The Dating Dad: Daddy Points: December 2007

The temperature was sub-freezing, and the occasional icy breeze was slicing into our skin and making our noses run incessantly. Denver’s Parade of Lights had just begun several blocks away, but it would be at least another 20 minutes before it reached us and our shivering daughters.

My buddy looked at me and said, “We get big daddy points for this.”

I laughed and looked at Simone, who was wiping her nose with a mitten, and had just dribbled hot chocolate onto her new leopard print coat from the disposable cup I’d given her. Before we’d left the apartment to walk to the parade, I’d loaded up a thermos with Swiss Miss, and had packed four cups with lids for the trip. So once the girls had started to seriously fidget, I’d broken out the cups and filled them with the chocolate nectar miracle.

It was funny that my friend had brought up the idea of daddy points, because I’d just been thinking that week about the things, both little and big, that I do to take care of my little girl. Simone’s mom has asked me to go back into mediation with her with the agenda that I’ll agree to let her keep Simone during the week, except for one night when I’ll be able to take her to dinner and then return her to her other house by bedtime, and only have her at my place on alternating weekends. In other words, cutting back our time together to every-other-weekend and one dinner a week. She has decided that it’s in Simone’s best interest to be in one house, her house, during the school week.

I believe it’s in Simone’s best interest to be with both parents equally, but that’s not what I want to write about.

To my chagrin, even though I know I’m a loving, devoted father, when Simone’s mom displays doubt about my competency as a parent, I can’t help wondering if she’s right. She’s not, of course, but her aspersions sow questions in their own pernicious way.

So my buddy mentioned daddy points, and I realized I’d been thinking about them already, even if I hadn’t chosen to call them that.

You never hear anyone talking about how moms get “mommy points” for the things they do—we dads tend to get extra accolades when we make our daughters’ hair look pretty, or sew buttons back on their sweaters.

But I have to wonder if I qualify for daddy points when I do the basic stuff.

How many points did I earn on Wednesday morning, when I woke Simone, gave her a healthy breakfast, made her lunch while she ate (illustrating and writing her daily lunch note), helped her get dressed, combed her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail, got her bundled for the cold morning, drove her to school, and kissed her goodbye after signing her in? Do I qualify for points other parents wouldn’t get, because I did it on my own, and have been doing so for five years now?

And what about how, the day of the parade, I took her shopping for winter boots, because I didn’t want her toes to get cold when we went out that night?

That’s just normal, competent parenting, right?

And though I feel a sense of satisfaction after I’ve fed Simone dinner and dessert, bathed her and read with her in bed before turning out the lights, I don’t think I qualify for any special honors.

So maybe daddy points are a function of the extra things we do for our beloved offspring, like how I just spent an hour digging out all of our Hanukkah decorations and covered the walls and ceilings of our place with streamers, banners and Simone’s holiday art projects from the last several years so, when I bring her home tonight, the apartment will already be festive.

Or maybe it’s how, when she was so upset about something frustrating that had happened at school one day, and couldn’t stop crying about it as we drove home, no matter how much we talked about it, I started goofing with her car window, making it seem as if it were alive, which made her laugh and broke her out of her spiral.

Where do you draw the line when it comes to patting ourselves on the back after a particularly stupendous display of parenting prowess? Honestly, I think we should allow ourselves to feel good about everything we do for our kids, whether it’s expected or not. Parenting is not easy, it’s not always fun, but it’s always important. And if we can find ways to feel proud when something goes right (“Hey, I stuck a straw through the opening of that Starbucks cup, and now she can drink it without spilling! I rock!”), maybe our screw-ups won’t hit us so hard (“Damn, whose idea was it to eat cornbread while sitting on the couch? Oh yeah: mine.”).

So feel free to award yourself daddy (or mommy) points whenever you feel like you just might deserve them. You probably do.