A Dad

I love being a dad.

All these little moments.

I love being the father to Missy and I’s daughters. Or is it Missy and…


Mine and Missy’s?

Plural possessive? Is responsibility the same as ownership?

However you look at it we claim two on our taxes and on The Census. From what I can tell and what we have been told we will have them on our minds forever. Being a dad is is the most important thing I’ve ever been in my life. Husband, Brother, Teacher, would round out my top 4.

For as long as I can really recall it seems I have always been acting like a dad. A decade older than my sister and 8 years older than my younger brother. I was a live in baby sitter and instant male role model at ripe old age of 8. Babysitter at 12. Daycare worker in college. Teacher as an adult.

As a teacher I loved being a male figure in the lives of my students. I was the self proclaimed crazy uncle or second cousin in the lives of my students families during those 180 days or so. The offer was the same you’re always invited here, I’d be happy to come to you, a few families threatened to take me up on the offer, none did. In the classroom I always acted they way I would want my own kids teacher to be. That’s the hardest part of the job. Part of that so called hidden curriculum.

A dad

An actual dad since 2015. Five years this October. This Sunday will be my 4th Father’s Day. Being a dad have been part luck, part part of the plan, albeit not plan A. If I had to guess, it was probably plan D. Plan A was to not get married or have kids until I was 30. Check. Plan B was implemented once in College. Plan C was to actively try and become parents at the same time some of our friends started popping out kids. That plan did not work.

Why? How? I have no clue. I guess there is a plan out there for all of us. That lead us to Plan D. Which was to make a lot of plans in case we didn’t get pregnant by the time Missy turned 35. Then, as the Universe tends to work our plans changed again. Just as we began to embrace our childless lives wouldn’t you know it right around Christmas 2014.

I think I’m pregnant

Missy to me maybe it was January

For the next 9+ months we took a very pragmatic approach to the possibility of becoming parents.

The thought of being an actual dad was terrifying to me. Neither of my mom’s first husbands really showed me how to be a dad. My dad to his credit stuck around. I love him for it. My biological father skipped out super early. Seems to be for the best. Thankfully, throughout my life there have been other men that have stepped into fill any void my mom couldn’t. Guys named Gary, Coach, Chuck, Terry, Norm, Greg, Ted, and one guy named Flipper. In the end, and lucky for my daughters, as a man my grandfather was the one I take most of my characteristics from.

What would my dad and/or biological father do?

Whatever that answer is, I have usually done the opposite.

No parent is perfect. At least I know I’m not. All of us are different. All of us have our own baggage. But, I think if we can just continue to put one foot in front of the other, learn from our mistakes, stay consistent, laugh, smile, and do our own personal best then that’s all anyone can ask for from anyone about anything.

Even before I had my own kids I tried to make decisions in my life and in my daily actions knowing that those decisions would have an impact on their lives. It has.

Since having kids that simple truth of my life has taken on an even deeper meaning for me. Since day one I’ve tried to model the behaviors I would like my daughters to look to in a potential friend and partner.

What kind of parent would I be if I didn’t try to insert myself into the political dialogue? Especially here in our Indiana : ^ ) ~


What a quick, long, fun, strange trip it’s been so far

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