Lumpy Old Couch

Some thoughts on being a dad

An underrated experience of fatherhood is the joy of being taken for granted. Modern dads are much more involved than even my own father’s generation in terms of raising the kids, doing the housework (although all studies show that women still do much more of that than men), and generally just being around. Even so, moms are usually the first parent of choice for love and affection when a knee – or a feeling – is scraped.

Dads are often just kind of around, eating sandwiches, taking naps, air drumming to Pearl Jam. In the family pecking order, we’re usually about a single notch above the family pet, and sometimes not even that. When a crisis strikes, the first sound that comes out of most kids’ mouths is, “Mooooom!”

Every now and again, though, a kid will go to Dad. Maybe with a complaint, or in need of counsel or, perhaps, just to hang out on the couch and watch a dumb movie. Sometimes they come to Dad because they’re pissed at Mom and, even though we try to be a neutral party in all disputes between our children and our spouses, we usually side with our kids because we’re happy to throw our partner under the bus if it means wringing even the tiniest amount of affection from our child.

Father’s Day 2024 with one of my kids. Don’t ask me his name because I honestly don’t know and, at this point, it’s a little embarrassing to ask.

Dads are patient, waiting (hoping) for the moment when a kid’s head rests against our shoulder at the end of a long day. When it happens, we don’t say anything because we’re afraid our children are like woodland creatures, easily scared away from human contact. So we cuddle with them in silence and try not to move for fear of startling them away.

My own father died when I was young. After Martha got pregnant with our first, I worried that I wouldn’t know how to be a dad. How does one prepare for a job one has barely even observed? It turns out my fears were overblown. Fatherhood actually starts out really easy – we just sit back and let moms do all the work because, right out of the gate, that’s who the baby prefers. Moms are warm and smell good and provide food from their sweet, sweet nips. In the beginning, dads are of no use except as an appendage for Mom, an extra limb to fetch a diaper or spit cloth. Dads start our careers as butlers, and, now that I think of it,, we basically remain in that position for a good long while.

Eventually, though, the kid starts looking around and realizes there’s some dude living there who seems anxious to befriend them. Maybe the kid likes to throw a ball around. Maybe they need somebody with whom to play American Girl dolls. Maybe they just need a ride to a playdate. It doesn’t matter. We’re ready, willing, and eager to be of assistance.

When called upon to ride the scary rides at amusement parks, we will do so without hesitation, even though we are secretly terrified ourselves. One of a dad’s main jobs is to put on a brave face when he does not feel brave. “It’s all going to be fine,” is a pretty good dad phrase. We have no idea whether or not it’s true when we say it, but we do everything in our power to force well-being into existence.

Mostly, though, dads are part of the furniture, as the song from Oliver Twist goes. And it’s nice to be part of the furniture. I’m not joking – as kids get older and their lives richer and more complex, I love being the lumpy old couch they don’t have to worry about ruining. Let me be the one thing in their lives that feels permanent and indestructible. Let me be the one thing they don’t have to worry about, or pay attention to at all if they don’t wish. Let me be the one thing in their life they can take for granted without fear of giving offense.

If you don’t know the song “Consider Yourself” from Oliver Twist, here it is:

Now my kids are 23 and 21. My son just graduated college. My daughter has another year. We’ve done our best as parents, although it’s always hard to trust that you’ve done enough. As much as kids blame their parents for whatever challenges they wind up facing, parents blame themselves even more. Trust us, we’re more than aware of our shortcomings as parents and people than you will ever be.

We know that we let you down sometimes. We know that we could’ve done better, but part of being a parent is also learning how to parent yourself. How to extract forgiveness from yourself towards yourself for your parental failings, and to learn to hold the same grace for yourself that you do with your kids. Easier said than done, of course, because we always experience the pain our children feel more acutely than the pain we feel for ourselves. When they blame us for whatever, we take their pain and compound it with our own shame at letting them down, even if we don’t always agree with their diagnosis of the problem.

Children teach parents as much, or more, than parents teach children. Kids can learn how to tie their shoes from anybody, but parents can only learn how to parent from their kids. Children teach us empathy, patience, consideration, and the power of vulnerability. They help us see the world with fresh eyes. Did you forget the magic of snow? Kids will remind you. Kids discover treasures we’ve forgotten all about. Speckles on a fallen leaf. The feel of sand under your feet. The medicinal properties of a cup of vanilla ice cream.

They also teach us that we exist for others more than we exist for ourselves, that our importance here is only in terms of how we affect the lives of others, for good or ill. Hopefully for good.

When I come home after a trip somewhere, I don’t need my kids to come running to greet me. I don’t need Father’s Day presents or birthday cards or any of that. What I need – what I love – is the fact that they view our relationship as so safe that they can afford to take me for granted. They know that my love for them will never waver, and so they don’t need to do anything for me other than be. Just be here on this planet and find happiness in whatever way you can short of hurting somebody else. And when you are home, you can speak to me or not. Hang out with me or not. Watch a dumb movie with me or not. I’m just the lumpy old couch, and I’m always here for you when you need to rest your head.

BONUS: Here’s a link to an episode of This American Life I did years ago talking about my own dad.