Dad's! Let's Go

Category: Real Dad Life

Stories and reflections about showing up, growing, and navigating real life as a dad.

  • Why the Library Became One of My Favorite Free Things to Do With My Kids

    Why the Library Became One of My Favorite Free Things to Do With My Kids

    Before I had kids, the library was basically just a building in town. I remember getting a library card when I moved here, but I rarely used it. I knew the library existed. I knew there were books inside. That was about the extent of my relationship with it.

    Then I became a dad.

    Now the library has become one of my favorite free things to do with my kids. And strangely enough, it took turning off the TV for me to realize just how useful it could be.

    I Had No Idea How Much the Library Had for Kids

    Once I started actually taking my boys to the library, I realized how different the experience was for them. There’s an entire children’s section. There are activities, printouts, tablets, books and other things for them to explore. Our library even has Tonies we can borrow, which my boys love.

    Eventually, we’ll probably start bringing home movies too.

    A place I had almost completely ignored before having kids suddenly became somewhere we could go and spend part of our day without needing to buy anything. That’s a pretty great resource when you have two young kids.

    The Library Became an Outing

    One of the things I’ve learned about parenting little kids is that sometimes you just need somewhere to go. You don’t necessarily need some huge adventure. You don’t need to spend $100. You don’t even need a particularly impressive plan.

    Sometimes everybody just needs to get out of the house.

    The library started filling that role for us. We can go there, let the boys explore the children’s section and then pick out some things to bring home. I’ve started letting each of them choose three books.

    To them, choosing those books feels like an event. They get to walk around, find something interesting and decide what they want to bring home. Then a few weeks later, we can return everything and do it again.

    For little kids, borrowing things from the library almost feels like going shopping. Except Dad doesn’t have to buy six new books every time.

    That’s a system I can get behind.

    No TV September Changed How We Used It

    The library became especially important during our family’s No TV September challenge. We had removed one of the easiest sources of entertainment in our house. That meant we needed other things for the boys to do, but it also meant my wife and I had to get better at helping them find those things.

    The library gave us novelty without constantly bringing more stuff into our house. We could bring home a different stack of books. We could find new Tonies. Suddenly there were new things sitting around the house waiting to be discovered.

    And we read a lot.

    Sometimes that was great. Sometimes reading book after book wasn’t exactly how I wanted to spend that particular moment. But I also started seeing something I hadn’t expected.

    I’d occasionally find one of my boys sitting in a room looking through a book by himself. Nobody had told him to do it. He wasn’t asking me to entertain him. He was just looking at a book.

    During a month when one of our biggest goals was helping our boys become better at independent play, that felt like a pretty significant win. Two weeks into the challenge, we were already starting to see how differently the boys played when TV wasn’t the automatic option.

    It Gave Us Something TV Couldn’t

    I don’t think books need to compete with TV. We’re not becoming an anti-TV family. In fact, after No TV September, one of the things I was most excited to bring back was our family Movie Friday.

    But I’ve realized that TV and the library give our family very different things. TV is easy. Sometimes that’s exactly why we use it.

    The library requires us to go somewhere. The boys have to explore. They have to choose something. Then we bring those choices home and interact with them.

    Sometimes that means sitting together and reading. Sometimes it means one of the boys looking through a book by himself. Sometimes a new book becomes the thing we talk about for the next few days.

    It creates opportunities instead of simply filling time.

    The Library Isn’t Always Some Magical Parenting Experience

    I don’t want to oversell this. Taking young kids anywhere can still be work.

    There are days when getting everybody out of the house feels like an accomplishment by itself. There are days when the boys aren’t interested in the book I thought they’d love. There are days when sitting down to read another book sounds less appealing to me than simply turning on the TV.

    The library didn’t suddenly make parenting easy. It just gave us another tool. That fit with something else we were learning that month: sometimes the boys needed us to help them get started before they could keep playing on their own, an idea behind the LET’S GO Method for kid boredom.

    And right now, that’s exactly what I need.

    I Almost Missed This Entire Resource

    That’s probably the funniest part to me.

    The library was here the whole time.

    Before becoming a dad, I barely gave it any thought. Now I’m walking into the same kind of building with two boys who see shelves full of things they get to choose and bring home.

    My relationship with the library changed because my life changed. I’m not going there because I’ve suddenly become someone who spends his afternoons quietly reading in a corner. I’m going because I’m a dad looking for inexpensive ways to get out of the house, give my kids new experiences and occasionally survive a long day with two little boys.

    The library happens to be really good at all three.

    If you’re another dad who hasn’t been inside your local library in years, it might be worth walking through the doors again. Don’t just look for the books. Find the children’s section. See what they lend. Look at the activities. Let your kids wander around and choose something.

    You might find a completely different library than the one you remember.

    I did.

    And somehow, a building I barely used before having kids has become one of my favorite free places to take them. Looking back at what actually happened during our full No TV September, the library ended up being one of the changes I most want to keep.

    Dads, let’s go.

  • We Made It Through No TV September. Here’s What Actually Happened.

    We Made It Through No TV September. Here’s What Actually Happened.

    No TV September was a success. It was also a failure in a lot of ways. And I think that’s probably why I’m glad we did it.

    When we started this challenge, one of my biggest goals was pretty simple: I wanted my boys to get better at playing independently. I didn’t expect them to suddenly entertain themselves for hours. But I wanted them to be able to go into a room, find something to do, and play without needing Mom or Dad involved every second. When we started No TV September, we didn’t know exactly what the month would expose.

    At first, that went terribly.

    They didn’t want to play by themselves. They wanted my wife or me there with them constantly. Taking TV away didn’t magically make them independent. Instead, it exposed the fact that they didn’t really know what to do when we weren’t entertaining them.

    And honestly, sometimes we didn’t know what to do either.

    The Tiny Timer That Made a Big Difference

    One of the simplest things we tried ended up helping more than I expected. We found a little visual timer with buttons for 1, 3, 8, 10, and 15 minutes. We would turn it on and give the boys a small amount of time to play independently.

    That was it. We weren’t telling them to disappear for an hour. We were giving them something they could see and understand. A few minutes. Then we’d come back.

    That little timer became a breakthrough. Independent play didn’t suddenly become easy, but it started becoming possible.

    We also learned that sometimes telling our kids, “Go play,” wasn’t enough. If they were bored, one of us could go into the room with them, start building something or get a game going, and then slowly step away. A lot of times, they just kept playing. By two weeks without TV, that shift was already starting to show.

    That sounds incredibly simple now. But before this month, we weren’t doing it.

    Then the Library Took Off

    The library became one of the biggest surprises of the entire challenge. Without TV waiting at home, we needed other things to fill that space.

    Books became a much bigger part of our house. We started making regular library trips and bringing home new books and Tonies. The novelty helped. There was always something different for the boys to discover.

    We read a lot this month. Sometimes sitting down and reading book after book was challenging. Other times it became one of my favorite parts of the day.

    Then I started noticing something. Sometimes I’d walk into a room and find one of my boys sitting there looking through a book by himself. Nobody told him to. There wasn’t a screen competing for his attention. He was just looking at a book.

    I don’t think that happens nearly as often in our house if we don’t do this challenge.

    Not Everything Got Better

    Here’s where the nice story about a screen-free month falls apart a little. Taking away TV didn’t suddenly make our kids stop fighting.

    In some ways, their imaginative play became more intense. My older son loves pretending to be a firefighter. But he also has a very specific idea in his head about everything he needs to be a firefighter.

    If something was missing, we had a problem. If his little brother had something he believed belonged with his fire equipment, we had another problem. That became one of our regular battles this month.

    More imaginative play sometimes meant more opportunities for conflict. There were still meltdowns. There was still fighting. There were still plenty of moments when parenting two little boys was exhausting.

    No TV September didn’t fix those things.

    But It Forced Us to Deal With Them

    This might have been the most important part of the entire experiment.

    Before September, TV could be an easy answer. The kids are fighting. Turn something on. Everyone is melting down. Turn something on. Dad and Mom need a few minutes of peace. Turn something on.

    I don’t think TV is bad. We’re bringing it back. But looking back at our own family, I think we had sometimes started using it as a Band-Aid for problems we hadn’t learned how to handle yet.

    When the Band-Aid wasn’t available, we had to figure some things out.

    If the boys were fighting, we learned that sometimes we needed to separate them and give everyone time to cool down. If they were bored, we learned that telling them to “go find something to do” wasn’t always enough. Sometimes they needed us to help them get started.

    So we’d enter their play, get something going, and then gradually leave.

    We also started paying more attention to meltdowns instead of trying to make them disappear. The meltdowns didn’t go away. But their ability to recover from them seemed to improve. And our ability to handle them improved too.

    We started developing actual systems for situations that previously felt like chaos. That’s something I didn’t expect when we turned the TV off.

    The Kids Weren’t the Only Ones Changing

    My wife and I had habits around TV too. There were times when we relied on it because we needed downtime. That’s understandable. Parenting little kids is exhausting.

    But September gave us a hard rule: we’re not doing that this month.

    And somehow, we did it. That surprised both of us.

    It also made me wonder where else we could do the same thing. What other habits in our parenting or our relationship have we accepted simply because that’s how we’ve always done them? What would happen if we occasionally drew a line and said, “For the next month, we’re going to try something different?”

    We don’t have all those answers yet. But No TV September showed us that we’re capable of changing more than I thought.

    So Are We Getting Rid of TV?

    No.

    I’m actually excited to bring one part of it back: Movie Fridays.

    I enjoy them. My boys enjoy them. Sitting together and watching a movie feels different to me than simply turning on the TV because nobody knows what else to do. I can’t wait for our first Movie Friday after the challenge.

    What we haven’t decided is exactly what the rest of our TV rules will look like. We’ve talked about using TV as a reward. We’ve talked about limiting it to around 30 minutes per kid. We haven’t made the final decision.

    But I know what we’re not doing. We’re not reaching October 1, turning the TV back on, and immediately returning to everything we were doing before September.

    That would miss the entire point.

    Would I Do No TV September Again?

    Yes.

    Not because it transformed my kids. Not because our house suddenly became peaceful. And definitely not because we became perfect parents.

    I’d do it again because it exposed things. It showed us where our kids needed help learning to play independently. It showed us how much they enjoy books when we make room for them. It showed us that imaginative play can create its own problems.

    It showed us that meltdowns weren’t something we always needed to distract our way out of. And maybe most importantly, it showed my wife and me some of our own habits.

    Turning off the TV didn’t solve our parenting problems. It made some of them harder to ignore.

    And that might have been the most successful part of No TV September.

    Dads, let’s go.

    Keep Reading No TV September

    Start with why we turned off the TV, see what changed after two weeks, and read how the library became one of the biggest surprises of the experiment.

  • I Love My Kids—But Some Days, I Want the Next Season

    I Love My Kids—But Some Days, I Want the Next Season

    Sometimes I see parents taking their older kids to festivals, canoeing, rafting, and on the kinds of adventures I used to enjoy. Their kids seem able to get into the car, go somewhere, and actually participate in the experience.

    Meanwhile, there are days when taking my 3- and 5-year-old boys to the park feels like more than I can handle.

    That’s when I start wondering what I’m doing wrong.

    Why can other families go on big adventures while I’m overwhelmed by packing snacks, finding shoes, getting everyone into the car, and trying to keep both boys regulated once we arrive?

    The honest answer is that I’m tired.

    I love my boys. I love watching them learn, listening to the strange things they come up with, and finding new ways to make them laugh. I know they won’t be this little forever.

    But sometimes, I want the next season.

    I Want Life to Feel Possible Again

    I want to reach the age when both boys can get dressed without it becoming a production. I want to take them somewhere without packing half the house. I want to go on bigger adventures with them—to hike, canoe, explore festivals, and show them places that mattered to me before I became a dad.

    I also want to finish some of the things on my ever-growing to-do list.

    That list follows me everywhere. Even while I’m playing with the boys, part of my brain is thinking about the lawn, the dishes, the laundry, the repairs, the appointments, and all the projects I keep moving to another day.

    Even when I’m doing well, I struggle to keep up. When I’m already overwhelmed, taking care of two little kids can consume everything I have.

    By bedtime, I may have worked constantly without completing a single thing I planned to do. The boys were fed. Everyone stayed safe. I managed emotions, solved arguments, found missing toys, cleaned spills, and answered approximately four thousand questions.

    But the list still looks the same.

    It’s easy to look at that and feel like I accomplished nothing.

    I’m Comparing Two Different Seasons

    What I forget is that I’m comparing life with little kids to life with older children.

    Right now, a simple park trip can include arguments over shoes, emergency bathroom stops, snacks that were perfectly fine five minutes ago, someone running in the wrong direction, and a meltdown when it’s time to leave.

    That doesn’t mean something is wrong with my children or that I’m failing as a dad. It means they’re little—and little kids need a lot from us.

    I understand that logically. But when I see other families doing the things I miss, logic doesn’t always stop the comparison.

    Their adventure looks exciting.

    Mine sometimes feels like surviving until bedtime.

    Wanting the Next Season Doesn’t Make Me a Bad Dad

    Parents of young children are often told to enjoy every minute because it goes so fast.

    I understand what people mean. One day, I’ll miss the little voices, small hands, and excitement my boys find in ordinary things.

    But I don’t enjoy every minute.

    Some minutes are loud, repetitive, frustrating, and exhausting. There are nights when I count down until bedtime. I miss the freedom I had before every outing required a risk assessment and an emergency supply of Goldfish crackers.

    Pretending otherwise doesn’t make me more grateful. It just makes me feel guilty for being human.

    I can love this season and still find it incredibly hard. I can treasure who my boys are today while looking forward to who they are becoming. I can miss parts of my old life without wishing away the family I have now.

    Both things can be true.

    I Miss the Bigger Adventures

    I know there are smaller versions of adventure available right now. We can play outside, take short walks, explore nearby places, or turn an ordinary afternoon into something fun.

    Those moments matter. My boys enjoy them, and I’m grateful we have them.

    But if I’m being honest, they don’t completely replace what I miss.

    I miss going somewhere without having to calculate how tired everyone will be, where the bathrooms are, what food to bring, and how quickly the entire trip could fall apart. I miss spending hours on a trail, getting into a canoe, exploring a festival, or deciding to go somewhere simply because it sounds fun.

    I want to share those experiences with my boys someday. I want to watch them become capable enough to walk farther, try harder things, and experience an adventure alongside me instead of needing me to manage every part of it.

    I don’t want to rush them through childhood.

    I just can’t wait to meet the older versions of them.

    There are adventures I miss, and there are adventures we haven’t had yet.

    I’m looking forward to both.

    The Next Season Will Come

    I want more independence, bigger adventures, and enough breathing room to finish a thought. That doesn’t mean I’m failing to appreciate my boys. It means this season asks a lot from me.

    The next season will come. My boys will grow, outings will become more manageable, and the adventures I miss will become possible again.

    Until then, I can love who they are now without pretending I don’t look forward to what comes next. I can be grateful for today and still dream about the trails we’ll hike, the rivers we’ll paddle, and the places we’ll discover together.

    Maybe someday we’ll be packing for one of those adventures, and I’ll look back at this season differently. I may even miss parts of it.

    But today, I’m allowed to admit that I’m tired.

    I’m allowed to miss the bigger adventures.

    And I’m allowed to look forward to the adventures we’ll have when we’re all a little more ready.

    Dad’s! Let’s Go.

    Keep Reading

  • Sometimes I Need to Turn the Volume Down

    Sometimes I Need to Turn the Volume Down

    “Dad. Dad. Dad. DAD!”

    Sometimes it’s not even loud. It’s just the same thing over and over again. Other times it’s the pitch. One of my boys lets out one of those high-pitched screams that only a little kid seems capable of making.

    There’s a toy going off. Someone is asking me a question while the other one is trying to tell me something completely different. And I can feel myself changing. My shoulders tighten. I can’t concentrate. My patience starts disappearing.

    Then something tiny happens, and I overreact.

    For a long time, I thought I was just too sensitive.

    Why Can’t I Just Handle the Noise?

    They’re kids. Kids are loud. So when the noise bothered me, I figured the problem was me. I needed to be more patient, stop overreacting, and learn to deal with it.

    After my ADHD diagnosis, I started understanding something about myself that I hadn’t before.

    Sometimes I wasn’t just annoyed. I was becoming overloaded.

    I have a sensitivity to noise. Sometimes it’s the volume. Sometimes it’s the pitch. Sometimes it’s hearing the same sound, question, or comment again and again. It builds until my brain doesn’t seem to have anywhere else to put it.

    Then my anxiety shoots up. I can’t focus, my patience gets incredibly short, and suddenly the smallest things feel huge. Someone whines. Something spills. One more person says, “Dad,” and my reaction doesn’t match what actually happened.

    My boys aren’t necessarily doing anything wrong.

    Dad is overloaded.

    Understanding that doesn’t give me permission to take it out on them. It gives me a chance to do something before I do.

    I Needed Something Between Me and Red

    We use Green, Yellow, and Red to think about behavior with our kids. I’m realizing Dad has a traffic light too, and for me, noise can move that light surprisingly fast.

    I used to wait until Red and then try to make myself calm down. I’m learning it’s much easier to catch Yellow.

    When I notice the noise starting to get to me, I don’t need to prove I can tolerate it. I need to put up a barrier before I become overwhelmed.

    My first attempt was noise-canceling headphones. They worked. There was just one problem: I couldn’t hear my kids.

    Turns out that’s a pretty significant design flaw when you’re Dad.

    Then I tried Loop earplugs, and for me, they were a game changer. They don’t make everything silent—and that’s exactly the point. I can still hear my boys, talk to them, play with them, and hear when somebody needs me.

    They just take the edge off. The background noise is quieter. Changes in pitch don’t hit me as hard. My brain gets a little more room, and I calm down.

    The boys don’t have to stop playing. I don’t have to leave.

    I can stay.

    The Goal Was Never to Hear My Kids Less

    At first, putting earplugs in around my children felt strange. Was I shutting them out?

    Then I looked at what actually happened. Without them, I might get overwhelmed, become cranky, snap at something small, or eventually need to get away from everyone. With them, I could stay in the room, listen, play, answer another question, and be Dad.

    That’s when my thinking changed. I had already started learning the same lesson in another noisy environment during swim lessons: sometimes staying present means figuring out what Dad needs, too.

    I’m not trying to hear my kids less. I’m trying to hear them without my nervous system going into overdrive.

    I Don’t Want a Quiet House

    Okay, sometimes a quiet house sounds incredible.

    But I don’t want my boys to have a quiet childhood because their dad has trouble with noise. I want laughter, ridiculous games, and imaginary emergencies. I want them running through the house because apparently Radar the fire dog needs to respond immediately.

    I even want some of those completely unnecessary high-pitched screams.

    Maybe fewer of those.

    Their childhood should sound like childhood. My job isn’t to silence it. My job is to take care of myself well enough that I can be there for it.

    The Dad Takeaway

    For years, my plan was basically: Try harder not to overreact.

    I’m learning that’s not much of a plan.

    A better question is: What happens before I overreact?

    For me, sometimes the answer is sensory overload. So that’s where I’m learning to intervene. Catch Yellow. Put up the barrier. Turn down the sensory load. Then get back in there. I’ve learned the same lesson when a family adventure falls apart: an overloaded dad trying to help an overloaded kid usually needs to regulate himself first.

    Because I don’t need my boys to stop being loud, messy, ridiculous little kids. I want to be there for that.

    Sometimes I just need a little help staying there.

    And sometimes…

    I need to turn the volume down.

    Keep Going

    If this sounds familiar, The Dad Battery is another way I think about catching myself before I’m running on empty. And When My Kids Fight, I See Red is what this looks like when the house goes from loud to genuinely hard. You can also find the practical tools in the Dad Resets section of the Toolkit.

  • September: A Month of New Beginnings

    September: A Month of New Beginnings

    School is starting. Routines are changing. The TV is off. Dad is sore. Apparently, we decided to change everything at once.

    September has always felt like a month of new beginnings.

    This year, it feels especially true.

    The boys are starting school—preschool and pre-K. They leave excited and come home exhausted. There’s excitement, crankiness, energy, meltdowns, and everything else you’d expect when little kids suddenly have a whole new world to figure out.

    And honestly, by the end of the day, they’re not the only ones who are tired.

    But school wasn’t the only new beginning in our house this September.

    Apparently, we decided to change everything at once.

    We Needed a Reset

    We started building actual routines for our family.

    Not some perfectly organized, color-coded system where every minute of the day is accounted for. Just enough structure that everyone has a better idea of what comes next.

    We created routines around school. We made a cleaning schedule. We’re trying to be more intentional about how we spend our time together.

    I also started exercising again. Part of that is my own attempt to get back in shape—not for a six-pack, but so I can keep up with my boys.

    That part has been humbling.

    I’m forty, overweight, and discovering muscles I apparently haven’t spoken to in years. They’re making up for lost time.

    And because that apparently wasn’t enough change for one month, we decided to try something else:

    No TV for September.

    What were we thinking?

    Turning Off the Easy Button

    TV had become an easy button.

    The kids were bored? TV. Dad needed a few minutes? TV. Everybody was getting a little wild and needed to settle down? TV.

    Take that option away and suddenly there’s a lot of empty space in the day. And somebody has to fill it. We’re also experimenting with a simple way to help the boys handle that boredom themselves: the LET’S GO Method for Kid Boredom.

    That means playing. Going outside. Finding activities. Reading books. Going places. Answering approximately 4,000 questions before lunch.

    We’re spending more time actually hanging out with our boys. That’s exactly what we wanted. It’s also exhausting. It has also made me think more about putting down distractions and picking up the moments that are happening right in front of me.

    There are moments when I’m sore from exercising, the boys are bouncing off the walls, the house needs something, and bedtime feels like it should be moved up to about 4:30 in the afternoon.

    But something interesting has started happening.

    The Structure Is Actually Helping

    Of everything we’ve changed, the routines might be making the biggest difference.

    Knowing what we’re doing next seems to help the boys. It helps us, too.

    There’s something surprisingly comforting about not having to constantly decide what happens next. Instead of looking around the house thinking about the twenty things that need done, there’s a plan.

    Even our cleaning schedule has helped.

    We’re not trying to clean the entire house whenever it finally becomes unbearable. Different things get handled on different days. The house feels cleaner and more organized, and my wife and I aren’t constantly staring at the mess wondering who is going to tackle it.

    It’s a small change. But small changes can change the feel of an entire house.

    We’re Not Trying to Become a Different Family

    That’s probably the biggest thing I’m learning from this experiment.

    This isn’t about creating some perfectly optimized family.

    We’re still tired. The boys still come home cranky from school. The house still gets messy. I’m still sore. There are still moments when turning on the TV would make life significantly easier.

    We’re just trying to become a little more intentional about what happens next.

    Some of these changes might stick. Some probably won’t. We’ll adjust things. We’ll abandon things. We’ll discover that some brilliant idea we had absolutely does not work with two little boys.

    That’s okay.

    The goal isn’t perfection.

    The goal is movement.

    Let’s See Where This Goes

    We’re only at the beginning of September, so I don’t know how this experiment ends yet.

    Maybe the routines become permanent. Maybe a month without TV changes how we use screens going forward. Maybe exercising becomes part of my life again instead of something I’m always planning to start “soon.”

    Or maybe October arrives and we realize half of this needs to change.

    That’s part of it.

    Dad’s! Let’s Go isn’t supposed to mean having everything figured out before you start.

    Sometimes it just means looking at where your family is today, deciding where you’d like things to go, and taking the first step.

    That’s what September feels like for us.

    A first step.

    Here’s to new beginnings.

    Dads, let’s go.

    Keep Reading No TV September

    See what happened next in our two-week No TV update, then read what actually happened by the end of the month.

  • I’m Not Training for a Six-Pack. I’m Training to Keep Up With My Kids.

    I’m Not Training for a Six-Pack. I’m Training to Keep Up With My Kids.

    At 40, chasing my 3- and 5-year-old around the backyard gave me a wake-up call: fatherhood isn’t slowing down, and I need a body that can keep going with it.

    The other day I was running around the backyard chasing my boys when I realized something: I was completely out of breath.

    And let’s be clear—it’s not like I’m chasing All-Star athletes here. They’re 5 and 3. Yet there I was, bent over trying to recover while they looked like they could keep going for another six hours.

    I’m 40 years old, overweight, and suffering from way too many years since my last push-up. Eventually, I sat down. While I was sitting there catching my breath, I started thinking about something that scared me a little more than being out of shape.

    This journey with my boys is just beginning.

    What Happens in 10 Years?

    Right now they’re little. Keeping up means chasing them around the backyard, hiking a trail, swimming, climbing around a playground, or getting down on the floor to wrestle.

    But they’re only going to get bigger. What happens when they’re 10 and 12? What about 13 and 15? What happens when they want Dad to go on a harder hike, ride bikes all day, throw a football around, or head out on some adventure we haven’t even thought of yet?

    And if I’m lucky enough to get far enough down this road, maybe someday this whole thing becomes Let’s Go, Grandpa.

    Which is funny to think about now, but it also made me realize something. I don’t just want to live long enough to see those days. I want to be able to participate in them.

    I’ve Tried Getting in Shape Before

    Naturally, I did what everyone does when they decide they’re finally going to get healthy. I took to the web.

    Workout plans are everywhere. Thirty-day challenges. Strength programs. Walking plans. Couch-to-5Ks. Fitness apps. YouTube workouts. I could probably spend six months researching how to work out without ever actually doing a workout.

    But eventually I realized that finding the perfect workout plan wasn’t my problem. Starting has never been my problem.

    I’ve started plenty of times. My problem is how I start.

    I get motivated and go all in. Suddenly I’m going to work out constantly, eat perfectly, lose a bunch of weight, drink gallons of water, sleep eight hours a night, and apparently become an entirely different human being by next Tuesday.

    Then the motivation wears off. My ADHD brain moves on to the next interesting thing. I miss a workout, then another, and eventually the entire plan disappears.

    I’ve done that enough times to know that another hardcore fitness plan probably isn’t the answer.

    This Time, I’m Starting Differently

    So I started looking for something that took me into account. I’m 40. I’m overweight. I’m out of shape. I have ADHD. And most importantly, I’m a dad who wants enough energy to actually enjoy being a dad.

    I don’t need a workout designed around becoming a bodybuilder. I need one designed around showing up again tomorrow.

    That means starting smaller than my motivation wants me to. Building habits before chasing results. Making workouts simple enough that I don’t need an hour of preparation just to begin. And accepting that some days I’m going to do less than I planned.

    Because I’m starting to realize something: a small workout I keep doing beats an incredible workout plan I quit after three weeks.

    I’m Training for Fatherhood

    That’s when my reason for doing this changed.

    I’m not training for a six-pack. I’m training for the backyard. I’m training for hiking trails, playgrounds, swimming pools, bikes, vacations, and whatever ridiculous adventure my boys convince me to try next. Those are the same kinds of experiences I want to protect when I’m planning family trips—and the reason I still think the adventure is worth it even when everything goes sideways.

    I’m training so when one of them says, “Dad, let’s go!” my first thought isn’t, Do I have enough energy for this?

    I want to be able to get up and go.

    The Dad Fitness Test

    So I’m giving myself a different way to measure progress. Yes, I’ll probably watch the scale. I’ll pay attention to how much stronger I get. Maybe someday I’ll even discover whether I can still do a respectable number of push-ups.

    But those aren’t the measurements that matter most.

    Can I do more with my boys than I could when I started?

    Can I chase them longer? Can I hike farther? Can I get off the floor easier? Can I carry one of them when they’re tired? Do I have more energy at the end of the day? Am I saying yes more often?

    That’s the fitness test I actually care about.

    Give Me One Year

    I don’t know exactly where this journey will take me, but I’m giving myself a year. Not a 30-day transformation. Not three weeks of going as hard as possible. One year of becoming a little stronger, healthier, and more capable than I was before.

    There will probably be weeks when I crush it. There will definitely be weeks when I don’t. But this time, the goal isn’t perfection. The goal is to keep coming back.

    Because my boys aren’t going to stay 3 and 5. They’re going to get bigger, faster, and stronger. And unfortunately, Dad isn’t getting any younger.

    So maybe a year from now I’ll find myself running around that same backyard. Maybe I’ll still be breathing hard, but hopefully I’ll last a little longer. Then a little longer after that.

    Because I’m not trying to become the fittest dad in the world.

    I’m trying to build a body that lets me keep saying yes to the life happening right in front of me.

    And someday, hopefully a long time from now, when I hear “Let’s go, Grandpa!” I want to still be able to answer: “Let’s go.”

    Dads, let’s go.

  • I Changed the Diapers—and I’m Proud of It

    I Changed the Diapers—and I’m Proud of It

    Being a good dad isn’t just about providing for your family. It’s about being part of the everyday work of raising one.

    I remember hearing dads brag about making it through raising their kids without ever changing a diaper. Almost like it was a badge of honor.

    Well, I definitely didn’t earn that badge.

    I’ve changed more diapers than I care to remember. I’ve washed bottles, cooked dinners, cleaned the house—including plenty of toilets—and read the same bedtime stories more times than I could count.

    And you know what? I’m proud of that.

    Not because changing my own kid’s diaper deserves a trophy. It doesn’t. I’m proud because somewhere along the way, I’ve realized that all these little things represent something much bigger. I was there.

    The Definition of Dad Has Changed

    For a long time, the picture of a good father was pretty straightforward. Dad worked. Dad provided. Dad protected the family. He fixed things when they broke, took care of the yard and made sure there was a roof over everyone’s head.

    Those things still matter.

    I work. I help provide for my family. I fix things around the house and do the yard work. I take pride in doing those things too. Becoming a more involved dad doesn’t mean throwing away everything dads used to do. It’s part of the same journey I wrote about in Why I’m Creating Dad’s! Let’s Go: figuring out how to become the dad I want to be while I’m living it.

    It means adding to it.

    Because when I get home, I’m still Dad.

    There might be dinner to make, a bathroom that desperately needs cleaned, toys covering the floor or a bedtime story waiting upstairs. When my boys were babies, there were bottles to wash and diapers that definitely weren’t going to change themselves.

    Those aren’t “Mom’s jobs.” They’re part of raising a family. And I’m part of that family.

    I Don’t Need a Trophy

    There’s something important about this conversation that I don’t want to get wrong. I don’t deserve applause because I change diapers, cook dinner or clean a toilet.

    That’s parenting.

    My wife doesn’t get a standing ovation every time she does one of those things, so why should I?

    But there’s a difference between wanting recognition and taking pride in what you do. I take pride in being an involved dad.

    I’m proud that I’ve washed those bottles. I’m proud of the dinners I’ve cooked and the stories I’ve read. I’m proud of the adventures I’ve taken my boys on, but I’m also proud of the completely ordinary days at home.

    Because fatherhood isn’t only happening during the big moments. A lot of it happens while you’re standing over the kitchen sink.

    “Where’s Mom?”

    I’m also realistic about where I rank first thing in the morning. My boys wake up and I’m probably not hearing, “DAD! WHERE’S DAD?!”

    Usually it’s: “Where’s Mom?”

    And that’s okay.

    Mom is Mom. I’m not competing with her, and I’m definitely not trying to replace her. I want something different.

    I want to be her partner.

    I don’t want my responsibility to my family to end because I went to work that day. I also don’t want my boys growing up remembering Dad as the guy who worked, mowed the grass and occasionally came along for the fun stuff.

    I want them to remember a dad who was part of their lives.

    Dad worked. Dad fixed things. Dad took care of the yard. But Dad also made dinner. Dad cleaned. Dad changed diapers. Dad read bedtime stories. Dad played. Dad took us on adventures.

    Dad showed up.

    Providing Is More Than a Paycheck

    Becoming a father has changed what the word provider means to me.

    Providing financially for your family is important. Bills still have to be paid. The mortgage company isn’t going to accept “I read three bedtime stories this week” as payment.

    But a paycheck isn’t the only thing my family needs from me. My boys need my time. My wife needs a partner. Our home needs someone willing to help take care of it.

    Sometimes providing means going to work. Sometimes it means repairing something that’s broken or spending an afternoon working in the yard. Sometimes it means cooking dinner or cleaning the bathroom. And sometimes it means getting down on the floor when you’re exhausted because your kids want Dad to play.

    That’s something I think modern fatherhood has gotten right. Providing and being present don’t have to compete with each other. We can do both. That idea of choosing presence over distraction is also at the heart of The Dad Battery.

    The Little Things Become the Big Things

    My boys aren’t going to remember most of the diapers I changed. They won’t remember the bottles I washed, and I seriously doubt either one of them will someday thank me for cleaning the toilet.

    But maybe that’s not the point.

    Maybe thousands of little moments eventually become one big memory. Dad was there.

    That’s what I want.

    I want my boys to know their dad didn’t just love them. He participated in their lives.

    I won’t always get it right. There are days I’m tired. There are times I’m distracted. There are definitely moments when I’m hoping somebody asks Mom instead.

    Being present doesn’t mean being perfect. It means showing up again tomorrow.

    So I’ll keep working. I’ll keep fixing things around the house and taking care of the yard. I’ll keep doing the things dads have done for generations.

    But I’ll also make dinner. I’ll clean the toilet. I’ll read the bedtime story. And thankfully, the diaper-changing years are starting to disappear in the rearview mirror.

    The definition of being a dad has changed.

    Maybe it hasn’t really replaced the old definition at all. Maybe we’ve just made it bigger.

    And someday, when my boys think back on the kind of dad they had, I don’t need them to remember everything I did. I just hope they remember that I was there.

    Dads, let’s go.

  • The Dad Battery: Putting Down the Phone and Picking Up the Moments

    The Dad Battery: Putting Down the Phone and Picking Up the Moments

    This phone gives me so much. But I’m starting to realize there are things I want more.

    It connects me to everyone I love. It gives me endless hours of entertainment. Videos, games, anime, social media—it can fill every empty space in my day. And for a long time, that’s exactly what I wanted.

    But now I’m a dad. And I’m starting to realize that the things that used to fill my day aren’t necessarily the things I need anymore. I need something different. I need memories with my boys.

    The Dad Battery

    I’ve started thinking about it as my dad battery.

    My phone has always been an easy way to recharge my brain. A few minutes of a video. A game. Scrolling. Something interesting whenever I felt bored, tired, or overwhelmed.

    But I want to learn how to recharge that battery in a different way. I want to get my dopamine from building a blanket fort with my boys, taking them outside when it’s cold just because we can, finding a cool stick on a hike, or throwing a ball around the backyard. From hearing one of my sons yell, “Dad! Come look at this!”

    Those moments don’t always feel as immediately rewarding as picking up my phone. But they last longer. And someday, they’re the moments I hope I’ll remember.

    The Moment I Looked Up

    The moment that really got me wasn’t something my son said. It was something I realized myself.

    I put down my phone and looked around. My wife and my boys were together, having fun, laughing and enjoying each other. And I was in another room watching a video on my phone.

    A video about something I probably won’t even remember tomorrow.

    Something I will forget in less time than it took to write this sentence.

    My family was making a memory, and I was watching something that would disappear from my mind almost immediately.

    And I thought, what am I doing?

    That’s not the dad I want to be.

    I’m Not Trying to Become a Phone-Free Dad

    The hard part is that this isn’t just an ADHD problem. Phones are designed to keep us coming back. Even adults without ADHD can find themselves automatically reaching for their phones whenever there’s a quiet moment.

    So I’m not expecting myself to suddenly become a phone-free dad. I’m not throwing my phone away, and I’m not going to pretend entertainment is bad. I’m trying to change what happens when I have a choice.

    When I reach for my phone because I’m bored, can I sometimes reach for my boys instead? When I have ten free minutes, can I spend them playing? When we’re outside, can I leave the phone in my pocket? When my boys ask me to come see something, can I put the phone down and actually look?

    I’m going to fail. I’ll catch myself scrolling. I’ll lose an hour. I’ll choose the easy dopamine sometimes. But that’s okay.

    I’m Choosing Presence Over Perfection

    This isn’t about becoming a perfect dad. It’s about becoming a more present one.

    Maybe the goal isn’t to stop using my phone. Maybe it’s to start recognizing when my phone is giving me something temporary while my family is giving me something I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life.

    I’m trying to recharge my dad battery with something that won’t disappear when I close the app. I’m trying to fill my days with things my boys and I can remember together.

    The Dad Takeaway

    Your kids don’t need a perfect dad. They need a dad who is actually there.

    Because someday, they’re going to grow up. And I don’t want to look back and realize that I spent their childhood watching a screen when I could have been watching them.

    So I’m going to put the phone down. I’m going to look up. I’m going to go make some memories.

    Dads, let’s go.

    Keep Going

    If your battery tends to drop when the noise and chaos pile up, read Sometimes I Need to Turn the Volume Down. Or head straight to the Dad Resets section of the Toolkit for practical tools to use when patience is getting thin.

  • Why I’m Creating Dad’s! Let’s Go

    Why I’m Creating Dad’s! Let’s Go

    I didn’t start this blog because I have fatherhood figured out. Honestly, it’s pretty much the opposite.

    I’m creating Dad’s! Let’s Go because I’m still figuring it out.

    I’m a dad in my 40s with two young boys, a wife, a job, a house, responsibilities, and a brain that doesn’t always cooperate with the plans I make. Some days I feel like I’m doing a pretty good job. Other days, bedtime turns into chaos, somebody is crying, somebody refuses to put their shoes on, and I’m wondering how we got here.

    But somewhere in the middle of all that, I realized something:

    I don’t want to just survive these years. I want to experience them.

    My boys are little right now. They want me to play, explore, go swimming, find rocks, walk through the woods, and come along on their adventures. I know these years won’t last forever.

    It’s easy to get caught up in work, chores, phones, bills, and everything else that comes with being an adult. You can be physically present with your kids while your mind is somewhere completely different. I don’t want to look back someday and realize I was there, but I wasn’t really present.

    I’m Not Trying to Be a Perfect Dad

    There’s plenty of parenting advice on the internet, and some of it is great. But sometimes it feels like you need to become a completely different person to follow it. That’s not my life.

    My life is messy. Sometimes we eat an easy dinner. Plans fall apart. The kids fight over a toy and I have absolutely no idea who had it first. Sometimes I’m overwhelmed or impatient. Sometimes I get it completely wrong.

    And then there are the moments when everything somehow works. We go for a hike. We find a waterfall. We spend an afternoon swimming. We play a board game. We explore somewhere we’ve never been. The boys laugh at something that isn’t even remotely funny to me.

    Those are the moments I want to remember.

    Adventure Doesn’t Have to Be Big

    I’ve realized that adventure doesn’t necessarily mean packing everyone into the car and driving six hours somewhere amazing.

    Sometimes it’s walking through the woods behind your house. Looking for bugs. Getting caught in the rain. Making pancakes together. Turning an ordinary Tuesday into something your kids remember.

    I want to get better at finding those moments—and share what I learn along the way.

    Parenting With an ADHD Brain

    Another part of my story is ADHD. My brain can be energetic and creative one minute and completely overwhelmed the next. I can have ten ideas at once, become obsessed with a new project, get distracted, or struggle with routines.

    Parenting can make all of that more challenging. But ADHD also brings curiosity, spontaneity, creativity, and a willingness to chase an adventure. I’m learning how to work with my brain instead of constantly fighting it.

    I’m Building This While I’m Living It

    I’m not writing from the perspective of someone who has reached the finish line. I’m writing from the middle of it.

    I’ll try things. Some will work. Some won’t. I’ll have parenting wins and failures, and hopefully I’ll learn from both.

    That’s what I want Dad’s! Let’s Go to be: a dad figuring things out in real time.

    Not an expert telling you how to raise your kids. Not a perfect family pretending everything is wonderful. Just a dad trying to be more present, make more memories, get outside, take care of himself, strengthen his family, and enjoy the adventure along the way.

    Why “Let’s Go”?

    Because that’s what I want to say more often.

    • Let’s go outside.
    • Let’s go explore.
    • Let’s see what’s down that trail.
    • Let’s get ice cream.
    • Let’s build something.
    • Let’s make a memory.

    And sometimes, let’s go even when the plan isn’t perfect.

    Some of the best parts of being a dad happen when you put down the phone, stop worrying about getting everything right, and simply go.

    The Dad Takeaway

    You don’t have to be a perfect dad to make your kids’ childhood memorable. You just have to keep showing up for it.

    I want to be the kind of dad who says yes to the adventure, makes time for the little moments, and looks back someday knowing I didn’t just watch my kids grow up—I was there with them.

    That’s what this blog is about. I’m still figuring it out. I’m still learning. I’m still going to get things wrong.

    But I’m going to keep showing up, keep making memories, and keep looking for the next adventure.

    Dads, let’s go.