As single dads go, I always thought that I was doing a pretty good job. I attend most, if not all, of the kiddy requisites, keep a pretty decent house, do most of my own cooking, pay my share of child support, and generally, try and be a presence in my child’s life through both the good times and the bad. Maybe, sometimes, I’m a little too proud of myself when it comes wearing the badge of being a single parent. Maybe I’m patting myself on the back too much or maybe it’s just because my kid is growing up at lot faster pace than I anticipated. Maybe it’s just life giving me a much needed reality check.
I was tossing the ball around with the youngen’ last night along with some of the other kids that dot the neighborhood. Included in the group were a couple of boys who, despite being the same age as my kid, seem to thrive when it comes to things of an athletic nature. It doesn’t seem to matter if it’s baseball, basketball, football or soccer, these boys play it with gusto. We we’re all having a pretty good time but then it started to drizzle and it was time for all of us to our separate ways. There was still dinner to be made, showers to be taken, laundry to fold, and quiet time to be had. We got inside and I was kinda taken off-guard when my kid asked me…
“Daddy, sometimes do you wish that I was a boy?”
What does one say to that? After all, growing up I was as athletic as they come. I had what I commonly refer to as the dog/fetch reaction. If there was a ball around when I was kid, most likely you would find me chasing it. I guess some of might have carried over to my adulthood since, although I don’t actually play that much anymore, I still retain a passion for sports. Before I could answer her “No” though, I must confess, I had a flickering thought. In what seemed like a nanosecond, I thought about what it would be like if my little girl was, indeed, a boy. About how different our lives might be and what interests we might share. Thankfully though, my brain kicked in…
I asked her why she would even ask that sort of thing and she said something along the lines that the boys were better at sports than she was. That they could throw farther, catch better, and run faster than she could and that I would probably enjoy playing with boys more.
I wound up telling her that no, of course I didn’t wish she was a boy. I told her that I loved her for who, not what she is and that it didn’t matter to me whether she was a boy or a girl, whether she was short or tall, skinny or fat. I didn’t care whether she ever threw a ball, scored a basket or hit a home run. She seemed to chew on that for a little bit but somehow still seemed troubled. Even though she had a busy day in store for her today, she wanted to stay up and watch the NBA Finals with me last night. I said okay but she wound up falling asleep on them anyway.
I got to thinking about why she would ask that question. Was there something in my behavior that indicated I wasn’t satisfied with what she was doing? Is it even normal for a kid to think like that? I got little ticked and my initial reaction was along the lines of, “Jesus Christ, no matter what I do, it isn’t good enough. Here I am trying my best, having no doubt that I was the greatest thing to ever come along when it came to single parenting and that how could she even think that I might want something different.”
The words “no doubt” stuck in my head….
The other day, I think it was Sunday, I was listening to Garrison Keillor’ s A Prairie Home Companion on NPR. He was going on about people and in a backhanded sort of way was making references to the present administration and how they seemed so sure of themselves and how it bordered on arrogance. He said that people in such high places shouldn’t think like that, that there’s was always another voice waiting and deserving to be heard. He then lowered his voice, the audience got real quiet and he said very slowly…
“People that have “no doubt” are monsters.”
I got to thinking about myself, about how self assured I was that I was doing a good job. I still think I am but it can always be better. Instead of patting myself on the back for all of the things I do, I should be reminding myself of all of the things I don’t. I want my kid to be happy who for who she is, not what I want her to be. I can do better.
I don’t want to be a monster, the world's got enough of those already...
(Note: many thanks to those members of E2parents who took the time to impart their wisdom, advice, experience and encouragement when I posed the question.)