generations:
“Only fatherhood is indisputably masculine, which is why when you ask men when they became men, they usually answer when they became a father or lost a father.”
He goes on to declare fatherhood as a marker of class.
The way I feel, this is one of the most important times to be a dad. And let’s face it… it’s also one of the coolesttimes to be a dad.
Fatherhood is masculine.
I just don’t see how a man can be more manly that being a good father- and by “good father,” a huge part of that is how well he communicates with his child.
To me, that is perhaps the most important aspect of being a father.
So while I could easily go on all day about all the times I’ve missed the mark in life, I can at least feel positive that I’m doing one thing right:
I am attempting to create a cool new phrase in the world of parenting. See, when a father takes his daughter out for fun, it’s called a “daddy date.”
But what’s a good phrase for when a daddy takes his son out for some good one-on-one time?
“Man-date?”Nah.
I got it:
Dadventure!
Last weekend you and I went to the zoo to check out a real red panda, so your matching stuffed animal could meet his relatives.
Meanwhile, Mommy stayed home and took care of some Spring cleaning.
However, when we arrived at the Nashville Zoo, it appeared that the red pandas were observing the Sabbath, because they were asleep in the trees.
That was no problem for us, though. Fortunately, the Nashville Zoo happens to contain one of the coolest playgrounds I’ve ever seen in my life. So we had a dadventure anyway!
You know that with me, there is no such thing as pushing you too high in the swing.
The way I see it, what fun is it for you unless I push you so high that your back is parallel to the ground, about 7 feet high in the air.
By the way, don’t be misled by the lack of a smile on your face in some of these pictures. A lot of times when it’s just you and me hanging out, we sort of space out and “think about nothing” together.
You actually said to me, “Daddy, we’re having fun right now!”
We both got a great work-out. I decided to challenge myself by not taking you in the jogging stroller; instead, I carried you the whole time, except when you were running around and playing.
As we spent quality father-son time together, we also were moving around, breathing in fresh air.
Like the animals at the zoo already know, this helps reduce stress, improves sleep quality, decreases the chance of depression, and improves the quality of learning. (See infographic below.)
It’s important that we get our special one-on-one time. I personally believe it’s important to also make sure there is some kind of edge or thrill involved, to make the event a true dadventure.
You’re a cool little boy and I’m a cool daddy, so we might as well have a good time whenever we have a chance!
During the holidays last month, there was a day where I had to work, but you and Mommy were home.
I didn’t realize it until here recently, but I found these pictures that Mommy took of you wearing my hat and slippers. You had proclaimed to Mommy:
“I’m being Daddy!”
Deep thought: In your eyes, what does it mean to “be Daddy”?
It happened again yesterday afternoon, as we had just finished watching Brother Bear 2 on Netflix. In the movie, the main character, a girl named Nita, chooses to turn into a bear.
As you played trains on the carpet with Mommy, I asked you if you wanted me to turn into a bear. Out of curiosity, you said yes.
In the likeness of Brother Bear 2, I stood up, sort of twirling in slow motion through the air, and when I crouched back down, I pretended to be a roaring bear.
Almost immediately, you stopped me:
“Go back to being a daddy!”
So with another slow motion twirl in the air, I turned back into “a daddy.”
But what does in mean, in your eyes, to be a Daddy? And more importantly, to be your Daddy?
For me, it was one of those moments in time where I got accidental confirmation that I must be doing something right, as your parent.
Whatever it means to you that I’m your Daddy, it’s a thing you want and need.
This reminds me of a quote from one of my favorite movies, Garden State:
“It’s like you feel homesick for a place that doesn’t even exist. Maybe it’s like this rite of passage, you know. You won’t ever have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start, it’s like a cycle or something. I don’t know, but I miss the idea of it, you know. Maybe that’s all family really is. A group of people that miss the same imaginary place.”
Last night as I wrapped you up in your snowman blanket, singing you “Yellow Submarine,” I heard the mix of nostalgic sadness and happiness in the song.
I imagined what that must be like on your end. I remember. I do…
There’s this deep sentimental connection between a parent and a child about your age; a certain connection I still remember having with my parents in the early 1980s.
You’re in it, right now. You’re in it.
I’m not saying that feeling goes away, but I recognize it as particularly special during those preschool years, when lullabies and stuffed animals are part of everyday life.
It feels like… home. It’s both happy and sad.
The reason it’s sad is because it’s so happy and, deep down, you know it won’t last forever.
You know that the two of you will both grow up and eventually become both be adults.
But as for right now, you get to be the cute little boy, ironically wearing Daddy’s hat and slippers.
There are some awesome children’s toys from the Eighties that just never really went away… fortunately.
Like Tranformers, Care Bears, and Smurfs.
But the ones that you are most excited about right now are the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles!
Nonna and Papa got you a nearly life-size Donatello for Christmas and he has become like My Buddy, an Eighties toy that didn’t survive, to you.
I haven’t asked my parents why they chose Donatello for you; after all, I was never too crazy about him when I was a boy.
Michaelango was the obnoxious one. Donatello was the forgettable one. Raphael was the emotional one. And Leonardo was the leader. That’s how I always perceived them, at least.
But when I really thought about it, Donatello is perfect for you! Because if you were a Ninja Turtle, that’s exactly who you’d be:
As the original theme song simpy explains, “Donatello does machines.”
You have the technical mind that I don’t. While I can easily take something apart, you’re going to be the kind of guy who can not only take them apart, but also put them back together.
Where as I definitely fall short in having the handy man mindset, you’ve always showed me signs of it. Plus, you are smart. As for me, I tend to just “fake it ’til I make it.” I graduated with a degree in English simply because I wasn’t good enough or focused enough on anything else.
A lot of people think I’m smart, but I’m not. I’m just clever and determined; and there’s definitely a difference!
The reason Donatello was “the forgettable one” for me while growing up was because he was the one I least related to.
My favorite Ninja Turtle was always Leonardo, the reluctant leader, like Jack Shephard onLost.
Sure enough, I took this “Ninja Turtle Personality Quiz” on Spike.com and confirmed what I already knew. I am Leonardo, the reluctant leader:
“You’re aggressive, but not in an overbearing manner. You’re known for being very organized and helpful. You’re very practical and there as a friend, while being relatively low maintenance and asking for little in return. People see you as a leader. Unfortunately, you weren’t elected to that position, and some resent you for being kind of a control freak.”
Meanwhile, here’s what the quiz said about Donatello, who I think you are:
“You’re very meticulous and scientifically minded. You excelled at academics and that’s transferred into your current career. You’re very loyal, inoffensive, and reliable. However, you can also be aloof and so wrapped up in what you’re doing that you neglect your social and familial obligations.”
Going back to my own “Leonardo personality,” earlier this week I happened to read part of a book called Eat Right 4 Your Type.
It explained that people who are have Type A blood (like me) actually make for the best vegans (interesting!) and it also said Type A blooded people also tend to have the “Reluctant Leader” complex; naming former Presidents Jimmy Carter and Richard Nixon as examples.
(I’m guessing this applies to several classic Bible heroes, too; like Noah, Moses, and David.)
The findings of both the Ninja Turtle quiz and the Blood Type quiz simply confirm what every other personality quiz I’ve taken has always said: I am your reluctant leader.
My whole life, I have had to be a leader in some compacity. I always find myself becoming the leader of the group, by default, never by choice. It happened every single time in school where I was part of a group project, in every place I’ve ever worked at, and with family dynamics, as well.
Even now, I never intended to make this such a teachable moment. I meant to just write about your new favorite Ninja Turtle doll.
Get used to it, I guess. After all, I am Leonardo and you are Donatello.
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