Stop calling my wife, dammit.

Not you, weird dude from work. I’m talking to YOU, doctor’s office. The one who has been told multiple times that if you want to speak to a parent, try dad first.

My son has been through several rounds of examination and treatment with this doctor. My wife has never even spoken to him. For work reasons, she couldn’t make the parental consult meeting. She doesn’t go to these meetings because it is MY JOB.

The next appointment is in two days. And then I get the fateful text from the wife:

“Stupid doctor left me a VM again.” (I paraphrased for cleanliness.)

Listen, this isn’t even about making our lives easier. If you, a medical professional, want to help our children, you need to reach the primary caregiver. Not the working-her-ass-off, leaning-in, awesome-but-busy mom.

At least you aren’t alone. The school nurse still calls my wife, even after five years and two children. This is even though my name appears first on the contact card. I’ve even put an arrow to my number, reading “call dad first.” Still, every once in a while, I’ll get my wife’s “Did they call you instead yet” text. That means if the nurse doesn’t call me soon, I better call her.

The school office has finally learned. Of course, I think it took until I was elected PTA co-president for them to fully get it. The teachers, much to their credit, have understood from day one that this dad gets there a lot faster when there is a sick or paint-covered child. So there’s that.

I can’t imagine how they handle same-sex couples. If there are two dads, does no one get a call? If it’s lesbians, does it force the office assistant into some kind of Linda-Blair-esque, spinning perpetual-motion head spin, trying to decide which mom to call? Perhaps that’s our world’s solution for renewable energy.

Listen: In the grand scheme of things, this is clearly a First-World issue. And it’s not even the biggest one at that. But here’s what this assumption does: It reinforces the incorrect paradigm that men are unable to handle their children’s care and the unfortunate sociological expectation that women can – and will – drop everything in their lives for their kids. This hurts all men and all women.

If we want to live in a world where everyone contributes to their family and society as they see fit, we need to start respecting that, for the most part, almost any task can be done by anyone regardless of the contents of their pants.

Oh, and if you’re the medical professional that provoked the writing of this column and you figure it out, you can win a prize. Just call my children’s NEW primary caregiver.

About the author

Josh Kross is an at-home dad to his three kids. He is the former engineer and producer of The Modern Dads Podcast. He also produced the critically acclaimed Hip-Hop podcast, The Cipher (theciphershow.com).

This blog post, first published in 2014 for the NYC Dads Group blog and since updated, 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 by Moose Photos from Pexels.

When my daughter was born, my paternity leave consisted of whatever paid and unpaid time off from work I could bank before the big due date. It took me almost two years, but I saved a month’s worth of vacation, sick and personal days. During that month, I changed diapers, helped my wife recover from a C-section, and bonded with my child.  

At the end of my paternity leave, which was still an oddity then, I returned to work. I had no choice. My wife’s maternity leave was at reduced or no pay at all and my family needed my health insurance and paycheck. Things were fine until they were not.

My wife had to have gallbladder surgery during her maternity leave. She also popped a stitch carrying our newborn down the stairs and was in a lot of pain. I wanted to be there but couldn’t. I felt helpless.

What prevents men from being engaged fathers?

It is no secret mothers carry most of the mental load of parenting. There is a demand, and rightly so, for fathers to be more engaged. However, after the argument for better paternity leave policies, there is no path for this to happen. Many men are prevented from becoming engaged fathers.

To put it bluntly, many fathers can’t afford to spend more time with their kids. It’s the exact same situation I found myself in 17 years ago.

According to a 2023 Pew Research Center study, 55% of marriages “have a husband who is the primary or sole breadwinner, and 16% have a breadwinner wife.” The study also reports 29% of marriages where both spouses earn the same amount. While that last number is encouraging, the onus for providing an income for a family still falls primarily on men.

Now add in the average annual cost for childcare (a little over $10,000) and health insurance ($23,000). An average American family is already 33 grand in the hole the minute they have a child. This is before we get to the rising cost of diapers and formula, the housing market, or general inflation. Working parents everywhere are struggling just to survive. The term “side hustle” has now become part of a parent’s lexicon.

As a stay-at-home dad, I have seen the struggles my wife has endured as our financial caregiver. This goes beyond missing baseball games or not helping with laundry. She has fought back against misogyny and sexism to keep our health insurance. I point this out because being the primary breadwinner keeps one of the parents from being as engaged as they would want to be. And this cuts that way for most fathers.

Finally, societal and grassroots support systems in place for fathers are lacking. There is very little mentorship, acceptance or consistent quality advice available for fathers. A simple but telling sign: there are still men’s bathrooms in this day and age without changing tables. It’s such a simple fix that would help fathers and mothers everywhere.

My own experiences have shown me that fathers in the everyday parenting world are either treated as a potential threat or lavished with false praise for doing the simplest parenting job. When I go out with my dads’ group and their kids, especially early on when we had six dads with strollers, we’ve been stopped and asked to pose for pictures. I know of one father who was told to sit quietly during a playgroup with moms and not to speak unless someone approached him. And although that is a dramatic example, it still points to the problem.

What’s the solution to creating more engaged fathers?

To have more engaged fathers, ones that take on the mental load and are allowed to participate fully in family life, we have to make it possible for them to do so.

The burden of financial caregiving needs to be lessened. This includes affordable health insurance not tied to your employment and reasonable childcare. This is more difficult. In 2022, The Inflation Reduction Act was passed but cut out provisions for pre-kindergarten funding, lower childcare costs and enhanced tax credits, among others. This is disastrous for not just fathers. Not only did we not ease the financial difficulties for parents; we made it worse.

When legislation like this is passed, it’s mostly discussed on how it affects women and children. Fathers are often forgotten about in governmental policies and programs, which only adds to the dad as a “less than” parent association. For example, look at the Special Supplemental Nutrition Program for Women, Infants, and Children, or WIC for short. Even though fathers can access the program, it’s not exactly inviting. Caregiving is genderless. Luckily, in this case, The National Fatherhood Initiative, one of the largest non-profit fatherhood-focused organizations, works with “human service organizations to be intentionally and proactively father-inclusive.”

To correct this thinking, we all need to treat fathers as parenting equals and expect them to be engaged. That means parenting spaces need to be more welcoming. When I go to story time with my children, I don’t need to ask why no one wants to sit next to me. I don’t need to be stopped for pictures with my dads, and please don’t applaud me for going to the grocery store with three kids. I’ve been doing it for 16 years, it’s normal.

And as it is normal, there continues to be a need for more fatherhood organizations that encourage the everyday involvement of fathers. These have been growing over the last decade such as Fathering Together, Movember for men’s mental health, and many others. There has also been more fatherhood advice that reaches dads where they are such as podcasts like The Dad Time Out Show and the Dadass Podcast, which recently worked with the Columbus City Council to install 130 changing tables. This is the kind of societal change that will go a long way to show that fathers are welcome, needed, and valued.

Becoming an engaged father doesn’t end with paternity leave. It’s the beginning and the first step to a future that is better for all parents.

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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: Takako Harkness Photography courtesy New York Baby Show

The most prevalent examples of fatherhood tend to be built around the same story. It’s one about lazy, uninvolved, and at its worst, abusive dads. These often come accompanied by complaints about men not taking on their fair share of the physical and mental load of parenting. These stories of weaponized incompetence fill pages and pages of books, magazines and social media. Rarely do these tales offer corrective advice or give solutions.

Meanwhile, the handful of positive stories about fatherhood that have made headlines in recent generations tend to center on people later discredited or found disreputable (hello, Bill Cosby!) or sports stars who are gone from home half the year. Not that you’d find even these or any stories about dads in parenting publications and websites — unless, of course, it’s related to that one day in June.

It can be quite refreshing when fathers are ignored, though. For a minute, we can at least imagine we are part of the parenting world. The quiet doesn’t last long, though. Soon, more words are written. Did you hear about fathers who go on fishing trips with the boys and — wait — they end up in a strip club? And the question that is asked, if one ever is, is this: Why are all fathers like this?

That’s where I want to push back.

Dads need support, inspiring examples

Richard Reeves of the American Institute of Boys and Men has written much about the issues our gender faces. (His Substack is fascinating. He also wrote the book Of Boys and Men which is also a great read.) One of his many concerns is the lack of environments where boys can exist and learn from each other. But not as some “old boys’ network” of the past, but as a new way forward. Somewhere young males can develop their emotional intelligence and build friendships. Sounds great, right?

Another upcoming book, BoyMom by Ruth Whippman, is another great read about the issues facing our sons. She is one of the first to actually go into the “manosphere” and talk to incels or “involuntary celibate” males. One of her major research findings is the lack of good examples of masculinity. But after reading it, I also noticed — once again — a lack of good examples of fatherhood.

Society seems primarily to want fathers who are stoic men of action. These are the dads who “man up,” ignoring their own problems while fixing the world for everyone else. Other times, it wants dads who can cook a 12-course meal, make $200,000 a year, and do so without so much as a thank you. What it doesn’t show are examples of a dad who simply exists in the same space as his children and peers, parenting the best he can without feeling like he is letting someone else down. Why? It’s not dramatic. It has no diabolical twists and turns. It’s a straightforward tale of a man who works hard to fulfill his paternal responsibilities and shows up. Every. Single. Day.

Positive fatherhood role models are out there — right out in the open — and everyone seems to miss them. For some reason, at-home dads are rarely held up as the example of what fatherhood and masculinity could be at their best. Instead of showing these fathers (and other good ones who are not at-home dads) caring for their family, giving out hugs like it’s a beer share, or spending countless nights sleeping next to a crib, we inevitably hear, “Why aren’t dads doing more?”

We are. But it’s not very dramatic and, thus, rarely headline-worthy.

The silent story of fatherhood

I recently wrote about football player Jason Kelce’s retirement announcement. In that article, I used the phrase “silent story of fatherhood.” It served as a nod to Jason’s description of his dad, Ed, who supported him every step of the way from childhood. No fanfare. No awards. No recognition. And that is fine. But this is a story I think is way more common than the clickbait articles that allegedly “speak for fathers.”

To me, this is what at-home dads are. It’s what single fathers are. It’s what married fathers who work 60 hours a week and come home and still find the energy to let a toddler crawl all over them are. None of us want condescending credit or hollow compliments. We just want to spend time with our kids, and we’d appreciate it if we got some support along the way. We would love to be part of a world that recognizes our difficulties without turning them into a competition with other parents. And, we would like to turn on our computers and TVs and see a better example of fatherhood — one that speaks more clearly and personally to our reality.

Using these fathers as springboards, we should be able to change the story of fatherhood. We can develop narratives that show what we do well, what obstacles we face, and how we try to overcome them. We will still need to call out the bad fathers who leave their kids and never come back or who refuse to change a diaper but because they don’t deserve our respect they will serve far fewer words in our story let alone headlines.

Fathers DO have their own support groups: either online or in real life. Some are even specific types of fathers: at-home dads, dads with daughters, and so on. In these places, men can come together, simply exist and support each other like Dr. Reeves recommends. We can talk about the latest sports news and, just as confidently, tell another dad, “Hey, I don’t think I’m doing so well.” It’s where we can be vulnerable and further develop our emotional intelligence, just as Ruth Whippman wishes for her sons. It’s a place where we can be whole human beings, not the fraction of ones that much of the world has taught us to be. We should hold these men up as examples of and role models of fathers working to be, if not acting like, strong, competent and caring parents. I know they are because I see them every day.

And we need to do all this in a way that does not demean women and mothers. They need to be celebrated for their sacrifices as much as we need to be recognized for ours. Parenting isn’t a competition, so we should stop treating it that way especially when we speak and write about it.

So come to a dads’ group gathering sometime. Talk to the single dad who is an expert at French braids and who can also build you a deck. Find the at-home dad who gave up his career for playdates, doctors’ appointments and volunteering behind the scenes at his child’s school plays. Listen to the divorced father who would rather have a tea party with his child than a tee time at the links.

We exist. You just have to look and listen.

Fatherhood story photo by Pavel Danilyuk via Pexels.

Fathers are incompetent man-children who may be able to keep their kids alive (in a pinch), but not much else.

Mothers are incessant nags who wouldn’t know a good time if it tickled their collective behinds, but they do know to take care of business … around the house, anyway.

WTF!?!

It seems impossibly outdated, yet somehow this view of parenthood as a battle between the sexes rather than a partnership persists.

Give me a friggin’ break.

I know my situation is different than the norm. I’m a stay-at-home dad. When my children go to my wife for help, do they look around and ask, “Where is Dad?” No. They ask her for what they need. When we’re both home, do we magically revert to old stereotypes, that she knows everything and I’m just a dumb lug who scratches himself all day? No! We have a partnership in this whole parenting thing.

I’ve seen the memes about helpless dads countless times. For each one, there are a host of women commenting “oh, yeah!” and “preach it, girl!” I usually just roll my eyes and make a mental note of which of my friends is an idiot that day (or who is getting really annoyed at this silly B.S., which can also be amusing).

Parenting partnership is no joke

These moms are probably mostly joking or venting, maybe thinking back to particular instances when their men could have done more … or maybe these moms just weren’t thinking at all. Totally understandable. I’ve encountered my share of arguably sexist memes and, for an instant, saw a grain of truth in them or just wanted to empathize or bond with the dude who posted it. Then I think about the message I’d be sending to the world – about my wife and women – and I keep scrolling. There are better things to like on the internet. But I’m not mad at the women who click “like” and leave messages of support for this view. I feel sorry for them. Their “partners” are not holding up their end of the implicit parental bargain.

However, I’m willing to bet that most parents recognize how valuable their significant other is. If not, something is wrong in that dynamic. It’s possible that dad is slacking and needs to get his act together. Maybe mom is stressed because dad feels his role as a parent is to provide for his family, and not much else. It’s also possible that mom won’t let him participate as much as he’d like to because he doesn’t fold the laundry the “right way” or cook a “perfectly balanced” meal the way she would. A parenting partnership requires some give and take, particularly the giving up and taking of control.

As a stay-at-home parent, I absolutely depend on my wife. Just like she could not put in long hours at work if I didn’t stay home with the kids, I could not take care of the kids all day if she didn’t share those responsibilities when she was home. I would lose my damn mind!

By the time we pick my wife up at the train station, I am ready to hand over the reins. I am all too happy to take on some of those household responsibilities I shirked during the day. After a long day at the office, every minute with the kids is precious for her. Yes, she’s exhausted, but in a different way. What is something of a break for her is the very thing that threatens every day to break me: those crazy kids and all their questions!

Upon further reflection, maybe those memes aren’t as far off as I originally thought. If the moms who liked it are anything like me, they’re probably hiding in the kitchen once their spouses get home. The kids aren’t asking dad where mom is because dad is a useless idiot, they’re asking because there are times when mom doesn’t want to be found! It’s a good thing that, like me, she has a husband in this whole parenting partnership thing who is ready, willing, and able to take on whatever questions, requests, and demands are thrown his way.

Parenting partnership first ran in 2104 and has since been update. Photo by Katie E from Pexels

In one of the many memorable scenes in John Hughes’ movie Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Ferris, his girlfriend Sloane, and best friend Cameron join a group of young children looking at the masterpieces in the Art Institute of Chicago. At one point, the very melancholy and anxious Cameron becomes captivated by Georges Seurat’s “A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte.” 

The more he stares at the painting, the more the little girl at the center of the piece seems to stare back at him. Cameron zooms in on her to the point where she soon becomes a bunch of undefined splotches of paint. Maybe, in this moment, Cameron sees himself: a muddle of paint with no real beginning or end. Maybe he isn’t sure what he is looking at. Perhaps he’s lost in his thoughts about where he is in life and what his life will become.

I think we have all had encounters like this in a museum with a particular piece. This happened to me recently when our family visited the Whitney Museum of American Art in New York City to view an amazing gallery by Henry Taylor, a black California-based artist known for portraits depicting a variety of scenes from black life using mixed media.

One piece that caught my eye was Screaming Head. It is an acrylic painting of a black man sitting on a bench. His hands are clenched behind his head but somehow he is screaming out of the top of his head. Like his brain is screaming out because his mouth cannot. Or maybe this particular man feels like crying out but doesn’t want to because social norms dictate he has to be strong and keep it bottled up inside. Maybe he doesn’t have the freedom to say what is really on his mind. It felt like it was speaking to me.

I believe men often suffer in silence when it comes to issues we face. We want to stick to the old-school machismo: men don’t cry, men don’t complain, men aren’t supposed to be anything that makes us less of a man. We aren’t often given room to just scream out when facing any number of obstacles life throws our way. Not having that release valve can often lead to tragic results.  

But I believe we need room to scream. 

Men need room to cry. 

We also need a shoulder to lean on when life seems overwhelming. 

If we can be allowed to release our frustration and anger in a constructive and healthy way, we can be better men, fathers, brothers and leaders.

But how?

It means taking time for self-care. Like going to a movie by yourself or spending a few hours on a hobby. Maybe it’s eating some takeout from your favorite fast-food restaurant in your car without having to share your fries. Or maybe, it’s asking your partner to take the kids to school so you get an extra hour of sleep.

Sometimes just posting anonymously in a Facebook group of other dads who understand your strains and stresses can become your safe space. Letting others know you feel alone helps you realize an important fact: you are not alone. Someone out there is dealing with loss, with bills, with children who don’t want to listen, and so on.   

Whatever your outlet for self-care is, it doesn’t mean abandoning your duties. It means taking a break from them for a little bit to get our heads straight. This is no different from moms giving themselves spa days or a night out with the girls.

As for me, in these last few years, I have transitioned. I’ve become less of a stay-at-home dad by taking on other roles. Being a father isn’t all that defines me anymore. I am also an author, a teacher, a husband, a friend, a son, a son-in-law, a heck of a cook and so much more. 

I am defined, but the definition of me is always changing and I truly believe the same can be said about you.­

You are defined. 

You have depth and emotion. 

You are loved.

Even if you feel like you don’t see it, know that others see it in you.

And never let yourself get to the point of feeling like an undefined muddle of paint splotches on a canvas. And like the Henry Taylor painting, don’t keep your screams bottled up because that can often lead to an explosive result.

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio via Pexels.

Editor’s Note: We’re digging into our ample archives to find some great articles you might have missed over the years. These help your stay-at-home partner tips come from 2014.

If you are a stay-at-home parent, you know you and your working spouse handle things differently. I have noticed some issues are even more glaring when the primary caretaker is, like myself, a dad — something made clear by observing other stay-at-home-dads and their spouses during my time helping run a dads group in Philadelphia.

Here are some things bread-winning spouses should keep in mind that would help them and the men (or women) they leave at home with kids all day:

1) Let It Go

You are going to need to let your at-home do things his or her own way. I know it is hard and some things are going to bug you, like that he wipes the counter counterclockwise instead of clockwise, but let that slide. Suggesting how to make things more efficient is fine. In the end, though, he will want to do things his own way. Imposing your will on him may just shut him down more. Let him figure it out and come up with a style that suits him best.

2) Don’t Nag

Nothing is going to motivate him less than constantly asking him to do something. We are aware of our shortcomings. In most cases, we try to find that balance between caring for the kids and managing household duties. If you want to help your partner, give him some time. Sometimes, things go by the wayside because we get overwhelmed.

3) Set Clear Expectations

Sit down together and communicate what you expect to be accomplished each day. Some couples think just managing to keep the kids alive and healthy is enough, but others may have greater expectations about cleanliness, meal preparation, etc. Make sure you end up on the same page. This will help cut down on problems later.

4) Help When You Can

This is a big issue with most stay-at-home parents, male or female. We know you have been working all day and you may have to work into the night as well but any assistance you give us is going to be much appreciated. Men tend to internalize issues until they build up and are afraid to ask for help because we know you are doing so much already and don’t want to start a fight. This is where clear expectations come into play (see No. 3). Tag team the nighttime routine. Ask your husband how he usually does things so you can stay consistent. That is really going to help him the next day with the kids because deviation is going to cause problems with his routine.

5) Communicate Effectively

If something must get done and he hasn’t done it, tell him in a way that does not attack him. Men, in particular, tend to get defensive when their shortcomings are pointed out. I often have difficulty with criticism because I respond better to praise. “Sandwich” the request between some compliments about what we are doing right. That softens the blow and makes us more willing to work on our weaknesses rather than just pointing out what we aren’t doing right.

6) Pencil Us In

We know you are tired (and so are we) but please — work us into your schedule because WE want to be in your inbox. (See what I did there?) It relieves stress and helps you reconnect with each other despite all the stuff you have to do. Instead, do each other.

7) Give Us Some Space

We need “guy time” as much as you need a “girls’ night out.” Offer to watch the kids so he can see that action movie you would never watch with him, or suggest he get together with the guys at a restaurant or bar to blow off some steam. You know how it is at bedtime and on weekends. Imagine your incompetent co-workers hassling you all day. Same deal. Sometimes we just want to drive to Target to walk around aimlessly without someone asking us for something.

8) Take Time For Yourself

We want you to be as rested and sharp as possible because you are providing for our family and you deserve it. If you need some time alone or away from the kids, just ask. He can occupy the kids for a bit so you can nap, catch up on work, or head out to the store by yourself. Just know that eventually, your husband and kids will be coming back.

A version of Help Your Partner first appeared on the DadNCharge blog. Photo: © nicoletaionescu / Adobe Stock.

When my first kid was born, I was terrified someone would take her from me. It was as if a little Rumpelstiltskin would show up and say, “Give me your firstborn!” Then he would run away with my kid to a sauerkraut factory. He’s a greasy little man in my visions.

What really worried me is that the moment my kid started crying, fusing or just existing, a mom or grandma would swoop in and take her away from me. I’m a dad, and dads are not built for caring for children. We all know he is an idiot that doesn’t know a onesie from a jumper. And the baby is crying because the baby doesn’t like Dad. Who the hell is the chump anyway? He smells like meat and sauerkraut.

That was my real fear. Not only would I not be good enough in others’ eyes, but I wouldn’t be good enough in my child’s eyes. I would be second best. Someone else would be her rock.

So, I took my kid and hid with her in the middle of the night. We watched Star Trek and the only judgement I got was from Captain Kirk. We boldly went to strange new worlds, exploring life together as I fed her, and my wife slept. This wasn’t a “favor” I was doing for my wife. This was for me. This was to ensure that no greedy hands would prevent me from being my daughter’s father in every way possible.

And it was there, with the Enterprise 1701, that I realized my kid didn’t prefer mom over me. The kid didn’t care at all. I was her dad, and that’s all that mattered. We are told that moms are more nurturing. It is explained to us that we don’t have that special gene that babies respond to more. We can’t ever know that bond.

What a load of crap.

Dads are meant for caring

“Babies are biologically programmed to engage with and be responsive to any and all adults who regularly provide care for them.”

That quote is from the book Myths and Lies about Dads by Dr. Linda Nielsen of Wake Forest University. Read that quote again and let that sink in. Truly.

How many times have we been told as fathers that we are JV team? Oh no, we can’t take the baby. Only moms know how to do that. And how many dads have used that excuse to get out of caring for their children? Man, that last one bothers me because you are robbing yourself of bonding experiences that can’t be recovered. It’s those late nights when our kids truly look at us and think, You know what, this guy is all right.

Those are the moments when we become a father, and we are often robbed of those opportunities. And that grand theft continues throughout their childhood as we are sidelined and gatekept by the well-meaning but misinformed.

Look, I know lots of dads who shun their duties. But I also know many of us had to fight to be involved, and even now we are ridiculed for it. We’ve all heard the stories of being yelled at while at the park or ignored during story time. We’ve all had our masculinity questioned because we stay home with our kids. Both fathers who shirk their responsibilities and fathers who are the primary caregivers can exist in the same universe. We shouldn’t be treated the same. Our kids shouldn’t be plucked out of our hands by small little people.

Dads are also born at children’s birth

“When a father holds his baby against this bare chest, his prolactin increases while his testosterone, blood pressure, and heart rate decrease.”

Well, look at that. Dads actually change biologically when our kids are born. We become calmer and less aggressive. We get ready to assume the role of caregiver. This is another fact from Dr. Nielsen’s book. We should all take note.

This week I helped an at-home dad. He was brand spanking new to it and felt like a failure. He had tied his worth to a paycheck and didn’t realize that when we dads care for our kids, that is our job. That it has as much value as when a mom does it. We change, we adapt, and we teach them the Vulcan death grip. No, we don’t do it like moms, and that is fine. Let moms be moms and dads be dads.

I hope he listened to me when I told him all this. I hope that he gets all the benefits of being Johnny on the spot. Dads are literally built to take care of our kids. Don’t let any little troll tell you otherwise.

Photo: © Halfpoint / Adobe Stock.

Editor’s Note: We’re digging into our ample archives to find some great articles you might have missed over the years. This one about broken friendships comes from 2016.

To excited first-time parents-to-be, I would offer encouragement and well wishes, but a bit of sobering advice as well: Be prepared to lose some friends. Most experienced parents know of this phenomenon of broken friendships. I think this effect is felt even more acutely by gay parents.

Fact: I have lost more friends becoming a gay parent than I have coming out as gay in the first place.

I have always been a bit of a nerd. In grade school, I wasn’t a popular kid, but I mingled with a group of similarly studious friends. Two of my best friends, “Rich” and “Nick” remained tight with me even after we all went to different colleges. When I came out of the closet in college, I was pleased both were accepting of me and remained close friends well into adulthood.

Rich and Nick were in turn friendly when I introduced them to my partner, Josh. Even though the three of us lived in different places, when we visited we would all hang out together like old times. Nick would share his girlfriend problems. Rich invited Josh and me to celebrate his engagement and his wedding to his wife. It was around this time that Josh and I started talking about having children in earnest.

Just like Rich and Nick shared their major life events with us, Josh and I were excited to share about this endeavor with them. Rich was clearly in a happy place in his life and was happy for us when we shared the news. I remember calling Nick to giddily tell him how Josh and I were going to California to look into gestational surrogacy.

My heart sank when he responded by saying, “Why are you telling me this?”

Change in status, change in attitude

It became clear Nick did not understand why we would ever want to have children. He was not particularly happy for us. I ended the rapidly deteriorating conversation and hung up before it became an argument.

We exchanged superficial pleasantries at Rich’s wedding, and then we did not speak for about two years. Around the time that we were planning our children’s first birthday party, I received an email from Nick. He asked, “Whatever happened between us?” As if he was oblivious to how my feelings were deeply hurt.

I responded angrily. He knew very well what happened.

Nick responded, stating openly what I knew to be the truth all along: He disagreed with two men raising children. He thought it would adversely affect children to be raised in a non-traditional household.

In retrospect, I believe Nick was fine with the novelty of having gay friends who hung out in gay bars doing stereotypically gay things. However, as soon as his gay friends decided to be real people and live their lives outside of a socially acceptable second-class box, he became disapproving.

After our children were born, many good friends, most of them gay, faded away more slowly. In our first few years living in Florida, Josh and I had amassed a large group of gay friends. Most had no interest in having children, but they were all happy for us when we announced we were expecting.

After AJ and JJ were born, I appreciated that these friends continued to invite us to events. Because we were busy with twin babies, though, we would either pass or send one of us out to have fun while the other stayed with the kids. Inevitably, the invitations became fewer and far between. More broken friendships, but unlike with Nick, no hard feelings were involved, so I don’t fault these friends in the slightest. Our unusual situation as gay guys with kids just didn’t fit into their social calendars neatly. That’s OK.

Losing so many friends over the years both gay and straight, either suddenly or slowly over the years, I have only a touch of sadness. In place of these friends, I have a large beautiful family.  These four children bring me unlimited and enduring joy and fulfillment.

About the author

David Hu, left, is a proud father of multiple multiples. He and his partner twice went through the gestational surrogacy process, creating a family with two sets of twins. This post was originally published on David’s blog, Rock And Ledge, and on City Dads Group via our partnership with The Handsome Father. Main photo: © ROBERT/ Adobe Stock.

Editor’s Note: June 12 marks the anniversary of the 2016 mass shooting at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando. Forty-nine people died and 53 were wounded when a lone gunman attacked patrons of the gay nightclub. It was the deadliest mass shooting in U.S. history at the time (it’s since been eclipsed). This article originally ran just two days later.

I woke up Sunday morning blissfully unaware. It was a rare opportunity to sleep in, not having to get up and hustle into action. When I did roust myself, I leaned over, kissed my husband good morning, and shuffled into the kitchen to pour my morning cup of coffee. And, of course, I checked my phone.

The first thing I saw: a text from a good friend of mine.

“When I saw the news this morning, I immediately thought of you and Chris, and wanted to express my sadness and outrage that even in the most powerful country in the world, we are so flawed, so full of hatred and fear,” it said.

She went on to let me know that she loves me and my family, and was thinking of us.

I didn’t know what prompted her message.

A quick web search revealed facts about the mass shooting at Pulse, a gay nightclub in Orlando. Forty-nine people gunned down on a Saturday night. During Gay Pride Month.

And, once again, I had to decide how to discuss evil with my daughter.

Nightclub shooting our latest tough conversation

It’s not the first time. She’s almost 15. Like so many other parents, I’ve been having conversations with her since she was a toddler, with horrifying regularity. Sandy Hook. Virginia Tech. San Bernardino.

When she was little, I consulted books about how to talk about death and violence with children. Do you avoid the topic, and shield them from it altogether? Should you mask real-life tragedies in analogies or fables? Or, should you stay honest, but use gentle language that minimizes the brutality?

Now that she’s a teenager, we talk about this stuff with more directness and clarity. Real-life violence has yet to touch her life directly, which is a blessing. So we did talk about the Pulse nightclub shooting, and I decided to go with accuracy and less emotion (which is always difficult for me, as someone whose emotions tend to be the boss in my head): Who the shooter was, what he did, what was known/not known about him at the time.

We had our talk, and it was briefer than conversations in the past. She hadn’t seen the news yet so I just filled her in on the latest Horrible Thing that had happened, and that was that.

Her reaction was difficult to read. Whether that’s because we were used to these talks by now, or because she’s at the stage where she’d rather process stuff on her own, it’s hard to say. I did realize, though, that this tragedy in Orlando felt different from other mass shootings for me, and possibly for her as well. Why?

Because the Orlando shooting was the deadliest in American history.

A horrifying loss of human life.

Fueled, in part, by a hatred of gay people.

And, because, I am gay.

How can she not worry?

I have been out for five years, and this is the first time such a violent act has ripped into this community I proudly call my own.

My daughter tends to be a worrier. She’s gotten a handle on it over the years, but she has the double whammy of having a very active imagination and a short anxiety fuse. So when my husband and I go out at night and she stays home, she still gets a bit nervous if I don’t text her to check in at least once. (Total role reversal. In another year or so, I’ll be the one asking her to check in.)

It’s not my teenage daughter’s job to worry about me. It’s supposed to be the other way around. That’s the way the universe is supposed to work.

And while our evenings out are usually pretty benign, my girl knows that every once in a while, we do love to go out dancing. Dancing is deeply important to us. It’s how we find our feelings, connect with the world, and thank the universe for everything that we have. We plan to keep on going out and dancing until we’re in wheelchairs. And hopefully, by then, science will have developed the technology to make robot legs and neural Groove implants so we can not only keep dancing but look even cooler than the young whippersnappers around us.

My daughter, the worrier, sees the news from Orlando about the Pulse nightclub shooting as such: people in a gay club — people there because they love their community, love each other and love dancing — being heartlessly killed. The gears in my girl’s brain turn, and she makes the connection.

Someday her dad and stepdad could be in a club, dancing happily, and be killed by someone evil, simply for being.

I know her. That’s how her brain works.

Evil will not triumph on the dancefloor

It’s not my teenage daughter’s job to worry about me. It’s supposed to be the other way around. That’s the way the universe is supposed to work.

But can I tell my daughter her worry is unfounded?

No.

Because the scary truth of it is, it’s sheer luck that I was never in a club at the same time as a monster with an AK-47. This was the killing of my people, in my house. There is no way to pretend otherwise.

So how do I talk about that with my daughter?

In this strange new world where some members of our nation are zealously clinging to their right to own guns, where any attempt at greater gun safety and regulation is met with an outcry of “You can’t take my guns away from me!”, where someone on an FBI watch list can still own a gun and carry it into a place of safety and sanctuary and act out his dream of being a vengeful god, where being gay can still result in persecution, shame and outright fear …

I don’t know what to say to my daughter about that. She’s afraid for me, and I can’t tell her that fear is unfounded.

All I can tell her is this:

Yes, there is a lot of hatred in the world.

That hatred tends to come from fear and ignorance of those we don’t understand.

That hatred can sometimes result in evil, violent action.

But there are far more people who believe in the value of love, and human life, than not. Evil doesn’t rule. It just gets more press.

Oh, and one other thing:

There’s no way in hell that evil is going to keep me from dancing. Ever.

Pulse nightclub mass shooting photo: ©  Alex / Adobe Stock.

Editor’s Note: We’re digging into our ample archives to find some great articles you might have missed over the years. This one comes from 2014.

There’s a theme circulating on the Internet right now, mostly related to prom season – dads who threaten their daughters’ dates.

I’ve seen it on T-shirts, tweets, Facebook messages, and other places. The posts usually include a reference to the father’s guns, bullets, and, sometimes, boots. A list outlines the father’s expectations for the potential boyfriend and usually ends with a comment that if some boy mistreats his daughter in any way, then the above-mentioned guns/bullets/boots will be used on said guy.

These are well-meaning dads who want to display their devotion to their daughters, I’m sure. And as the father of a little girl, I get it.

I understand the love you have for your daughter, but let me be clear. If you mistreat any of my sons when they show up to your 1950s doorstep to take your daughter out on a date, you’ll have to answer to me.

I do not take disrespect lightly and that rings true from adult to child. I’m teaching my sons and daughter to respect others, so don’t be a jerk and act like a tough guy when my boys come around your girls.

Because you know what? If you act that way, they won’t come around and your daughter will probably sneak out to meet them anyway.

I get it. I get that you want to preserve your daughter’s innocence. That you want to be the only man in your daughter’s life. But you won’t be. So instead of bragging about how you’ll threaten your daughter’s dates with your guns and the “whooping” you’re going to give that boy if he breaks her heart or mistreats her, teach your daughter:

To stick up for herself and others.

To be wise and independent.

To be smart and courageous.

To value her own image and hold it in high self-esteem.

To make good choices.

To hold on to something that’s worth waiting for (and that means having “The Talk” with them). That’s what I’m teaching my girl … and my boys.

So go ahead and post your blah-blah-blah and that you have blah-blah-blah and you’ll do blah-blah-blah if some guy does blah-blah-blah.

But I suggest, instead, that you quit talking and start raising. (And encouraging, for that matter.) Throwing out ridiculous threats won’t stop boys and girls from doing anything. The best way to protect them is to raise them to make good decisions for themselves.  Have frank discussions about the risks of engaging in certain behaviors and the benefits of waiting for the one that may change their lives for the better. And you don’t want to risk scaring away the person that could do that.

Threaten daughter’s dates photo: © Mdv Edwards / Adobe Stock.