I got the call. The one I’ve been preparing for my whole adult life. I knew all this so-called trivial knowledge would finally become useful, right up there with mastering “Mary Had a Little Lamb” on that off-white plastic recorder or remembering all the bumps in a cursive ‘m.’
“Dad, can you help me with my math homework?” Like a superhero gliding into the room, adorned with sharpened #2s on my holster, I was ready to meet the goal head-on. “Let’s be alge-bros!” I told my third-grade daughter as her eyes twinkled with hope.
She’s been interested in the magic of numbers for a long time, often telling me how much my favorite basketball team is winning or losing by after each possession, but we’ve recently started legit math. Angles and geometry presented the problems du jour, and while it wasn’t my strongest category back in the day, I relished the moment to show off my esoteric knowledge. And of course to help my daughter in school, connect with her intellectually, and all that other stuff too.
But alas, I was too obtuse, bumbling my polygons to the degree a fairly solid dad joke couldn’t save. (Sorry I was late. I took the rhom-bus.) We tried a few more problems, but I could tell she wasn’t into it. I started to impersonate Pythagoras debating calling his life’s work a theorem versus a theory, but she was already gone. Never meet your heroes, folks.
On a positive note, all those numbers really got me thinking. I enjoy collating and recategorizing periods of my life through the lens of quantities, interims, and oddly coincidental statistics. Yet I always forget to give a card on someone’s birthday.
Celebrating my ninth Father’s Day as a dad this year—my first writing this eponymous piece—I’m keen to think back on a few of the big digits that have defined me since my wife and I welcomed a new roommate all the way back in 2017.
831 Our family moved back to the Monterey Peninsula after a ten-year hiatus in Florida. We left a Monterey apartment as towheaded newlyweds and came back with three daughters, two dogs, and more true stories that could fill a few banned books. We also rediscovered our appreciation and love for all the things this community has to offer, from good beer and pizza to wondrous people and maybe the most perfect climate and landscape in the world. Yes, I am biased.
360 Of course I always want my kids to eat well-balanced, nutritious meals and snacks that are protein-packed, sugar-free, and organically sourced. For the other times, I present the faithful chicken nugget. Give me 10–12 minutes with that cheat code air fryer, set to just the right temp for a golden brown and crispy Stegosaurus-shaped nugget. I appreciate you for the days when time and tempers are short, and I don’t mind having the last one without a head. Bon appetit!
40ish Lately, I catch myself forgetting my age. Getting older is weird, and I still view my world like I did in my late twenties. I’m still cool, with it, and athletic. Then your world blows up when a nine-year-old breaks your ankles on the foursquare court. I’ve finally started to accept my 40s like I’ve started to accept back pains and bedtime before 10:00 p.m.
12 Being married to me can’t be easy. Calling me dad might be harder sometimes, but my wife has put in all-star level leadership for a five-player squad that began a dozen years ago when we made it official, overlooking the Monterey Bay.
It rained so miraculously hard on that parched Pacific Coast day that the DJ’s portable speakers blew out as my wife-to-be walked down the aisle. As the moment of panic set in for our family and friends, the officiant began humming, “Here Comes the Bride,” with the crowd soon joining to complete the straight-out-of-a-movie moment. A dozen more times around the sun, and I still get to make her coffee every morning. No complaints here.
8 Growing up, my extended relatives were limited, and most didn’t live nearby. My wife and I have always liked the idea of a big family (the sitcoms worked!), and we’re fortunate to have a lot of help on our bench. Our girls now love and adore eight grandparents who feel the same way about their three energetic and bombastic grandgirls. Each has their respective role, whether near or far, and it’s truly incredible how kids always bring us together. My girls really enjoy the holiday gifts, attention, and ice cream, but that grandparent love is like no other.
We’re also lucky to live close enough to more than half of those nanas and papas. It’s that amount of hours needed to completely unplug your brain, move your body in a healthy way outside of unclogging the toilet, and maybe just possibly have your own self-identity. Conversely, it’s the perfect amount of time my kids can ditch me—I’m sure I can be insufferable with the jokes—and get quality moments with people far more interesting than dad. It’s a win-win.
5 “Seriously, this is it.” My kids have asked for five more minutes at the park for the fourth time, but they know I’m soft and I like the slides. The playgrounds, parks, and rec areas across Monterey County have become the default family fun zone for us. Wherever you are around this beautiful cutout of rugged mountains and relaxing valleys, you’re close to a fun park with some kind of view or interesting terrain.
We live down the street from Tatum’s Treehouse in Carmel Valley, and I’m fairly sure my girls get mail there. Talking with friends, getting exercise, and just being outside—it’s the perfect remedy for screen overload and kid jitters. I like grabbing an iced coffee and counting all the goldfish my toddler drops as she ascends the faux rock wall. Nap time just got a whole lot easier.
3 My own dad recently asked me if I ever thought about writing a screenplay. “Actually,” I said, “I have a few drafts in progress out in the workshed, right next to my wood carvings and watercolor paintings.” Stinging sarcasm aside, I really wish there was more time to pursue hobbies or interests that might scratch a creative itch, fulfill a personal goal, or just make me happier. Hell, I’d like to watch a few episodes of a new HBO show that everyone references; I just smile and nod but have no idea what they’re talking about.
To that, I also say I have three kids under ten, and parenting is way harder than I expected. (That book, by the way, is fairly useless after you leave the hospital.) When I’m working, I feel guilty for not being with my kids. Feeling the same way in reverse sets up a tough strategy to broaden your personal passions. I’m sure these feelings aren’t foreign to parents everywhere, and the mental and emotional elasticity and fatigue might be the hardest part when it’s all said and done. But what is undeniably true, though, is that being a dad is the single greatest thing I will ever do. And I hope I get to do it as long as possible, whenever my story comes to an end.
Until then, I’ve got a lot of numbers left. But really, who’s counting?
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