My daughter and I were having a pleasant evening in the backyard the other night when she peeked over to see me playing a baseball game on my phone. She was very intrigued and watched for a few moments before telling me that she wanted to be a baseball player one day and play for her favorite team, our local minor league affiliate, RiverCats. Then, after a brief pause, she completely upended me by asking: “Daddy, what do you want to be when you grow up?”
I have never been so flummoxed by a question in all my life. A four and a half year old had left me absolutely stumped. What do I want to be when I grow up? What the hell kind of question is that to a 37 year old? Why couldn’t she ask me something I knew, like what was the date that Mark McGwire broke Roger Maris’ homerun record; what sparked World War I; or what is the maximum velocity of a green tip 5.56mm round fired from an M4? Nope, she went straight for the knockout round. My kid doesn’t f@#$ around.
Her question was heavily loaded and she didn’t even know it. But it dawned on me: my kid only knows me as Daddy. She knows Mommy works hard every single day. She knows where she works and loves visiting her workplace. But Daddy is just Daddy. He doesn’t work. She has never seen Daddy work. Daddy is all she knows. She hasn’t seen years of training out in the field. She hasn’t known countless months of Daddy not being home because he was in another country doing God-knows what to God-knows who. She doesn’t know the fear and uncertainty of when Daddy would come home. She doesn’t know the pride Daddy had in the ability to go help those who needed help, and fighting for people who couldn’t fight alone. She isn’t aware of the faith and trust Daddy’s teammates had to have in him to be there for them, to be counted on when the shit hit the fan, and to work in concert with one another to form a lethal fighting machine that no one wanted to fuck with. Nope, I’m just Daddy.
Daddy, what do you want to be when you grow up? My daughter wants to be a firefighter, a police officer, a baseball player, and even a garbage truck driver. She thinks I still have grandiose dreams of being something far greater than anything I could ever imagine. She doesn’t realize I spent several more years training other guys, just like her daddy, who were daddy’s themselves, in the war fighting techniques and skills that would give them the most success on the battlefield and allow them to come back home to their little girls. She doesn’t know that I spent time crafting, writing, and fighting for legislation that would better the lives of the men and women like myself who had served so gallantly. Nope, I’m just Daddy.
A military helicopter flew overhead not long ago as she and I were driving on a road near our home. We do not live in a big military area, but some training does go on nearby. When I saw the UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter flying above us, I pointed up to it and told her “You know, Daddy use to jump out of those with a parachute.” She was astounded. “What?” she exclaimed. She was shocked, amazed, and thought that was cool. Then she went back to ignoring me. I’ve mentioned a few times to her that I was in the Army. She knows that that is what I use to do. She told me she was glad I was not in the Army anymore, so I could be home with her. That just reaffirmed my conviction that the military life is no longer for me. So when she asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up, I told her “I’m your Daddy. I take care of you.” I figured that would suffice. I was wrong. “No, I mean after that.” This kid needs to be an investigative reporter. Follow up questions? Sheesh.
Ultimately, her question got me thinking: What will my kid think of me? I suppose all parents have this kind of question creep into their heads at some point. But for me as a Stay at Home Dad, it hit me in a different way. I’ve already had a career, spent almost 15 years in, around, and serving the military and veterans. My children will know none of this. They will only see me as Dad. Will they think I am a slacker who decided to make Mom work so I didn’t have to? Was I not motivated enough to go find my own job, like Mom? Was I not good enough to get a job? Was there something wrong with me preventing me from working that they don’t know about? Because let’s face it, almost all the other dads are working. So how come I’m not? What does my daughter think of me staying home?
I know my kid loves me and loves having me home. She is 4 and I don’t seriously consider that she is judging my not working. But, as a parent, a stay at home parent, I do have to wonder about the impression I will leave on her. That’s why I have to make sure that if she knows me only as Daddy, then I am the best damn Daddy in the world. Anything less would be unacceptable. That still leaves her priceless question lingering: What Do I want to be when I grow up?
