Lifestyle
Fatherhood doesn’t finish when the kids grow up
Becoming a grandfather has made Tim reflect on the chaos, joy and love of raising his kids. This Father’s Day, he shares the things he misses most, the lessons he hopes he passed on and the pride he carries now.
By Tim
Becoming a grandfather has been one of those moments that makes you stop in your tracks. Holding my first grandchild, I couldn’t help but see flashes of my own three kids as babies. The way they each had their own particular baby smell – addictive every one of them, and never forgotten, even after all these years. The way their tiny fists gripped my finger like they’d never let go and, frankly, I hoped they never would. And then I thought: when exactly did they let go? How did we get here so quickly?
It feels like only yesterday that I was buckling car seats, flipping pancakes for breakfast, and spending Saturdays driving from one kids’ sport field to another and back again. Now the house is quiet, except when the kids visit and soon, when fresh little feet patter through again – one of my sons has just made me a grandfather.
What I miss most
He’s about to experience the particular busyness that is raising babies and young kids. I miss that chaos, if I’m honest. I never thought I’d say that and god knows my ex-wife wouldn’t share the sentiment. But perhaps that’s one of the special gifts we fathers get to miss? The piles of school bags at the door; the endless chatter about who said what in the playground; and the noise, the mess, the laughter that bounced off every wall. And the fights, the kids’ silly fights that always amounted to nothing and everything at the same time.
Read this too: Sandwich generation: when kids, parents and creaky joints collide
I miss their small hands slipping into mine when we crossed the road – do you also still remember the feel of that tiny, trusting hand? The bedtime stories; three books without fail most nights (I was always just off the train back from the city and half-asleep myself). The dance concerts where again you were half asleep, but also far too proud to ever actually fall asleep… well, maybe that one time. The Sunday afternoons with Lego scattered across the lounge room and the Sunday night Lego stomp and subsequent Lego expletive. Now that I think about it, I actually don’t miss Lego at all…
Now those small hands and hearts belong to adults who don’t remember half of what I remember about their childhoods. Those tiny little babies now make their own choices, have their own homes, and don’t need me in the same way anymore (although I still come in handy whenever something goes wrong with their cars… which is far too often). I know that’s exactly how it should be, but it doesn’t stop me from longing for the days when my wife and I were their whole world.
What I hope I taught them
As parents, we all wonder whether we did enough, said enough, helped enough, were generally enough. I’m certain I failed on all fronts, but I hope my kids remember that I was always in their corner, even when I pushed them hard. I hope I taught them resilience and that life is tough but so are they. I hope they know that kindness matters more than cleverness, and that showing up for the people you love is the truest measure of success.
I hope I helped them define their ambitions and pave a road towards them. I hope they know the difference between ambition and what truly matters in life… because what matters is rarely what the boss wants, but almost always what their loved ones want. I hope they know how proud I am of them, through it all, despite it all, because of it all.
The funny thing about kids growing up is that the pride doesn’t stop, it only grows. I see it when my eldest leads a meeting with quiet authority, when my middle son hugs his mates without embarrassment and when my youngest stands up for what she believes in.
Eventually we get to do it all again
Now that I’m “Grandad Tim”, the cycle begins again. I get the joy of cuddles, giggles and bedtime stories, this time without the 3am nappy changes (a fair trade, if you ask me). And I get to watch my kids become parents themselves, which, honestly, is the greatest reward of all.
We all say it, but we really do speak the truth: in the end it goes so fast – way too fast. But the love you pour into your kids never leaves them. And, as I’ve now been given the privilege to learn, it flows right down into the next generation.
So while it might have been quite a while since they needed me to tie their shoelaces or check for monsters under the bed, they still need a cheer squad. And that’s a father’s job for life.
* Tim has chosen to keep his surname private. Images posed by models.
Feature image: iStock/gradyreese
More real-life stories: