Daddy can’t (and won’t) fix everythingDaddy can’t (and won’t) fix everythingDaddy can’t (and won’t) fix everything

Daddy can’t (and won’t) fix everything

I grew up as the youngest child in a large family. I was the last to get anything new as practically everything I had was second hand from siblings or cousins. I swear, I think I even had hand-me-down lunches sometimes! As such, much of the stuff I got weren’t in great shape and I got little help to restore siblings’ former play things. But my mom would encourage me and make everything last for as long as possible. I became pretty ingenious in repurposing old things for new uses. Sometimes, my older brothers would want it back. I also learned to be pretty territorial and scrappy, as well. Everyone eventually knew to steered clear of me and mine.

My daughter’s upbringing as an only child is entirely different and while I do indulge her at times, I try to recreate some of that tension I grew up with. When she was little, I did everything for her simple because she couldn’t. I also replaced what I couldn’t fix. But as she got older, she started doing more for herself and I fixed less. I want to teach her that the world is not her general store for her to take as she pleased. She vividly recalls breaking her cell phone and was left without one for months before I asked her if she’d be interested in using some of her allowance to pay for replacement parts. She agreed and has learned to take very good care of all her things because she knows what it is like to be without. But as her dad, I’ll do what I can to fix what I know how to fix including sewing knee pads over torn pants. But there are 3 categories of things I will not fix.

 

I could give my daughter my life’s worth of experiences, but it would be a disservice to her. She’s not me and her experiences will be different. I can do much, but learning to do nothing is harder.

 

What she can do for herself. Fathers know that there as little they wouldn’t do for their daughters. But indulgence can become entitlements. This slippery slope creates narcissistic thinking. Ultimately, it will doom their daughter and very few people will want to be around her. If my daughter shows disinterest or indifference, it is not up to me to care more about her things than she. This is different from her wanting to stop because of frustration and exhaustion. The former requires nothing from you; the latter requires everything.

The choices of others. Failure will happen. In fact, it is what paves the road to success. When my daughter failed to make the cut for a team, she was disappointed beyond belief. The worst thing that can happen is for a parent to interview and try to convince the coaches to overturn the original decision. Snowplowing is only good on icy slopes, not a parenting approach. You’d do more harm to your daughter who will learn that she doesn’t need to try very hard because daddy will take responsibility for reversing bad outcomes.

Relationships. It has taken me decades to learn that I cannot fix this. And this is something I’d just assume my daughter learn sooner rather than later. Her friendship with her first boyfriend ended several weeks after it had begun. Even before she wanted out, she didn’t feel she wanted to stay. Although my daughter asked me to tell this boy, it was something I told her she’d had to deal with it personally (with my close proximity support). Being a match maker wasn’t my role; neither was being a counselor. This is something she needs to learn well so she can exert her choice and affect those relationships that matter to her whether they are with acquaintances, friends or lovers.

I can’t give my daughter a family of multiple siblings. But I can surround her with extended family of cousins, friends and neighbors. Being the youngest, my older sisters didn’t want to play my games and my brothers had his friends. I was too young to hang out independently with my own friends, so it was ironic that even though I grew up in a houseful of people, it was independence that nourished me to reach the sunlight past the undergrowth. I could give my daughter my life’s worth of experiences, but it would be a disservice to her. She’s not me and her experiences will be different. I can do much, but learning to do nothing is harder.

 

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