Rule #6: Being Called a Bad Dad
I want to begin by apologizing to my listeners and readers for my disappearance. I had a personal crisis that took me away from my new podcast and 2catrule postings while I sorted out my emotions and decided how I could regroup.
I’ve long understood that the definition of my life would never be found in what I acquired or achieved. It would be found in how my children — and one day, my grandchildren — live. How they treat others. How they move through the world.
Throughout all these blog posts and podcast episodes, there have always been two consistent life lessons I want to pass on:
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Be Kind
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Be Grateful
Everything I want to teach my children about life comes down to those two themes.
As I’ve said from the beginning of this journey — I am a flawed man. In the end, I believe my children will learn more from my mistakes than my successes.
I’ve realized that the journey I’m on is an imperfect one, and I’ve made many mistakes. I’m certain I’ll make many more.
I know my children respect and love me — even when they don’t always agree with me. At different points in their lives, they’ve seen me as an authoritarian, a bullshitter (hard to believe, I know), and sometimes just a roadblock to their joy.
But my approach to parenting was never about being loved or even liked. It was about embracing the role of being a parent — and trusting that, in the long run, love would follow. I knew it was impossible to be liked when I was the keeper of resources and the dispenser of discipline. But I wasn’t trying to raise kids who liked me. I was trying to raise good people.
That balancing act was even harder because I was doing it as a divorced father. It made consistency difficult — especially when it came to delivering tough messages. I was incredibly fortunate to have a partner in Bobbi, who supported me in my actions, even when she didn’t always agree with me.
It was consistency in messaging and consistency in love that helped me walk that tightrope. There were some scary stumbles — but no falls.
In the early emotional chaos of divorce, I saw how it affected the kids. I knew I had to get them off the battlefield. Someone had to be the adult. They needed parents — not combatants.
Even when things got bad — when hurtful things were said about me or to me — I kept repeating to myself:
“My kids need a parent. They need me to be the adult. Or their lives will fall into turmoil.”
Sometimes, you just have to suck it up and do what your kids need — even if it makes you look terrible in the moment.
It still sucked for them. Divorce is an unstable state — the emotional equivalent of being rocked back and forth on a boat. They needed something solid to hold onto. They needed to know they weren’t alone.
And as hard as it was, I can tell you: the hits you take as a parent will yield results — even if you can’t see them right away.
As I look at all six of my kids today, ages 19 to 34, I could not be more proud.
Yes, they’ve all been successful academically and financially — but more importantly, they are good people. They understand kindness. They understand gratitude. They’re all imperfect, like their father, but by a large margin, they are winning at the game of life by being good humans.
So what stopped me from publishing this blog and podcast until now?
One of my children called me a “bad dad.”
It happened during a conversation about actions and consequences — a disagreement over how I was approaching a situation. In my 34 years of parenting, I’ve sought advice from books, therapists, friends, websites — and most consistently, from Bobbi. I never claimed to have all the answers. I always tried to respectfully listen to advice, whether it was solicited or not.
My dad gave me a lot of advice too — some I followed, some I didn’t. But I always listened.
At the end of the day, though, parenting is not a democracy. It’s more like a benevolent dictatorship. A smart parent listens. A smart parent grows. But a smart parent must always put the interest of the child first — and that decision rests with the parent.
Everyone who knows me knows I love to negotiate. I’m always open to a good deal. But parenting isn’t business. Eventually, the negotiation must end — and a decision has to be made. That’s the weight of being the adult in the room.
The disagreement that led to me being labeled a “bad dad” was about consequences. And as kids grow older, your list of available, non-physical consequences gets shorter.
When Matthew was five, he was a terror at bedtime. I remember one night, I removed his toys. Then books. Then pillows and blankets. Finally, it was just a bare mattress. It was a battle of wills, and I was almost out of arrows. Thank God he blinked.
It may sound cruel, but it was a defining moment. I couldn’t back down — not for my sake, but for his.
As the kids got older, I used whatever limited arrows I had left: cars, credit cards, allowances, even college tuition. With four of my kids, I only threatened to withhold it. With two, I actually did.
There are very few things more important to me than my kids being well-educated. But raising kids who are kind and grateful is far more important than the degree they have. So when necessary, I used what I had and aimed where it would be felt.
I don’t know how my kids will remember me. Maybe as a tyrant. Maybe as a saint. But neither is true.
All I’ve ever tried to be is a Good Dad.
That title — “Good Dad” — is how I define my life. And when it was questioned, it hurt deeply. So deeply, in fact, that I couldn’t continue these messages until I found clarity and remembered why I was sharing them in the first place.
It made me wonder: Did my kids miss the point?
But after reflection, I realized — they didn’t.
They may not agree with all my postings. But they listen. They use what’s useful. And I’m good with that. That’s what I did with my own dad.
Yes — I was deeply hurt by the comment.
Yes — I regret telling them to “fuck off” when it wasn’t retracted.
Yes — the result has been some painful isolation.
But I remain steadfast in this truth:
Being a “Good Dad” does not require me to be liked. But it does require me to be the adult.
And being the adult means doing what I believe is right — no matter how many votes are against me.
This, ultimately, is a message about parenting.
What it truly means.
If you’re going to raise good people — the ultimate goal of parenting — you must be willing to risk everything. Your time. Your fortune. Your pride. Nothing is more important than the mission of raising good humans.
There will come a time — maybe when they’re 5, maybe when they’re 50 — when your kids will hate you. It’s not just possible; it’s inevitable.
Being the adult in the room means being the one who says no.
No to ice cream.
No to cars.
And sometimes, no to college.
If you have kids, you have an obligation to them — and to the world — to raise the best human beings you can.
You are their last line of defense.
Their last chance to learn clear lessons.
And to experience consequences that shape them, not break them.
Even if it means they call you a “bad dad.”
Because, in the end, that may be the only way to truly be a Good Dad.
Love,
Dad