5 Things I Never Expected to Love About Being a Dad

When I was a young man and thought about the possibility of having a family, I always imagined that I would have a son, or sons. I considered myself a guy’s guy. I liked contact sports like football and rugby and wilderness activities that took me far from the comforts of home. But, instead of sons, I had three daughters. And from the time they came into the world, bright pink and bawling, I never looked back, not even for a moment.

For the most part, I raised my girls no differently than I would have raised boys. We wrestled on the living room floor and shadowboxed, played king of the hill in the backyard and climbed trees. I taught them to throw a football, cheer for the Green Bay Packers, swing a bat, shoot a bow, dig for worms, and catch crawfish with their hands. Together, my wife and I taught them to fish and clean what we caught, paddle a canoe, and swim in the icy waters of Lake Superior. But, although they loved outdoor adventures and rough-and-tumble sports, they were also girls who liked painting their toenails and putting on pretty dresses.

Over the years, I’ve learned to enjoy things about raising daughters that the younger me never thought I would:

1. Being a hairstylist. When they were young, I invented glamorous hairstyles, always preceded by the phrase “super-duper.” Today, none of my daughters lets me within an arm’s length of her hair. But they all laugh about how proud they were when they went to school with their super-duper braid, ponytail, or bun.

2. Striking a pose. In the basement playroom, my wife kept bins of old clothes that were once her mother’s and grandmother’s, and my daughters often recruited me to participate in their dress-up games, instructing me in the proper way to wear a scarf, sun hat, and feather boa.

3. Becoming a fan … of soccer! I never imagined that I would become a soccer dad. It was a sport I neither understood nor enjoyed. But after years of attending my daughters’ games, and coaching, too, I am a convert. I go to all their games, critique their play, and when the World Cup is on, I become an impassioned fan.

4. Roaming the boutiques. Though they now believe that my sense of style is hopelessly outdated, there was a time when I was their trusted fashion consultant.

5. Picking the top performer. From fashion shows to ice dancing to singing auditions and bake-offs, the girls were always staging events and I was frequently called upon to pick the winner. I made thoughtful and encouraging comments about their performances. Often, they were so busy basking in the glory of my compliments that they never noticed that I hadn’t made the hard decision of choosing who won.

What I never imagined would emerge from these moments was not only how much I would learn to like playing dress-up and dolls, but how much I would grow to love my real-life role of dad. Being a dad is time-consuming and difficult, and sometimes demands more patience than I ever thought I had, but it gives me joy and meaning. It reminds me, too, of how much I love and appreciate my own father.

It wasn’t always so. When I was a young man, my father and I often rubbed each other the wrong way. We were both strong-willed and sometimes bull-headed. But after I had children of my own, I began to understand, and appreciate, him.

From my father I learned the value of family. He is what writer Wallace Stegner called a “sticker.” Stegner defines stickers as those “who settle, and love the life they have made and the place they have made it in.” My dad was busy, and worked hard, but, more often than not, he was there for my siblings and me.

Not long after our first daughter Aidan turned two, he gave me a piece of advice that I learned to live by. “Quality time,” he said, “is quantity time.” For my dad, these weren’t empty words. When I was a boy, he took me fishing, hunting, and camping, whenever he could, and passed on his love of nature. One of my favorite memories was when he would come into my room before sunrise and say, “Son, it’s daylight in the swamp.” That meant that the boat was already packed with rods and lunch and drinks, and we were going to catch fish.

My dad wasn’t perfect, but we always knew he loved us because he made time for us. In the process, he taught me the best lesson a father can learn: Play with your kids, read to them, sit with them and watch a thunderstorm, and when they ask you to play dress-up or braid their hair or judge their fashion show — or go to the creek to catch crawfish — say yes. Say yes, and they will always know they are loved.