“Dude, you can live with us if you need to!”

My childhood buddy, Tim, blurted these words when I told him my parents were divorcing. I was 17 years old at the time, and to this day I appreciate his dramatic concern for me.

But I had to smile and remind him: “I’m not becoming an orphan. But thanks for the offer.”

Tim’s offer was tempting. His parents, Jerry and Ann, had been like a “second Dad and Mom” to me for years. Although I enjoyed a healthy upbringing and loved my parents, Tim’s house became the neighborhood “hub” or hangout, especially for boys, during my childhood. The main reason? He had three brothers—Cary, Bryan and Brendan—who loved to play pick-up sports.

The brothers and a group of neighborhood buddies would play street hockey out front, ping pong in the basement, and/or card games in the kitchen nearly every day. During a few of those early years we even played ice hockey on a backyard rink, and Jerry would help me tie my skates. Even before we knew we were hungry, Ann would provide a vat of chili or a pan full of bacon to be devoured by growing boys.

My Second Mom — the “boy whisperer”

Looking back, Ann was especially gifted as the mother of four boys. Somehow she navigated all that roughhousing and trash-talking (along with all that equipment) with grace. And her skills as a nurse helped with all the minor injuries compiled along the way.

You could say Ann was a “boy whisperer.” She often used humor to cope with the chaos surrounding her. For example, she hung an attractive sign above the toilet in the basement bathroom that read: “My aim is to keep this bathroom clean. Your aim will help.”

One of her favorite stories about raising four boys involved her son Bryan when he was young. On a particularly frustrating day as a tired mother buried in childcare, she lamented aloud that she always thought her life would be filled with fame and fortune. Then she heard Bryan’s little voice try to encourage her.

“Guess you have to go to Plan B, Mom!” he said.

Ann would always cackle at that punchline, displaying just how much she loved her boys—a different kind of family wealth.

Ann was not all food and games, however. Whenever we stepped out of line, she would gently nudge us to be better people by saying “hear—hear.” That was her way of getting our attention. What she was really saying was “Have a conscience at the base of all that goofing around.”

No doubt my childhood friends and I didn’t thank Ann enough back then. But that is what made her well-attended 80^th birthday party so special several years ago. Because Ann had “showed up” for them as boys, many of those neighborhood buddies “showed up” for her decades later. I have never seen so many grown men (including myself) proclaiming their gratitude to one woman for positively impacting their boyhoods.

During our many toasts to Ann, it was as if she had created a “Fifth Son” Olympics in which we were all competing. Of course, she had already won the gold medal in the “Second Mom” event. One guy even called Ann his “Second Mom” in front of his “First Mom,” who looked on approvingly because she was Ann’s friend and former neighbor.

Appreciate “Second Moms and Dads”

Sadly, Jerry passed away many years ago, and Ann passed more recently. Perhaps the most poignant image from Ann’s memorial service featured many of those same grown men “showing up” again to carry her casket. That is the power of a “Second Mom.”

Although “second Moms and Dads” don’t get a national day of recognition, maybe they should. So be sure to think about the people who may have acted as “second parents” in your childhood. Try to thank them, if possible. Hopefully, you can also serve as a second parent to some of your children’s friends. Be a host, coach, teach, carpool, tell stories or just plain show up and listen to them.

Tim’s offer for me to join his family back in a moment of crisis when I was 17 made me realize I would always have both a first and a second home in this world. Many decades later, I visited Ann in a nursing home, shortly before her passing. When she saw me, her eyes lit up and she whispered: “Vin-Man.” That was one of my nicknames in childhood, and hearing her say it made me feel like a superhero. 

In essence, that’s what “second parents” do. They make children feel special and show them they have a second home if needed. Hence, “Second Moms and Dads” are like Plan B. So here’s to Plan B!   

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.

I bought my 18-month-old a knife.

That statement sounds outrageous, but it is 100% true.

Legacy and leaving something to be remembered by has been really on my mind since I became a dad nearly four years ago. Those thoughts ramped up in particular this past year as my father-in-law was diagnosed with cancer and I visited my dad’s grave (only the second time in the past 25 years). I didn’t know what to do with these thoughts; I started writing letters to my kids for them to open at a future date. But I was searching for more.

The answer came from a not-so-unusual place. I was at a regular Boy Scouts meeting on a Friday night. A ritual I have kept up since I was only 10½ and has followed me into adulthood. That night our troop’s committee chairman Tom Dowd was running a program about knife safety.

Mr. Dowd, who I will always refer to that way out of respect, brought his collection of knives. Small ones, big ones, plain ones, and very ornate ones as well. The one that stood out to me was a small folding blade knife with a faux wood exterior that he said once belonged to his father. And it clicked. I needed to get a knife that I could pass along to my son when the time was right. I had recently lost a nice, simple locking blade Gerber knife, so it was an opportune time to purchase a new one.

Getting that unintentional advice from Mr. Dowd was exactly what I needed to hear from the male role model of my boyhood. Through the years Mr. Dowd has treated me and a few others who have gone under his wing as surrogate sons, both in the troop and in real life. Over the years our families had gone on vacations together, family weddings, and had many good times. But even in tough times he was there, after I lost my job last summer, I would run into him on the street and we would talk about strategies and ideas. Just brainstorming. He told me about times when he was out of work and that he eventually bounced back. And no matter how my career goes on from here, I know I can bounce ideas off him and that he has my back.

Years ago, when he got a job out of the city and could no longer fulfill his responsibilities with the troop as Scoutmaster, he picked me as his successor. There were older more experienced candidates, but he knew I could take the reigns and be successful.

It goes to show you that “dads” aren’t always related to you. And it’s a title that you have to earn from your kids; whether they are your own, or if they are ones that you find along the way.

So, I found a small knife, similar to the one I had lost. Sharp and true.  This would be the one that gets passed down to my son. I am sure that if he follows my footsteps into scouting he will have his own knives over the years. But even if he doesn’t, one day he will show off a nice modest knife and say, “This was my dad’s knife.”

This article was originally published 2012. Photo by Lum3n via Pexels.

I want nothing more than for my 5-year-old son to grow up to be a gentleman. Of course, I know he’s watching my every move and learns more from the way I act than from what I say. So to raise a gentleman, I too must be a gentleman in my everyday life.

Here are five of the things I’m encouraging in him.

1. Say “thank you”

When someone does something nice for you, say “thank you.” It’s such a simple thing to do, but it can really mean a lot. Saying “thank you” seems to come naturally to my son. Even on nights I know he doesn’t like what I’ve cooked for dinner he still tells me, “Thank you for making dinner, Dad.” Or at night while we’re reading books he’ll say, “Thanks for reading my story” or “Thank you for helping me learn that word.”

2. Hold doors open for others

A gentleman holds doors open for others, men or women. It’s just the polite thing to do. Yes, it is annoying when it’s the middle of winter and your son insists on standing out in the cold holding the door open for everyone at preschool, but instilling this lesson is worth it in the long run.

3. Use a proper greeting

This is one task kids have a tough time with. I tell my son that when he meets someone for the first time, he should do three things: make eye contact, give a firm handshake and say, “Nice to meet you.” Properly meeting people is important because a limp handshake, looking away from a person and mumbling “hey” is not going to help make friends, make a good impression at a job interview, and most importantly, it’s not going to help him meet girls.

4. Serve others first

This is another task that is not always easy for kids – especially if we’re talking about passing out dessert. But, when my son is in charge of passing out a snack, drinks or dinner he’s been taught to give to his sisters first, then himself last.

5. Be honest

Did you clean your room? Did you punch your sister? Honesty – the most important characteristic can also be the hardest one to teach.

A version of Raise a Gentleman of this first appeared on Indy’s Child. Photo: ©Africa Studio / Adobe Stock.

The string of celebrity deaths that started this year affected me, as a parent, more than they usually do. 

The seemingly ageless Betty White, weeks from her 100^th birthday.

Less than a week later, we lost legendary and groundbreaking screen actor Sidney Poitier.

Then came beloved TV dad and standup legend Bob Saget.

I always mourn the loss of life no matter what the person’s age. However, these three in particular made me very introspective about my own mortality and life.

I only saw a handful of movies by Sidney Poitier, but I knew he was pioneer for Black actors. He paved the way for many people of color in an industry that had long regulated them to roles like servants or uneducated punch lines. Poitier did so by taking on roles where he showed himself to be smart, eloquent and as fierce as they come. The ambitious son in A Raisin in the Sun. The compassionate but no-nonsense teacher in To Sir, With Love. So many more. He will always be considered one of the greatest actors ever. 

And I can tell you, with all honesty, that being Black and having the last name Gibbs, I often re-wrote his famous quote from In The Heat of The Night to my own benefit. However, the impact of introducing myself by authoritatively saying, “THEY CALL ME, MR. GIBBS!” goes directly over the heads of elementary school children I substitute teach.

Prime time parenting lessons learned

Betty White and Bob Saget were different. I watched them weekly growing up as part of my Friday and Saturday evening TV routine with my parents. Those nights included watching many now classic feel-good family shows like Family Matters, Amen, 227, Perfect Strangers and Empty Nest. Those prime time family shows shaped my youth. Several showed strong Black families with educated and hardworking parents like mine. Seeing those people on screen, as well as IRL in my home, let me know I too could achieve that.

But those prime time memories of being on the couch watching Golden Girls and Full House remain my fondest. I remember laughing with my mom at the crazy stories of Betty White’s “Rose” told about her hometown of St. Olaf. I clearly recall the goofy-yet-knowing smile creeping across the face of Bob Saget’s loveable “Danny Tanner” as he taught his girls right from wrong. (Later in life, I gained a newfound appreciation for Saget’s acting skills. This was when he revealed himself to be closer to the raunchy Redd Foxx than squeaky clean Jim Gaffigan in his standup act and post-Full House movie appearances.)

This is all to note that we no longer live in that age. “Must See TV” night and appointment television are gone. We can binge-watch an entire season of a show in a less than a day then move onto another. And, as parents with increasing responsibilities, it easier to plop your kids alone in front of the TV so you can take a break time rather than share family time. 

But I would challenge you to do something a bit different next time your kids want to watch The Thundermans or Family Reunion or even SpongeBob SquarePants:  WATCH IT WITH THEM.

Make TV time a learning time

You may think these shows are for kids and harmless. However, every once in a while, sit down and watch in right along with them. You may roll your eyes at the predictable stories line, overacting and terrible jokes (not all the different from shows of our youth, am I right), but put them in context. Adults write these shows. Many have adult concepts and mature themes slipped in that your kids might have questions about. They may also promote bad habits that are often dismissed by well-placed laugh track.

This is not to say that these shows are sinister, but they also should not be seen as babysitters. Make more attempts to watch your kids’ shows with them and when the credits start to roll, ask questions.

What happened in the show? What themes and lessons emerged? Do they have questions about what they where watching? Did anything words or actions need explaining? While binge watching can be fun, taking time in between shows to find some tangible takeaways they can grown on can be valuable.

These can be something as simple as how to be nicer to your siblings. These could be more complex, such as how to deal with the death of a loved one. Watching Golden Girls as a child really helped me see the value in long-lasting friendships (and how amazing cheesecake can be). Amen, for example, showed me the power of faith, a trend continued in the Family Reunion on Netflix. Full House showed a single dad trying to be a great example to his kids. 

So, make that TV time with your kids impactful and active. Your kids will be better for it because you showed interest in something they like. It might be a somewhat out of your comfort zone, but you will be a better parent because you will get what make your kids laugh, what makes them cry and maybe a little bit more about makes them tick.

Prime time parenting photo: ©Prostock-studio / Adobe Stock.

We’re only a few days from February: How many of you are still keeping to your resolutions? How many of you made resolutions? How many of you know what a resolution means?

Dictionary.com lists one definition of “resolution” as a decision or determination. So what decision did we make for this year? To save more money? Eat better? Finally start using the treadmill gathering cobwebs in the basement corner?

For whatever reason, we often think a resolution has to be this grandiose idea we must let everyone know on social media. We think that if we put it out there others will hold us accountable and we’ll have to stick to it. Friends, that is not the case. The resolutions we make are for ourselves and not for others.

I used to make big resolutions like the ones above, but things changed when I became a parent. I realized this: While it’s good to be healthier and wiser with your money, the main thing you need to do every year is be better than you were the year before. You do not have to change much about yourself if you just try to do a little better.

That is my resolution every year: Do better.

And what does this mean?

To me it means to be there more for my children — every day. For example, one year I started working two jobs, leaving me pretty tired during the week. However, instead of focusing on being tired, I refocused the energy I did have toward my children. Whether it meant reading a few books with them or just being silly with them in the house until we fall down from laughing too hard. I want their memories of their dad to be good ones, not “dad was always too tired to play with us.”

I also need to do better with the world around me. While I know I cannot change every problem in the world right now, I can change what is going on around me. I can smile more to the people I pass on the street as I walk to work. That one smile could change a person’s day. Try it out sometimes. Just smile. And say hello to people, too.

We have to remember we are our children’s role models. As their parents, we must set a good example for them. If our children see us trying a little harder every day to improve the world around us, it will encourage them to have that mentality in life. I would love if my children never stopped doing better their entire lives and always strive to be better than they were the day before.

Just imagine how much our children can accomplish if we showed them how to do better.

So if your New Year’s diet plan hasn’t been working out like you hoped, instead try focusing on what you can do better for yourself and others. And try doing that a little more of that each day.

Photo: © Natallia / Adobe Stock.

If you have young children, chances are you’ve at least heard of the Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s animated show Bluey (it’s on the Disney channels in the United States). This isn’t a show to simply entertain the kids, and it’s not some fad. It’s a show about parenting, written by a dad, produced by a different dad, and with a main character who is a stay-at-home dad character we should all strive to like.

Set on the outskirts of Brisbane, the show’s characters are all dogs, and the central family is the Heelers. The father, Bandit Heeler, is the primary caregiver. He’s a part-time archeologist (a dog who digs bones, get it?) but the only work we ever see is his main job: raising his two daughters: 6-year-old Bluey and 4-year-old Bingo. Bandit’s wife, Chili, completes the family, and is often privy to their crazy games. Even their adult neighbor, Lucky’s Dad, goes along with the fun.

But this isn’t just a silly kids show. Each episode is only eight minutes (there are more than 100 so far), yet in a mere eight minutes, you’ll see positive values, universal truths and the importance of imaginative play. To do all this and still appeal to infants, adults and every age between is impressive.

Bluey is full of humor and heart, but it’s also deep. In the episode “Copycat,” Bluey deals with learning about death by mimicking her parents. In “Grandad,” we see Chili begging her older dad to slow down, and how time passes differently for grandparents.

“I’m not taking advice from a cartoon dog!” proclaims Bandit, during the episode “Flat Pack.” But that’s exactly what we, as dads should do. Bandit’s real. And a refreshing change. He’s not the buffoon dad (a trope still in use in, from cartoons like Peppa Pig through adult sitcoms like Modern Family), or the absentee dad (another trope). And despite the wholesome feel, the show is pure fun. It’s not the “after-school special” feeling you’ll get from an episode of Daniel Tiger or Sesame Street.

Bandit, who was even named (canine) Father of Year in Australia in 2020, always puts his kids first, sometimes by letting them solve their own problems. When Bluey wants to quit riding a bike (in “Bike”) he doesn’t stop her or argue. He says “OK,” but then encourages her to watch all her friends persevering at other things, until Bluey gets on the bike again herself. Bandit is also a dad who ALWAYS plays games with his kids. The kids don’t leave him alone when he has to use the bathroom. The car is littered with food and toys. There’s always laundry and there are times he’s too tired to get up. In “Mount MumandDad,” the parents are so exhausted they can’t move, but still they play. In “Daddy Drop-Off,” Bandit doesn’t want to play because he’s running late, but he still plays. There is always time for play and for fun.

In fact, every episode is a new, imaginative, fully interactive game. Not just games to watch, but games my kids love to play with me now. Games to play with your kids. Yeah, it’s tiring. I’m not sure how Bandit is always so animated. Maybe it’s because he’s a cartoon. But it’s worth it.

Best of ‘Bluey’

Even if you don’t have young kids, you should still watch. In fact, this is the only show I enjoy watching without the kids. (Rolling Stone magazine listed it in its Top 100 sitcoms of all time earlier this year.) It’s that fun. If you’re a Dad wondering where to start, here’s my top seven episode recommendations (all can be streamed on Disney+) for dads, and why:

1. “Café” – This is one of the episodes that hits home to me. Bandit and Bluey meet a new dad and his daughter at the playground. The kids are instant friends. But the dads … well, sometimes it takes adults longer to make friends than it takes kids.
2. “Daddy Drop Off” – Bandit’s running late dropping the kids at school. He doesn’t want to keep playing but does. And we see that choosing to play matters, not just to Bandit’s kids, but to others.
3. “Baby Race” – All right, this is a mom-focused episode, but we all remember the struggles of when the kids were growing up and ‘competing’ with other parents over which kid walked first, etc.
4. “Fancy Restaurant” – One thing I think all parents struggle with, especially with little kids, is finding time for our relationship to our spouse, when our lives are dominated by the kids. Bandit admits he’s “forgotten how to romance” in this charming, fun episode.
5. “Takeaway” – Yeah, kids get bored. Yeah, life happens. Sometimes it all just goes downhill. But if you can laugh about it …
6. “Octopus” – Playing nonstop games isn’t for everyone. Heck, I’ve three decades of theater and improv training and still find these games exhausting. In this episode, Chloe (a friend of Bluey’s) has a dad who feels like he can’t play the way Bandit does, but he still wants his daughter to have fun. It’s okay to play differently.
7. “The Dump” – On a trip to the dump, Bluey and Bingo question if their dad is really the best in the world. It’s okay to not be perfect. 

Beyond just the episodes, I really try to get into the games shown. “Magic Xylophone” may be the simplest Bluey game. A ding (which can even just be someone saying “ding”) makes everyone else freeze. Pretty simple. Or “Shadowlands,” where the shadows are land and the sunlit patches are water. Kids have limitless imaginations. Everything can be a game, and kids learn best through play.

Bandit won’t take advice from a cartoon dog. But we should. It’s OK to be goofy. It’s OK to be a little crazy. It’s OK to teach through pure fun. As the Aussies say: wackadoo!

About the author

Chris Mannino lives with his wife and two children. As a full-time stay-at-home dad, he considers himself a lion tamer, cat herder, sanitation manager, personal chef, private teacher and more. Somehow, he also manages to squeeze in a writing career: crafting fantasy stories from picture books through adult. Visit him at www.ChristopherMannino.com

What is the hardest part of parenting? Sometimes, it’s the pressure to be as good a role model as possible — in all situations.

Let’s face it, our kids are always watching us. That often brings out the best in us. But sometimes my inner Charles Barkley just wants to say, “I’m tired of the role model pressure.”

At those times, it can help to be inspired by a fellow parent. Recently, that parent was my own father, Ed. Ed is a retired English professor who moved with my stepmother to Asheville, N.C., many years ago. He had children later in life, and I’m the youngest of his six kids.

Last year, Ed turned 90. He also started self-publishing an environmental newsletter that he sends to dozens of family members, friends and former colleagues. Each issue contains summaries of news stories related to climate change — anything from methane to mosquitoes, floods to fires.

When I received my first copy, I was stunned. How does he have the energy to be an environmental activist at age 90? Doesn’t he just want to relax? My father always had passion for progressive causes, beginning with his participation in the civil rights movement in the 1960s. But to continue churning out information and trying to improve the world in his 10th decade on Earth truly impressed me.

Change is in the air, literally

His power as a role model came at an especially good time given all the discouragement the pandemic has caused, especially for children. My two daughters are part of a teen-and-young-adult generation living through a torrent of depressing news cycles. The pandemic itself. Climate change catastrophes. Civil unrest. Political rancor. It can all get a bit overwhelming.

So I made sure to show my daughters the example of their grandfather’s newsletters. His inspiring example at age 90 is worth much more than any lecture I could give them about not getting discouraged by the state of the world.

Sadly, the urgency of the environmental problems in my father’s newsletters became palpable a few weeks ago in his own town during one of our visits. As we made the long drive to Asheville, I noticed the sky seemed especially hazy, with sunlight partially obstructed. Upon arriving, we learned it was because of all the smoke created by wildfires on the West coast.

The air quality was so bad, my father had to stay inside for several days since his advanced age has impacted his breathing. Other health issues have made it hard for him to speak, unfortunately. But that only makes what he states in his newsletters even more poignant.

Leading by example the best way to lead

No role model is perfect, of course. And certainly our family had its share of problems as I grew up. Overall, however, I see my father is more than a grandparent. He’s a grand role model, and I’m thankful my children get to see the way he lives his life.

I like to think of my father’s example as a reminder for all parents to keep trying to model inspiring behavior. Whether contributing to your home, neighborhood or community, keep showing children that they have the ability to improve their surroundings. Try to involve them in family volunteering or charitable giving. In a sense, a parent is a huge part of a child’s environment, and we are all environmental activists, just in different ways.

There’s one more reason to continue trying to be a role model: you never know when a fellow parent is watching and getting re-inspired by you. That’s what happened to me when I read my father’s initial e-mail introducing his environmental newsletter: “This service is free; it is a service of love. I believe that the only chance we have is to build up interest at all levels in the problem, since the solution involves all of us taking long-range action.”

My 7-year-old son has been copying more of what I’m doing lately, major and minor things. He’s been wanting to learn how to cook. He’s started display his action figures the same way I do with my collection. He’s also started beating me at checkers.

I think its because he spends a lot more time than usual  with me at home because of the coronavirus pandemic along with him being at an age where he observes and analyzes a lot more of what I do. In that way, it’s a good thing. He is gaining a keen insight into the exciting world of being a stay-at-home dad.

The drama. The intrigue. The laundry.

Way back in normal times (January 2020 seems like a lifetime ago at this point), the 3:15 p.m. end of his school day only marked the beginning of his second shift. Tee ball, swim class at the Y and other activities kept him moving from one place to the next at an almost breakneck speed. Then came the weekends filled with ball games, birthday parties and any number of other events that made Saturdays and Sundays anything but restful for either of us. The pandemic slowed that all down and that has translated into a lot more IRL face time as opposed to the iPhone kind with our little ones.

As a result, many of us are seeing our kids in a new light. We are seeing what their teachers, coaches and instructors did at all those times our children were away from us. This is also true from our kids’ point of view. Since we are spending so much more time in front of our children we need stay aware that our children’s eyes are always on us.

Take what happened to me a few weeks ago. I was in the kitchen preparing lunch for my son and his younger twin siblings. As I was getting some seasoning out of the cabinet, my oldest said to me, “Can I make you lunch?”

He caught me a little off guard. He had never asked anything like that before. As I carefully weighed my response, I noticed out of the corner of my eye the Play-Doh tools he had carefully set out on the living room floor. “Sure,” I said. “That would be great.

I figured that would be the end of it. Instead, he asked, “What would you like?”

I was not really ready for a follow up. “I would like a hamburger, Caesar salad, carrot sticks, a pepperoni pizza with anchovies and molten lava cake.” Ten minutes later, I would have each of those items handmade for me by my very talented and industrious son.

All this might seem like a common occurrence: kids making “play food” for their parents to “eat.” But how often does this happen in homes where no cooking goes on? Is pretend food preparation a normal activity kids do just because they are kids or was my son mimicking what he sees me and his mother doing regularly?

They always watching, imitating

You’ve probably heard the saying. “Dance like nobody is watching.” The thing is children watch everything we do. Everything. As parents, we need to be more conscious of not only what we say, but what we do. Even the most mundane action can shape and mold how our kids see the world and how they will respond to it. A simple act like seeing me folding laundry reinforces that there are no outdated gender roles in our home. A dad can cook, a dad can clean, just like a mom can fix the car or shovel the driveway after a snowstorm.

Sometimes, in this messy hectic world of parenting, we have the most influence on our kids in the times we think they aren’t paying attention to us: Grooving to a song from our past when it comes on the radio, making a meal in the kitchen, asking your daughter hand you tools as “fix” the dishwasher. They all leave impressions about who we are and what being an adult is, even if the impression isn’t always 100 percent or true to life (hint — my daughter may think I’m a mechanical genius but that dishwasher certain doesn’t). Even the things we say around our kids has an impact. How often have you had a conversation with one of your children and they break out a phrase or wording you recognize as your own?

We may not see these imprints immediately. Growing up, my mom did 99 percent of the food preparation in our house, but she always made sure to explain to me how she was doing it because she never wanted me eating cereal for dinner or depending on anyone else (besides her, of course) for my food. Now here I am today, cooking for my family just as she did for hers.

None of us are perfect as parents, but the eyes and ears of our little ones are always absorbing all they see and hear around them. We must set the example we want them to model for their kids. Whether it’s seasoning a piece of meat or folding the laundry, even the small, most seemingly frivolous moments can all be teachable moments that go a long way toward building the character of our kids.

Set example photo: © iQoncept / Adobe Stock.

“There he is. Over there. In the shadows. On a bench. He’s wearing a knit hat. His beard is a little haggard. Maybe he hasn’t slept in a while, or maybe, just maybe he’s some sort of bearded creeper. He’s just hanging out in a park, surrounded by kids and staring. He’s the only male here. Is he a dad? I haven’t seen him with any kids. He’s just sitting there. Watching the kids play. Something’s off. Oh, no. He made eye contact with me. Is he smiling at me? What’s his deal!?”

As a house husband, I’m often the one taking the kids to the park, gymnastics, school, or dance. You name it. It’s me. The dad. Outdoing what society often perceives (incorrectly, I might add) to be a mom’s job. A generation or two of aloof and distant fathers has made sure this increasingly inaccurate perception persists.

So it seems only natural that when I end up being the only dad in a sea of moms, moms conditioned by society (and other idiot men) to perceive a lone male as a danger and potential threat, I’m met with suspicion and furtive glances suggesting I may not be welcome. Even as I type this while sitting in a large bookstore, there happens to be a children’s book reading. I walked over to check it out, and the looks followed. The moms held their children’s hands a little tighter, and I felt a little sad.

When I first felt like the Bearded Creeper, I thought, “Surely I can disarm these ladies with a little charm, a dash of humor, and a soupcon of razzle-dazzle.” I quickly learned this was a bad approach. My socially awkward demeanor made all my attempts at being friendly appear like bad attempts at flirtation. I also decided the healthy response wasn’t, “Take it easy, Grandma. I’m just being nice.”

This situation was made worse at my daughter’s gymnastics class. It was the type of class where the parents are out on the mats with the kids. Let’s just say the dad in baggy jeans and old-man New Balance sneakers didn’t quite fit in with the former gymnast, yoga-pants wearing, latte moms. My charm was equally awkward in that situation.

Hang on. Is it possible I’m not charming?

I don’t blame women, protective moms especially, for reacting to me as they do. How can I? I’d have to be ignorant of certain social realities to expect anything different, but it bums me out. Even worse? I don’t know what to do.

A friend of mine often says, “If you want better people, make better humans.” As a father, this resonates with me. I can’t, on my own, fix society’s failures. I can’t make every mom at the park feel better with a little joke, and to think I can is hubris. What I can do, and what all fathers can do, is commit to making better humans, and in this case, better little boys.

So I model the healthy male behavior I hope my son will exhibit. Like choosing to be nice when others aren’t. Being respectful, without demanding someone “earn” your respect. Being helpful, but not imposing yourself on those who may not want your help. This is the same way my father taught me how to be a better human. These small, nuanced actions and choices demonstrate the value of each life.

Modeling good male behavior may feel like an easy out for combating the quagmire of social ills all modern societies face. Angry social media posts are far sexier. Fiery rants and public rage are also quite popular, but the real work starts at home. There we can work together to create better people.

Or, you know, we could all just shave.

Model male behavior photo: ©Krakenimages.com / Adobe Stock.