It was a young man looking clearly into my eyes this morning.

Back from a successful 3 months at boot camp, being forged into a United States Marine. Completing a month off to see family and friends over the holidays. Now having the final Dad-breakfast of this chapter of his young life, before heading out tonight for advanced training and a career going who-knows-where in coming years.

It was a young man across the table. So short a time ago, a little tow-headed boy. Now, a strong-jawed Marine, quite a sight when in his dress blues. We looked into the future together, with both confidence and excitement.

For years, we held him close…with the ultimate parental goal of finally letting go.

And as we had a last talk to cap off this stage of the father-son relationship, it was a young man who was thinking responsibly. Aware of his duties, and of the needs of others. Someone for whom I always felt deep love, but now, another, very profound sense was emerging.

Respect. Mutual respect.

This boy had given us a run for our money. Growing him up was definitely not a trouble-free process. There was heartache and grief. But underneath all the teen folly, a young man was lurking, ready to shed the cocoon and fly.

We’re at the launch pad, and this one is fueled up and ready to go. It’s lift-off time. My heart is oscillating wildly with more emotions than I can even identify. My keyboard, even now, is stained with tears.

Go, David - Go. May God bless you.

Love, Dad

One of the disadvantages of living in our hyper-networked world is that many of our mistakes are captured and magnified. And when something disastrous (or nearly so) happens to a child, there tends to be a knee-jerk reaction on the part of some to condemn the parents, even before knowing the facts.

Bad parents!

It’s likely that those who are eager to cast the first stone have not, in fact, ever brought up children. Because as every parent can attest - every good and caring and attentive parent - near-disaster seems to hide around the corner at least once a day, and kids have an uncanny ability to seek it. Or, if they’re too young to seek it, we can manage to find it ourselves through a moment’s distraction or inattention.

When you first gaze at your newborn in the crib, and your heart bursts with love and wonder, you make a vow that you will do anything to protect and care for that little one. And you mean it. But growing up is a messy process, and no parent or child gets it right 24/7/365 for the next couple of decades. A loving and dedicated parent can end up looking really bad once in while.

I once nearly drifted out to sea on a slowly-deflating float, not because of bad parenting, but just because - you know, it happened. I shudder to think of the close calls my brothers and I had growing up, and it pains me to remember the trips to the ER with my boys. And I guarantee that’s the case with every parent that decides to roll the dice and have children in a world filled with risk. Stuff happens. Even to families with parents who are trying their level best to get it right.

Yes, there are bad parents. There are sickos who endanger their children carelessly or deliberately. But, I would dare to say that they are a tiny minority. Most of us live with this layer of secret terror in our souls that we’re going to screw up somehow, and that even our best efforts can’t shield our kids from every arrow flying around out there. It’s the good parents who care, and who learn from their mistakes and press on.

Amazingly, somehow, most of these little creatures actually make it through. And when trouble hits, parents need a supportive shoulder, not a scolding index finger.

So, next time there is a news item about some kid getting hurt or barely avoiding disaster, avoid the temptation to cluck your tongue and shake your head and say, “Bad parents!” Most likely, they’re good parents who experienced what every other parent eventually experiences - reality. And when you screw up, give yourself some slack too. Those parents you look up to, who seem to have it all together? - they’re skating on the edge just like you, hoping and praying that their mishaps never become public fodder.

Do be careful about inflatable rafts and undertows, however…

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I just got back from picking up my youngest at his soccer practice. Our town has a very nice set of fields (the complex actually services 3 towns), with a good-sized parking lot, a playground, and (as autumn progresses) an evening nip in the air.

But tonight was warm, and not that many fields were occupied. Heading back to the car, however, I saw one person quite occupied - a woman juggling three little ones, all under the age of six.

I asked if she needed any help as she corralled her brood and their stuff into the family-mobile. Of course she didn’t - she’s a Mom. But what I really wanted to do was tell her how much I appreciate what she’s doing. Because it thoroughly warmed my heart to see her doing what countless mothers simply do - shepherd their little ones into adulthood.

When I look back at our family pictures, I still marvel that we (and by that I especially mean, my wife) managed to survive those years of the endless demands of little ones. It’s an awesome, wearying, and unending responsibility. Successful entrepreneurs, great athletes, talented artists - all have my respect, to a degree. But devoted mothers draw out my unbounded admiration.

For every awkward-feeling person that comes up to you and tries to tell you “thanks” for being a Mom, there are probably 100 of us who think and feel it but maybe don’t quite know how to express that appreciation without seeming…well, forward. Maybe it’s a little safer here on this blog.

So, if Mom-ing has been a bit tiring and unfulfilling as you juggled through today, I have one word for you. Thanks. Oh, and here’s two more: You’re awesome!

You’re never ready to have children.

You can’t be experienced enough, wise enough, wealthy enough, plan well enough…and if you think you are ready, then actually having them quickly disabuses you of that delusion!

You have the loving desire to invest in a new generation, and the rest of it you learn by doing. Ready or not.

After a while, perhaps, when the kids get older and start their metamorphosis into young adults, you may start feeling ready NOT to have these children anymore! The teens years can be exceptionally trying, and just when you thought you had this parenting gig down (during the relatively easy years of, say, ages 3-11), all kinds of twists and turns and detours rattle your sense that these (formerly) delightful little offspring are going to be ready for adult responsibilities. And for you…maybe that empty nest idea starts looking really good. If you can ever get these proto-adults ready for what’s coming.

If you have multiple children, you also find out that they don’t all become ready at the same pace. But your yearning is the same for each one - that they’ll have the raw ingredients, the responsibility and the mindset, to leave the nest and succeed at whatever they choose.

Next week, my #2 son begins basic training with the United States Marines. We’ve been through the agonizing years of wondering if/when he’d be prepared to shoulder “big-person” responsibilities. But, he made a commitment as he turned 18 to join the service, and since then, we’ve seen some major changes - changes that we’d labored long to bring about, but couldn’t seem to make happen. So as I finally realized last week, looking at my square-jawed and forward-looking son, that he was, indeed, READY, great relief flooded my heart. He isn’t going to stumble out of the nest and flutter to the ground. He’s going to stride forward confidently, head high and shoulders broad enough to be a man.

The bridge has been crossed.

And that’s the reward at the end of “Phase 1″ of this parenting adventure. When you can let go and say, “this one’s ready.” When your little daughter is suddenly a woman, when your little boy has transformed into a man. You know you had a huge part in it, but also, something mysterious is at work in their growing souls. Something strange and wonderful that, in its own time and its own way, finally makes them…grown up.

And ready.

I’m not a big fan of noise.

Some people seem to thrive on it. Loud music, crowded parties, auditory chaos. Not for me. A walk in the woods, a good book out on the deck, a one-on-one conversation with a friend - that’s how I roll.

But, I have kids. Five of them. Boys. And that means…noise. Lots of it!

Twenty+ years of noise (thus far), with about 11 more to go.

Of course, I love my kids, and I know that an inescapable part of the package is barely-controlled chaos. But as I get older, I find myself yearning for the mythical empty nest state, where things aren’t broken daily, bickering is someone else’s problem, and interruptions are chosen instead of imposed. Of course, at that point I’ll probably start to miss the whirlwind, and be demanding time with future grandchildren. Maybe I’ll yearn for some noise. But then again - maybe not.

I met a young married lady at an event this week and she has three boys, all under the age of five (one set of twins). She described the state of her house, from the moment the kids got up, as “airborne”! Perfect.

Truth be told, I secretly enjoy the liveliness (mostly). But I find myself trying to carve out little moments of escape, some safe harbors from the kaleidoscope of chaos. My RAM is beginning to fill up with sound files. My hard disk is getting fragmented. It’s just one of the job hazards of being a long-time parent, I guess - when you’re young, your signal-to-noise filtering capacity is greater. At this stage, I yearn for more signal, and a lot less noise!

I’m thankful that I have kids, and many would give their right arm to be in my shoes. But as all parents can attest - some days your bell gets rung one too many times by the percussions of parenting. The result: kid concussions! Punch drunk parents just looking for a little peace and quiet.

So, if you ever see me in a large group setting, looking ill at ease among the sound waves, do me a favor and lead me to a quiet corner for a chat. Or, if you want to come over and supervise the kids for a long weekend, that’s an offer that will be seriously considered! Finding a safe harbor from the aural maelstrom will always be much appreciated…!

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Connect with Steve Woodruff

I’m a Dad of five (boys). I’ve had 20 Father’s Days now, with the standard cards and Boston cream pies (my favorite) and low-key ackowledgements that generally accompany Father’s Day. Hey, it’s not Christmas or Passover or…well, Valentine’s Day. It’s “just” Father’s Day.

So, how can you make your man feel special - not only on Father’s Day, but throughout the year?

Tell him something he’s doing right.

If I’m like most men - and I suspect I am - we feel pretty often that we’re the biggest frauds that ever walked the planet. These kids are supposed to look up to ME, and model themselves after ME? Sure, you know you’re a jerk when you’re in college, but you REALLY come to understand what a bozo you are when you have kids. It’s downright intimidating.

Maybe your guy doesn’t articulate it quite so plainly, but most of us are haunted by a deep sense of inadequacy for This Daddy Gig. And as the kids get older, guess what - the perplexity increases, not diminishes.

I guarantee that the father of your children has plenty of flaws, and certainly you could list them off in double-time if you were so inclined. But, don’t. Make his day by telling him something you appreciate - something he does really well. Let him know about a character trait that he has that you fervently hope your children will share. Understand that underneath whatever layers of bravado he chooses to wear, there’s a fellow in there who really wants to hear, “Attaboy!” Because bringing up kids in these treacherous times is really hard, quite frankly.

Then do it again the next day. Lord knows we need it.

This picture pretty well sums it up.

A Mom is (generally) the child’s first and primary teacher, the one who tirelessly guides and instructs in all manner of knowledge and behavior.

It’s a role that is immensely rewarding (usually), frustatingly thankless (often), and absolutely crucial.

I’ve had the privilege and joy of being married to such a woman for 28 years (well, OK, 28 years tomorrow), and she has invested heavily in the upbringing of our five boys. She goes about this Mommy gig day after day, year after year, steadily shaping young lives. Has it been easy, without disappointment or heartbreak? Hardly. But what worthy endeavor is?

Plus, she’s had to put up with me. That’s Amore.

There is simply no way to calculate the value of a great mother, and no way to adequately pay tribute to a woman like Sandy. She doesn’t blog, doesn’t Twitter, doesn’t want an iPhone. But in our home network, she’s the prime connector. I wouldn’t want anyone else to be the mother of my children.

And, after 28 years, I still cannot imagine a better best friend.

It’s not easy being a Mom. I know - I married a wonderful woman who has been a marvelous mother to our five children. We both benefited from faithful and devoted mothers growing up. Great Moms don’t just extend their hands to work. They open their hearts to love.

And that is why Moms are unique.

It’s not just a functional job, this Mommy Gig. It’s pouring your heart out into little angel/demons who both delight and exasperate, who return affection fivefold and spurn your loving direction five minutes later. It’s self-sacrifice, not for short-term pay, but for a long-term investment that few appreciate.

It’s seeing your heart grow, and fill, and bleed, and break.

If you’re a mother of children, one thing is certain - you’re going to mess up in a thousand ways (all of us parents do). But if you put your heart into your children, they’ll get the message. The return may be a long time coming, especially as you wrestle through the teen years. But carry on, even when it hurts. Our kids need Moms with a heart!

And a bunch of us Dads really appreciate you, too…

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