Think back to when you were a young kid desperate to get your dad’s attention.
For me it was playing sports. Basketball, hockey, a classic game of catch. When I think back on those years, I remember how easily I would be disappointed when my dad said he was busy. Busy? With what? Why? When will you have time for me?
Fast forward to today and I realize my dad did the best he could. I accept that he was busy with work, the house, family. When you’re a kid, you don’t always appreciate what your parents do for you. Dad did make time for me but from my childhood lens I only knew how to focus on getting more.
With three kids of my own, finding time is challenging but doable. Equipped with my own memories of feeling an insatiable need to always be doing something with my parents, I’ve lately been asking myself “how can I give my kids what the need while maintaining enough energy for the other areas of my life”.
It occurred to me what I wanted then and what my kids want now is not just spending time together, but an unquestionable sense of belonging. They want to know that I want them around — even if we’re not actively doing anything. Of course kids want to play, play some more…and then play some more. Saying “no” to our kids isn’t the challenge; rather, it’s learning to communicate the “no” in a way that doesn’t feel like a rejection.
When I’m at my best, I can find the patience and warmth that my kids are looking for when I’m unable to give my time.
“Sorry buddy, I have to cook dinner right now. And afterwards, I’m taking your sister to theater practice, so I don’t have time to play hockey with you right now. But if you want, you can play right over here where you can talk to me while you play.” In many cases, that message is so well received that my son will spend only a few moments playing next to me, excited by my invitation to be near each other even while we’re both doing separate things. Soon thereafter, he’ll mosey over to other rooms in the house, not feeling disappointed that I couldn’t make the time for him. I connected with him while I told him no. I explained why I couldn’t and then offered a way for us to still be together.
The truth is that in those moments, I might not necessarily want him playing hockey near my feet while trying to get dinner on the table. But rather than demanding he go to another room, I give him the sense of belonging that he needs that in turn instills confidence that he can go to another room on his own while still feeling connected to me.
Maintaining this mindset, however, has proven to be extremely challenging for me. At any given moment, adult stresses threaten to (and in many cases do) take over and occupy my thoughts. I find myself tuning my kids out. I notice that I’m not listening to them share what to me in the moment seems trivial, but to them may have been the thing they were waiting all day to tell me.
“And then she tells me that I’m being, like, too much drama. And I told her I don’t like drama. So we’re not talking right now.” My oldest can at times get into spats with her BFF. It’s completely normal for her age, but for her it’s still relatively new. Getting into disagreements with her friends is good for her development, but she counts on my wife and I to guide her through those emotions. She usually tells the story to either my wife or to me, but not always to us both. I think she unconsciously aligns certain experiences to the parent who might give her the best advice or support.
“Ok. Well maybe that’s good to just have a little break. I’m sure you guys will make up tomorrow,” I’ll say. Or something like it. Not only are my words dismissive of what she’s going through (signaling that it’ll all be over tomorrow is a way of suggesting that it’s not a big deal, which for her it absolutely is) but my body language will also signal that I’m not interested in talking about it. My thoughts are wrapped up with work (most commonly) or some other preoccupation that impairs my ability to connect with my daughter. Am I being an asshole? No. I’m a terrible dad? Of course not. In these moments, I haven’t alienated my kids, but I have created micro experiences that softly suggest I want them to go away, or that I don’t have time for them, or that their problems aren’t important to me. And while resilience in kids is well known (one parental eye roll does not a wimpy kid make) I’m still working to more effectively communicate (both verbally and non-verbally) to my kids that I want them around (even when I might not in the moment), that I want to spend time with them (even when that’s doing separate things), and that I need them in my life (even, and perhaps especially, when I’m distracted and preoccupied with adult things they don’t understand).
Being situationally present is not a new concept but it requires a far greater effort than the simplicity the words might indicate. It is tempting to give myself a stern talking to. “Stop thinking about work dude. WTF! your kids need you.” But this quasi-shaming comes at a cost. When I set for myself the expectation to flip my thinking to my kids when I’m experiencing other stress, burn out becomes the side effect. Because of course, I’m human and I can’t just simply “forget about it”, or “let it go”. And so, despite my best efforts, the work problem slips back into focus, which leaves me disappointed that I couldn’t turn it off long enough to be there for my kids. Then I’m flipping back to try to help then with as much sincerity as I can muster. This code switching between the languages required for fatherhood and those required for corporate leadership is less effective, even, than trying to multi-task projects throughout the day — one can never fully do multiple things at once, only (somewhat) rapidly alternate between a handful of activities.
Conquering this seemingly Sisyphean task of finding purchase to advance the varying needs of family and work is remarkably simple, albeit extraordinarily difficult. Perhaps the greatest tool at my disposal is something I like to call “running through the tracks”, which essentially means that I need to see the problem all the way through before switching to another. I need to park the train at the end of the tracks before boarding the next one. When my kids come home at 5PM and I’m in the middle of a significant work project or debate, I can’t just drop everything and put a smile on my face. I’ve found that I’ll actually meet them with much less than what they are looking for from me: excitement, a warm hug, engagement on their day. Work stress isn’t often resolved the same day it’s created, you might say. This is certainly true, and in these situations, as I recognize my work day is nearing an end, I have to find out what it is that I can accomplish in the next 30 minutes, 1 hour, or whatever duration makes sense in the moment. Granting myself this space accomplishes two important things: first, it allows me to accept that the problem will be there tomorrow. Problems and stresses that span over multiple days is standard adult life. But accepting this situationally (which is supported by planning what must be done today vs. what can be picked up tomorrow) is critical. Second, it affords me ability to deescalate my mindset and transition into the headspace that I need to be in for my kids…AND for myself - after all, spending time with my kids generates the deepest form of value and connection that life can offer.
Another tactic I’ve found useful is honesty. I’ve found that, on occasion, I can be quite honest with my kids. I once told them how some co-workers were being quite mean to me (it wasn’t exactly to me, but the nuance is unimportant here). They rushed to my defense saying that they should apologize to me. They consoled me and tried to make me feel better. Harper tried to make me laugh by saying that she would spank one of the workers in the “be-hind” - her smirk and cartoonish way of spanking her own butt hit its mark and I busted out laughing! Of course, I can’t do this every day. I don’t need to, nor would I want to. Putting undue stress on our kids is something all parents want to avoid. But I do find that every once in a while, sharing with them what’s going on in my life is useful. Not only will they show a sense of understanding if I’m struggling to engage or find time to spend with them, but they also get a small dose of what adulting is like. Including them (in a very limited way) in some of the stress, even if they don’t fully understand it, is precisely what helps to foster the sense of belonging that they need. By sharing openly why I’m distracted, I give them a chance to see me as someone who experiences similar emotions that they do. Through sharing an experience that is challenging for both kids and adults, we develop a resonance that is the foundation of our belonging to one another.
When it comes to being a father, the power of presence is not defined by a man’s ability to “turn off” the other stresses in his life, to conceal them away from his kids because they’re too young to understand. Rather, the power of presence comes in knowing that I am a man, a hu-man, to be sure. Leaving work problems at the front door is an approach that only works if I’ve spent time seeing the problem through to a point where it can truly be closed for the day. Or otherwise, we must accept that our kids as individuals as well as our relationships with them stand to be improved by careful but intentional vulnerability. Showing just a little bit of our own struggle is how our kids learn to respect all that we do for them, it teaches them that life is hard for us all, and most importantly it signals that family is their first and most reliable community.
This is an awesome piece. You've hit the nail on the head. I love reading your stories. Proud of you 😍
Such a great and deep piece. I don't even have kids, and this was compelling. Because this may have been focused on your kids - but it applies to all of our relationships. A sense of belonging, a desire to be seen, heard, and understood, is universal.