Since as long as they can remember, my kids have sat in the back seat while I drive them somewhere. We're weaving in and out of various conversation topics while eating snacks and singing along to whatever's on the radio like it's no thing. So naturally, now that the older kids drive, they've assumed driving is the easiest thing in the world...until they each gotten into crashes almost immediately after they got their licenses.
The previous paragraph is not about driving.
My older kids do have their licenses, but they have literally not gotten behind the wheel since, so thankfully no crashes. Maybe they never will ever drive in their lives? Between making life choices to live in big cities or driverless technology becomes mainstream. At any rate, the beginning of this post is not meant to introduce a long discourse about cars.
But, let me say one more thing about driving, which is that, like all other activities we learn, over time the brain forms connections in our head, such that a very complex set of tasks can be done over and over again without exertion. Riding a bicycle, hitting a golf ball, tying a tie: these too are things we can do without thinking, because once the body-brain connection has been made, we no longer need to think, we can just do.
And think about just how complex the act of driving is. I mean, you are driving a two-ton steel box at 75+ miles per hour, surrounded by other steel boxes of various sizes weaving in and out, some controlled by people distracted by their phone or fumbling for a french fry or tired from a long work shift. Sometimes the road is slick from rain, the sun is in your eyes, or somebody lost a cardboard box up ahead of you. Every time we hit the road, we are putting life and limb on the line, given the thousands of variables we must navigate in order to navigate our way from Point A to Point B.
I recall when I was trying to teach our older kids to drive, one of the lessons involved me narrating everything I was thinking while I was driving. They were overwhelmed by the sheer complexity of commentary coming out of my mouth while I was doing something that from their perspective seemed effortless. Turns out Dad wasn't just cruising down the highway, he was also monitoring speed, fuel levels, and turns and bumps in the road. As well as the ever-changing characteristics of all the cars around us: which were close and where they were in relation to us, which were going faster or slower, who looked potentially shaky and needed to be monitored, and so on.
So, finally, several paragraphs in, let me get to the point of today's post, which is to wish an early Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there who make dadding look easy when it's actually hard. (I'm posting this now because I'll be out of town for the next 11 days.)
And, make no mistake: dadding is hard. Whether you are a single dad, divorcee, stay-at-home dad, or husband to a working wife, or dad who is the sole breadwinner of your family, being a dad carries a set of responsibilities and expectations that is similarly complex like driving is. On the road of life, conditions are not always ideal, those around you threaten to swerve or crash into you, and you're not always at your sharpest. Your "vehicle" gets some miles on it and starts falling apart at the worst time, who you're chauffeuring and where you're taking them is ever shifting, and should you safely get everyone from Point A to Point B there's no tip at the end and usually no acknowledgement of gratitude and admiration for accomplishing it. Sounds like driving! But dadding is harder, because it involves even more variables and greater variation and higher stakes. And yet dads must bear the weight of society's expectations and family's needs, and make it happen day in and day out, season after season, life phase after life phase.
Like driving, dadding can look easy from the back seat. I assure you, it is not. And so I tip my hat to my fellow dads every day but especially today in anticipation of Father's Day. I see the diligence by which you carry the heavy burden of fatherhood, and the muscle memory you've built up over time to be able to do it with grace and ease. Happy Father's Day to you!
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