Dad's Way of Parenting

My son didn’t have a dad to parent him for a while. His dad isn’t really a dad. He’s more like someone that pops up every now and then and takes him out of the house. When my boyfriend and I got serious enough for me to trust him around my son, I got to see what it’s like for my son to have a father in his life. My boyfriend slid easily into the role like my little boy was already his. Because it was such a change, it took some adjusting on my end.

It was very interesting to see how my son would mind better when a man that took care of him told him to do something. I could say and do whatever I wanted to my son, and it would have no effect. He might even buck at me with challenging eyes. But if my boyfriend told him to do something, he’d get it done with no attitude and no challenge.

With all that being said, I struggled a little (maybe a lot) at first not to intervene in the way my boyfriend handles certain things. It took a long time for me to chill the eff out and let them have their relationship. They do their own thing just like me and my little boy do our own thing. It took me a minute to accept that and to back off.

For example, my heart would leap into my throat when I watched them play. I could see that my son was obviously enjoying the way my boyfriend was lifting him high in the air and throwing him into the middle of the bed. My son would shriek with laughter. His face would be flushed with joy and his breath would be coming in and out so fast. His little chest would be heaving in his excitement, and he’d already be screaming and laughing in anticipation for my boyfriend to do it again before my boyfriend even touched him.

In my mind though, I saw my son tumbling off the side of the bed and hitting something (like an arm or leg or his head) on the nightstand. Where fun and joy was coursing through my baby, fear gripped my heart. In that moment, I would interfere and ruin their fun. My son would come down off of his little elated high and go do something much more boring, from his point of view, and my boyfriend would quietly go back to the living room to do his own thing. And I would feel terrible.

Another example is the way my boyfriend disciplines my baby. Just to preface this, I was uneasy about letting him discipline my baby at all simply because my baby is my baby and not his, well biologically. My son is in the midst of his terrible two’s at the moment. A few months ago, right after he turned two, he went through this phase where he would cry all day long for no reason. He just cried and cried and cried for weeks straight. He would stop crying long enough to eat, and then he’d be right back at it like he was being paid to do it. I was losing my mind.

My boyfriend would squat down to my sons eye level and quietly talk to him until he stopped crying He’d literally be having a conversation. When he first started, my son would scream even louder. This response would make me just snap at my boyfriend to leave him alone and let him scream. Patiently, he’d keep talking to him, and my son would stop crying, maybe to hear what my boyfriend was saying, or maybe because screaming like that when someone was talking so calmly to him made him feel stupid. Whatever the reason, my boyfriend would get him to stop, and he was the only person that was able to do it.

After a while of watching how effective his daddy methods were, I backed off and let him parent in his way. As mothers, for some reason, we’re quick to put down the way our men parent our children. We don’t want them to do it their way just because it’s not the way we do it. Naturally, we think our way is THE way, and there is no other way.



The truth is men make wonderful parents. They’re calm when we’re not. They’re firm when we can’t be. They’re understanding where we freak out. And because they’re basically big kids, our kids have so much more fun with them (I know that’s hard to accept, but your baby has more fun with daddy. I know, I know. It was hard for me to swallow too.)

My son had a little red mark on his hip. Y’all know I started to freak out. He was crying after I gave him a bath (he hates getting baths). In my mind, he was crying because this weird red mark was hurting him. I’m calling my mama all in a panic, and my boyfriend is working on getting my son to stop crying. I told him to leave the boy alone. “He’s in pain! That’s why he’s crying!” I yelled. My boyfriend calmly pressed his finger to the mark. I gasped. “What are you doing? Stop! You’re hurting him!” My son had already stopped crying. He didn’t even flinch when my boyfriend touched the mark. “He’s fine,” my boyfriend said calmly. “It doesn’t even hurt him. He just didn’t wanna take a bath.” Skeptically, I touched the mark on his hip, and he giggled because it tickled. I felt so stupid, especially after it faded away in the next two days. In those moments, you need dad’s way of parenting.

Yes, it’s terrifying when he lifts your fragile baby high into the air. Yes, watching how high he’s going on the swing is heart attack inducing. Yes, he didn’t need that second cup of juice because it had too much sugar. BUT, he’s fine, and he’s having so much fun. Just remember that before you freak out and kill the game their playing together.



And also remember there are more ways to parent than our mommy way. Our way is best (because come on, everyone knows that) but his way is good too. And his way works. Sometimes better than our way. He became a dad at the same time you became a mom. Let him be a dad.

As always, thanks mamas for stopping. Leave a comment about your experiences or hang ups with this. Follow me on Instagram and Twitter and have yourself a lovely Saturday.