He's Me. Again.

I want him to be disciplined. I want him to care less about what others think about him, not be so loquacious, not think he knows more than he does and use his ears more than his mouth. I want him to be less affectionate and terser, be a bit more aggressive with a hint of assurance and attitude and desire approval less. I want him to dream big and work hard – for the right things – and above all, I want him to be strong, consistent, faithful and decisive.

I guess I want him to be what I am not. I want him to be the anti-me. Which is, in some ways, crazy because I like me, most of the time, and appreciate the life I have had. Especially my childhood. But the similarities between me and my son are stark and alarming. He is re-living my life, and I am scared for us both.

We are both only children with deferential paternal figures doing everything to keep the peace in the household. I love my wife and give her the 51-49 in almost every decision concerning our life together. I am not the traditional “rock” of the household who is seen as hard and aloof; I am tender and available. I know these are good traits; attributes of my father that were passed to me that give me the ability to offer them to my son. But the world so often steps on the “soft.” Soft men do not run companies; soft men do not lead nations; soft men do not excel in sports, business or relationships. Women often reject and cheat on soft men. Hence, I want him to be hard.

Being a BFM means dealing with reality and my reality is that my life and thoughts are full of contradictions. I do not force facades or conjure illusions that I know I cannot maintain. My adult life is hard, and his will be too. It is part of our assignment, unfortunately. God help us.