Just moments ago, I was on the verge of dozing off while the highlights from today’s NFL games played on repeat, creating a cozy atmosphere. But I made the mistake of reviewing my day—an exercise I usually find grounding. I like to assess whether I’ve struck a balance between fun, relaxation, productivity, family time, and personal time. When I get it right, it’s a soothing send-off into a peaceful night’s sleep.
However, tonight unfolded differently. I’m left with this nagging feeling that I need to express my regret.
My 11-year-old daughter, Mia, thrives on celebration. She crafts delightful stories—like “The Night Before Thanksgiving” and “The Night Before Christmas Eve.” These pieces are treasures that I’ll keep private.
Recently, she made me a heartfelt card for Veteran’s Day, despite my not having served in the military. She embodies joy in a way that I, with my sarcastic demeanor, often overlook.
More than anything, Mia loves hosting extravagant parties. These aren’t your garden-variety tea parties; they’re intricate affairs, all planned and executed by her. I fondly remember her orchestrating games for my “41 and a half” birthday, snagging a trophy made from a toilet paper roll—priceless!
Today, she put her creative flair to work for the big NFL games. All she needed was to know who to cheer for and the colors representing the Atlanta Falcons.
Before the first game kicked off, we had:
- A vibrant platter of chips and salsa
- Homemade sugar cookies made from scratch
- A “Let’s Go Falcons!” banner adorning our sliding door
- Streamers in both Falcons and Steelers hues
- Sliced cheese and crackers
- Customized tattoos crafted with a special pen and glitter
- A selection of beverages with team-themed straws and cups
But instead of reveling in her elaborate preparations, I brushed her off. I declined a cookie due to my sugar detox—really? I witnessed her excitement in baking, sourcing ingredients, and executing her vision, and I couldn’t indulge just once?
I dismissed her enthusiasm, claiming indifference because my team, the Raiders, had been eliminated. Despite the Falcons’ colorful display in our kitchen, I couldn’t muster the energy to feign interest. In doing so, I quashed her attempt at family bonding.
I didn’t even pick up a cup or straw. Do you think I’m a terrible dad yet? The only reason I have a Mets tattoo on my forearm is that I finally relented after her third request.
I didn’t snap a single photo. The weight of this realization is heavy. I know I’m a good father—there are countless moments of laughter, lessons, and late-night talks that prove it. But I missed a golden opportunity to cherish a fleeting moment. Eleven turns into a teenager all too quickly, and I let it slip away.
Instead of being present, I was preoccupied with workouts, eBay listings, and the games, failing to recognize my daughter’s heartfelt effort. I don’t view myself as selfish, but perhaps I lack self-awareness at times. Today, I wore that label.
Even a simple “thank you” before bed would have sufficed, but here I am, grappling with regret and the realization that I may have taken her for granted. It stings to think that she wasn’t upset by my absence in her celebration—it makes me wonder if she expected it. That’s unacceptable.
Tomorrow morning, I’m going to wake her up with a big hug and express my gratitude for her being the amazing kid she is. She has taught me more than I could ever hope to impart to her.
For more on navigating the complexities of parenting, check out this insightful blog post.
In conclusion, it’s vital for us as parents to recognize moments of connection and actively engage with our children. Life is too short, and these opportunities are fleeting. Let’s not miss them.