It’s been a year and a half since I embraced the title of “dad,” and yet, I often find it hard to believe. Each time someone calls me a father, it feels like they’re using air quotes, as if it’s a playful joke. At 50, I’m certainly not too young for this role, but inside, I still feel like I’m just a kid hanging out with my buddy. My partner, Jane, despite being younger, seems to embody the adult responsibilities in our household.
This isn’t merely about my youthful spirit; it’s about my identity. When Jane asks our son, Max, if he wants “Daddy” to read him a bedtime story, I can’t help but chuckle. I’m still that same kid who’s just a few years past his bar mitzvah—how can I be someone’s father? Yet, we play along with this delightful charade. I find myself reading to him in silly voices, and perhaps my childish antics aren’t so harmful, even if I did recently teach him how to drool.
This whimsical state of mind isn’t exclusive to fatherhood. I still glance over my shoulder when someone calls me “sir” in a public setting—feeling like Tom Hanks in the movie Big, enjoying a charade that I’m somehow an adult, even as I read comic books and collect stickers. Despite the inevitable signs of aging, a part of me remains eternally boyish, still crawling under the kitchen table with Max.
Then, during a visit to my parents’ house, a pivotal moment occurred. Jane and I sat beneath the shade of trees while Max played joyfully in a small plastic tub filled with water. The warm breeze drifted lazily through the air, and in that serene moment, a realization struck me: while I may not have a strong emotional need to feel like a father, Max undoubtedly needs me to step into that role.
As he navigates this new world, his calls of “da-da” are sincere. He needs me to be a reliable presence, embodying the qualities my own father offered me: kindness, patience, and unwavering support. Even though I may still feel like a carefree child, I must remember that fatherhood is a two-person dance. In this partnership, my needs are secondary. My father’s influence has shaped me, and now it’s my turn to be that solid foundation for Max.
The values I once associated with my self-image—being the center of attention—must evolve into something deeper and more meaningful. While I might not be in the spotlight, being a dad offers its own thrilling opportunities, allowing me to be the anchor in Max’s life as he begins to explore the world.
As I watch him sail across the tub, I realize this isn’t a cosmic joke. This is my reality; I am a father. To celebrate this newfound understanding, I poured a bucket of water over Max, an action my own father would never have taken, but one I instinctively felt compelled to do, reminiscent of my playful childhood with my brother.
In that moment, as Max splashed around, bubbling with joy and excitement at the fragile soap bubbles floating by, he assumed that Jane and I were perfectly qualified parents. And truth be told, he was kind of asking for it.
For more insights on fatherhood and parenting, check out this enlightening piece on fatherhood challenges. If you’re considering home insemination, this kit is a great option for your journey. Additionally, the Genetics and IVF Institute provides valuable information on fertility and pregnancy.
In summary, fatherhood has reshaped my identity in unexpected ways, turning my youthful spirit into a source of strength for my son. Embracing my role as a father means I can forge a bond that will guide him through life, even if it sometimes feels like I’m still just a kid at heart.