It happened. My wife said that it would happen and it did.

We usually go together on any trips taken with all three of our girls, when possible. On occasions that this is not possible, said wife is usually the one in place to take care of business while being her usual Badass mom self and taking all three girls with her.

Today, it so happened that I was tasked with running a few errands, and I decided to take the entire B-Team with me. Usual stuff, a few things at the hardware store, a few groceries, and what I hope are the winning powerball numbers of 파워볼사이트.

Lowe’s first. I pull into the lot. I make sure to park next to the cart corral. Hit the real jackpot by finding a double cart with steering wheels. Exit vehicle. Obtain cart. Open rear driver’s side door. Obtain Boom-Boom, place inside left seated position of cart, administer buckling procedure. Obtain Bug, repeat buckling on opposite side of cart. Close rear driver’s side door.

Now comes the complicated part. I casually drift behind the rear of the vehicle, keeping my facial expression stoic, as though this is an absolutely routine procedure. The rear passenger side door is opened and a third child is extracted from the vehicle. Place Bird in the cargo hold section of the cart. Ensure no additional ponies are required. Confirm all doors are closed and vehicle locked. All safety checks are in place. Thus we begin our journey, a quest for white paint, edger wire, and decorative rock. I take a single step, just one, towards the entrance to the store.

“Awwww!” A female voice from a moderately nearby position is heard. Rotate neck to scan the area. Identify target voice and associate with nearby female approaching cart of children. Female reaches cart in clear attempt to engage Bug and Boom-Boom in pretend conversation. The following words are uttered:

“Is daddy babysitting you guys today?”

Now, I have patience. I have 10 years of customer service experience. I have almost 3 years of experience with being a dad. I expect to have many more years of experience in both categories. I have already refereed disputes between all members of the B-Team and their cousins that I never thought would escalate beyond asking if a toy could be shared/exchanged/traded/substituted/timeshared/ok, that’s it, I am taking it away/oh, now you’re both upset, perhaps you could share it?/ten minutes of relative quiet/repeat with new toy. Coincidentally, I have had eerily similar conversations in various customer service positions.

Point is, I am not usually quick to anger to the point of responding angrily. But I hear and read stories of dads all over being belittled, often as publicly as over the airwaves, as though their role as fathers is expected to be nothing more than a bumbling, confused, knuckle – dragging idiot that can’t take care of themselves, much less a child. I see the commercials; the ones where dad made a mess of something! And woah, how did anything get done before this mess was here before? NOT TO WORRY! Mom is here with a new vacuum to clean the mess! Vacuums for moms! Because dads don’t know how to use one! Or the one where there’s a baby with a diaper, and the dad sniffs the air and gets a look on his face like he has just inhaled the scent of a thousand sewage fields. Then he opens the diaper and it is clear that he is about to puke on camera. NOT TO WORRY! Mom is here with new butt wipes! BUTT WIPES FOR MOMS! Because dads don’t know how to do basic dad things.

I see these things. I hear stories on the dad pages that I subscribe to on Facebook. Just yesterday, Mrs. Wife had mentioned that it was not only possible, but in fact likely, that I would get referred to as a babysitter. But I didn’t believe it. I thought perhaps the stories were examples of outliers, the commercials just intended as pro-mom for targeted demographic reasons, that people would at least keep their ignorant views to themselves rather than proclaim loudly that they have no idea what being a dad should be about.

One step and I was proven wrong.

All of these thoughts were firing around the various neuron clusters in my brain (of which I have several) in this moment. A response was required. Angered with the fury of The Hulk, but patient with the restraint of Job, I chose the following words:

“No ma’am, just being a father to my children.”

Emphasis was placed on ‘father’ and ‘my children’. Tasteful, yet with enough vinegar to ruin a bottle of vinegar. The conversation was confirmed to be over with my prompt exit without so much as a side glance back to see if she got the message. Her silence was enough for me to assume that she did.

During the remainder of my walk to the entrance, delusions freely entered into my thoughts, such as me apologizing to the store manager for the new crater in the parking lot, it was the result of some lady’s jaw hitting the ground with the force of a thousand meteors. Or that, upon entering, clapping would be started slowly, then would increase in tempo as I progressed through the store, culminating into thunderous applause, with enough confetti and balloons to make a political party convention planner drool with envy, creating an impassible balloon monsoon by the time I reached aisle 3.

Of course, in reality, I am sure she just clicked her tongue and thought me just as rude as I thought her ignorant. I ‘Bye Felicia’d my way out of there too fast to see or hear any aftermath. But I want to make it clear, not just to her, that being a dad is much more than being a sperm donor caveman. It is fun, exciting, rewarding, and the reason I wake up in the morning. And the reason I stay up at night. And yes, there’s poop. But even though I never knew as recently as three years ago that I wanted to be a dad, I know now that I never want to be anything else. I refuse to be a walking cliche of a barely functioning neanderthal, unable to decipher complex situations like styling hair (I still need some practice, but I can and will do it!).

I want to be the best person I can be, lead by example, be a role model, an ear, a shoulder, anything I am needed to be so that my children can live the best lives they possibly can. If I can’t do something, I will learn it.  I will practice it.  I will hone my skill or interpretation of it until it is a teachable craft that I can then pass along to the B-Team, so that they can learn and practice if they so choose.  Be the foundation for the skills they will develop, and keep building until they are better at it than you.  Set goals for them to shatter and exceed.  Repeat daily with new ideas and interests.  Never stand still and settle for yesterday’s dreams, but instead continue making steps onward into the never-ending journey of fatherhood with new skills, new goals, and new dreams.

Step by step.  That’s what being a dad means, not what you see on television.

Please feel free to share if you know somebody that needs to hear this message.  The awesome t-shirt you see above was created by the National At-Home Dad Network, and you can find it here.