Introduction

Is there a point in a young man's life when he boldly proclaims to the world, "I'm ready and prepared to be a father. I know what to expect, so bring it on!"? Does anyone receive mentoring or training in this area? Did I miss a lecture in college that covered this stuff, while I was soothing a hangover?

Because it wasn't that way for me...

I was ready and willing yes, but prepared? Oh my God! I had read a couple books, but nothing could have prepared me for the sleepless nights and having to work the next day. Or, how the intimate relationship I had crafted with my wife would be forever changed. Or, how the needs of my new child superseded my own to the point of feeling neglected by my wife. No one taught me that being a father requires a Buddhist monk's training. (Selflessness, living life in the present moment, no sex for extended periods of time, etc.)

No one gave me the tools on how to support my wife through this change and that I needed to be there for her emotionally as well as physically - something I was not prepared for growing up.

No, I had to learn, as I guess most men do, how to be a father one day at a time. I had to learn from making a lot of mistakes and by having numerous arguments.

I remember yelling at my first young child who refused to put his pants on (I think he was three at the time). I was in charge and I needed to be somewhere in five minutes. I explained, very tersely, that he needed to get dressed because Daddy had to be somewhere right now, to which he simply said, in his most defiant voice, "No!" I remember him crying as my anger welled up and frightened him. And I remember the guilt and shame I felt as I held him in my arms and told him I was sorry over and over again.

What model of fatherhood did I have? Mr. Brady, Mr. Cleaver, Mr. Ingalls. They were all great TV dads, but I never saw them deal with what I had to confront. Would Charles Ingalls have yelled at Half Pint the way I yelled at my little Nate? No way. But then, Charles Ingalls didn't have a son who refused to pee and held it for over 24 hours. I'm on the phone with the doctor and he's telling me I have to get him in the bath and force him to pee or bring him into the hospital right away. My son is screaming bloody murder and I'm crying real tears. Luckily he peed, and I remember just being completely emotionally spent. I'm not accustomed to crying.

I now have three children. I love each one more than life itself and I would do anything for them. They are my spring of eternal youth, and my purpose of living. My capacity for love, empathy, and joy has manifested a hundredfold. No longer am I the cold, distant and emotionally unavailable macho drunk of my youth. It continues to be hard, but it's also rewarding in so many ways. At least now, they're all out of diapers and can dress themselves. And now, when my youngest (who's three-years-old) refuses to get his pants on, I just say, fine. I grab some pants and take him naked, crying to the car. By the time we arrive to our destination, he's ready to get his pants on, and my blood pressure hasn't changed.

When my son peed on the floor of the grocery store and got his pants all soaked...I had an extra pair in my jacket. Didn't say a word, just changed his pants and rolled on. "Excuse me?" I say, "Yes, there's a spill on aisle 14. You might want to have someone with a mop clean it up before someone slips," and I continue to shop undeterred.

For anyone who might think, oh this guy has got it all down, stop right there. I've got ten years experience, but every day brings new challenges and I'm always wrestling with guilt and with the decisions I make.

This blog is about the journey of fatherhood: its funny, tender moments as well as its hard, frustrating ones. My hope is that other fathers will want to share their stories and together, we can learn and grow from each other.