What got me is the finding that fathers can have a negative impact even if they are physically present - I can be home every afternoon, every weekend, but if I fail to engage with my children, it's as if I'm not even there. That's one thing when we're talking about Caylah, who's just over two and is tough to miss as she's dancing around to songs from "Tangled." Those constant cups of tea from her singing teapot, though imaginary, are an irresistible invitation to join with her, regardless of what's on the television and how tough work was that day.
Three MONTHS old is a different story. When Caden is has been crying for the past 30 minutes, I'm completely clueless as to how to fix it. He doesn't engage, so how can I? The boy eats, sleeps, and poops, and while I can be an expert diaper-changer, it's tough to feel as if I'm making much of a difference. And it's challenging for us as men to make an investment in something if we don't get that immediate feedback. Not a chance an eight-week old is going to thank me and give me props for the slick way I got that clean diaper on him before he had a chance to spray me.And let's not even get into the different dynamics of a marriage when a baby enters the picture. While the wife (especially if she nurses) is often the main care-giver, the husband can easily feel like he's been reduced to the role of spectator, both as a father AND a husband. And I don't know many guys who appreciate being a spectator, unless it's along the first base or 50-yard line.
All of this puts us guys in a difficult...conundrum. The time that is most crucial for us dads to engage with our kids is the toughest time for us to feel as if we can, at least successfully.
You know, God's funny sometimes - the timing He uses. Two nights ago, as I'm in the middle of writing this very post, my wife asked me to hold Caden so he could fall asleep (this story fits, I promise). So I walked him around until he was solidly in dreamland...at least I thought he was. As soon as I put him down to sleep, his eyes got all wide as if the two-second catnap suited him just fine, and now it was time to be awake again. I can't even tell you how many other methods I tried to get him down, and it was just not working. Eventually, my wife took him back again to feed him. Extremely frustrated, I handed my one-month old son to her, commenting, "Well, THAT was a waste of time." The way I saw it, I had failed at my task, which was to get him to fall asleep. I had been given a job to do and I didn't/couldn't do it. I had just spent 45 minutes doing, in my eyes, absolutely nothing, and was so aggravated.
What my wife reminded me, however, was that I had just spent 45 minutes holding my son. For the better part of the previous hour, I had just engaged with my newborn. What to me was a very unsuccessful, failed task, was, in fact, what that article is begging fathers to do. I was successful after all.So I wonder if we dads need to redefine what we mean by success. When our kids are that young, the times when we'll know for sure if we're doing it "right" are few and far between. Engage anyway. Hold them anyway. Even if we don't know why they're crying, or fidgety, or don't seem to be growing or changing. The idea of "measurables" is not something we can, or even should, put on our infant children, as tempting as that might be. I have to choose to trust that what I'm doing is making a difference in the life of my child. To trust that I will be able to reap the benefits at some point. That my effort is not in vain.
But, just this once, can't he fall asleep anyway?
What does being "successful" with your kids look like in your context?
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