I'm not really sure what I expected being a father. There's obviously the things you learn from your own dad and many of my dadisms come through loud and clear when I find myself saying something in the voice of Mike Stauffer... scary stuff. There's also the stuff you watch in the media but for good or ill, none of that sinks in for me. No, I'm hybrid dad, one that feeds off of his partner, best friend and wife, but also one that is unique to the characteristics of his own children. Meredith stakes out the rational middle and I inhabit the extremes of 'Woo-Hoo!' and 'Get over here RIGHT NOW!'
I suppose my internal audit of being a dad came from spending the past week on vacation with my family. Nothing makes you feel more like a child than spending a week with your parents and siblings and nothing makes you feel more like a dad than constantly corralling, disciplining, potty training, laughing, scaring, swimming and at the beck and call of one's own kids. (Especially one's own kids in the presence of parents and siblings... how old am I?)As I gathered my receipts and began the paperwork for my audit, (I'm not entirely sure how far I can take this metaphor) I found myself
having several conversations that were very illuminating to me. 1) Hanging out with a 17 year old whom I see a lot of myself in, (I am so sorry about that, Nate!) I was recounting a number of memories, good and bad as we discussed things that occur at that stage of one's life. Issues often came back to those of manhood - what it really means to come of age and how hard it is to find one's own true voice when there is so much anger, uncertainly, love and confusion. I recounted one especially important story about what is seen in the mirror and how to use that as fodder to move forward or as a reminder of not looking back.
2) Hanging out with my partner, best friend and wife. We're not the same as we once were. We're full on, totally committed parents and sometimes, that is a really hard fact to face. Where did the footloose, fancy and carefree versions of ourselves disappear to? Oh, yeah, I believe they were flushed down the toilet with the constant vigilance of potty training our little lad. However, in the midst of a totally rocking bigger-than-the- Mummer's Potty Parade where we had pots banging and hands clapping, marching all around the house, led by a very proud and very excited new member of the underpants wearing gang, (diapers...diapers...we don't need no stinkin' 
diapers!) I realized that we are totally and completely insane. And totally and completely awesome! We convinced five other grown ups to participate in a Potty Parade around a beach house at least six times. This tells me several things - our relatives are also insane & awesome and our boy has the cute charm working overtime! By the way, we totally potty trained Luke on vacation - it's pretty great. The things is though, we are still footloose, fancy and carefree - it just looks really different. Footloose is now a potty parade. Fancy is watching Cinderella at 6 in the morning and carefree is...I'll get back to you on carefree.
The third thing was coming home. Tonight, our last night of vacation, I took Elise's training wheels off her bike. There is nothing that was smart about this. The timing: five o'clock before dinner on a Sunday. The situation: created by a random desire of a five year old. The sibling: holding a bat and yelling at his dad and sister about which way not to ride. The helmet, knee pads, elbow pads or other accoutrement to avoid street rashes: none. Here I am in 100 degree heat and 200% humidity in sandals, with my daughter peddling her little heart out alternating between utter abandon (see lack of accoutrement above) and total devastating fear of me letting go of her 
and absolute excitement about her new found freedom to ride. (We're not there yet.)It was in this moment, as I panted breathlessly next to my ridiculously happy daughter (did I mention she was also in a dress of course) that I realized my expectations as a dad. A strange, silly, happy mixture of teacher, buddy, sometimes the yelling meanie, motivator (co-inventor of the potty parade) and always ridiculously thrilled to be around his kids.
Oh, and I do believe that last story confirms the carefree!
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