For The Man of the Household That Gives Their All

 

There are days when being a dad is one of the greatest joys imaginable. There are also days when it is incredibly hard.

I would like to believe I’m a good dad. Certainly not a perfect one. I’ve made mistakes, and I’m sure my wife and kids could give you a list of them. But one thing I know about myself is that when it comes to my family, I will bend over backwards to try to make them happy.

Sometimes quite literally.

I’m allergic to cats. Yet we have two cats. Why? Because my wife and daughter love cats. I knew having them would make them happy, so somehow my allergies became something I could live with.

There have been times when my wife has seen a vehicle and simply said, “I like that car.” It wasn’t even necessarily a hint. But when the time came that she needed a different vehicle, I remembered. If there was a way to make it happen, I made it happen on multiple occasions.

When one of my kids has a dream, an idea, or something they really want to do, my mind immediately starts working: How can I help make that happen?

I think that’s what a lot of dads do.

We become dream facilitators.

We figure out the finances. We fix the broken things. We rearrange schedules. We drive across town. We sacrifice something we wanted. We work a little harder. We say, “Go ahead,” when someone wants to buy something. We find a way. 

And most of the time, we really don’t mind doing it.

Because we love our families.

But I’ve realized something this year: sometimes being the dad who is always trying to make everyone else’s dreams happen can leave you quietly wondering if anyone notices yours.

Mother’s Day came this year, and the kids who had jobs went all in on Mom. I loved seeing that. She deserves to be celebrated.

Then Father’s Day came.

It was different.

A few dollars were spent, and I certainly don’t expect my kids to empty their bank accounts for me. That isn’t the point. But if I’m being truthful, it stung a little.

Especially because one of my love languages is receiving gifts.

That doesn’t mean I need expensive things. Gifts communicate something deeper to me: I thought about you. I listened to you. I remembered something you said. I wanted to do something just because I knew it would make you smile.

Maybe that is why I try so hard to do that for everyone else.

Recently, I’ve mentioned something I would really like. I’ve dropped the hints. Maybe they aren’t even hints anymore. Just scroll back a little in my phone photos.

But deep down, I’ve already convinced myself it probably isn’t going to happen.

There will be reasons.

“It’s not practical.”

“Maybe when we have this much in savings.”

“Do you really need that?”

And maybe all of those reasons are perfectly legitimate.

But sometimes a dad wonders: Why does everything I want have to be practical?

Why is it so easy for me to hear someone I love say, “I really like that,” and immediately start wondering how I can make it happen, while the things I dream about seem to require a cost-benefit analysis?

That can wear on a man.

Because underneath the thing itself usually isn’t really the thing.

It’s wanting someone to do for you what you spend so much of your life doing for everyone else.

It’s wanting someone to remember.

To surprise you.

To sacrifice a little for you.

To say, without saying the words, “Dad, you spend so much time thinking about us that this time we were thinking about you.”

There are moments when being a father/husband feels strangely lonely.

You can be surrounded by people you know love you and still feel overlooked.

You can know your family appreciates you and still feel disappointed.

You can know that your worth isn’t measured by what someone buys you and still wish, just once, someone would go out of their way to make one of your silly, impractical dreams happen.

And yes, sometimes it can leave a man feeling deflated.

Maybe even unloved.

That’s difficult to admit because men aren't supposed to say things like that.

We’re supposed to provide.

Protect.

Fix.

Sacrifice.

Keep moving.

And so we do.

Tomorrow, if my wife or one of my kids tells me about something they really want, my brain will probably start working again.

How could we make that happen?

Because that’s what dads/husbands do.

We keep putting our families first—not because we’re keeping score and not because we expect an equal return on every sacrifice. Love doesn’t work that way.

But maybe there is something families need to remember about Dad: The man who spends so much of his life making everyone else feel loved needs to feel loved too.

He may not say it.

He may laugh it off.

He may tell you, “Don’t spend your money on me.”

He may act like he doesn’t need anything.

But occasionally, a man wants someone to notice the thing he mentioned a few months ago.

Occasionally, Dad wants the impractical gift.

Occasionally, a man wants someone else to bend over backwards.

Not because he is selfish.

Not because he needs more stuff.

But because sometimes the greatest gift you can give the man who is constantly saying, “Let me take care of you,” is the opportunity to hear:

“This time, let us take care of you.”