There is lots of talk out there in the online parenting universe today about moms vs dads and who’s better at what… I’m gonna step on the hornet’s nest and say WHO CARES. My wife is better at some things. I’m better at others. It doesn’t matter as long as our kids are raised well, with good intentions, and don’t turn into serial killers. But the blogosphere creates a certain parenting Olympics where you better be delivering in event after event or you’re gonna be left behind. You better have the next funny story, the next cute quip, the next story of exceeding the gender roles set up for you.
I’ve got news for everyone- it’s not a competition. I don’t need a shirt that says I’m a great dad to tell everyone I’m a great dad and do just as much as my wife. And I apologize to my fellow bloggers whose entire existence has become a “we can do it just as good as they can movement”. I can’t and NEVER will be able to squeeze a human life out from between my legs (sorry for the visual). And while I have a special relationship with my daughters, I don’t EVER know that I will have that incredible bond which will come from a mother and daughter being able to share some of the most intimate secrets and milestones as my daughters grow up. But guess what, I don’t know that my wife will ever have that heart stopping moment of pride and achievement when one day I get to walk our daughters down the aisle on their wedding day.
Sometimes I’m a great dad. Sometimes not so much. For me, that’s what makes my story fun. I know some moms who would say the same thing about themselves. I don’t know the first thing about dressing up dolls, or looking stylish, or trying to braid hair. But it is funny as hell when I try. I’m sure there is a hair braiding website tearing me down right now. Too bad. I can do a pretty awesome buzz cut. And I can do a slightly proficient pony tail that stays in place just long enough for me to say “tah dah!” before it falls apart. I can ride bikes with the kids. I can read books with the kids. I can do mild repairs with glue and I can sufficiently battle my way through a set of IKEA directions. There’s so much I can’t do though. There’s so much other stuff my wife CAN do. I don’t need to compete with her. Or with YOU. Or with ANYONE. What can I say.. I’m average. And that’s ok. And it doesn’t make me a hater of other parenting bloggers to say so. I am what I am and my big boy pants fit just fine.
It was six years ago this week when I first went online to talk about my life as a dad. I was home for two weeks after the birth of our second daughter. I was so excited, and tired, and nervous, and proud, and all those things that go along with it that I went online and started writing. Years later, that writing would become the basis for Dadmissions. I found a lot of folks could relate to my stories and that’s what has made this so much fun. We’re all in this together. How about a T-shirt that says we’re great parents and it doesn’t matter whether we have a penis or not. I’m a parent. It’s not a competition. The Olympics don’t give medals for us. Let’s all go out for drinks sometime. OK now off of my soap box.