'When did being a good father become so complicated?'

That's the question posed by Alex Blimes in this rather long and slightly confused piece in The Guardian. I suspect the answer is 'when the broadsheets started paying people by the word to write about it'.

No doubt I risk accusations of pot-kettle-black here, but I don't think being a good father actually is that complicated, mainly because what's needed are the characteristics of a good person in general. You just need to take some time, be loving, set boundaries but have fun, and relax. I recognise that this is an ideal I don't always live up to, but this blog was intended to be more about celebrating the numerous examples I come across of Dads getting it pretty much right, rather than worrying too much about when we don't.

I'm sure Alex and I agree on many things. For example, when he says approvingly of his friend that 'He is not defined solely, or overwhelmingly, or even chiefly, by his child-rearing achievements and expertise', I agree that is desirable. Although retaining a decent chunk of your own identity in the face of the competing demands of work, marriage and fatherhood is not an easy task, it is indeed an important one.

But maybe where we diverge is when Alex writes:


When did being a good father get so complicated? Is there any middle ground, or must one either go full Wet Wipe or be a lazy, incompetent, dinosaur? Is it still possible, as it certainly used to be, to get away with the occasional omelette, some skewwhiff shelves in the spare room and, once in a blue moon, a full day with the kids so your other half can go out?

I know the answer to that last question. It's no, probably not. The expectations of fathers have changed. More is demanded of us.

You can't make an omlette without reading a 3000 word article
about whether or not you're doing it properly

I'm not sure I agree with that. Of course there's still a middle ground, occupied by the vast majority of Dads. And if expectations of Dads have changed, I'm not convinced that pressure comes from the Mums or from Society in general, I think it's largely internal. Perhaps more Dads are realising that no, it's not acceptable to do a half-arsed job when it comes to something as important as raising your own children. Surely that's no bad thing.

No doubt many of us are still wrestling with how to juggle the various aspects of our hectic lives, just as many women are. And no doubt that will lead to endless hand-wringing and troll-baiting in the liberal broadsheets, on radio phone-ins and on blogs like this one. But at the end of the day most Dads I know appreciate they are not and never can be perfect, but that as long as they love their children and show them that through what they say and what they do then they're not going to go far wrong.

The last word should surely go to this great New Yorker piece from a couple of days ago: 'A recent study has shown that if American parents read one more long-form think piece about parenting they will go fucking ape shit.'

Too young to be a Dad?

On my holiday I read a very interesting piece from Yvonne Roberts in The Observer magazine. It points out that 'no statistics are kept on the number of "young fathers" – classified as anyone becoming a dad under the age of 24, and often much younger'. There are interesting contributions from Shane Ryan of Working With Men:

Ryan says many of the young men he works with are already marginalised, from ethnic minority groups or less affluent backgrounds; some may have come from families with a history of abuse or mental health issues, or have been in trouble at school. "Once they become dads, too often that pattern of exclusion begins again. They are expected to fail when they have assets and love to offer. Some teenage mothers, support services and grandparents can make it extremely difficult for them to gain a foothold in their children's lives."

There are some really touching contributions from young fathers, and links to other resources. For me, this is the nub of it:

Mark S Kiselica writes in When Boys Become Parents, "For too long our culture has treated boys who become fathers… as detached misfits who are the architects of many of our nation's problems, rather than seeing these youth for who they really are: young men trying to navigate a complex array of difficult life circumstances that place them at a tremendous disadvantage." Investment in high-quality compulsory relationship education in schools and a national holistic service for young parents would benefit children, mums and dads. It would save the taxpayer money in the long run, since absent and neglectful dads also exact a cost, as many of the young fathers interviewed testified about their own childhoods. "They can become the men they want to be," says Shane Ryan.

The issues are also covered in more depth in this article on disadvantaged young fathers-to-be.
 

Guest Dad: What have you done today to make you feel proud?

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Today's post is a guest one, from Andy Agides, who also blogs about being a Dad. Thanks very much to him for contributing: I think this is a very thoughtful consideration of what 'Dad Pride' might mean across individuals and generations, and I certainly identify with it.

"I want to thank Jon for asking for my thoughts on this; the process of thinking about being a Dad is one I believe important for me. It’s tricky though isn't it? Pride; it is one of those words that is rather double-edged, though there has been a tendency in more recent years to see it as a positive thing, a value worth savouring in one's achievements or in those of one’s countrymen particularly. (Thanks to M-People's Heather Small, London Olympics et al!) I'm not certain it was always thus. The move towards a more secular society as opposed to one based on religious teaching, where the most forceful thrust against pride was preached, may well be part of the reason, but the emancipation of the family is certainly where current and future pressure will come.

I have no recollection of my Father ever proclaiming pride specifically in my efforts or attainments as a young boy nor come to that as an adult, though I can definitely remember him rolling out the tired old expression about ‘pride coming before a fall’. When I reflect on these things today, I wonder if that is some emotionally stunted method of protecting oneself from disappointment of failure, something that certainly drove me on at school and into work, and I believe my father was always fearful about losing the ability to provide, seeing benefit claimants as scroungers, something he would never be.

What is Dad Pride?

The cliché is that it was a different time and men’s acceptance of their emotional involvement in their families was not as commonplace as it is today. That is of course true to a degree. Mine, and to my memory most fathers of the time self-endowed their ‘pride’ by fulfilling their role as provider, but certainly not all. The closest I can recall my father exhibiting pride in connection with me was in his ability to deliver on the promise of a new bicycle should I pass the exam to get into ‘a better school’! That was the thing, not ‘I'm proud of you son for passing the exam’ but ‘be proud of your Dad for keeping his word’. The notion that today’s man is confused about his role in the family because of the dynamics of family life doesn't reflect that many men suffered a good deal of insecurity even then about their role. I have to make a conscious effort to not be overly influenced by my history and for years before my children came to be, I would often maintain relationships by buying ‘stuff’ to prove my love. Falling ill and losing work or the ability for a time soon taught me ‘that’ lesson.

I am, as they say in the modern parlance, a ‘mature father’. I am not certain if this gives me a different perspective on the role of Dad, but certainly my own experiences as a child have significantly informed my choices as one. I am also an example of the "modern Dad", one from a failed relationship who is judged by our judicial and social care systems and to some extent our current society to be almost certainly, and regardless of information to the contrary, likely to be less effective a parent, particularly with regard to emotional development of children, than the mother will be. This is our fathers' legacy to us, and I hope very much one that will not persist beyond this generation. 

My main focus has been that I never wished my children to feel they needed to hesitate to ask for reassurance or support in their life choices and progress. Nor did I ever desire the fear of failing be a reason to prevent any of them from pursuing their passions, intuitions, desires or beliefs. I hoped to find a way to provide what I felt they truly needed rather than what they wanted, so how to do it? The answer exists in the list of aspirations I set for my boys, namely 'ask the person who is doing the thing already, they will be bound to have considered it'. So I asked the children (because they were the children), and I continue to try to find from them what they need. 

I have learnt from my children by listening to them and engaging with them just what it is they really need. I have come to realise that far from wanting the latest toy, they need time with their parents. They need to talk about things and not be questioned about them, they don’t even need you to have an answer a lot of the time, and they often just need reassurance that they have found the correct one for themselves. In my own blog I wrote a piece based around an email I sent to my sons when I had been ill and unable to see them as often as we all had wished, and in response to questions the boys had asked. Almost everything in that email however had been discussed with one or all boys at some point or other, and rather than put things down in the form of answers I tried to let them know that these were things that I hoped for them to know and that I felt I had taken too long to learn.

I think that I have come to see being a Dad as a bit like mentoring; being a good Dad is a lot about being a good man, much like a good manager often makes a good mentor. I observed senior managers often make ridiculous assumptions about experience and knowledge without understanding that experience is not about time spent doing something but about learning from the doing. We all know of people that have worked at the same thing for years without improving it only for someone with genuine passion and interest to come a long and overtake them. They practised more; they learnt more they tried harder. Being a Dad for me takes practise, I need to think about it and try harder each time. If I don’t I can’t possibly make it as a mentor, and as a Dad. I see one of my important responsibilities to try to turn out children, who will practise longer, try harder and think more than I did.

Like Jon, I am disappointed by the often negative stereotyping of Dad’s in the press and media, I'm also a little disheartened with us Dads for not standing up for ourselves a bit more. In a world with movements in support of so many different aspects of family life, (and rightly so), including organisations to empower mothers, like “Mumsnet” and the positive reinforcement of Gay and Lesbian parenting models, the support for the single parent family, all of which have affirmative and strong networks built up, Dads have a disparate group of individuals and small associations – none of which seem to be supporting each other pro-actively. Is this because we come from the “STAND ON YOUR OWN TWO FEET!” school of man training? If it is then it needs to change. I struggled for years with my personal demons, never quite understanding why I couldn't solve them all, at least temporarily; my epiphany came when I finally asked for help. The best decision I ever made rather than making me seem weaker as I had been taught to believe, it gave many around me the view that I was actually strong for seeking it out.

'Dad pride' for me is about showing my boys that learning and knowledge, empathy and appreciation, succeeding and failing, all go towards forming personal beliefs and opinion, and that it is vital for them to function as reasonable and effective contributors to the lives of others including their own families, schools, associations, workplaces, friends, and even future Dads organisations, that they form thoughts, judgements and opinions with balance in all these things for all futures to be rewarding. It's about encouraging thinking, excelling at thinking, believe that thinking is a requirement, a necessity. Embrace the task of thinking, work at it, nurture it in others as well as yourself, refine it, define it, hold it in your hands as well as your head, and keep those thoughts you have no earnest use of and share them with those who may, and write them down. Seek out different views to the ones you form, they will either persuade you in which case you learn something or they reaffirm your beliefs in which case you still learn something.

Being proud as a Dad for me is about my child coming to conclusions or decision in life situations that match those I would likely have reached in similar circumstances, or even better different to mine, with an ability to explain why by only using reasoning.

As much as I want to have pride in my children and for that matter my children to be proud of me, the main thing for me is that I can be proud of myself, that I did my best. It is a mantra I espouse to my lads frequently and if I want them not to remember me as a hypocrite, then I have a duty to myself and them too always work towards my best.

People talk grandly about birthright and legacy; well I believe the greatest legacy I can leave my boys is my time, our time, and this time for their lifetime.

What have I done today to make me feel proud?

Easy really; I told my sons I loved them."

©Agides 

http://andyagides.blogspot.co.uk/

The pain when children fly the nest

There's an interesting article from New Yorker writer Adam Gopnik over on the BBC website, about kids leaving home. He ponders:

'What I wonder about is why we love our children so asymmetrically, so entirely, knowing that the very best we can hope for is that they will feel about us as we feel about our own parents: that slightly aggrieved mixture of affection, pity, tolerance and forgiveness, with a final soupcon - if we live long enough - of sorrow for our falling away, stumbling and shattered, from the vigour that once was ours.'

Very familiar!

Why is this?

Parental love, I think, is infinite. I mean this in the most prosaic possible way. Not infinitely good, or infinitely ennobling, or infinitely beautiful. Just infinite. Often, infinitely boring. Occasionally, infinitely exasperating. To other people, always infinitely dull - unless, of course, it involves their own children, when it becomes infinitely necessary.
...
The parental emotion is as simple as a learning to count and as strange as discovering that the series of numbers, the counting, never ends. Our children seem, at least, to travel for light years. We think their suitcases contain the cosmos. Though our story is ending, their story, we choose to think - we can't think otherwise - will go on forever.

When we have children, we introduce infinities into all of our emotional equations. Nothing ever adds up quite the same again. 

It's a lovely and honest piece. I have a good few years left before my own pack their suitcases, and I think it will be the biggest adaptation I've had to make in my life… probably bigger than having children in the first place. But I wouldn't say I'm 100% dreading it… I imagine it won't be an end, it will just be a big change. I think I'll judge whether I've been a success as a Dad largely on whether the relationship with my boys survives and grows, e.g. still meeting up regularly for a pint and the football, much as Dads I admire tend to do. I also realise that's a big ask, as it relies not only on how they change, but how I change as well.

How to be a happy working Dad

Blogger Jeremy Adam Smith has written a great post (part one and part two) comprising 10 tips on how to be a happy working dad. The tips are drawn from a combination of scientific studies and personal experience.

It's all great advice, so do head over there and read it, but I thought I would summarise the 10 tips for you here. I have to say I find 7 the hardest, both to do and to deal with.

1. Find yourself a family-friendly workplace – and decide how much money that’s worth to you.

2. Advocate for family-friendly policies.

3. Kill your commute.

4. Get your team in place – and on the same page.

5. Embrace flexible gender roles and the resiliency that comes with it.

6. Focus on quality, not quantity, of time with kids.

7. Make time for your spouse – not just for your kids.

8. Wherever you are, be there – be present.

9. Give yourself a little credit – and say “thanks” to your spouse.

10. Make your choices and own the consequences.

'Wherever you are, be there – be present'

- HT Paul Redford

Some Comic Relief

As it's Red Nose Day here in the UK, I thought I'd point you to the two funniest things I've seen about fatherhood this year.

Firstly, Stewart Lee. The clip below isn't about fatherhood, but it's genius. It's taken from his 'Carpet remnant world', which is well worth getting hold of. In his usual style, he does a painfully extended but extremely funny routine about Scooby Doo style jungle canyon rope bridges, because all he does these days is watch Scooby Doo with his young son. 'I've got nothing,' he repeats apologetically. 'I look after my 4-year-old son, and I drive round the North Circular'.

Secondly, this from Phil Jupitus is just phenomenal. Not safe for work, but you just have to watch his account of his daughter's first 'sleepover' with her boyfriend at Phil's house. The final straw comes when beer (or, more accurately, 'dog lager') appears in Phil's fridge. 'BECAUSE I IMAGINE THAT HANGING OUT OF THE BACK OF MY FIRST BORN IS THIRSTY WORK!'

Sometimes I'm glad I don't have daughters.

Dad songs #5 and #6

It's a Billy Bragg special today, following requests from fellow psychologists Mike Eslea and Mike Page.

First we have 'Brickbat' from the 'William Bloke' album, when Bragg was coming to terms with his domesticity and life as a father.

"I used to want to plant bombs at the Last Night of the Proms / But now you'll find me with the baby, in the bathroom / With that big shell listening for the sound of the sea / The baby and me..."

Then it's 'Tank park salute' from 'Don't try this at home'. In this 2003 interview he describes it as the most honest thing he's written. When he sings 'You were so tall: how could you fall?' I defy you not to get a shiver down your spine and a tear in your eye.

Billy Bragg: I wrote that about my father who died in 1976. It was strange because I had never really spoken about that to anybody at the time he died really up until I wrote that song. When I wrote that song, playing it live, people would come up to me and tell me about an experience they had with…not necessarily a family member, just someone dear to them who was lost. So I had to suddenly find a way of speaking about it. Now even to the extent of speak about it on TV, which I had never had done before.

Andrew Denton: What was it you wrote that expressed you?

Billy Bragg: Well, really, I suppose about my relationship with my father and how I felt about the sense of loss. I suppose that's obvious to anybody. But there's some things in there about, you know, about being tall and him being strong and all those dad things that dads are. I've had big burly guys who have just loaded all the gear into the truck come to me afterwards and say, "That song about your dad, I thought it was great." You can't really ask for more than that.

Andrew Denton: Part of the thing with your father dying — as you were saying, he was a big strong man — but when your father dies he's suddenly made small.

Billy Bragg: He is. He's made mortal. When I became a father myself, it gave me a completely different perspective. Really great as well, because just recently last month was the 50th anniversary of my parents getting married. I was walking along the beach that day and I was speaking to my mum and I thought to myself, "What would be the thing of all the things I've achieved that I would most proud to show to my dad?" 

And it occurred to me it'd be my son, Jack, that was the thing I'm most proud of. When I thought about it that, it further occurred to me that the thing he was probably most proud of was me and my brother. And that made me feel closer to him on that day, that special day.

Guest Dad #1

One thing I want to do with this blog is hear from other Dads about what they think makes a good, and bad, Dad. I have a good friend called Pete, who I met and shared a house with at university. We still meet up from time to time in Sheffield to watch the mighty Owls. I always admired his Dad, John. This is what John had to say – many thanks to him for allowing me to post it here.

"Whilst being flattered, I think that your assessment is more than a little flawed, largely because the proof of the pudding is in the eating and because our mutual exposure has been limited to pleasant but short lived occasions. In my case the 'proof of the pudding' is Peter and Chris. Both Janet and I are proud of them in the sense that they have grown up to be reasonably good blokes whose strengths mainly outweigh their weaknesses. I cannot begin to analyse how much we (and specifically me) have influenced that outcome.
When I look back we have probably been pretty lucky with our kids in that I can’t remember them presenting us with any really serious problems. For instance, if they were ever involved with drugs it can only have been in a minor way because I never knew about it.

I think that the main thrust of being parents was to try to create a stable environment in which the children were happy, and that the way to do this was by encouragement. You need to be involved with their activities for as long as they want you to be but to be very careful not to impose your own ambitions and expectations on them. I saw a lot of parents who, in my view, pressurised their kids, particularly in the areas of academic achievement and sport, and hence we attempted to avoid any suggestion of it. At the risk of teaching Granny to suck eggs it is important to accept your offspring as they are and not as some idealised being that you may want them to be. It’s also important that they know that their parents are flawed but at the same time are just about acceptable. 

 

'accept your offspring as they are and not as some idealised being that you may want them to be'

 

My views haven’t changed much over the years but a strange thing happens to most people. At some stage after they have grown up your kids start to regard you as their dependents (rather than the other way round) after which your main aim is not to be too much of an embarrassment to them. We now quite often limit our comments until we are asked because it’s quite hard to recognise that your own children have become fully fledged adults.

In short parenting is day to day interaction in which your responsibilities gradually diminish. Discipline is a tricky subject if you have to apply it but hopefully that application is necessary on only extremely rare occasions. It can mostly be avoided if the kids don’t want to let you down and you don’t let them down."

 

Dad song #2 and #3

The great Richard Hawley played live at Maida Vale yesterday and included a couple of songs in the set that speak to the love between father and son. 

'I'm on nights' is, he says, 'about the love I was shown by my Dad'.

'Don't stare at the sun', his new single, is about him flying a kite with his youngest son. While high on LSD. 

'Vivid memories of Dad'

How do you keep memories of your Dad alive for your own children? Developmental psychologist and author Charles Fernyhough considers fathers, children and the nature of memory in this 2009 article.

Charles has of course also written a captivating account of fatherhood and the first three years of his daughter Athena's life, 'The Baby in the Mirror'.

'Be a man, make your own list'

Interesting take on fatherhood from Louis C.K., via @tomstafford

Slow down Mummy / Speed up Daddy

One of the sparks for this blog was a poem that has been widely shared on Facebook recently.

Slow down mummy, there is no need to rush,

slow down mummy, what is all the fuss?
Slow down mummy, make yourself a cup of tea.
Slow down mummy, come and spend some time with me.

Slow down mummy, let's put our boots on and go out for a walk,
let's kick at piles of leaves, and smile and laugh and talk.
Slow down mummy, you look ever so tired,
come sit and snuggle under the duvet and rest with me a while.

Slow down mummy, those dirty dishes can wait,
slow down mummy, lets have some fun, lets bake a cake!
Slow down mummy I know you work a lot,
but sometimes mummy, its nice when you just stop.

Sit with us a minute,
& listen to our day,
spend a cherished moment,
because our childhood is not here to stay! 

Rebekah Knight

Now I have no problem with this poem: it's an admirable sentiment, if perhaps (according to the Mums I have spoken to) a bit of an unachievable ideal.

But why do you never see 'Dad' versions of these poems? When I search for 'slow down Daddy', I just get a lot of tragic stories about drink driving.

As I am sure I'll find myself emphasising time and time again on this blog, I love my boys with all my heart and couldn't be happier with fatherhood and all that it brings. But I still can't help wondering what would a Dad version look like, if we take off the rose-tinted spectacles and view life through the cultural prism of crap Dadding? 

Maybe a little like this. I'm a little worried it doesn't scan.

Speed up daddy, there are dishes to do, 

speed up daddy, I need a big poo.

Speed up daddy, go out and earn more money,

speed up daddy, I'll be fine with mummy.

Speed up daddy, let's capitalise on your obsessional tendencies by tapping you for another collectible trading card game,

speed up daddy, let's wrestle and use you as a punchbag and then when you accidentally drop me on my head ensure you get the blame.

Speed up daddy, me and Mum are snuggled up underneath the duvet,

how about a full English, and a cup of tea wouldn't go amiss, eh?

Speed up daddy, put Capital FM on, even though you have an iTunes library of approximately 15,000 killer tunes culled from a period spreading across 7 decades and really could do an awful lot better than Rhianna's 'Shine bright like a diamond' or Olly Muir's 'Troublemaker' on constant repeat,

Speed up daddy, in this day and age it's not acceptable (quite rightly) to just bring home the bacon and then put your feet up in your favourite seat.

Speed up Daddy, you need to ferry me to a large variety of extra-curricular activities: cubs, gym, football and swimming,

and if you think you can have a lie in when you've got a hangover you've got another thing coming.

We do love you, Daddy, 

Just not as much as Mummy.

It's an inevitable consequence of spending more time with her in the early days,

I wouldn't worry about it.

UPDATE: Rebekah Knight very kindly wrote this special 'Daddy version' for us. I think we can all agree hers is better!