Father’s Day is a weekend away, and I’m not only thinking about my husband and the kind of father he is, but also about my own dad (who died many years ago) and what it was like growing up with his parenting style. I don’t think there are too many of us out there that would deny how much dads have progressed in the past several decades.

I adored my dad, and he was the only dad I ever had. But I realize I grew up with some nagging issues based on the kind of father he was. For one thing, he was gone a lot—travelling a lot for work. I remember that he missed a bunch of my birthdays. That always made me very sad. For another, he never cooked. My mom made dinner every night, and it was always some sort of meat-and-potatoes-type meal, because that was what my dad would eat. He never cleaned up either. I remember my mom always nagging him to pick up his socks and undershirts from the floor, and so on. Can’t say that I blame her. But my dad was a real softie. When he was around, he was endearingly affectionate with his kids. His softer side also meant he wasn’t much of a disciplinarian, so that fell to my mom. In fact, a lot of things fell to my mom to take care of as a parent, cook and housekeeper. Oh yes, my mom worked outside the home, too. I resented her because she was hard on me, but I realized much later that someone had to set the limits for us kids, because my dad wasn’t doing it.

All this (and a lot more that I won’t get into) left a lasting impression on me that I’ve carried into my adult life, marriage and parenthood. I grew up thinking my dad was the nice one and my mom wasn’t so nice. I realized eventually that my mom was forced into many roles because my dad was unwilling—or unable—to take them on.

My husband is a very different kind of dad than my dad, or his dad, was. He’s home a lot more. He cooks, he washes dishes, he’s a very hands-on parent. He disciplines his daughter, but he always wants it to be a united front for both of us. True, he doesn’t do nearly as much around the house as I do. But where it really counts—he does pitch in, he’s super-involved with our child’s life and schooling and homework and all, he truly cares how I feel and wants me and our daughter to be happy, he works his butt off to help support us at work that is very meaningful to him—he’s an excellent partner and dad. When I feel overwhelmed and that he doesn’t do enough, I have to remind myself that he does a lot—a lot more than my dad ever did. That’s not perfection (what is?), but that’s real progress.
How about your guy? Progress?