on being a father
What I've learned about myself and my partner as we navigated parenthood together
Every time Father's Day comes around, my thoughts go back to a post I wrote eight years ago, a few days shy of D turning a year old.
Anitha Krishnan
Even in those early days of D's childhood, parenting came a whole lot more naturally and intuitively to KrA than it did to me. Especially the physical aspects of it ... swaddling the baby, cutting D's wee little nails, gently scraping cradle cap off of D's head ...
What came naturally to me was adopting the conscious parenting approach. But KrA was a great and willing student, always open to a counter argument and a different way of looking at things.
So much so that these days he's the far more conscious parent than I am!
While I tend to go on rants about screen time and friendships (for D) coupled with fears and anxieties about my work and finances, KrA is the one who ensures the household continues to run.
He's the one who makes breakfast and preps D's lunchbox. Last week when KrA was away on a work trip, we ended up ordering hot lunches at school and going out for dinner every single day!
learning from my partner how to be a better parent
But, perhaps, the most important thing I've learnt from him in this journey of parenthood is the art of setting boundaries, especially with D.
In an earlier post on parental guilt, I wrote about how I'd often hold myself to lofty standards when it came to caregiving. I'd often push myself to do things even if I'm overwhelmed and tired.
Why! Just last week I did exactly this.
KrA had just returned from a work trip to the west coast, and so he was still asleep in the morning on Saturday while I prepared breakfast and lunch.
Then D wanted to play catch. Although I needed a few minutes to catch my breath and enjoy my coffee, I agreed to play.
Very quickly, I was losing patience and feeling snappy. Better sense prevailed and I said to D that that I was too tired to continue and that I needed to rest and recharge.
The child understood immediately and went off to play by himself.
Doing this — setting a boundary without feeling guilty (and giving into the mental, self-critical rants of Oh, I wish D had a sibling or a friend to play with or Oh! I wish I had more energy to play with D) — comes very naturally to KrA.
When it comes to me, it's a skill that demands to be learnt over and over again.
In fact, there was a time when I'd envy KrA his ability to set these clear boundaries.
Recently, I read six powerful words by Brené Brown.
Clear is Kind. Unclear is Unkind.
Makes a whole lot of sense to me now!
And once we know this, I doubt any of us would want to go back to those old ways of not speaking up on time, not setting boundaries, and being passive-aggressive when we're tired and overwhelmed as a result of having given or taken on far too much than we could possibly have.
understanding the human being beneath the roles of boyfriend, husband and father
I think one of the biggest blessings of growing up, of spending many years with a single person, and navigating huge life changes alongside them is that we finally begin to see and understand and appreciate them for who they are.
Maybe other people already do this, but it wasn't until a few years ago that I've begun to see people as their own individual beings, rather than in relationship with me.
It's only after D came into our lives that I learnt how to see my own parents as individuals with their own desires and beliefs, their own needs and conditioning.
So it has been with KrA too. In all these years, the questions that have swirled in my head in the midst of an argument have been on the lines of 'What would a 'good' partner do?'
I think it's more important to ask, 'What can KrA, given who he is, do in this situation and how can I, given who I am, do my best too?'
This question acknowledges the truth that there is no one ideal or perfect way to do anything. We all are responding to situations based on who we are (our upbringing, beliefs, conditioning all plays a role in shaping us).
Of course, we can always learn how to cope with our feelings and emotions better, how to show up in a situation with more kindness and compassion and the understanding that we're all really doing the best we can in any given moment.
Which means if KrA feels like sleeping in and D turns to me for company, it's not because KrA is being a bad parent and shrugging off his responsibilities. He's tired and needs rest.
In such a situation, if I'm up for it and have the energy and time to do so, I will certainly play with D.
If I'm also tired, the best thing I can do is let D know my boundaries. Perhaps we could do a board game instead of something more active. Perhaps he could have some time on his own and we could get together in half an hour for some outdoor fun.
But forcing myself to meet the child's needs right away,
feeling annoyed with KrA for not having foregone sleep to get up and play with D (because that's what I would have done (and later felt resentful about)),
feeling irritated with the Universe at large for not equipping me with ten times the energy I have on some days ...
these are really unhelpful and unkind tactics.
As an ambitious A-type personality, what drew me to KrA back when we were in our twenties was his laidback, easygoing attitude towards everything. There was little that could ruffle him.
Somewhere along the way, I began to feel that he needed to put in more 'effort'. The very relaxed approach of his that once soothed me began to unnerve me.
Sometimes I'd wonder how he could possibly be OK with the way a particular situation was unfolding or a person was behaving, especially when that person/situation was making me seethe with rage or frustration.
It took me a long time to realize that KrA has a much greater ability than I do to tune out other people's BS. It didn't make him indifferent or apathetic to the situation at hand, but he doesn't feel the need to be confrontational all the time.
Moreover, quite often, while I'd be seething with rage, that would also be the extent of my 'action'.
I too wouldn't have it in me to actually go and do something about the situation or person in question.
I'd wish 'someone' would do 'something' about it, instead of asking myself 'What could I do about it?' or 'If there's nothing for me to do, then how can I accept the situation?'
This is probably akin to how many of us wish for 'world peace' but how very few of us are actually doing anything about it.
And realizing that most of us are not equipped to bring about 'world peace', how many of us actually ask ourselves what we can do to at least create an open and safe household for our families.
And by 'family' I mean not only our children, but also our partners.
the best Father's Day gift
This is the best gift I can give KrA on this wonderful Father's Day.
The gift of seeing him, of understanding him, and of acknowledging his quintessential humanness beyond the roles of father and husband that he plays on a daily basis.
We will not always see things eye-to-eye, but I wish to be the kind of person that allows him too enough space to navigate parenting and husbanding and life without feeling judged, without feeling like it's a high-stakes game that he has to keep winning at all the time.
Sometimes, in our pursuit of perfection and ideals, we forget that we're only human. This has been especially true in the realm of conscious parenting.
It's an ideal I've often tried to reach, often wanting KrA or even my extended family to aspire to those goals, and feeling frustrated when they'd find their happy middle ground or seem content with doing what they can (which often felt very little to me).
Caught in the glitter of storytelling, in which every failure leads to some spectacular success without which the story is not worth telling, we forget that real life is a never-ending series of ups and downs.
The ups may be far and few in between, the downs may be far more and far often than we'd care for. Negativity bias forces us to look more often and more closely at the less-than-stellar moments.
So much so that we forget the beautiful moments, the ordinary ones, of conversation, of communication, of connection, and dismiss them as grains of sand.
Each one, just like the other.
Except, it is an entire field of sand that makes up a soft shoreline.
Happy Father's Day, KrA!
Every day with you is indeed like a day spent at the beach, soaking in the sunshine, trying to weather the storms when they come, then running out towards the waves once more.
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