Crap, I was starting to sound like my dad.
My daughters aren't calling or staying in touch. I feel forgotten. A part of me feels like they don't appreciate or love me.
Crap, I was starting to sound like my dad.
My daughters aren't calling or staying in touch. I feel forgotten. A part of me feels like they don't appreciate or love me.
I was furious at my girlfriend.
Never have I ever been this mad at her. I screamed. She screamed. Our egos refused to back down. Fight me.
She could have chosen anyone, but my daughter chose me.
I shouted this to my 11 and 9-year-old daughters as we drove down the freeway with the windows rolled down. They were in the back seat of our old run-down Honda Civic, so it was especially noisy.
It pays to be you; all awkward and genuine you.
You've been practicing all your life. You become memorable for your genuine personality.
I was reminded of this lesson yesterday on a sales call.
This will be my strangest and most emotional summer as a dad.
It's the bridge to the other phase of my parenting journey. On the last day of school, I would be waiting for them to jump in the car. Then we would drive into the horizon.
This is a call to action to all dads. If you love your kids, you will be mad at me and do something about it.
Today is the 4th anniversary of being able to shut my eyes for more than 2 minutes without losing my mind.
I was trying to leave without embarrassing my daughter.
My girlfriend tried to stop me.
She was insisting to turn around to congratulate and hug my baby girl. She and her team had just wrapped up a band competition and were hanging out waiting for their bus.
Over the years, I've had a few people tell me that my daughters were smartasses. This came as a shock to me because I hadn't noticed it. My daughters and I will debate and argue, but disrespect wasn't something I ever detected.
Was my bias showing?
Does it seem like your kids never follow your directions?
What if I told you that there was a technique that would help ensure that they understood your instructions and almost guaranteed they would follow through without needing to scream like a maniac who lost his keys.
What can I say? I was a perfect dad. Or was I? Read the story below.