I was second-guessing my decision before the first practice ended. 

As soon as I got home, I told my wife I wasn’t sure if this was going to work.

Growing up, I never played soccer. To this day, I’ve never even been to a game. Sure, I’ll tune in to the World Cup every four years, pull for the U.S. National Team, and enjoy the festivities. But aside from that, soccer is near the bottom of my sports interests.

So, of course, it made perfect sense that I not only sign my 3-year-old son up for soccer this spring, but also volunteer to be an assistant coach on his team.

I had it all figured out. Soccer is the perfect sport to introduce toddlers to athletics. You give them a ball and they run around with their new friends. In my head, this youth soccer experience would be the start of my son’s Hall of Fame professional sports career, and I would be right there on the sidelines coaching him.

Dad excited to coach, his son …

As men, as soon as we find out we’re having a son, we immediately start dreaming up scenarios in which we can have father-son bonding moments through activities we enjoyed growing up, often with our own dads. I vividly remember my dad as a coach for my pee wee football team. When he wasn’t coaching, he and other dads were right there in the bleachers and along the sidelines at nearly every game all the way through high school. It set a precedent I knew I wanted to follow with my own son.

When it was time to start with my child, I was more excited than my son. He had zero concept of what soccer actually was. He just knew we got to go to a park and run around with other kids his age. That was the exciting part for him.

As I attempted to “coach” him, I would soon learn the line between coach and dad would be a hard one for him to understand at his young age. I was Daddy. Who were these other kids I was showing what to do? Why was I talking differently than how I did at home? Why are you even out here? It was interesting to observe.

To his credit, my son locked in when the head coach spoke. It was similar to how he is at swimming class and daycare. He listens to his teachers. But when I’m around, naturally his entire demeanor changes.

I’ve described the soccer experience to date as “up and down.” One practice, he’ll be into it, participating in the drills and such. The next, he’ll be more interested in picking up pieces of grass and playing in the dirt. The irony is that after every practice he says he had fun and immediately asks if we can do it again.

It was clear the problem was not him, it was me.

Adjust and accept

Could I be a coach and be a dad to a toddler who is being introduced to a whole new world? Could I put my unrealistic expectations on hold and let him just enjoy himself?

Initially, I couldn’t. And that was evident at a practice in which my son went into full meltdown mode. Falling out, screaming, and just refusing to cooperate. We’ve all been there. I was stuck between frustration and embarrassment.

I quickly realized I wasn’t angry at him. My anger came from the vision in my head not coming to fruition.

Oftentimes, our vision for what we want our experience as dads to be is smacked in the face by the realities of life. It sometimes just doesn’t work out how we want. This is not to say we shouldn’t have plans and dreams. We just need to be mentally prepared to accept when those plans don’t work out.

It was a hard pill to swallow, but that realization made me step back and look in the mirror. I had to change my approach to what I wanted this experience to be.

Maybe that’s the lesson I need to learn during this soccer experience. When I look at my son, he’s having a blast doing his version of soccer, no matter how frustrating it is for me at times. At the end of the day, this season will be about creating lifelong memories.

That will mean more than any goal he’ll ever score.

Coach dad photo: ©kudosstudio / Adobe Stock.

Three years ago, my wife told me the news: we were expecting our second child. We were thrilled. We also knew exactly what to expect. After all, we’d been down this road before.

The famous book What to Expect When You’re Expecting is a classic guide for new parents. It answers all those big questions about pregnancy and the early months. We didn’t need to review it, though. We already had one kid, we knew exactly what to expect. In fact, we were quite convinced Kid No. 2 was going to be simple compared to Kid No. 1.

We couldn’t have been more wrong.

Every child is unique. It took time to adapt to my son’s unique interests and acknowledge that he wasn’t, in fact, a Mini-Me. Yet, the things that make him unique are worth cherishing. In a similar vein, my daughter is not Kid No. 2. She’s not a book we’re re-reading or the second season of a show we’ve already started. She definitely isn’t her big brother. She’s her own unique self, with her own joys and challenges. She is not what we expected. The entire act of parenting multiple children is different than we expected as well.

Different right from the start

When kids are born, they are blobs capable of three things: eating, going in their diapers, and sleeping. Don’t get me wrong, they’re adorable little blobs. To their sleep-deprived, often-struggling parents, those blobs are pure perfection. But again, we knew exactly what to expect with our second one … or did we?

My son was easy to feed, but impossible to get to sleep. I fed him bottles in the middle of the night, and he downed them. I’d also drive him for hours in circles hoping the car would lull him into slumber. My daughter, however, was a great sleeper. She laid down and slept. But feeding … Well, for the first six months of her life my daughter wanted nothing to do with me. To use a quote from the old show Dinosaurs, I was “not-the-Mama.” Never mind that I was the stay-at-home parent, and in charge of feedings and keeping her happy. If I was around there were tears and yells. No bottles. Ever. Especially from that bearded non-the-Mama guy.

Fast forward a bit, and the differences continue. Every time we think we know what’s next, we’re wrong. My son was an early speaker. He was forming entire sentences and stories before age 2. He wasn’t as physically curious, however, especially with things like climbing. My daughter is a climber and a daredevil. She sees a ledge and she instantly jumps. Daddy — who is tolerable now, I’m happy to say, though still apparently less fun than Mom — will catch her. That’s the belief. Sometimes she leaps with eyes closed, saying “Dad.” Just a literal leap of faith. They’re quite terrifying. She sees a ledge and jumps. She spies something small and completely inedible — into the mouth it goes. Why are toddlers so darned self-destructive? On the other hand, she’s only just talking now, at nearly 3. Completely unlike my son. Doctors told us there’s nothing wrong with this at all, she just developed differently.

There’s another dynamic to the entire “what to expect when we clearly don’t know what the heck we’re expecting” phase of our life. We spent months preparing our son for his sister’s arrival. We may have watched the show Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood a bit too much. There’s a season about the arrival of Daniel’s baby sister and how he copes with it emotionally. Of course, by the time we were ready to go to the hospital, my son told me how excited he was to meet the new baby tiger our family was having. We did explain that his sister would, in fact, be human.

Unique unto themselves but bonded together

The sibling dynamic is unpredictable and remains so in my family. My daughter idolizes her big brother. Even in her not-fond-of-me-the-Dad phase, she worshiped her brother. She imitates him and laughs when he’s around and always wants to be near him. As for my son, it goes in waves. Sometimes she’s OK, sometimes a friend, but often she’s an obstacle. Jealousy and even cruelty towards her appear from time to time, and they create challenges all their own. Even now, we’re never 100 percent sure what to expect on a day-to-day basis, although we always hope that it’ll be a day when the kids get along. When they do get along, it’s the best. There’s no greater image than the two kids hugging and smiling.

If I had a time machine, and could go back to try and explain to myself what to expect with my second child, I’d start by saying: lose all your expectations. I’d tell myself it’s going to be different than it was the first time. My daughter is unique. She’s an individual, and that’s a wonder in itself. I’d also emphasize to past-me that parenting two is different than parenting one, and a heck of a lot more tiring. There’s more to learn, just when you think you’re finally starting to “get” this parenting deal.

A few weeks ago, I finally broke out of the not-the-Mama phase. My daughter wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me a big kiss on my cheek. She told me she loved me. And my son ran over and hugged us both. One thing I knew to expect, and was right — the good times can be twice as good, and filled with twice the love.

Photo: © Evrymmnt / Adobe Stock.

I knew I was struggling to get my excitement level to where I thought it needed to be as I was preparing to become a father of two. And even though I allowed room to give myself some grace, it still bothered me that I wasn’t bouncing off the walls with enthusiasm for our baby girl’s arrival.

Was there something wrong with me and my approach this go ‘round? Had I changed that much in the nearly three years since I first became a dad? Was this par for the course?

I needed to talk to someone — preferably some guys who’d been in my shoes before.

I reached out to some dad friends with multiple kids to see if what I was feeling — or not feeling — sounded familiar. And for them to talk me off the ledge of the anxiety I was experiencing.

Scrolling through my phone, I was pleasantly surprised at how many names I saw who fit the description of who and what I was looking for. And sure enough, of the few I reached out to, all of them assured me my struggle was common the second and even the third time around.

“You know things now that used to be unknown. There are not many mysteries with this one,” one friend told me. “But once the baby gets here, the joy is the same.”

That piece of advice, along with some other gems I received, has helped me as my wife and I are now less than 10 weeks away from our Christmas Day due date. I’ve accepted the fact I’m not less of a father because this pregnancy process doesn’t look the same as the first. I understand that, in many ways, the responsibilities I have as a parent of an exuberant toddler supersede the immediate feelings that come with the preparation of a newborn.

Community comes through

The value of community in fatherhood cannot be overstated. It corrects us when we’re wrong, lifts us when we’re down and advises us when we’re lost. It’s the shared experiences that make the fatherhood journey special.

That community doesn’t only exist among people you know, either. If I’m somewhere, and I see another dad struggling, the look we exchange lets him know I can relate. It’s something that only parents can understand. We understand that we can’t do this alone. Our village helps us raise our kids. As I’ve experienced, the support from my community has helped ease stress. It’s given me ideas on things I can do with my son that I hadn’t previously considered. It puts my mind at ease to know what I’m going through is not uncommon. I’m a better dad because of the support I receive from my village. My son and daughter will have an advantage in life because of the extended community that’s pouring into them through me.

I recognize my privilege. I’m fortunate to have friends who are parents and willing to lend advice. Some of those same friends were there for me when I was preparing to get married. Community is invaluable. In parenting and in life in general. If you have it, hold on to it. If you haven’t tapped into some form of community, find one as soon as you can. It will not only help your children, but it will help you become a better dad.

Photo: ©Stefano Garau /  Adobe Stock.

I wanted another boy. 

I have no problem admitting it. 

Sure, no matter what we were blessed with, I would be grateful for and pray that he or she would be healthy. But another boy? That would’ve been music to my ears. And don’t get me started on the financial implications. I could just pass all of my 2-year-old’s clothes and toys down to his little brother and not have to worry about buying too many new things. Easy peasy.   

I even had a list of potential names written down. 

So imagine my reaction when my wife received the results of the blood work from her genetics testing that revealed consistencies with that of a female. 

A girl. We’re having a girl. I’m going to be a girl dad this December. 

It took me a while to wrap my head around that news.

For starters, this pregnancy sort of “snuck up” on us. My wife and I both grew up only children, so we definitely knew we wanted more than one child. It was just a matter of when. The “plan” was to get through the summer and my wife’s birthday in October before we really tried. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned this season is that God laughs at whatever plans we think we have. 

Life happens and here we are. 

As we prepare to go from a party of three to four, I’m experiencing a distinct difference in emotions. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled beyond belief. But so far, the excitement I felt when I was getting ready to become a first-time dad, has been replaced with a mixture of concern, worry and anxiety this go-’round. 

Having gone through the process once, I sort of know what to expect out of the actual pregnancy. The doctor’s appointments, the physical and emotional changes my wife will experience and the birth itself. However, in the same breath, I know everything that needs to be done to prepare for baby girl’s arrival. And that’s what’s dominating my mind. I’m thinking about all the logistics.

And how much all of it’s going to cost? 

My friends who are fathers of multiple children have told me this is normal. They said not to worry too much because everything will take care of itself. Some of those same friends who have daughters also shared with me that in becoming a girl dad, I’m about to experience an indescribable love. 

It’s the anticipation of that love, along with the many great things others have described about having a daughter, that has put my worry about her arrival at ease — somewhat. Yes, I’m still worried about getting the nursery together. I still have a list of things we need to get done before December. I’m definitely looking at our budget to figure out how we will make two daycare tuitions work.

But I’m also thinking about the dances we’ll have together in the living room. Figuring out how to do hair. Reassuring her that she’s worthy after a heartbreak. Walking her down the aisle. 

The term “girl dad” became popular in the wake of the untimely passing of Kobe Bryant in 2020. In a conversation with ESPN’s Elle Duncan, Bryant said, “Be thankful that you’ve been given that gift because girls are amazing.”

So even though another boy would’ve been awesome, I’m thankful for the gift we’ve been given. I may be a bit stressed now, but it will be worth it once she gets here, when I’ll officially join the fraternity of girl dads. 

“It’s a Girl” photo: © Mangostar / Adobe Stock.