DAD Series: Compari-son0
We are happy to unveil the first installment of our DAD Series. This post was written by Chase Mielke, an award-winning educator, a published writer, and a spit-up cleaning father. When he's not bouncing his infant in a specific, neck-straining rhythm, he's marveling at the fact that tiny humans grow inside other humans. He lives in Kalamazoo with his forgiving wife, Ashlee, and his wild child, Maddox
Fathering is hard. I'm not about to get whiny: Being a mother is probably ten times more challenging than I can imagine. But, anyone who says being a dad is easy is mistaken. We float in a culture where we expect ourselves to be perfect, to never show incompetence, even though no other job will make a guy feel as uncertain and puzzled as parenting.
We make it harder on ourselves by not talking, dad-to-dad, about the challenges of changing diapers and raising lives. KzooConnect wants to help a guy out by opening a dialogue between fathers with its DAD Series. Look for posts in which dads get real and share frustrations, learnings, thoughts and tips. We may not ever feel like we've mastered this gig, but we can at least share the struggle.
Allow me to kick things off with the one shift in my thinking that has made me a better father.
He's screaming again. It has been three hours of misery tonight watching him fuss and squirm and whine and scream. We've run the usual gamut of reactionary reconnaissance: Googling, entertaining, feeding, distracting, more Googling, message boarding, prodding. And he's still screaming.
I feel the frustration filling my veins. I want to scream. But it's not my son's fault. This stress is my problem and it's caused by one condition of my cognition: Comparing.
Every ounce of angst I feel is rooted in comparing my son. Comparing him to how he was yesterday. Comparing him to how I think he should be acting. Comparing him to the pseudo-perfect image I have of all my friends' babies - advanced, sweet, and easy.
Parenting has taught me a lot about raising a child. But, it has taught me more about who I am. Each dad-dilemma with my son is just as much a battle against my own destructive thoughts. And, there is no thought that breaks down my ability to enjoy parenting than this endless comparing.
I realized this in the pool. We signed our son up for one of those aqua baby classes where kids float around like little chubs. Building awareness and safe habits around water is a good thing, but I find myself checking everything my son does against the other buoyant chubs.
I compare how strong, how large, how alert he is relative to his peers. I compare how many pool balls he retrieves compared to the other, clearly inferior, children. He wins the competition I created and my comparison yields pride. The next week he retrieves less and I analyze his deficiencies. We need to ramp up tub time training.
In reality, I don't take these thoughts seriously. But they exist. They hover. They nag at my sanity, always asking, “Is my son developing well enough? Could he be better?”
This cognitive cancer of comparison is always there. That baby is just chillin' in the grocery cart. My son is jittering like a junkie. Is he “normal”? Social media fuels the fire. His baby is already crawling. Should my son be? Her kid already has three teeth. Will my boy need dentures? In these ruminating moments, I have to snap myself out of it.
Stop. Just be present with your son and be his dad, not his coach, not his doctor, not his publicist. Your son needs caring attention, not comparing evaluation. He needs someone who can react to his smiles and his cries instead of researching and designing “perfect plans.”
These are the thoughts that are making me a better dad.
Comparing can serve a purpose by motivating us to take action when our child is languishing. Basic criteria for child development is critical for things like, y'know, intelligent medical decisions. Lack of standards can do more harm than good - as a teacher I've seen the ill effects of laissez faire parenting. But, likewise as a teacher I've seen the ill effects of students - and parents - who never feel like they are “enough.”
More often than not we take our comparison to an extreme. We plague ourselves with the pursuit of perfection. It is not our job, not our capability, to control every variable. It's our job to be there, in the moment, with our kids as much as possible. We need to be more present.
Sure, we can make plans and inform ourselves. We can use standards to help our kids grow and develop. But we have to check ourselves when our comparisons spiral.
It is this lesson that has changed my interactions with my child (and my own sanity). Even as my child is crying for the third straight hour, I am a better dad when I check my comparisons.
We are fathers, not perfectors. So go hug and play with your children. Enjoy who they are and stop worrying for once about who you want them to be.