I am going through a long and sentimental (bordering on mawkish) ending of sorts. It involves a 20-year-old Coleman pop-up camper.

My wife and I bought it new just after we were married. This was well before we had the twins, well before I even dreamed that was on the horizon. It’s old and worn now, ravaged by time, memory, miles and many backyard sleepovers. I am trying to figure out what to do with it as it’s barely roadworthy.

We were so delightfully young and naive when we purchased it. For weeks we looked at floor plans, considering size and amenities, before finally deciding on a smaller one that could be towed by my six-cylinder Chevy S-10. A smaller size would also make backing it up easier. Truth be told, I suck at backing a trailer. This one proved small enough it actually be hand-pushed into a space when necessary. It never occurred to us we might be camping with twin toddlers or giant teenagers, so we based our needs on just us. It contained no toilet and an interior set up to accommodate just two newlyweds and a guitar.

The camper’s been in our backyard for some time now. The boys like to hang out in it as the WiFi reaches that far. I’ve got to put it down before … well, I can’t.

You see, when we bought the camper, I purchased a nice leather-bound journal. I put it in a drawer inside the camper and vowed to write a bit about every night spent in it. And I did. The writing is not very good, few metaphors or deep insights, but the years are covered, each trip dutifully noted. Through the pages, the boys grow up, I age, the relationship with my wife deepens and a continuity and connection is established. Over the years, it has held the stories and hopes of a young family growing together. Stories of thunderstorms and frightened toddlers, scraped knees and sleepless nights. Hopes for the future in the minds of 6-year-olds and my hopes for their lives moving forward.

I am very glad I bought that journal. It sits to my left as I am writing this right now.

I spent a couple of recent evenings in the old camper, looking through what was in it when I came across the journal. With a curious urgency — fueled perhaps by the beers — I put it with the pile of things to take into the house.

Here’s the thing. The “ending” of that old camper is a new “beginning” for that journal. It is done with its long present and now can begin to show me my past: a past where I hoped for my boys’ future. It is so strange how, as one writes in diaries and personal journals, how prescient we can be. There’s an entry from 2011, written of an early morning at a state park in central Ohio, where I say: “The boys are getting along surprisingly well. They rarely fight or bicker and are good friends, it seems. Who knows how long that’ll last, but I really hope it does.”

How could I know then that, nine years later, they’d still be best friends?

Or, that at the time I was watching the beginnings of what I think will be a lifelong friendship?

How, perhaps, would I know that camping and bonding in the close quarters of that little camper would help that along? Maybe I had helped it through sheer happenstance and in a leather-bound journal I’d noted it. Now I can look it up.

Recently, a fellow father and writer on this website purchased a used camper. He solicited advice from a social media group we are in. I typed a long answer — advice on gear and the such — but I deleted it. The real advice was too ethereal and came from a place I’m at now, a place he’ll get to, a place he already is. Camping, like so many other family adventures and hobbies, is about memory-making. Their worth can only be revealed later. However, at the time you’re making them, you still somehow know that even if you don’t realize it then.

About the author

Bill Peebles left a 30-year career in the restaurant business to become a stay-at-home dad to twin boys. He writes a blog, I Hope I Win a Toaster, that makes little sense. Bill also coaches sometimes, volunteers at the schools, plays guitar, and is a damn good homemaker. He believes in hope, dreams, and love … but not computers.

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This blog post, first published in 2020, 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.

When it comes to music, I am a fairly avid metalhead. I am a drummer and skilled air guitarist. I even rocked a mullet with pride through my teen years and well into college. As hard rock is in my blood I assumed, like other genetic traits, my headbanging passion would be passed on to my children. 

When my wife and I found out we were having our first baby, I was thrilled with the notion of educating my child, girl or boy, in the artistry of classic “dad rock” legends like Eric Clapton, Neil Peart, and Pete Townsend. One of the greatest gifts I received as a father-to-be, was a set of CDs that set classic rock songs to lullaby music. While I find something somewhat insidious about playing “Stairway to Heaven” set to the chimes of a lullaby for your sleepy infant, I was secure knowing it was the right thing to do. To complete this induction, after my first daughter was born, I went out and got the perfect complementary clothing: a Rush onesie. I think at one point we had a Black Sabbath outfit, too. All to pass on my love for this music to my daughter. 

Well, have you ever seen the movie This is 40? In one scene, the father (played by Paul Rudd) tries to “enhance” his daughters’ musical education. Dismissing the pop-style tween music that seems to dominate the music scene these days, he tries to introduce them to Alice in Chains. The early Alice in Chains. Steeped in brooding lyrics and heavy guitars. Specifically a song about a man trying to get home from the Vietnam War. That’s some hard-core dad rock. A tough sell for most people much less young girls. In his frustration, he comments crudely on how he wishes just one of them was a boy. 

I have two daughters now. I couldn’t have ever anticipated it, but there is something unbelievably sweet about having girls that I don’t find myself yearning for a boy as many dads do. A boy who would want to rock out would be fantastic, though. … (sigh)

A Rush to dad rock heaven

A good friend and fellow dad and I used to make an annual pilgrimage to see at least one Rush concert a year when they were touring. He has a son a few years older than my daughter and this kid loves Rush. He has his favorite songs, sings along, the whole deal. When we used to go to see Rush, we’d see many dads with their sons and daughters. It was a wholesome show of great music, lasers and video. Completely family-friendly. It has been a dream of mine to someday take my daughters, when they are old enough to enjoy it, to a concert of one of my favorite bands from my youth. Of course, I fear the advancing ages of those bands may prevent it, but my bigger fear is that they simply won’t want to go. 

When my eldest daughter was around 18 months, I would play many of my favorite songs for her and dance around the living room to try and get her excited by it. She would placate me for a few minutes before exclaiming, “Daddy, I don’t like this sound.  Turn it off.” Every time, deflated, I would capitulate. I would tell myself, ”Well, Rush (or whatever band it was) is an acquired taste. Progressive and grunge is a tough sell. I should start with Journey or The Eagles. You know, old-school dad rock.”

Two years later, I have not had much luck. Not for a lack of trying, though.

It’s got a backbeat you can’t lose it

I came home from work last week to find my eldest daughter, now almost 4, and my wife bouncing around the apartment, elated to be singing “Call Me Maybe” by Carly Rae Jepson. My daughter had an enormous grin on her face, laughing so hard she could barely sing and dance. “Again mommy,” she screamed over and over again. 

She now sings the song herself on command for anyone who will listen. A tiny little piece of me cringes on the inside every time I hear it. Yes, it’s adorable and she is so full of life when she sings it and I love to hear her do it, but a part of me cringes. Every time. 

The other day, my youngest daughter (9 months old) was in a teething crying fit that I could not resolve. My wife and other daughter were out. I fired up some random tunes to try and soothe her. 

The raw heavy guitars of Blue Oyster Cult came on.

And, to my complete surprise, she just stopped dead in her tracks. She looked at me and smiled. 

I sang the song to her and she laughed. This went on for a good 20 minutes. Cities on Flame with Rock and Roll indeed. 

It never ceases to amaze me the personalities that our kids have from birth. My girls are still quite young and I won’t ever give up on their musical education. In the end they both have a deep love for music. Whether its Pink Floyd or Taylor Swift, I suppose it’s that deep love of music that I need for them. If they love their music as much as I love mine, I guess I did OK.

This article originally ran in 2013, and has been since updated. Dad rock photo by Alena Darmel via Pexels.

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 2016.

Charlie had to go to the doctor recently. He was not at all pleased about the trip. Our 3 1/2-year-old was in pain and arrived there, with his mom and brother, a hot mess.

Bawling on the floor, he cried like he was getting paid in candy for the tears that hit the floor. It was then that his older brother did something incredibly sweet, genuinely helpful and entirely on his own accord.

He walked over and started asking Charlie questions about Phineas and Ferb.

Phineas and Ferb is something the boys and I watch quite often together as it is as entertaining for adults as it is for children.

“Charlie, who do you think is funnier: Buford or Doctor Doofenshmirtz?”

He thought for a moment and said, “Doof.”

“Charlie, who is funnier: Phineas or Doctor Doofenshmirtz?”

He thought for a second. “Doof.”

The two went on talking about Phineas and Ferb until the doctor called them in.

Brothers: Potential best friend, worst rival

Charlie had gone from zero to crazy meltdown at the drop of a hat but was called back from the edge in the same amount of time just by his big brother making conversation with him. It was something a parent couldn’t have done, but his big brother did it with ease and grace.

In my mind’s eye, I thought about the boys being in their 30s. I hope they are the best of friends when they’re adults. Siblings are one thing; brothers — well, that just has a whole different, deeper and more permanent bond, isn’t it?

I imagine brothers opening up businesses together when they’re older, going on crazy adventures in the backyard or camping with other friends. Brothers, that’s a bond that nothing can break. Siblings are cool and do have a bond, but it certainly varies from family to family. I suspect sisters have the same club as brothers, though. It’s the potential best friend and rival that they’ll have all of their life.

It’s possible what happened in the doctor’s office might have been replicated had they just been siblings and not brothers. Had that been the case it would’ve been cute, too. However, in my “guy” (not to mention, parent) mind, there was something even better about it because it was the two brothers figuring something out and fixing it.

My dad has a younger brother. One time my uncle told me that when he was a child, the only thing he wanted was to be more like his big brother. In response, my dad just shirked and mumbled something smarmy. But that brother bond was still there.

A version of this first appeared on Daddy Mojo. Photo: © luengo_ua / Adobe Stock.

A meme poking fun at parents who had to balance the holidays with throwing parties for their kids who had mid-to-late December birthdays recently floated around the internet. As soon as I saw it, I had to chuckle because, in the middle of trying to make sure everything was in order for Christmas, I had to think to myself, “What about Eden’s birthday?” Sure, the Amazon orders for my son’s gifts from Santa had already been placed, and my wife was taken care of, but what were we going to do on the 27th, my daughter’s birthday?

Back in mid-2021, my wife learned she was pregnant with Baby No. 2. At that time, we were finally finding our footing as parents of a 2-year-old. We were sleeping pretty well and were in that sweet spot before the “terrible twos” really started to show their ugly face. Nonetheless, it was exciting for us to soon grow from a family of three to four.

I did the math in my head and guessed we were likely looking at a December baby. When we went to the OBGYN for our first appointment, they confirmed that Baby Girl Hudson would be due on Christmas Day! Throughout that year, I was back and forth on where I stood on having a Christmas baby. On one hand, I thought it would be really cool. I have some friends and family who are Christmas babies and they love it. And besides, it would be the easiest birthday to remember. On the other hand, I thought about how difficult it could potentially be to try and balance a child’s birthday with everything that comes with Christmas. I thought about how my child would possibly never be able to have a “real” birthday party because her friends would always be with their families and loved ones on Christmas.

Fast forward to December 2021. Christmas eventually came and went with no baby. Our precious Eden ended up coming two days later on Dec. 27. Although it is still the holiday season, she’ll have a day just for her.

As we approached her first birthday a few weeks ago, it was a joy to be able to celebrate with our extended family who we were with for Christmas. It made me realize that balancing the holidays with your child’s birthday isn’t a bad thing at all. We ended up singing “Happy Birthday” and having cake the night of Christmas. It was the perfect end to a beautiful, albeit long, day. Just as I did when my son turned one, I took some time to reflect on my first year as a girl dad and father of two. Three things (among many others) have stood out:

Experience matters

When our son came along, I had no idea what I was doing. I’d never changed a diaper before he was born. It was trial by fire until we sort of figured out what we were doing. When Eden came along, I was three years in the game as a dad. A seasoned vet. I was a more confident dad this go-’round. There was really nothing that surprised me during her first year. From how to deal with the early sleepless nights, to going to the pediatrician, to being able to read and understand my wife in her postpartum state, having “been there before” made this past year much smoother.

Children can fill lifelong voids

As an only child, I’ve always wondered what it was like to grow up with a sibling. I never really dwelled on it because it was just the way life ended up for me. However, now as a dad of two, I catch myself in awe of their interactions on a daily basis. While things got off to a rocky start with Emory being jealous at first, now that we’re a year in, they are inseparable. They go to school together, play together, and show each other affection. It has allowed me to experience something as a dad, I didn’t know I needed. It’s amazing to watch – even when it gets a little testy between the two.

Little girls will melt your heart

My friends told me to get ready. Those guys who were already girl dads warned me that there would be nothing like it. That my little girl would have me wrapped around her finger. I didn’t believe it would be like that. Boy, was I wrong. I love my son unconditionally. We have a father-son bond that I pray lasts forever. But a daughter’s love is different. This past year, I’ve been softened by her presence. Her smile eases the pain of a rough day. She has given me another reason to be the best dad I can be, and even more of a reason to look forward to the holiday season each year.

Photo: © yanlev / Adobe Stock.

Every child is a delight, a joy, a perfect diamond. They are perfect in every way from the moment of their birth until the moment they leave the nest, and even after.

Except when they’re not.

A few months ago, I sat in the car line waiting to pick up my 5-year-old son from kindergarten. My phone buzzed with a message from his teacher. And then another. And another.

My son had thrown blocks at a student. When confronted by the teacher, he yelled at her. Eventually, it escalated all the way into him punching one of the other students.

There are many messages parents dread. Our children’s safety is always the chief fear. School shootings are an unfortunate constant in American life. We worry that someone might bully our child. Had I received that call, that message would’ve been far easier for me to digest than this one. After all, I’d been bullied through much of school, and my son is like me, right?

I read the messages again. My son wasn’t bullied. He was the bully.

A sense of emptiness settled into my stomach. Not pure anger or sadness, but something between the two, coupled with a deep, deep sense of disappointment. 

The first D-word I had feared as a parent. Yes, I admit I felt disappointed.

And the only way to deal with it was the second D-word, one I’ve always struggled with: discipline.

All kids need discipline, of course. They need to be taught the rules and norms of society. They have to function in school, and not throw blocks or hit. My wife and I don’t believe in spanking. There are plenty of studies that prove — despite what earlier generations have done — striking children does not modify their behavior. We also found minimal success with timeouts and other traditional forms of discipline.

What then? What could we do?

Nurtured Heart Approach changes his life

The incident mentioned wasn’t isolated. In fact, we started hearing from his teacher at least once a week. We had meetings with the principal. We began to suspect the root of his problem was boredom. My son would practice multiplication, division, and even simple exponents in the car, before hopping out to a class whose full-year math curriculum involved counting to a hundred. But knowing the cause didn’t excuse the behavior. Again, that disappointment sank in. My son is brilliant, kind and such a wonderful person. How could we encourage him to choose kindness and compassion? How could we discipline him and avoid disappointment?

My aunt introduced us to “The Nurtured Heart Approach,” a radically different method of behavior modification. Developed by Howard Glasser, and codified in the book Transforming the Difficult Child, the Nurtured Heart Approach relies on three “stands.” The first stand is to not give any energy at all to negative behavior. Timeouts and other discipline often fail to truly transform highly energetic kids because they thrive on negative attention. The second stand awards TONS of positive energy to good behavior. This, even more than the first stand, was transformational for us.

I started noticing interactions between my son and daughter. They’d be happy and content until one would start to bug the other. At that moment, I’d intervene, throwing my energy into trying to resolve the conflict. Nurtured Heart Approach reversed this approach. I started praising the good interactions between my kids and joining them more thoroughly while they were content.

Then, when something went amiss, all I needed was the third stand: the “reset.”

At its heart, the reset is essentially a five-second timeout. It’s a pause where the energy is redirected. Think of Daniel Tiger’s song “Give a squeeze, nice and slow, take a deep breath … and let it go …” Same idea. Tell the kid who’s breaking a rule to reset, and pull all your attention away. That’s it. If they don’t reset, say it again. Might take a hundred resets, but that’s it — no punishments, no lectures about what they did wrong (dumping energy into the behavior you’re modifying). Instead, send energy back into what they’re doing right as soon as they start acting right again.

The above description of Nurtured Heart Approach is a boiled-down oversimplification, of course. It’s worth checking out the book, but be warned — it’s not easy. Not at all. Yet now, months later, the notes we get from the teacher are filled with praise for his behavior. The way he acts with his sister makes me smile.

We still have rough moments. These are the times when he needs to reset. And then we move forward. Because our son has learned that empathy and kindness and compassion are far more important to life than rule-breaking or aggression.

It’s OK, as a parent, to feel those moments of disappointment. It’s OK to recognize that discipline is part of parenting. Let that emotion sink into you and allow yourself to reset your own expectations.

Remember, your kid is still a delight, a joy, a perfect diamond. They are perfect in every way from the moment of their birth until the moment they leave the nest, and even after.

Because even diamonds need polishing. And that’s what parents are for.

Nurtured Heart Approach photo: © natali_mis /  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.

The most frequent question I’ve heard from family and friends over the past month and change has been some variation of “How’s Emory adjusting to being a big brother?”

Nothing remotely related to how I’m doing, or how I’m adjusting to being a father of two. Just, “How’s Emory?”

But I digress.

The answer? It really depends on the day. Overall, he’s handled the transition to big brother status like any other 3 year old would. There’s curiosity in that he is unsure at times of who this new little person in his space is. There’s a combination of excitement and enjoyment in that he loves to tickle her and pull at her hands and feet and, in return, is tickled by her response, or lack thereof. And there have been hints here and there of jealousy. Especially in moments where the routine he’s enjoyed with my wife has now been interrupted by her having to nurse and give attention to his little sister. (Ed. Note: For tips on dealing with an older sibling being jealous of a new baby, check out this article on Very Well Family.)

In the midst of what has been an adjustment period for our family, there have been moments when my wife or I will be holding Eden, and Emory will come and calmly sit with us. And for those 30 seconds or so that he’s still, the reality hits us: We are a family of four. We have two kids now. That reality is extra special for my wife and I because we are both only children. In the stories of our respective lives, growing up with siblings was something neither of us had.

So, in this season of parenthood, we are not only learning how to raise two kids under the age of 3, we are living vicariously through them because they’ll experience a life we didn’t have. As their dad, I’m excited for them to have each other and to grow up together and hopefully share a close brother-sister bond. I always dreamed of having a brother or sister. And while that wasn’t in the cards for me, I’m grateful that my children will know what that feels like.

I’m also interested in seeing how I’ll handle some of the challenges that will surely come with having two kids. How will I deal with the fights and disagreements they’ll have when one of them doesn’t want to share? How will I make sure I’m giving each of them the right amount of attention? Will I discipline Emory differently than Eden? If so, how will that affect the other?

These are some of the things my dad didn’t have to worry about when raising me. These are things I didn’t have to worry about growing up. It was nobody but me. And my wife had the same experience. In seeking advice from our parents, this is the one thing they can’t speak from experience on. We’ll just have to figure it out. And yes, we have plenty of friends and family who are parents who grew up with siblings, but when my wife and I are in the house and we have two screaming kids running around, we’ll have to figure it out on our own.

Emory’s going to be a great big brother. I’m actually envious of him. As he figures out his new role, I’ll be right there with him, learning too.

Photo: © sonsedskaya / Adobe Stock.

We live in an age in which we can’t survive without our phones. We rely on them for everything.

Communication.

Banking.

Exercise.

Music.

You name it.

I’m no different. Throughout the day I’m constantly scrolling, checking my text messages, email, social media and stocks. Every day. Rinse and repeat.

One of my favorite pastimes is looking at the thousands of pictures I have of my son in my phone. I’m constantly taken aback at how time has flown by and how much he has changed in a few short years. He’s approaching his third birthday yet it seems like yesterday when it was my turn to get up in the middle of the night to soothe his crying during those first few weeks of his life. I have photos of it all. I have no doubt I’ll be taking just as many, if not more, pictures when our second baby, our baby girl, arrives later this year.

A few weeks ago during my usual scrolling, I came across some photos from three years ago of me putting my son’s crib together. As a soon-to-be first-time father at the time, I was beyond excited about his arrival. Through these pics, I tried my best to document the process from the time we found out we were pregnant up until birth.

I should be jumping for joy, right?

Looking at the pics of the half-built crib, I did the math in my head to calculate when I was working on it in relation to how far along my wife was at the time. It hit me that in terms of preparation, we haven’t really done nearly as much at this stage of her pregnancy compared to what had been done during our first. The crib hasn’t been built. The nursery hasn’t been painted. The baby shower hasn’t been planned. In many ways, I’m walking around as if a baby is not coming for many months.

This has been bothering me for some time. I should be jumping for joy about this second baby, right? After all, I’m about to be a girl dad. I even told my wife I felt like I wasn’t holding her belly as much as I did the first time around. She’d definitely noticed. The excitement is there, but it’s not where I feel it should be. And where it should be, I’m not exactly sure.

As I admittedly struggle with this, I’m doing my best to give myself some grace. I’m understanding that things don’t exactly have to be like they were with my son. Just as life was different then, life is different now, and that matters. I wasn’t a parent three years ago. As we prepare for our daughter’s arrival, I still have to parent my son as he works his way through his own development. My wife isn’t the same as she was yesterday and that matters as well. 

We don’t often talk about the psychological challenges that fathers go through during pregnancy, but they are very real. The feeling of uncertainty, the irritability, the stress of wondering will everything get done — and will it be paid for. The excitement of being a new dad has been replaced by the indifference of becoming a father of two. And that’s OK. I’ve been reassured by other parents that they’ve experienced similar feelings in their respective journeys.

I have plans to start painting the nursey soon. Once that’s done, I’ll get the crib together. Only this time, I go at my own pace, and not feel bad if I don’t meet some mythical deadline.

And I’ll be sure to take pictures of it all.

Second baby photo: © Rido / 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.

When you have multiple children, you quickly realize parenting siblings individually to a collective audience is one of the most challenging issues you face.

Each child is different and requires different types of attention, different resources and different parenting styles for maximum effectiveness. Even when you give it your best to be fair and equitable in parenting these different individuals, you realize that at times you simply come up short.

How often do your kids hit you with, “You let the other one do it!” or the classic, “That’s not fair!”? If you’re like me, these declarations are a consistent part of household conversations. But that begs the question: How do I, as a parent, effectively give the individualized attention necessary to each kid in the amount needed for their optimal growth and development without appearing to not be equitable in my approach?  

This difficult question has baffled my wife and me for years. We are currently in the midst of trying to find legitimate solutions, mostly through trial and error. For starters, we’ve recently started using the phrase, “What’s special for you is special for you.” With that conversation, a whole different way of looking at the art of parenting opens up that revolves around the old “practicing what you preach” mantra.

Good modeling, clear explanations

“What’s special for you is special for you” only works when we as parents put this into practice. We all know kids don’t always do what they’re told, but most often they repeat what they see. Therefore, if mommy and daddy are constantly complaining about things not being fair or about what someone else has or has not accomplished, it’s no wonder their children adopt this type of commentary. We have to be mindful as parents, specifically as dads, to model actions we want repeated by our kids and not those that we don’t.

In the spirit of truly embodying the concept of “what’s special for you is special for you,” we have to model making the most of the opportunities at our disposal. We have to use unique opportunities to show the kids that differences aren’t a deficit. In fact, sometimes they are a unique superpower. We also have to show how differences in one circumstance may elevate some people while conversely making things more difficult for others. Then we should discuss how other situations or circumstance may turn the tables around for those same people.

One example of “what’s special for you is special for you” that bubbled up in our home recently revolved around one child having a birthday party to attend while the other one didn’t. When we pointed out that when the tables were turned, the other sibling experienced the same thing, the child crying “unfair” now clearly understood. An example of where a child might have harder time understanding that is when a situation revolves around one sibling needing more help and attention in an area where the other sibling may already be proficient. This requires us to work on finding tangible ways to make this point clear. What we ultimately want is for our children to understand that mommy and daddy strive to create an environment where everyone has the best opportunity to thrive.

Unity vs. uniformity

I think the best way to think about parenting siblings requires considering unity versus uniformity. By having unity in our direction as a family, we approach things from the standpoint working toward a common goal of success. Uniformity suggests we’re using the exact same cookie-cutter methodology with each child. As much as it would be easy to just “copy and paste” our methods and strategies from kid to kid, easy isn’t always the best policy. 

That being said, we’re going to continue to navigate this parenting journey the best way we know how.  We’ll continue instituting the “what’s special for you is special for you” perspective in our communication while we simultaneously model it to the kids. And as always, we’ll continuously be on the lookout for better methods to improve ourselves as parents. Having an individualized approach to the collective audience of multiple kids takes energy, patience and probably a bit of wine … but we’re up for the challenge!  

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mike Dorsey is an author, business entrepreneur, community organizer, speaker and podcaster. He aims to create a community for active and engaged black fathers. The Augusta, Ga., native hosts the Black Fathers, NOW! podcast and founded the apparel company Black Family Apparel, which celebrates positive imagery of the black family through messaged clothing. He has author two books: Dynamic Black Fatherhood Manifesto and ABE: Always Be Engaged — The 7 Keys to Living a Fit Urban Life. He can be reached via Instagram, Facebook or email.

Parenting siblings photo by © wavebreak3 / Adobe Stock.