by Andrew Worrell

Created on: April 22, 2009

What's it like being a Dad?

A work colleague recently posed this question over the phone. I was glad at the time not to be in a room with this father-to-be as the expression on my face would have sent him scuttling to the nearest airport to buy a one way ticket to somewhere far, far away.

The question made me visibly wince, my already far from handsome face contorting unpleasantly. Not because being a father was so awful but because answering that question was difficult. Really difficult. Overwhelming.

I have just completed my fortieth year on the planet and thinking about fatherhood and what it means in the modern age made me realise that the man I was the day before my first child arrived has long since departed and been replaced by someone my younger kidless self would not recognise.

Having rolled out a trite comment or two to my work buddy I finished the call. I then decided to think of what a more honest answer would be. I have three children, one of which is still very much in nappies so I should have been able to have some personal insight into being a dad beyond pointless clich. So here goes.

Being a Dad is scary.

I was scared at the birth of my son 10 years ago and was scared last week when I took him to his first rock concert. My own father once said in a rare moment of introspection that this fear never leaves you, the worry that your precious offspring may come to harm is always present, even when that child is bigger and stronger than the parent. I understand that now. I will be scared when my son is old and grey and I am in a bath chair sipping dinner through a straw. I will still be his Dad. Don't even ask what it feels like to be a father of girls...

Being a Dad is difficult.

We all want to give our kids decent role models. If we don't, I am told, they tend to find their own. You want to nurture and teach but not to constrain and indoctrinate, to produce a rounded and productive member of the community. You don't want to scream and shout, scold and undermine but parent-fatigue sets in and I have found myself shouting when I should be hugging, hiding in the pub when I should be building a Little Princess Castle playset. Children need to believe that we, the parents, are in control, that we are able to keep them safe and make sense of the confusion around them. If they only knew the truth. But we muddle on and somehow, most of us get it right. Or rightish.

Being a Dad is tiring.

I hate football. My son loves it and plays twice a week. I do not understand the attraction of the colour pink. My oldest daughter lives in and for anything pink. The running around, the clearing up, the feigned interest in the latest SpongeBob episode is really, really draining. I need sleep occasionally but even more than that I need peace and quiet. I have yet to find the volume control on any of my three.

Being a Dad is wonderful.

But everything I have just written is nothing compared to holding your child for the first or millionth time, to seeing the smile of delight on presenting a Little Princess Castle Playset to your little princess, to having your son scream with unaffected joy and too much sugary food at seeing AC/DC live and loud.

Because then you realise, or at least I did:

Being a Dad is why I am here, why my father is here. At the end of the day, whether through evolution, intelligent design or simple chance, we are here so we might as well do something worthwhile and being a dad is certainly that.

And, I am reliably informed by my wife, being a mum is even better.

Learn more about this author, Andrew Worrell.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.