I grew up in a middle class, Midwestern, suburban family. My married parents took on traditional roles, providing for myself and my brothers in different ways. Our mom was the nurturer, she took care of our everyday needs like making meals, buying our clothing, taking us to appointments and activities, making sure we were bathed and our homework was done.
My dad went to work every day and provided the money to pay for the house, the food, the clothing, the schooling and activities, the doctor bills. He took my brothers to their sports and mowed the lawn.
Because I was not “sporty” growing up, my dad and I had less in common. He still provided well for me of course, but our conversations became fewer and less vibrant as I grew through my teen years. Most of the time by high school we talked about what my grades were, where I was going, when I’d be home, and if I was telling the truth. Because of that, I found myself avoiding my dad. Which is really unfortunate because while he gave me all the things I needed, he didn’t provide the one part of parenting having the most impact, meaningful connection. I felt it as a teen, but I didn’t have the courage to tell him. Advocating for myself would have been viewed as disrespectful.
I believe dads generally underestimate their value as an important and necessary foundation in how a child grows to feel about themselves.
I remember the joy in my heart as a little girl in hearing my dad sing to the song on the radio while we ran errands on Saturday mornings. I remember the sense of adventure he provided when he told us we’d be going snipe hunting after dinner on a cold winter’s night. I remember the sense of pride he felt when parading us around his office to show off his best “dividends.” (My dad was a stockbroker.)
Those memories are dear and have a special place in my heart.
I also remember his frustration with me when my grades began to slide as I entered junior high and high school. I remember his anger when I was late from a date with a boy he didn’t like (and likely knew was not good for me). I remember his disappointment when he found out that the same boy was going to make him a grandpa at the ripe age of 46.
Those memories are painful and weigh on my heart.
Parents aren’t perfect, it’s impossible to anticipate and meet our children’s every need. However, I believe parents can learn to be more mindful.
I recently began working with a couple whose college daughter wrote them both an articulate, well-thought out letter about her perspective of how they raised her. The letter began by telling them she was leaving college for good after her freshman year. College wasn’t for her and she listed the many reasons she felt that way. She then told them all the ways they hadn’t supported her in the past.
The parents were, understandably, distraught, yet fortunately, not willing to be victims. They wanted my support to sort through their feelings and to become the parents their daughter needs at this stage of her life.
I told them I admired the courage it must have taken their daughter to put her thoughts and feelings into a letter to each of them. She wasn’t bitter, her words were matter of fact from her experience and perspective.
These parents can learn and grow from this experience. Likely some of the unhealthy ways they parented came from their own childhood experience. Our children are our greatest teachers and as they grow into adults, we can use their words to grow ourselves up once again.
Dads, you are vital to the relationship and self-image your children have of themselves. Take care of your emotional well-being so that you can be the kind yet firm, confident leader they need as you raise them.
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