Michael Mitchell is an (almost) thirty-something dad who blogs daily tips and life lessons for dads of daughters at lifetoheryears.com. While consuming copious quantities of life from a glass that’s usually half-full, he spends the majority of his days trying to balance his efforts to be a good husband & dad, a man of God, a professional raiser of philanthropic funds, and a defender of all things awesome. On the rare occasion he’s not tied up with all of that, he enjoys fighting street gangs for local charities and stuff like that.

You might be new to the game of fatherhood if…

I’ve noticed A LOT of groups on Facebook popping up lately around the idea of sharing common experiences about the town you grew up in with other people who also grew up there. My favorite is the “You know you’re from Gotebo if…” I don’t know if I’m more impressed that a town of 247 people has a Facebook group with 48 members in it or that a town that is only .77 square miles actually has a population of 247 people.

Anyhow… I digress. Seeing all of these groups and the things people are saying got me thinking about another shared experience that is fresh and new and really close to home for me right now: fatherhood.

You see, there comes a time in every dad’s life when he realizes he’s the not the guy he used to be. He has left behind the trappings of his youthful days and traded them in for an entirely new set of responsibilities… and with them, joy. A trunk that used to hold a set of golf clubs or his favorite rod and reel is now home to a massive collapsible stroller and other random baby accessories that consume every last square inch of his available cargo capacity.

For most men, this may seem like a subtle shift, but the reality is that it’s anything but subtle. It’s immediate and it starts the first time he hears his little one’s heartbeat on an ultrasound. From that moment on, like the victim of an unstoppable Zombie apocalypse, the man is quickly and unrelentingly being transformed into an entirely new creature. One who, much like a Zombie, is now a sleep-deprived, oft lethargic, hungry, bumbling shadow of the classy, stylish, and composed gentleman he used to be.

Photo: Sleep Deprived by SethK

As one of these new creatures myself,  here are a few of my observations gathered over the past year about this new species I’ve become. You might be new to the game of fatherhood if:

• You glance down at your feet while taking a shower in the morning and you see an assortment of colorful plastic and rubber toys where before you only saw tile… and this does not seem the least bit strange.
• You look forward to sitting in the backseat of your car while someone else drives so you can make faces at that little rascal in the rear-facing car seat who just so happens to share your DNA.
• You have read the manual for the aforementioned rear-facing car seat from cover to cover.
• While out in public, you catch yourself talking in your silly voice and you’re only mildly embarrassed when someone else overhears.
• You realize you actually have an opinion about what type of pacifier and/or bottle nipple is best. And while you find this fact mildly embarrassing, you’re not afraid to share your opinion on the matter with anyone who asks.
• You spend more money on diapers and baby food in a month than people without kids spend on entertainment in a year.
• Going on what used to be a simple overnight trip now requires three suitcases, a backpack, a diaper bag, an activity bag, a food bag, a luggage rack, a cooler, a trailer to haul all your stuff, wet wipes, three AA batteries, and a pit stop every two hours for a “quick” diaper change.
• At any given moment, you can find a Tupperware container of Cheerios in your wife’s purse.
• You celebrate the utterance of garbled one-syllable words and meaningless hand gestures like a crazed European soccer fan celebrates a World Cup victory.
• The sight or smell of another human’s feces no longer triggers your gag reflex. In fact, sometimes you don’t even notice the smell at all.
• 9:30 on a week night seems like a perfectly reasonable time to crawl into bed for the evening.
• Anything touching, sweet, or remotely sentimental can, without warning, bring a tear to your eye at a moment’s notice and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it. This includes Hallmark commercials, greeting cards, sermons, random songs on the radio, and quiet reflective moments standing over your child’s crib while they sleep.
• Few things move you to action more than the sound of a crying infant.
• Almost every piece of clothing you own has a stain on it that is either from baby food, baby formula, baby spit-up, or some other type of baby bodily waste you’d rather not mention.
• You have Googled things that no normal person should ever have to Google.
• You use the phrase, “Don’t put that in your mouth” more than a teenage girl uses the words “Like” and “Um.”
• Life insurance suddenly doesn’t seem like such a scam anymore.
• You constantly find yourself rocking back and forth and swaying for no reason at all while standing around with other people. I refer to this as the “Fatherhood Sway.”
• The word “potty” has taken up permanent residence in your everyday vernacular, and you are no longer surprised when it slips out in adult conversation.
• You have a sudden urge to physically harm anyone who rings your doorbell early in the morning or anytime after 7 p.m.
• Six uninterrupted hours of sleep is the stuff that dreams are made of… literally. I dreamed about this during a four hour stretch last night.
• You can recite the words of Goodnight Moon without opening the book.
• Just hearing the words “sleep” and “training” in the same sentence makes the blood vessels on your forehead start throbbing. The word “teething” has a similar effect.
• An uninterrupted trip to the bathroom for a shower or other business is a luxury you no longer know.
• You’ve wiped a bottom that was not your own.
• Your little one falls asleep on your bare chest, all softness and need, and you understand that for all your sacrifice and changes, there is no better place in the world for a man to be.

I did not write that last one, but it was just too good not to include. So there you go… that’s my list. What have I missed?

It’s been a crazy month of absurdly hot weather (the hottest July on record here in OKC), launching a new company and getting ready for Noah to arrive in just a few short weeks (insert panic face).  In other words, life has been happening.

Today, I’m back.  And with a brand new song and video from Shane & Shane.  I’ve been a huge fan of theirs since I was a junior in High School.  In a 5 year span I probably attended no less than 20 of their shows (once even driving from Stillwater, OK to Waco, TX and back in the the same day, to watch them play a stellar show with Robbie Seay).

Anyway, the new song is for dads.  And it’s good.  Real good.  Check out the song, video, and go buy their newest CD (and all the rest of their CDs if you don’t already have them).

What have you been up to lately?

image from studentbranding.com

Dear Noah

September 20, 2011.  That’s the date that you will make your presence fully known into this world.   The date that I’ll get to hold you.  And see you.  I can’t wait.

It takes some time for it to all become real to me.  Your mom has to deal with you 24 hours a day.  Growing, stretching, kicking.  (Side note: Be nice to her. Carrying you around for 9 months can’t be awesome.  And it’s hot. Really hot.  Seriously, be nice.)  But me?  I see you through a monitor at random doctor visits.  I see Mom’s stomach go crazy as you perfect your wrestling moves inside of her.  But that’s it.  To me, you are more of an idea.

And I love the idea of you.  We finished getting your room ready this weekend.  I think you’ll love it.  I can picture rocking you to sleep in the chair.  Watching you, peacefully asleep in your crib.  You are right across the hall from Gabe, your big brother.  He’s going to be a great protector and friend for you (though right now he still refuses to acknowledge your existence).

I think about you a lot.  About what you’ll look like.  What your personality will be like.  I only have your brother to compare you to, but I know you’ll be different.  I hope that’s especially true in your sleep patterns.

It’s a weird time for our family.  I started a company last fall and have been trying to get that off the ground.  I’m also in the process of starting another company. Yes, your Mom is the most patient woman on the planet.  It’s been a stressful year for us, to say the least.  But with you comes hope.  Expectation.  Joy.  New.

You symbolize so much of what we are experiencing right now.  Maybe most of all you resemble the meaning of your name: Peaceful.  While nobody would describe having two boys as peaceful, we are at peace in knowing that God brings good things to His people.  And he’s brought you to us.

He’s ushering in a new season.  It begins with you.

I love you son. I can’t wait to meet you.

Daddy

I found this video on Father Apprentice a few weeks ago.  It’s great stuff from funny-man Louis C.K.  Enjoy.

What are your plans for the 4th of July?

Here’s to never taking our role lightly.

I am a Father. I have six children who call me Daddy. It is one of the greatest joys of my life. Some days I’m good at it. Other days…not so good. I continue the daily journey, bumbling toward becoming a better man, father and husband.

Last year I saw a documentary called Very Young Girls, made by GEMS, one of my favorite organizations working to end the exploitation and trafficking of girls.

One of the most disturbing aspects of the film was seeing pimps recruiting and coercing young girls by pretending to initially take on the role of a boyfriend or worse…a father.

So many children have never known the love of a good father. Some have been hurt, abused, or abandoned by a father, while others continue to live with a father who is not really there.

Capitalizing on vulnerability, pimps and traffickers move right into that vacant place, even insisting at times, to be called “Daddy.” Luring girls with promises of “I’ll protect you.” “I’ll provide for you.”etc. And saying things that a real father was supposed to say but never did, like; “You’re special.” “You’re beautiful…”

While watching the documentary, I began to seethe inside. Through clenched teeth, I was saying under my breath; ”You are not a Daddy!” “You are a lot of things…but one thing you are definitely not…is a Daddy.” The idea that a pimp would claim and taint a word like “Daddy” honestly pisses me off. It is a word that I treasure because my children call me by that name. And when they do, it melts my heart, humbles me, and scares me with the responsibility that it carries.

During the documentary, I found myself asking questions. “Where are the fathers who will stand up to protect and defend the vulnerable?” Where are the fathers who by example, will raise sons who respect girls instead of abuse and objectify them? Where are the fathers who will cherish their daughters and empower them? When I see the daily devastation that men (and I use the term “men” very loosely here) have unleashed on children, I am undone.

The reality is, there are good fathers out there. I meet them everywhere I go. They come up to me with tears coming down their faces after I speak at an event. They approach me with angry voices, wanting to break down brothel doors…because they have daughters of their own.  They give of their time, energy and finances to protect, defend, restore and empower. Some have even chosen a vocation that directly intervenes on behalf of vulnerable children.

So yes, they are out there. We just need more. We need to be brave enough, deliberate enough, loving enough…to take the name, “Daddy” back.

We dropped Gabe off Tuesday morning with my parents and we’ll pick him up on Saturday morning.  That’s a total of 4 days away from him – by far the longest we have ever gone without seeing him.  And it’s weird.

We find ourselves quoting him throughout the day.  Sitting in the hotel last night the AC kicked on.  ”Brrr, it’s told mama.  It’s told.”  (he’s working on his t’s)

Clearly we miss him.

We were home all day Tuesday, painting he and Noah’s rooms, and commented several times how weird it was not to hear his footsteps running down the hall.  How quiet it was without his goofy laugh.  We imagined what he was doing while hanging with my parents.  Conversations that they would be having.

He dominates our thoughts.  And I love it.  I miss him like crazy, but I love how he creeps into our everyday thoughts and conversations.  And though we’re having a great time, I can’t wait until Saturday morning.

What’s the longest you’ve ever been away from your kid(s)?

Unless you’ve been hanging out in a million-dollar abode in Pakistan (or you just don’t care about sports), you’re aware of The Decision.  It was less than a year ago that LeBron James wasted an hour of our lives to display his lack of loyalty to Cleveland and inform us that he would take his talents to South Beach.

King James.  The Chosen One.  The Next Michael Jordan. The most talented basketball player on the planet.  Rather than fight with the team he had (a team that had one over 60 games in each of the previous 2 season), he took a shortcut.

And it backfired.

After a championship-caliber celebration announcing the arrival of Miami’s Big 3, a day in which LeBron declared that they would win no less than seven ring, they failed.  The season is over and they are going home without a ring.

But how? What happened? How could a roster with 2 of the best players on the planet not hoist the trophy?

They ran into a better team.

And as a dad, it matters.

It matters because I was raised that I was not bigger than the team.  30 point games don’t overshadow a loss.  Hitting the game-winning 3 isn’t more important than the fact that we won.  No individual accolades could replace team victories.  You work hard, you show up every day, you fight.

And you don’t take shortcuts.  You don’t need a team of superstars to win.  You need a team.

Michael Jordan won with John Paxson, Bill Cartwright, Bill Wennington (?!), Horace Grant.  The greatest to ever play won 6 rings because he made everybody else better.  He demanded greatness from them, and they delivered.  They became a team.

The Dallas Mavericks are a rag tag team of NBA veterans.  Nine of their 12 players have been in the league for at least 10 years.  None had a ring to show for it.  Dirk had been to the Finals once, Jason Kidd twice, Jason Terry once.  847 year old Peja Stojakovic had historic playoff battles with the Lakers.  All came up empty.

Dallas was old.  They were tired.  They were supposed to lose in the first round to Portland.  To sweep the two-time defending champion Lakers in the second round was absurd.  Then to knock off the up-start Oklahoma City Thunder to earn the Western Conference crown.

But Miami?  This is where it ends.  They have LeBron, DWade and Chris Bosh.

Miami in 5.  Miami in 6.  Miami is going to sweep.  LeBron is finally going to get his ring.

Except he didn’t.  LeBron cowered in the spotlight like he’s done so many times before.  Dallas fought.  They played as a team.  When Dirk started off 1-12, his teammates carried the load.  And he trusted them.  When his shot started falling in the 4th, they fed him.  They played defense.  They rebounded.  They believed in “we”.

They celebrated.

And for at least another year, I can tell my son that team matters.  That you don’t win by taking short-cuts.  That nobody hands you a trophy in the off-season.  That what you do from game one to game 82 matters.  And if you lose?  Handle it like KD.  Then get back to your team and get better.

What is your favorite pro team?

It’s one of those things that happens.  For years we exert our dominance over them – many times with little effort involved.  Slowly it gets more difficult.  We start to “let them win”.  Soon, we have no control.  It’s over.

I just didn’t think it would happen so soon.

I didn’t think that, at age two, my son would roam the halls of our home after a sword fight, taunting me with “Who’s the baby now?! Heh heh heh!”

Or that this taunt would last for days on end.

Do you remember the first time you beat your dad at something?