I was always taught that there are very few times when a grown man should cry – Funerals, and that sort, I suppose. My own personal list, however, of permissible occasions for a man to tear up a bit definitely includes those few minutes when I am returning my daughter to her mother after a week or two of good quality time together. Life as we know it changes for the duration of the time that she is with us, as my girlfriend and I temporarily abandon our “come-and-go-as-we-please” lifestyle to adapt to the warm and inviting home that my daughter knows in California. Sushi and fish tacos are replaced by fish sticks and chicken tenders, and Nickelodeon tends to be the order of the day on the flat screen. Late nights at the office take a back seat to playing “Go Fish” and reading a fairytale princess story before bed. But it is all so very welcome and we both get upset when it is time for Allie to go back.

I start to feel a bit sad about the day before I have to take her back, as I am compiling my mental checklist of things of Allie’s that I need to remember to pack. She often senses this slight gloom and ironically it is her reminding me that “Daddy, but I’m still here right now,” in that every so adorable high pitched voice. It is amazingly deep sentiment coming from such an innocent, young, four-year old girl,… (More)

This is my first holiday season as a long distance father.  Last year I lived in the same town as my daughter, then age 3, and I saw her every other weekend and one night during the week (sometimes over night).  I was living in a small two bedroom apartment just minutes from her.  During my visitation with her, we’d engage in typical holiday fun (my girlfriend was even so sweet as to order us a big Thanksgiving dinner and have it delivered for one of my visits with my daughter, even though she was a thousand miles away visiting her own family).  I would take Allie shopping to get Christmas ideas for her and to pick out gifts for the rest of the family.  We would watch holiday cartoons or rearrange decorations on the tree.  Basically, every few days or so, we’d spend our time together reveling in the joys of the season and I’d enjoy getting to see the holiday magic through her eyes, as she compiled her endless list for Santa and asked question after question about the jolly red guy.  And when I wasn’t with her, I spent what seemed like months building my daughter one of those wooden dollhouses, gluing shingles, painting or decorating the miniature interior – it turned out to be a gift that she loved and still enjoys playing with.

I’ve never been one of those huge holiday fanatics, as it often brings back some painful childhood memories that I’d rather not… (More)

The other day I got a very short email, simply:

                “Any ideas for you and Allie for Christmas?  What’s she into?  Love, Mom” 

I closed out of the innocuous and harmless request for ideas and started to feel a little choked up and sad.  Truth be told, I guess I kind of know what Allie is into.  I mean, Barbies and princesses and all of the other stuff that 4 year old girls play with, right?  I guess I had a moment (okay, maybe more than just a moment) of feeling like a pretty lousy dad.  When it comes down to it, I guess I don’t really know what it is that my daughter is really into right now.  Humbly, I fired off a text message to her mother to ask for a few ideas.  Needless to say, I was pretty in the dark about some of the stuff that came back (really, a drum set??).

                In the few conversations that I get with my daughter we talk about school, about playing with her friends, what she’s up to at that given moment, and about how much we love and miss each other.  I guess it never really dawned on me to ask her what she’s playing with, what she watches on TV or what books she reads.  I know that the last time I saw her, over the summer on… (More)

To Whom it Really Doesn’t Concern,

                I’m sorry if you somehow felt uncomfortable that I smiled and said “hi” to your little girl while as we crossed paths the other evening.  Yeah, I’m the early-30-something guy walking up and down the aisles of the local grocery store, alone with my list in hand, but I assure you I’m no freak.  I couldn’t help but notice that you grabbed your daughter and pulled her close to you as you turned the corner to head to Aisle 6, casting a critical eye in my direction.  I can’t help but wonder if you’d react the same way if I had my own little girl hanging off of my shopping cart at the time.  You see, it might not look like it but I, too, am a Daddy.  And while I might not be able to throw my little princess in the car to run errands save for a few agreed upon times a year, it doesn’t mean that I’m some crazed nut for simply wanting to make your daughter smile and being polite.  I relish that feeling of hanging out, doing nothing in particular, and just enjoying that father-daughter bond.  I miss it frequently and I’m quite envious of you who may or may not even take it for granted.  But please don’t cast me aside as bizarre for simply being alone and friendly.

                And to you, Mr.… (More)

“She’s just 4 years old.  Don’t take it personally.” 

This is what I’m often reminded, by my girlfriend, my mom and even myself, at least a few times per week.  And deep down, I know that they’re right.  I shouldn’t take offense to the fact that my little princess doesn’t really like to talk on the phone, she really is just 4.  I suppose it’s partly my fault for blocking my work calendar at 3:30 pm every day, to take the elevator downstairs and out front of my office building, to try to call her, knowing that this is the time of day that she should be riding home from daycare (she’s two time zones “ahead” of me), in the back of her mom’s car, presumably with nothing better to do than chat with me.  You’d think sooner or later I’d realize that with a 1-out-of-5-or-so success rate of her actually answering the phone to take my call, that my expectations would be appropriately set and I’d call less frequently, or at least I’d wait for her to call me.  But no, like a teenage boy with a high school crush, I make the trek down the elevator every single work day at the same time, only to find myself making a 180-degree turn right back up to the 6th floor, just a couple of minutes later, 80% of the time.

Such is the current state of my… (More)