bad dad

Let me start by saying that as much as I try, I am not a good father.

First of all, I am female, but that’s not the reason.  As a single mother, I must assume both parenting roles, and as much as I’d like to believe I’m good at both, well, I’m not.

I was 41 when I became pregnant.  I was in a relationship, if you could call it that, with a 29 year old.  I’ll skip all the drama and simply say, this 29-year old was not ready or willing to assume the responsibilities of fatherhood.  From the beginning I knew I would be raising my child alone.

When my son was born, I was living in New York City (still am), had a supportive network of friends and family (still do), and was VP of Marketing for a major cable network.  I felt fully equipped to be a mother, and never once questioned whether this was a role I wanted; I knew it was.

About a month after my son was born, my then boss and friend wanted to meet.  I would be starting back to work soon and had already lined up a nanny for my child.  The meeting started well enough.  I shared pictures of my beautiful newborn, and we briefly caught up on life.  But before things got too warm and fuzzy, Caroline told me, in kinder words than these, that I was being fired. I was waiting to hear words like:  When are you coming back? We are launching a new series and need you.  Oh and by the way, he’s adorable!  Instead I vaguely remembering phrases like budget cuts. Job elimination. Compensation package. I‘m sorry.

Being a single mother became a lot scarier, but somehow we managed.  I got other jobs.  The father paid child support.  And life continued.

As my son grew up, I tried to shield him from the many ways I knew I was failing him as a father.

I could not teach him how to toss a ball around.  In high school, I could only throw a  softball 33 feet, and that was underhand.  Instead, I had to rely on my nephews, Division One, star athletes. 

I never coached any of the many teams my son was on.  But I didn’t embarrass him either by getting into fights with the referees. I was happy just to be a team-parent and coordinate the after-game refreshments.

My voice alone was never strong enough to use in discipline.  I had to resort to reason.

Other than a few quarterbacks, I am unable to identify any NFL players, unless they are in the news for some egregious behavior. My poor son had to learn football without my help.  And though he played in high school and college, I tried to discourage him. I am sure this is something a good father would not have done.

I know nothing about cars, so my poor son grew up without knowing how to change a tire.  But since he doesn’t have a car, and hasn’t driven one since receiving his license in 2011, that’s probably not going to be too much of a hardship. 

I’m strong emotionally but not physically.  At a young age, my son had to become the one lifting the 5-gallon Poland Spring bottle onto the cooler.

Would it be better if my son had the love and guidance of a real father in his life?  Absolutely.  But not because a father can do things that a mother can’t.  But because two people who can love your child unconditionally are better than one.