Of all the words you could’ve used to describe my life before marriage and kids, “routine” would not be one of them.

With no real responsibilities other than work a decade ago, I never really knew what my day would hold from one day to the next. I came and went as I pleased. It was the life – at the time, of course.

But fatherhood changes things. It’s transformative. And those changes can be a rude awakening if you’re not prepared or equipped to deal with them. 

Friday night lights out

I think back to just a few Fridays ago. I was hanging out on the couch in the evening, decompressing after a long week. The kids were asleep and my wife was upstairs watching one of her shows. Alone I sat, aimlessly flipping channels and scrolling on my phone. Looking at my contacts, it quickly became apparent that most of my friends who I would consider sending a “what’s the move?” text to in the same boat as me – parents worn out from the week and not willing or able to get out and do anything.

So just as the story goes for most Friday evenings these days, that night ended with me falling asleep while watching TV. A thrilling turn of events. 

That’s my routine now. A life that was once free-flowing and spontaneous, is now structured and predictable, with little-to-no wiggle room. From school and daycare pick-up and drop-offs, to weekend activities, to bedtime routines, the look and feel of my days as a dad rarely changes. I know what needs to be done and when. Rinse and repeat. 

Accept today’s routine, change is coming fast  

While having a routine and structure can be tedious, it’s ideal for how I’ve chosen to approach fatherhood. My kids are 5 and 2 so stability and consistency is vital to their development at this stage of life. Their routine has pretty much been their norm since birth and it keeps things somewhat in order. For me, however, it has been and still is at times tough to accept.

For all its joys and rewards, dealing with the lifestyle changes that come with fatherhood is tough. I’ve struggled with the loss of my “old life.” I’ve longed for just one weekend where my responsibilities could be put on the shelf so I could go to happy hour. Or just hang out with my friends. Or maybe play a round of golf.

Don’t get me wrong, I do get out and have fun here and there. But the “heres and theres” are few and far between. The routine of fatherhood is where I am now. I’ve come to accept that, even though I’m surrounded by energetic little people, the loneliness I feel navigating through the day-to-day routine is just for a season. Kids grow up. Their needs and demands of you will change until one day it will pass.

But for now, I’ll keep checking my Google Calendar daily to make sure I know where the kids need to be, and when.

Tips for breaking out of a parenting rut

If the routine of parenting is running you down, first realize that you are not alone. Then do something about it. Here are some helpful tips from online parenting experts about practicing self-care and changing things up:

• Schedule a date night with your spouse/partner. Hire a sitter and take a night every few weeks to have a quiet dinner out or catch a movie or a concert.
• Find time to decompress every day. Whether it’s five minutes of peaceful meditation, a walk around the block or a cup of coffee in a corner cafe, take a break for some quick relaxation.
• Join a parenting support group. Whether online or in real life, there’s a like-minded group of moms and dads to commiserate with and draw strength and support from. Dads can find a local City Dads Group, join the The National At-Home Dad Network or one of Fathering Together’s popular Facebook groups.

+ + +

This blog post is part of the #NoDadAlone campaign. Fathering Together/City Dads Group, the National At-Home Dad Network, and Fathers Eve are joining forces to amplify messages that help dads recognize we are not alone! Follow #NoDadAlone on Instagram, and learn more at NoDadAlone.com.

Photo: © globalmoments / Adobe Stock.

I’d be lost without Google Calendar. In many ways, it’s my own little digital personal assistant.

Every meeting, trip, doctor’s appointment, party invitation, important birthday, sports practice and game, and more fill the days, weeks, and months on my computer screen and phone. 

Yay, technology!

As I’ve aged, having a detailed calendar has become a necessity. If it isn’t on there, forget about it. I’m not going to be on time. Hell, I might not even show up at all. I could get away without writing down appointments and such when I was younger. Dentist appointment next Thursday at 9? No problem, I’ll remember. Flag football practice on Mondays? I’ll be there. 

But life has changed thanks to fatherhood. The responsibilities I have as a dad require me to be as organized and on top of things as possible. In the blink of an eye, it seems, my once sparsely populated calendar has transformed into a colorful smorgasbord that is exciting, rewarding, stressful, and exhausting, all at the same time.

Their activities are now your activities

As a dad of a 5-year-old son, I’m now fully immersed in the “activity” phase. And I’ve leaned into it 100 percent. As dads, it’s an unspeakable joy to see our kids take an interest in some of the things that were part of our childhood. It’s equally joyful to watch them create their own path. 

Soccer, swimming, Cub Scouts, and T-ball are all on the agenda for my son these days. Not to mention birthday parties. Even my 2-year-old daughter is getting invited to parties for her daycare “classmates.” On any given weekend I go from the pool to the bouncy house to the park with snacks and tablets in tow. 

I often say this is part of the deal that comes with being a dad. The weekends once reserved for a round of golf or a pickup basketball game have been replaced with being a chauffeur for your favorite little person. For me, this is just the beginning. Once my little girl gets older, she’ll hopefully get involved in activities of her own. By then, who knows what my son will have going on? I’ll just add it to the calendar. 

Balance calendar for you and your kids

The reality for me is that two things can be true. There’s excitement for this season of life; there’s also an acknowledgment of the toll it takes on parent and child. For as much as we may not want our kids to “miss out,” a balance for managing activities must also exist.

The phrase “booked and busy” can sometimes be glorified as a badge of honor. If every time I look up, I’m taking my child from one activity to the next, I have to be a dedicated dad, right? The beauty of activities, particularly, sports, is they teach kids far more than Xs and Os. You learn teamwork, respect, confidence, and social skills, among other things. 

In a world that seemingly glorifies busyness, we have to be sure that we’re not only teaching our kids the importance of having a good work ethic, but showing them how to be self-aware in knowing when to take a day off.  

Because if we’re lucky, there will be plenty more activities to come. Just check the calendar. 

Photo by Windows on Unsplash

Editor’s Note: We’re digging into our archives for great articles you might have missed over the years. This article about a dad’s introverted teen daughter comes from 2018.

I recently ran into the mother of a girl at my daughter’s high school. Both our kids are seniors this year; they know each other and are casual friends.

After congenial hellos in the line at our neighborhood coffeehouse, she asked, “So! What are Riley’s plans after graduation?”

We’re not totally sure yet, but are looking at colleges in the area.

“The whole college thing is overwhelming, isn’t it?” the mom exclaimed. “How are her grades? How are her SATs scores? Are you applying to places that put a big emphasis on extracurriculars?”

Grades were fine; test scores, fine. I had no idea how much certain schools care about extracurriculars (because of how I’m a bad dad and stuff), so I kept my answers polite but short, without elaborating much.

But this mom could not be stopped.

“Hey,” she said, “did Riley ever decide to try out for any school plays? The last time I saw you, you said she was thinking about doing theater. Theater can do wonders for a kid’s social skills and confidence. Skyler isn’t a theater kid, but she’s really loving her debate team. Plus she’s on the yearbook staff. And she’s doing cheerleading, can you believe it!?”

Riley and I had briefly talked about theater as an extracurricular pursuit, but it ultimately wasn’t for her. I said as much to the mom, then mentally kicked myself for it.

“Oh,” she said, suddenly doleful. “Sounds like she’s still our little introvert, isn’t she? You know what? It’s going to be fine. You shouldn’t worry. A lot of kids grow out of it.”

That’s when I had to suddenly use every ounce of maturity I had to excuse myself politely. It wasn’t just that her tone was condescending and offensive. It was that it was laced with the arsenic glaze of “Thank God my kid isn’t like your kid.”

Thanks for that, but I like my kid just fine, fuck you very much.

Dad and daughter — different teen spirits

I was also an introverted teen. It took me a while to come out of what I perceived at the time as my “shell.” I was shy, awkward and pretty unsocialized. (And, as it turned out, deeply, deeply closeted. But that’s a whole other bunch of blog posts.) I never stopped being weird in my own ways, but I did discover a few social skills and ended up making valuable friends, many of whom are still in my life today. I tapped into some dormant extrovert traits around my junior year. I discovered confidence through my school’s fine arts programs, learned the fine art of partying from my more rebellious friends, and found ways to connect with people from different social circles. As a result, I have deeply fond memories of high school.

But when I became a parent, I firmly told myself that when my daughter became a teenager, I wouldn’t use my own experience as a barometer for what was and wasn’t right for her — a common parenting mistake.

This is good because while my high school experience was about friends, school activities, and sneaking out to late-night parties, my teen daughter is not.

Her high school experience has been different. She has a couple of friends, but very rarely does she have anyone over after school to study or hang out. She’s involved in a couple of afterschool activities, but nothing that has enlarged her social sphere. She doesn’t party. She spends most weekends at home with us and seems content with that. She’s a straight-laced, good kid.

Yes, my daughter is an introverted teen.

Neither she nor I need a Myers-Briggs test to tell us that. I see it in her behavior, and I recently came to appreciate it more than I used to.

Why do people worry about introverted teens or introversion in kids in general?

Because introversion so often runs against what we’re told are valuable skills: sociability, confidence in large groups, and the overall ability to be the life of the party. It’s the stuff of popularity and acceptance. The stuff we see in the kid Most Likely To Do Everything Impressive After Graduation.

In our cultural context, despite what people claim to understand today about the range of personality types, and the values that come with being both an extrovert and an introvert … the extrovert still always seems to win.

Introverted teen at her best

What does life with my introverted teen daughter look like?

• She is smart and funny, yet has limited energy to sustain it with others.
• She likes being around people and has fun in social settings, as long as she can retreat for short breaks to re-energize.
• She likes parties as long as she has an exit strategy available to her. She doesn’t like the feeling of being trapped someplace where there are tons of people. (You know what? Me neither.)
• She likes attention, but only when she knows to expect it, and only in measured doses. In other words, she wouldn’t like having friends throw her a huge surprise birthday party. She does, however, like getting together with a few friends at a time to hang out.
• She has friends but prefers them at arm’s length much of the time. She doesn’t do the deep sharing thing easily with others. The close friends she does have, she cares for deeply.
• She’s a good listener with tremendous intuitive skills. She pays attention. Nothing gets by her. When I’m feeling sad or upset, she will notice and ask what’s wrong. And because she’s so intuitive, I can’t get away with the classic parental deflection answer: “Oh, I’m just a little tired.” She sees right through that.
• She enjoys her own company and is almost completely immune to peer pressure. No one will ever pressure her into doing something she doesn’t want to do.
• She spends her free time diving deep into her own artistic creativity, drawing, sketching and manifesting a world around her that’s more colorful than the one others see.
• She solves problems and addresses challenges by talking them out to herself, rather than looking for others to serve as a sounding board. This means she’s got resilience, resourcefulness, and the ability to think critically on her own.

I do believe that there’s a healthy middle ground between extroversion and introversion, of course. The ability to draw energy both from being with others and from taking time alone? That sounds great. Do you know anyone who has that particular yin-yang balancing act down?

My daughter still has growing to do. As always, I look forward to seeing how she’ll evolve as adulthood approaches. But do I want her introversion to end up being just a phase? Do I want my wonderfully strange, creative, thoughtful girl to “grow out of it?”

Not even a little bit.

Introverted teen photo by Igor Cancarevic on Unsplash

I’ve seen this before – a half-assed tryout, making the track team and, suddenly, floating the idea wanting to quit before the second practice. Yes, my seventh grader, Lynden, hopes that his subtle hints about leaving the school track team will garner my support to do so. He must not know I value the act of participating more than he does.

“Dad, track is boring,” he mentioned in passing the morning after tryouts.

I said nothing and picked him up from practice later that day.

That evening, on the van ride home, Lynden escalated the quitting chatter, “With everything else going on, track is gonna get in the way of soccer.”

Again, I remained quiet and stoic – taking note of his hope for my agreement wane.

By day three, Lynden resorted to feigning illness to avoid track practice, “Dad, I have a headache. There is no way I to go to track and soccer tonight.”

I’d had enough.

“Lynden, you’re not quitting the team. Nope.”

He shot back, “Why does it matter? You’re not out any money – it’s just the school track team! I’m not even good.”

Sparing him another “it’s not the act, but the principle at work” talk, I kept it simple, saying, “Yes, you’re busy. Yes, you’ll be tired from running at track practice before soccer. But you tried out and took a spot that someone else could have earned. That means you’re sticking it out. Tough. You’re on the team for the season so you better learn to like it.”

Request denied.

The truth is, Lynden quitting the team didn’t have me as annoyed as his nonchalant attitude about being on the squad in the first place.

As I thought about Lynden’s logic, I came around to the idea that he wasn’t technically wrong. The school track team was a free, throw-in for his normal, more expensive, more serious, more inconvenient-to-the-family team activities. This rationale, though, clearly does not value participation as a valuable use of his time. He isn’t alone in the line of thinking, I see the numbers of kids on the field at school reducing universally.

As the act of trying new activities at school has given way to paying-to-play, the quality of middle school sports have suffered. My family has a front row seat to witnessing the plight of the school team fueled by an invasion of uber-serious, uber-expense “travel” teams that do little to fortify friendships and do far too much to allow parents to live vicariously through their exhausted young athletes.

I began unpacking Lynden’s mentality as follows:

• School sports are free and, therefore, not as valuable as the other (ie: higher priced) options.
• School sports are less valuable, so my commitment to the team doesn’t matter.
• Commitment does not matter so quitting the team carries no repercussions.

Parents cannot allow this – I won’t. We must band together to stomp out these flames before they ignite the lacquer of the middle school gym’s floor. Worthwhile commitments must not be dependent on the financial cost of admission or perceived ability level. Having fun is worthwhile!

Maybe some of Lynden’s “quitting doesn’t matter” way of thinking can be traced back to the way parents have devalued the act of participating. The rush to disavow the “participation trophy mentality” may have inadvertently discouraged kids to try anything new. Our kids would rather sit out than entertain the idea of making an ass of themselves in front of classmates, friends and family by giving a new activity a shot.

But, not Lynden, not this time. By making him stick out the track season, I hope to change his view of what is important (and not) – and, potentially, test my own biases about the importance of participating.

Picking Lynden up after his fourth track practice, I explained to him my point of view — that his bellyaching to quit the track team was about something bigger to me. Sure, the most obvious lesson was about perseverance and integrity. Less obvious, though, are lessons about value – looking for intrinsic worth through friendships and owning the courage to step outside of a comfortable zone. These lessons are about placing more value on systems that care little about the quality of play relative to the qualities developed by simply taking part. These lessons require participation.

Kids cannot quit on school activities. Let’s tell our kids that trying is OK. In fact, participation is what it’s all about – absent the trophy, of course.

Photo: ©Anneke / Adobe Stock.

What are my kids doing this summer?

Nothing.

That’s right, nothing.

We’ve signed them up for zero camps. We have scheduled no play dates. Alas, we have no true idea how we might occupy four kids between the ages of 5 and 12 over the upcoming school-less months.

Yes, I’ve taken note of your full summer calendars. I hear your days will be packed. Baseball camp, fishing camp, STEM camp, robotics camp, the YMCA day school, soccer camp, your week at Disney, and a photography class!

I must say, I’m a bit jealous of the action-packed days you have ahead. I’m a bit ashamed ours might not be so glitzy.

After all, the reality of having several young children is that an activity-filled summer takes a ton of pre-planning, costs a fortune, and would likely require teaching my 12-year-old to drive himself and his two younger brothers to the next scheduled appointment.

But, just as I began to feel bad for my no-camp kids, I listened to your plans a little closer.

I hear the exhaustion in your voice already. It seems your precise summer plan has come with an unintended, intangible present – the stress associated with executing (and paying for) the plan.

All parents know this feeling well. It’s what compels us to drive two hours each night so that your little ballerina can learn from the best dance instructor in the county. It has us driving home at 9 p.m. on a school night while our fifth graders complain their seat belts prevent them from completing their math homework in the backseat.

The push for parents to plan for our kids (and the associated guilt if we don’t) is there constantly. That’s too often for my taste.

And suddenly, the shame I feel for my kids’ unscheduled summer subsides. In its place, I feel empathy for you.

Can we help you with a ride?

Would Audrey just want to hang out at our house one day? 

You have our number in case you get in a bind, right? 

We can help because my no-camp kids will be just hanging out together – swimming, riding bikes around the neighborhood, building forts on rainy days and helping us tend our newly planted garden in the backyard.

But don’t get me wrong. My kids will drive me and my wife crazy.

The bickering, fighting, over-competitiveness and resistance to afternoon naps will not cease. With so many kids, there will be one time in each day that STEM camp will sound really appealing.

But those times will come and go and my kids will, I hope, be left to do what they choose to do around us. That’s the way I remember my unscheduled summer school vacations as a child.

I remember going to the library to pick out new books to earn free tickets the Cedar Rapids Reds’ Minor League Baseball games.

The thundering sounds of my neighborhood’s herd of Big Wheel trikes still rings in my head from those summers spent with time on our hands.

When I toss the baseball toward my 5-year-old’s awaiting bat today, I will still chuckle at the recollection of the biggest kid on my childhood street, Scott, breaking two windows on our neighbor’s garage in a week during one July so many years ago.

Thinking nostalgically about summers passed probably leaves me a bit naïve for what we’re in for this unscheduled summer. But, for many reasons, I need it and I think my kids might, too.

And, while I do feel passing shame for the upcoming months I’ve left unplanned, I don’t feel the pressure to quickly devise a plan that engages each kid in some way each day. No, the only plan I have is to keep it simple – to let my kids be when I should and help them when they need me.

I’ll pitch baseballs and fill flattened bike tires.

I’ll listen to them fight and go through far too many Band-Aids.

Sure, I’ll feel badly for them when they’re bored. But, once the shame subsides, I’m looking forward to be around the house — together.

So feel free to give us a call if you need any help. We can get your Sally to dance at the same time her brother Michael needs to be picked up from soccer camp so that you can quickly make dinner. I’ll be free because I’ve planned nothing.

“Unscheduled summer” photo: Trust “Tru” Katsande on Unsplash

There are any number of ways to fill a child’s schedule, from leaving open blocks of freedom to cramming it full like a dance card. It falls all over the parenting spectrum: obligation, burden, guilt, bonding, joy, nostalgia, the teaching of skills and the learning of lessons. It’s like a Pixar movie in a pinny. We find the time and the funds that said schedule dictates, then force the world to see all the fun that we are having — late nights of homework and fast food dinners seldom make the cut of Facebook fodder.

At what point does it all become too much and we create overscheduled children? A different activity each night of the week and twice on Wednesdays? When the waking hours cut away too much sleep? When you drop your kid off at karate in her soccer uniform? Or when family time is only spent in commutes and early morning hallways?

There is nothing wrong with extracurricular activities, in fact, just the opposite — the upside is packed with all the keywords of a happy, healthy childhood — but, spoiler alert: We don’t have to do it all.

Downtime has its moments. It’s perfectly acceptable to pace ourselves and let kids have some elbow room. Stretching is important, too, and the sidelines are the perfect place for a picnic.

Overscheduled children: Happier or just more tired?

When I was a kid, my options were somewhat limited. Granted, I grew up in a rural farming community, so many extracurricular activities had an immediate, practical value. For the most part it was 4-H and yard work. Our schedule was “be home by dark.” However, we had baseball in the summer, and I seem to recall playing one down in one game of flag football. There were a few weeks of camp, which, in hindsight, may have been more of a glorified daycare. The local pool only charged a quarter for a chance to become a belly-flop legend, living in infamy long after the sting had gone. But we didn’t have fencing, glassblowing, parkour or coding classes to compete for our wandering attention. We didn’t even have soccer. We certainly didn’t have cable.

Now, my boys have access to all the above. Then there’s also water polo, lacrosse, art, music, science camps, writing retreats and countless others. The overwhelming bounty of it is intoxicating for many parents, insistent as we are on providing all the opportunities to all the things. We want our kids to have every chance in the world.

Good. Letting kids experience new things expands their horizons and puts them on the road to being well-rounded, empathetic people. They may find their passion or they may find that they haven’t found it yet — both are important. The hard part is pacing ourselves.

Through trial and error, we have decided (family meeting!) that our kids benefit from concentrating on one or two pursuits at a time, sandwiched on the schedule as they are between school, homework and family, not to mention sleep and whatever passes for a social life.

We have tried it both ways: a calendar covered in circles and itineraries, and days where the night fades slowly into a good book and a sinking pillow. The latter has proved the better option for our boys. Rather than spread themselves thin over countless pursuits they give their full attention to one extracurricular activity per quarter. Then they have the option of doing it again or moving on to something else. Sometimes the season makes the decision for them. We ebb with the dog days and flow with the fun. The upside is everywhere.

The sidelines are full of pride and loneliness. We are there pacing, cheering and sitting on chairs an inch off the ground. Games are being played and our kids are on the field, even when it’s all a metaphor — perhaps then even more so.

We are on the sidelines, and we are cheering loudly.

Not so overscheduled children photo: Whit Honea