A father should be more than an occasional, or even a consistent, provider: Jarvis DeBerry
Jarvis DeBerry feeds an 8-month-old Naomi her Sunday Dinner. (L. Kasimu Harris)
A young man I spoke to a few weeks ago is now expecting a second child with a woman other than the one who gave birth to his 5-year-old daughter. To gauge how he might care for the baby that's on the way, I asked him if he was paying child support for the daughter who's already here.
He is not. But he wanted to allay my concerns. If that child needs something, he told me, he pays for it. And he keeps receipts so he can prove that he did. Apparently, he meant for me to mirror the smile that broke out on his face and endorse his generous spirit by nodding my head as he was nodding his.
But I said, "How are you going to start that sentence with 'if'? 'If she needs something'? She's always going to need something."
It wasn't my intent to make the man feel bad, to lecture or to hector, but he seemed overly satisfied with his parenting and seemed to be expecting a slap on the back for occasionally purchasing something the little girl needs.
Now there's a second baby on the way. I shouldn't worry, though. He assured me that he loves children. I don't doubt that he does. But I pray that his love for this second child is more hands-on and participatory than his love for the first one.
When I was picking up a book the local library was holding for me last week, the nice lady behind the circulation desk wanted an update on 9-month-old Naomi. After I told her she was doing well, she whispered, "I've got to ask you a question: Do you change diapers?"
I would expect near universal agreement with the statement that a man who says he purchases necessities if his child needs them isn't doing enough. But that doesn't mean that a man who consistently provides for a child's material well-being deserves that World's Best Dad coffee cup. Our expectations are changing. According to the Pew Research Center, the amount of time fathers spend with their children increased from 2.5 hours a week in 1965 to seven in 2011. During that same time, fathers more than doubled their time on housework, from four hours a week to ten.
According to a separate Pew survey, today's fathers are worrying almost as much as mothers are about the proper balance between work and raising children. That survey shows that 56 percent of mothers and 50 percent of fathers say balancing "the responsibilities of their job and their family" is either somewhat difficult or very difficult. That said, more than two thirds of mothers feel they spend the right amount of time with their children. Only half of fathers do.
We worry about the quality of our parenting to a greater extent than I think the women in our lives realize. I'm not one of those men whose main goal is avoiding the mistakes his own father made. I had and still have a wonderfully attentive father. My fear isn't that I will become him; it's that I won't. The fear is that my child will sit waiting for daddy to come home longer than I ever remember waiting myself.
My low moment as a father coincided with the first time Naomi rolled herself over. She rolled herself right onto the floor. I realize that all stories like this begin with "I was only gone a minute," but trust me, it wasn't even that long. I lay her on the sofa, walked the few steps to the kitchen, dispensed water from the refrigerator, raised the glass to my lips, heard a thud and then a cry.
I agonized over her fall far longer than she cried about it. Actually, not two minutes had passed before she was smiling at me, seemingly inviting me to play. That evening I arrived home from work feeling like the world's worst father. But if her smile was any indication, she was absolutely thrilled I was there.
Jarvis DeBerry can be reached at jdeberry@nola.com. Follow him at twitter.com/jarvisdeberry.
He is not. But he wanted to allay my concerns. If that child needs something, he told me, he pays for it. And he keeps receipts so he can prove that he did. Apparently, he meant for me to mirror the smile that broke out on his face and endorse his generous spirit by nodding my head as he was nodding his.
But I said, "How are you going to start that sentence with 'if'? 'If she needs something'? She's always going to need something."
It wasn't my intent to make the man feel bad, to lecture or to hector, but he seemed overly satisfied with his parenting and seemed to be expecting a slap on the back for occasionally purchasing something the little girl needs.
Now there's a second baby on the way. I shouldn't worry, though. He assured me that he loves children. I don't doubt that he does. But I pray that his love for this second child is more hands-on and participatory than his love for the first one.
When I was picking up a book the local library was holding for me last week, the nice lady behind the circulation desk wanted an update on 9-month-old Naomi. After I told her she was doing well, she whispered, "I've got to ask you a question: Do you change diapers?"
I told her I did and was caught off guard by her effusive approval. When I asked her why she seemed so pleased, she told me that some dads play with their babies but avoid all the dirty work. "Wow," I said. "I didn't know I had that option."
I didn't know I had the option to not change diapers!"
That's what I said to my wife when I got home: "I didn't know I had the option to not change diapers!" Without even looking up from what she was doing, she said, "You don't." And that was that.I would expect near universal agreement with the statement that a man who says he purchases necessities if his child needs them isn't doing enough. But that doesn't mean that a man who consistently provides for a child's material well-being deserves that World's Best Dad coffee cup. Our expectations are changing. According to the Pew Research Center, the amount of time fathers spend with their children increased from 2.5 hours a week in 1965 to seven in 2011. During that same time, fathers more than doubled their time on housework, from four hours a week to ten.
We worry about the quality of our parenting to a greater extent than I think the women in our lives realize. I'm not one of those men whose main goal is avoiding the mistakes his own father made. I had and still have a wonderfully attentive father. My fear isn't that I will become him; it's that I won't. The fear is that my child will sit waiting for daddy to come home longer than I ever remember waiting myself.
My low moment as a father coincided with the first time Naomi rolled herself over. She rolled herself right onto the floor. I realize that all stories like this begin with "I was only gone a minute," but trust me, it wasn't even that long. I lay her on the sofa, walked the few steps to the kitchen, dispensed water from the refrigerator, raised the glass to my lips, heard a thud and then a cry.
I agonized over her fall far longer than she cried about it. Actually, not two minutes had passed before she was smiling at me, seemingly inviting me to play. That evening I arrived home from work feeling like the world's worst father. But if her smile was any indication, she was absolutely thrilled I was there.
Jarvis DeBerry can be reached at jdeberry@nola.com. Follow him at twitter.com/jarvisdeberry.
No comments:
Post a Comment