Dads…. We may respect them, appreciate them, get annoyed by them, or laugh at their jokes. However one thing is for sure: We wouldn’t be who we are without them. And so often their jokes turn out to be some of life’s most important lessons…
One of my dad’s favourite songs was about a friend…
Once when he heard this song on the radio, he said: “Like with friends, do not be in a rush selecting a life partner… Take your chosen one up a high mountain with you… And if he survives your sense of humour, bring him home – I’ll have a look…” š
Funnily enough, we lived in a flat part of the country with not a single hill in sight…. ššš
Every time my teenage kids make me roll my eyes in despair I think about my wonderful dad and all the times I made him roll his eyes and scratch his head. His dadās logic just could not comprehend the power of teenage imaginationā¦
Like that time when me and one of my University friend spent all the money we had to go to the local Ballet Theatre to watch āSwan Lakeā. Next day dad visited me and took me to the fridge.
“So, what are you going to eat for the rest of the month, darling? Feathers of those imaginary swans?” he said staring into the empty fridge.
His engineering logic just could not comprehend how his only precious one could spend the whole monthly pay from Uni on ‘Swan Lake’. I just giggled and reassured him that he had absolutely nothing to worry about. After all I did not spend it on boys and vodka….
At that point not only his eyes rolled, but his jaw dropped too… He never ever mentioned the empty fridge again… In fact magically that fridge has never ever been empty again… Coincidentally a magic fairy took care of it since that day, regularly filling it up with all the essentials…
My friend’s dad, who was a doctor, tried to approach the same subject from the medical perspective first, hinting on a very poor nutritional value of the imaginary swans and feathers. My friend just giggled. In despair, her dad changed to the historical perspective: “Now I see why in so many cultures fathers were supposed to provide dowry for their daughters at the marriage. Otherwise one would need to be utterly insane to take my precious darling with all these imaginary swans and feathers!”
His historical perspective only tripled the giggles. “Don’t worry dad. I already found my utterly insane one,” my friend burst into laughter.
Next day we met with other friends at Uni and had a good giggle about swans, feathers and all. After all, behind every smiling girl at Uni was a wonderful Fairy Dad Father rolling his eyes and pulling his hair…
My father never told me… he was not a talkative man… but the way he looked at me, the way he treated me made me feel that way. I never stop admiring how my dad seemed to always intuitively know what was the best for me, without reading any fancy parenting books or having any teaching degrees. I never stopped feeling his silent love.
At the time when men were rarely actively involved in parenting, my dad was always there for me, taking me for long walks, bathing me, putting me to sleep, calming all my fears… And I was a very fearful child scared of everything imaginable: darkness, heights, being alone, fights and arguments, snakes, worms, caterpillars, mice and rats to name a few…
Dad always asked the right questions, listened without making any assumptions or twisting the meaning of what he heard. Even when he disagreed, he rarely argued – he always found another way… Like the time when I saw him chopping the wood and then picked up his axe. “Don’t touch my axe”, he said. “Why? If you can chop the wood, why can’t I?” “Because you are not much bigger than that axe and I don’t want you to chop your head off”, he patiently explained. “Don’t worry,” I laughed. “My head is probably the only part of my body that I’ll never be able to chop off.” He did not argue, but made sure no axe was ever left within my reach…
Dad never used gender stereotypes. He never told me that I am a girl and therefore should behave or do things in a certain way. He just accepted me the way I was, without trying to mould me into anything else. It felt like a breath of fresh air, a welcome break from my mum’s and grandma’s constant nagging: “You are a girl, so you should be dressed like this, you should talk like that, you should do this and don’t do that….” I could never quite comprehend where my mum and grandma got all those dos and don’ts, which somehow I always managed to get wrong…
While my dad rarely expressed himself in words, he had other ways of getting his point across. His communication toolbox included not only admiring looks, but also silent staring, rolling eyes, raised eyebrows, all sorts of winks and a million of other facial expressions. I’m sure, there were some pulled hair too every now and then…
While parenting my own children, I met a lot of truly amazing dads and learnt lots more from them than from any parenting books or my teaching degrees. I never stopped admiring their creativity, ability to make any activity fun, patience, intuition and perfectly balanced approach to setting boundaries to provide maximum opportunities for challenges and freedom while keeping all risks under control.
It never stops puzzling me however that so many dads rarely recognise their amazing parenting abilities and intuition and are often quick to retreat and silence their views on parenting. Something that Celia Lashlie also noted in her book āHeāll be OKā.
Do not doubt your parenting skills. Follow your heart, trust your intuition and have fun.
Children do change us and our lives in lots of ways. Enjoy this special period in your life, treasure all the wonderful moments you are having with your children and stop pulling out your hair over not-so-wonderful ones….
āIf a child is to keep his inborn sense of wonder, he needs the companionship of at least one adult who can share it, rediscovering with him the joy, excitement and mystery of the world we live in.ā
āMy friends Katie and Scottā¦ are both Silicon Valley entrepreneurs who work full-time. About a year ago, Scott travelled to the East Coast for work. He was starting a late-morning meeting when his phone rang. His team only heard one side of the conversation.
āA sandwich, carrot sticks, a cut-up apple, pretzels, and a cookie,ā Scott said. He hung up smiling and explained that his wife was asking what she should put in the kidsā lunch boxes. Everyone laughed. ā¦
Thereās an epilogue to their story. Scott went on a trip and discovered that Katie forgot to make the kidsā lunches altogether. She realized her slipup midmorning and solved the problem by having a pizza delivered to the school cafeteria. Their kids were thrilled, but Scott was not. Now when he travels, he packs lunches in advance and leaves notes with specific instructions for his wifeā¦ā
āThe may be an evolutionary basis for one parent knowing better what to put in a childās lunch. Women who breast-feed are arguable babyās first lunch box. But even if mothers are more naturally inclined toward nurturing, fathers can match that skill with knowledge and effortā¦
We overcome biology with consciousness in other areas. For example, storing large amounts of fat was necessary to survive when food was scarce, so we evolved to crave it and consume it when itās available. But in this era of plenty, we no longer need large amounts of fuel in reserve, so instead of simply giving in to this inclination, we exercise and limit caloric intake.
We use willpower to combat biology, or at least we try. So even if āmother knows bestā is rooted in biology, it need not be written in stone. A willing mother and a willing father are all it requiresā¦ As women must be more empowered at work, men must be more empowered at home.”
Sheryl Sandberg, COO of Facebook, mentionedĀ in her book “Lean In” that “I have breast-fed two children and noted, at times with great disappointment, that this was simply not something my husband was equipped to do.”
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Do not despair, dear ladies. Inventiveness of modern dads can overcome even the lack of ‘biological equipment’ š
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Have a good Friday giggle and a wonderful weekend š
My dad was not mute Ā – he simply hardly ever talked. I mean, hardly ever talked about things that really mattered. May be, it was only with me. Probably, it was only because of my gender. No, he did not mind my gender. I suspect he simply did not know how to talk to me, because I was of a different gender. All the gender-based stereotypes did not make it easier for him either.
He probably thought (or was told) that women knew better how to bring up daughters, that womenĀ knew better what makes girls happy – after all, they are the same gender, they are from the same planet Venus. I wondered about that sometimes. We seemed to be from very different planets with my mum. In fact, at times it felt like we were from completely different galaxies.
Interestingly enough, it seemed to beĀ obvious to everyone else that I was a true daddy’s daughter from the moment I was born into this world. I looked like him, I saw the world like him, I was quietĀ like him. Even my hot temper and tendency to over-react or get over-agitated over minor things, I bet, Ā came from him, as well as my rebellious free-thinking mind.
I also never behaved like a ‘typical’ girl. Things that mattered to other girls, like pretty dolls and fancy dresses, were hardly ever touched in my room. Shopping, cooking and girlish chats never interested me either.
In fact, all females in my family were puzzled and not sure what to do with me. My nanna’s announcement on my 30th birthday expressed that frustration so well: “Eureka. Finally I got it – you are simply not a girl. We thought you’ll eventually turn into one once you settle with family and children. Alas, it only made you worse…”
I could not stop laughing: it took 30 years for the nurture to finally give up on changing my nature…
Though my dad hardly ever talked, I could always feel a very strong invisible bond between us. Looking back I can clearly see now how much he was trying to do for me, quietly, silently, behind the scene, like a true guardian angel. I can clearly see now, how much he influenced me as a person, Ā shaping my nature without forcing me into a stereotypical mould. I can clearly see now how he was trying to give me choices in life – choices to ensure I’ll be happy. I can clearly feel his silent love…
Can we ever understand teenage girls if even such experienced psychologist Nigel Latta openly admitted in his Politically Incorrect Guide to Teenagers, that he ādidnāt understand the physics of the Girl-niverseā? āIf a boy goes off the rail,ā continues Latta, āhe generally drinks alcohol, takes some drugs, gets into some petty crime and hits a few people. When girls go off the rails, they have a capacity to create degrees of chaos that are hard to believe. When girls go off the rails, the earth shifts on its axisā.
So how can fathers help their daughters to go through that complicated stage in life? How can fathers understand their teenage daughters, those beautiful fairy princesses who suddenly turn into demonic uncontrollable monsters?
A few days ago I came across a story that touched my heart: a story of a father, who not only made an effort to understand his teenage daughter, but possibly rescued his troubled daughter from years of despair and near suicide. This story is provided below.
Photo by SplitShire on Pexels.com
āI know of a couple with three grown children. This is a good familyā¦ The father did a good deal of traveling for his work while his daughter and two boys were growing up His relationship with them was sound and safe, but he just wasn’t around very much. Everything was fine until his teenage daughter started having behavioral problems at school and then with the law.
Each time she got in trouble, her anxious, time-conscious father would sit down with her and try to talk through the problem. They would go around on the same issues every time: āIām too fat, Iām too ugly.ā āNo, you are not, youāre beautiful to me.ā āYou have to say that, youāre my dad.ā āI wouldnāt say it if it wasnāt true.ā āYes, you wouldā āDo you think Iād lie to you?ā And the discussion would turn to the question of the fatherās honesty. Or he would tell her a story from his own youth, like the one about how he grew up with skinny arms and shoulders and everyone made fun of him. āIs that supposed to make me feel better?ā she would say.
Photo by Kat Jayne on Pexels.com
Things would calm down, heād leave town, and the cycle would start again. He was on a trip when his wife rang him to say their daughter had disappeared. Frantically, he caught a plane home and the family fretted for days while the search went on. At last she turned up in a runaway shelter in another city, and the parents collected her.
That night he and his wife talked things through. āI do not know what to do about her,ā he confessed. His wife replied, āYou might try listening to her.ā āWhat do you mean? I listen to her constantly.ā
His wife gave him a half smile. āGo and listen to her. Donāt talk. Donāt talk. Just listen.ā
He sat down with his daughter, who was still silent, and asked her, āWould you like to talk?ā She shook her head, but he stayed where he was, silent as well. It was getting dark before she finally spoke. āI just donāt want to live anymore.ā
Alarmed, he fought the urge to protest this and said softly, āYou donāt want to live anymore.ā This was followed by about five minutes of silence ā the longest five minutes in his life, he later said.
āIām just not happy, Dad. I donāt like anything about myself. I want it to be over.ā
āYouāre not happy at all,ā he breathed.
The girl began to cry. In fact, she began to sob intensely, trying to talk at the same time, words flowing like a flood. It was as if a dam had burst. She talked into the early morning hours, he said hardly ten words, and the next day things looked hopeful. Where before he was giving her only sympathy, at last he had discovered empathy.
This was only the first āpsychological airingā of many over the next few hard adolescent years, but the young girl is now a woman, calm and confident in herself and her fatherās love for her. That he would seek her out, that he would value the outpourings of her heart instead of imposing his version of reality on her, helped give her a robust foundation for life.”
When tensions are high and confidence is low, when the next step doesnāt look clear at all, when a wall has gone up, try an experiment with empathy.
Go to the other side and say, āYou see things differently. I need to listen to you.ā
Give full attention. Donāt multitask while youāre listening. Donāt judge, evaluate, analyse, advise, toss in your footnotes, critique, or quarrel.
Be quiet. You donāt have to provide an answer, a verdict, a solution, or a āfixā. Free yourself from all that pressure. Just sit back and listen.
Speak only to keep the flow going. Say things like āTell me more,ā or ā Go on.ā
Pay close attention to emotions. Affirm feelings.
Remember, you are listening to a story. When you go to a movie, you donāt interrupt and argue with the story and talk back to the screen. Youāre involved, your sense of reality is suspended, youāre almost is a trance.
Be ready to learn. If youāre open, youāll gain insights that will lighten up your own mind and complement your own perspective.
Show some gratitude. Itās a great compliment to be invited into the mind and heart of another human beingā¦”
I love you round the world, And back again, All over the stormy sea. I love you lots and jelly tots, I hope that you love me. I love you up, I love you down, I love your smile, I love your frown, Iāll love you ātill the end of time, Oh Daddy Iām so glad youāre mine.
My dad turned 65 a few months ago. Never thought I’d miss him so much after living for 15 years on the other side of the world. He was not perfect, but looking back I do feel glad that he was my dad.
He never read fancy parenting books or followed any fancy parenting theories. He never talked much or explained what he felt or thought – he was a doer, not a talker. He simply was always there for me. He always accepted me and adored me the way I was without imposing any other ‘way’ on me. He always cared about me and made me feelĀ that I mattered.
I wish we lived a bit closer to each other, so that he could simply be here for my children just the way he was there for me…
FromĀ 
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Otrazhenie 
