“All of them told us their stories, and behind each of these stories looms the shadow of that formidable father, a stern, arrogant, and violent man, whose voice alone made Adolf cringe, and who would thrash his son unmercifully for any little reason.”
—John Gunther on Alois Hitler, Vanity Fair, September 1934
There has been no greater villain in the story of mankind than the bad father. The one who hits or humiliates. The one who doesn’t show up. The one who leaves. The one who won’t (please, God) leave. The drunk or the liar or the condescending prick. Bad fathers have ruined more lives than famine and war put together, bruising and battering their sons and daughters emotionally, mentally, and/or physically and dooming them to repeat the cycle, generation after generation until kingdom come.
Men know this. We had friends growing up who had bad fathers, assholes on the sidelines or dinner-table tyrants, or perhaps we had or have one ourselves, the man whose voice alone makes us cringe. We understand the damage that a bad father can do, and we understand what things can and cannot be undone. And when the time comes, as it does for most of us, to have a child of our own, we feel the first measure of that responsibility, that weight, and we say, with confidence: Not us. We will do better. We will hug our kids and hold their hands. We will support and nurture. We will keep our voices down, and our hand, too. We’ll go to the games or recitals we can and we’ll feel guilty when we can’t. We’ll be there for bedtime and teacher conferences, and we’ll be home on the weekends. We’ll do everything we can to be everything they need, because that’s what it means to be a good father today, isn’t it?
Isn’t it?
“I think that adults now pay too much attention to their children at the expense of themselves. Parents close off interests or avenues that they formerly pursued that made them fuller and more interesting people. And they’re totally focused on their little ones, signing them up for every activity under the sun. They’re just all over them. It’s a little bit overdone, and it’s a little obnoxious.”
Yes, it’s helpful when you’re a politician to have a little one up on the bandstand with you (otherwise, well, the rumors...), and if you’re religiously inclined and spurn contraception, then, okay, kids might be unavoidable, but for the rest of us, it has never been practically easier or more socially acceptable to simply opt out of having a child altogether, and a growing number of us are instead choosing childless cohabitation or perpetual singledom or whatever Clooney has going on these days. More than any other time in modern or ancient history, we’ve got options.
Of those who are choosing to be fathers, though, and choosing to be what they consider to be good fathers—well, these guys are in it. We’re spending three times as many hours every week with our kids as men did in the ‘60s. (Two economists, Valerie and Garey Ramey, noted that among both mothers and fathers, “if the hours were valued at their market wage rate, the increase in childcare time would amount to over $300 billion per year.”) We’re twice as likely as our spouses to say we aren’t spending enough time with our kids, and, like our spouses, we’re nearly twice as likely to find “significant meaning” in child care than in our paid work. We’re the targets of big-balled advertisers from Chevy,Hyundai and VW to Google, Tide, Sears, and Dove; and even Major League Baseball is looking to profit from paternal insecurity and/or pride. We’re having fun with the musings of fellow dads—buying Adam Mansbach’s Go The Fuck to Sleep by the truckload; trying to pass Louis C.K.’s bad-dad riffs off as our own; “liking” the hell out of the recurring “Dadspin” feature on Deadspin.com (with one December post, about one kid’s“insane Christmas wish list,” clocking 3.3 million hits and huge viral play.) You’ve got America’s quarterback kissing and hugging his boys at the playground. You’ve got Snoop Dog coaching kid’s football. You’ve got the heir to the English throne, that Everest of emotional unavailability, saying he changes diapers. (He gets that from his mother.)
And you’ve got Tom Cruise. Last year he sued a tabloid, not for the usual reason he sues tabloids but because said tabloid had indicated Cruise had “abandoned” his daughter because he didn’t see her for a few months while he was busy shooting a movie overseas. (Not unlike—though, really, not at all like—how military personal and oilrig workers and untold many more are required to spend months away from their little ones. Cruise ended up dropping his suit.) Meanwhile, when Mets second baseman Daniel Murphy took a few days off after his son was born, Mike Francesa called paternity leave “a scam and a half” on air and his listeners lit into him for being out of touch, old-fashioned, old. That this wasn’t the NPR crowd parsing modes of patriarchy but a bunch of guys who argue about designated hitters might be the ultimate proof: more men are more active, and more interested, in being fathers today than at any time in anyone’s lifetime.
And this is all to the good—for the kids. Unless you’re a drunk or a bully, or merely one of the so-called helicopter parents who sow seeds of dependency and narcissism in your little centers of the universe, there is no evidence that being present in your kids’ lives is anything but a boon for them. But for you? Your stress levels will go through the roof, as will your odds of experiencing depression. Your physical health and social life will suffer. Your marriage could easily turn into one of those roommate situations you swore it would never become. And you might find yourself, late at night or in the shower or chauffeuring your kid to yet another lesson or practice, thinking that this wasn’t what you signed up for. That you love your children, and that you really would sacrifice anything for them, but that being the kind of father you want to be—a good father—involves too many sacrifices, too much compromise, too high a price.
Does thinking such thoughts make you a bad father?
Does it?
—John Gunther on Alois Hitler, Vanity Fair, September 1934
There has been no greater villain in the story of mankind than the bad father. The one who hits or humiliates. The one who doesn’t show up. The one who leaves. The one who won’t (please, God) leave. The drunk or the liar or the condescending prick. Bad fathers have ruined more lives than famine and war put together, bruising and battering their sons and daughters emotionally, mentally, and/or physically and dooming them to repeat the cycle, generation after generation until kingdom come.Men know this. We had friends growing up who had bad fathers, assholes on the sidelines or dinner-table tyrants, or perhaps we had or have one ourselves, the man whose voice alone makes us cringe. We understand the damage that a bad father can do, and we understand what things can and cannot be undone. And when the time comes, as it does for most of us, to have a child of our own, we feel the first measure of that responsibility, that weight, and we say, with confidence: Not us. We will do better. We will hug our kids and hold their hands. We will support and nurture. We will keep our voices down, and our hand, too. We’ll go to the games or recitals we can and we’ll feel guilty when we can’t. We’ll be there for bedtime and teacher conferences, and we’ll be home on the weekends. We’ll do everything we can to be everything they need, because that’s what it means to be a good father today, isn’t it?
Isn’t it?
“I think that adults now pay too much attention to their children at the expense of themselves. Parents close off interests or avenues that they formerly pursued that made them fuller and more interesting people. And they’re totally focused on their little ones, signing them up for every activity under the sun. They’re just all over them. It’s a little bit overdone, and it’s a little obnoxious.”
—An 81-one-year-old father and grandfather, February 2014It’s worth pointing out that nobody really needs to become a father at all anymore.
Yes, it’s helpful when you’re a politician to have a little one up on the bandstand with you (otherwise, well, the rumors...), and if you’re religiously inclined and spurn contraception, then, okay, kids might be unavoidable, but for the rest of us, it has never been practically easier or more socially acceptable to simply opt out of having a child altogether, and a growing number of us are instead choosing childless cohabitation or perpetual singledom or whatever Clooney has going on these days. More than any other time in modern or ancient history, we’ve got options.
Of those who are choosing to be fathers, though, and choosing to be what they consider to be good fathers—well, these guys are in it. We’re spending three times as many hours every week with our kids as men did in the ‘60s. (Two economists, Valerie and Garey Ramey, noted that among both mothers and fathers, “if the hours were valued at their market wage rate, the increase in childcare time would amount to over $300 billion per year.”) We’re twice as likely as our spouses to say we aren’t spending enough time with our kids, and, like our spouses, we’re nearly twice as likely to find “significant meaning” in child care than in our paid work. We’re the targets of big-balled advertisers from Chevy,Hyundai and VW to Google, Tide, Sears, and Dove; and even Major League Baseball is looking to profit from paternal insecurity and/or pride. We’re having fun with the musings of fellow dads—buying Adam Mansbach’s Go The Fuck to Sleep by the truckload; trying to pass Louis C.K.’s bad-dad riffs off as our own; “liking” the hell out of the recurring “Dadspin” feature on Deadspin.com (with one December post, about one kid’s“insane Christmas wish list,” clocking 3.3 million hits and huge viral play.) You’ve got America’s quarterback kissing and hugging his boys at the playground. You’ve got Snoop Dog coaching kid’s football. You’ve got the heir to the English throne, that Everest of emotional unavailability, saying he changes diapers. (He gets that from his mother.)
And you’ve got Tom Cruise. Last year he sued a tabloid, not for the usual reason he sues tabloids but because said tabloid had indicated Cruise had “abandoned” his daughter because he didn’t see her for a few months while he was busy shooting a movie overseas. (Not unlike—though, really, not at all like—how military personal and oilrig workers and untold many more are required to spend months away from their little ones. Cruise ended up dropping his suit.) Meanwhile, when Mets second baseman Daniel Murphy took a few days off after his son was born, Mike Francesa called paternity leave “a scam and a half” on air and his listeners lit into him for being out of touch, old-fashioned, old. That this wasn’t the NPR crowd parsing modes of patriarchy but a bunch of guys who argue about designated hitters might be the ultimate proof: more men are more active, and more interested, in being fathers today than at any time in anyone’s lifetime.
And this is all to the good—for the kids. Unless you’re a drunk or a bully, or merely one of the so-called helicopter parents who sow seeds of dependency and narcissism in your little centers of the universe, there is no evidence that being present in your kids’ lives is anything but a boon for them. But for you? Your stress levels will go through the roof, as will your odds of experiencing depression. Your physical health and social life will suffer. Your marriage could easily turn into one of those roommate situations you swore it would never become. And you might find yourself, late at night or in the shower or chauffeuring your kid to yet another lesson or practice, thinking that this wasn’t what you signed up for. That you love your children, and that you really would sacrifice anything for them, but that being the kind of father you want to be—a good father—involves too many sacrifices, too much compromise, too high a price.
Does thinking such thoughts make you a bad father?
Does it?
by Richard Dorment, Esquire | Read more:
Image: Getty
