I like being a dad. I think it’s been good for me. I’ve been a complete arsehole at times, mind. I’ve chosen my battles extremely poorly: I’ve shouted when I should have embraced, I’ve said no out of misguided principle and spite and said yes because I’m lazy. My kids watch too much TV and play too many video games. They aren’t active enough. I don’t do as may things with them as I should. My authority is often completely undermined and I fear they’re going to lose respect for me. I sometimes feel I don’t allow them to express themselves enough. Being tied a lot means I tend to find their personal development too irritating or too loud. I give them treats hours after they haven’t deserved it. I make empty threats about what they’re not allowed to do in the future and then I consequently go back on those mere minutes after making them. I interfere when my wife disciplines them thus undermining her authority and we argue perhaps too much in front of them – although we always make it up in their presence, also. They don’t eat enough vegetables as getting some kind of food in them is hard enough anyway and yet another argument at the dinner table is more often than not too much to bear. Lazy again. They don’t brush their teeth often enough, or we all forget too often. That’s going to change though. That’s embarrassing, actually. They don’t do as they’re told and more often than not dad’s the biggest idiot there is. They have rooms full of toys but they don’t play with any of them: iPad, console, PC. I’ve irresponsibly put their pictures on social media without fully knowing the consequences of doing so.
I’m responsible for all of it.
When I ask my children if they’re happy they say yes, and I love them more than I’ve loved anything before in my whole life.