Paternal Instinct

It all started innocently enough. A co-worker called to discuss a work related issue. After discussing order numbers, strategies and other topics I would rather not bore you with, the discussion naturally led to how the home team was playing, the weather and eventually his family. After reporting how well his son was doing in school (he had hit the honor roll again), my co-worker mentioned how much his son had been entranced with his new hobby; model trains. Listening to my co-worker discuss his son’s accomplishments with a subtle zeal that only a parent can express, I couldn’t help but to drift to the fond memories of time well spent with dad.

Thoughts of playing catch with dad, unable to feel the biting Northeastern air as we passed through my mind. Memories of casting my line along the still waters of the many Cape Cod lakes, wishing the sun would never set flooded my consciousness. A hodgepodge of memories hit me during my conversation with my loquacious co-worker. Neil Diamond, James bond flicks, memories of stomping out his no filtered cigarettes after he discarded them on the ground (it’s always the oddest things that we seem to remember), they all bring me back to those innocent days.

The bond between a father and child is often a needlessly complicated relationship. Many men may feel the surge of emotions when they consider parenthood. However, such expressions of contentment have been corrupted by one liners born of hack stand up acts and lazy sitcom writers. Of course, there are the typical comments about hoping their son is straight, tough and athletic. The trifecta.

Then, there’s the tired old bit of the father cautiously inspecting his daughter’s prom date while he tried to put the fear of god in said date. These old stereotypes and mores obscure the truly important aspects of the pride of parenthood. Being proud of your child, regardless of their choices and strengths (or because of them), and not his or her proclivities, is what truly warms the heart.

There is a myth that only women have the desire, the “maternal instinct”, to favor the soft pitter patter of children’s feet and the innate bond of parent and child which eclipses any connection known to the childless (if anyone disagrees watch any movie on Lifetime that begins with “Not without my…” and you may change your mind).

Men are said to be disappointed if they do not have a son, although they will never admit it. Men are often depicted as clueless in the ways of parenting with a tolerance time threshold of an egg timer. Men are said to have, and sadly espouse, an intrinsic lack of sensitivity to provide the proper care, support and love for their own. Broadly speaking, men are often considered a provider first and a care giver secondly. This thought process often changes after men become fathers.

To a person, every man I have spoken to that prior to being a father was ambivalent, even downright terrified, at the prospects of fatherhood, changed their tune once they became a father. Yet, as intense as their emotions may soar, it is just as difficult to find one who can fairly describe their joy with any justice. Even those who revel in the merriment of fatherhood find themselves at a loss for words to fairly express the pure emotional bliss they feel.

Naturally, not all men feel this paternal desire. Sadly, many men dismiss their obligations (financial and otherwise) only to continue their pattern of irresponsibility and recklessness. You can find some of these men on "Maury". This lack of caring and responsibility is a mockery to those of us who would only be delighted with the possibility of experiencing the joys and pride inherit in the growth, development and nurturing of his child.

I do my best to be the dutiful uncle. I take the “kids” (my nieces and nephews) to the movies. We go out to the mall. We play board games. In short, we do all the fun stuff together. However, bike riding in the park and weekend trips do not prepare one for the hectic, frustrating and mundane days of parenthood. Yet, the concept that a parent could grow together with child into a family with memories, love and the occasional drama is enough to melt one’s heart.

Each year, my co-worker friend will send me an updated photo of his children. Seeing them grow and the joy that must course through his veins when he considers their accomplishments and their development. Perhaps, one day it will be me waxing poetically about my child.