You're Doing Great

Dang it, Vocal, again with the challenges designed to pull me, specifically, out of my comfort zone. So, look, I'm an anxious, insecure crybaby who doesn't like to verbalize my feelings. I absolutely know where I get that from. The discomfort around sharing a Father's Day piece comes from the knowledge that my dad is also an anxious, insecure crybaby. I'm five sentences into writing this, and he's five sentences into reading it, and we're probably both on the verge of tears.

I have some idea what the insecurity is about. I hear parenting is really hard and no person in human history has done it perfectly. All parents can do is compare, compare, compare themselves to their own parents, their peers, and all of the weirdly specific stuff society says good parents do. The most common and least constructive way this insecurity rears its head in our family: Dad asks, "Am I a good dad? Did I do the right things?" and we go, "Yes, of course. Stop being hard on yourself." There, did that help? Probably not, that would be too easy. It might be more helpful, then, to look at the moments I feel impacted me as a daughter.

First, it's not about milestones to me. It's just not. Once in a while, Dad wonders whether he attended enough school functions and other such events. I don't think my sister would mind if I speak for both of us here: YES. I can't remember a single time when I thought "gee, I wish Dad hadn't missed that one." I don't even remember most of the Christmas concerts. The shows that were important to me gained much of their significance because I knew my parents would love them.

I can elaborate: I was excited to sing "Downtown" and "I Don't Know How to Love Him" on that little school stage because I knew Dad likes oldies and musicals. I was excited to have a small part in Our Town because it was a show my dad had performed. I was super stoked the summer I finally got a leading role in a Missoula Children's Theater production because that was a very safe, comfortable environment for me, and I knew my parents would enjoy seeing me take the spotlight for a change.

None of that is because of pressure to "make my parents proud" or anything. I just wanted them to know that I was into the stuff they introduced me to. I wanted to enjoy it with them. My parents are really, really cool. I tell people so all the time. I am such a huge nerd for a lot of the things my parents are nerds about. Sure, I had a lot of friends my own age, but not many of them were into sci-fi, classic film, or history. Dad has always been my go-to nerd friend. That's pretty neat.

That's all the obvious stuff, or more accurately, the most surface-level stuff. That's the stuff that's easy to point at and say, "that's how family works!" For me, it's all about the little things my parents said and did that have helped me figure out how to navigate existence.

I've always loved asking Dad questions and letting him explain things to me. When I was very little, I remember asking what songs were about. Sometimes I would ask even though I remembered the answer from last time. I just wanted to hear the answer again. Sometimes the smallest things stick with you; I remember asking my dad whether rap is considered "music". As a 90's/00's kid living in a small, predominantly white community, hip-hop was pretty unfamiliar to me, but I knew that some parents had strong opinions about "rap crap". His reply was just to explain that rap is poetry read to a beat. Dad actually answered the question that I meant rather than the one I asked. My kid-mouth asked "is rap music?" but my kid-brain was really asking if it had any merit as an art form. The simple answer with zero judgment really cemented itself in my memory. (I'm pretty sure I could tell you exactly where we were in the car when this happened.)

Moments like that when Dad is just effortless open-minded stay with me. I feel like my dad's interests and opinions are clearly defined, and sometimes I mistake that for rigidity. Back "when Netflix came in the mail", I enjoyed selecting films that were new to me but would also interest my family. Movies that were classic, profound or epic were ones to watch with Dad, and movies that were modern, weird or niche were typically Mom's thing. When I got Napoleon Dynamite I was actually a little nervous when Mom opted to sit that one out and Dad jumped at the opportunity. But I had nothing to be nervous about. We had a great time and the humor really clicked with him. After the movie, Dad was all excited to tell Mom about the scene with the Future Farmers of America competition and we watched that scene again. That's something that I do, fixate on something and want to make somebody else witness it with me. I was really amused to see Dad do the same thing, especially over a movie I didn't expect him to enjoy.

It's a little difficult to sum up in words, but I'm a writer, so here I go: So much of who I am is shaped by the way my parents react to and interact with the world around them. Children are paying attention to what their parents do and don't do. You may verbalize your expectations, but you demonstrate your priorities in more subtle ways. You might tell a child to treat others with respect, but what that respect means, you communicate in your tone and your behavior when you talk to a stranger. You will tell your child that you're proud of them and praise their accomplishments, as you should, but they'll remember the in-between moments when your support and enthusiasm carried them through uncertainty.

So, here's to the emotionally intelligent dads; the dads who were always proud their kids were "weird" and "individuals" long before we grew into labels like "neurodivergent" and "LGBTQ+"; the dads who impart wisdom by just being themselves; and the dads who can be bribed with a turtle sundae. Happy Father's Day, Daddy! You're doing great and I love you so much.