There were a few skills I assumed I’d naturally develop as a parent. 

Increased patience. The ability to set boundaries with at least some consistency. An intricate understanding of Daniel Tiger’s Land of Make Believe. 

But what I’ve mostly got is a potpourri of expertise that is some parts incredibly useful, other parts downright bizarre. Here are just a few: 

Non-Dominant Hand Dexterity 

I hold my 9 month old for many hours of the day. Mostly while I halfheartedly tell my 2.5 year old to stop climbing up her toy slide backwards. 

This means that I spend a large portion of my time unable to use my right hand. But due to the fact that I still need to be a semi-functioning person, I am constantly writing to myself on post-it notes; reminders that we are out of garlic powder, or that I should cancel Netflix before we’re charged again. Without these notes, the responsibilities of our home that aren’t my wife’s domain would collapse into ruin. 

Typically, these notes are all written left-handed. The writing is illegible, but over time it’s become only slightly more illegible than my normal writing.

This skill has gradually extended to all appendages. Toys are now picked up almost exclusively with my feet; something I didn’t even know was possible to do with any sort of consistency until now. As is food, garbage, dust balls, you name it. 

I’m now convinced that if humans spent most of our lifetimes fully immersed in this infant/toddler insanity, evolutionary biology would help us redevelop opposable big toes that we once had. 

Functioning at 15% 

Before our first daughter was born, my wife and I used to watch a ton of Top Chef. The show consists of many challenges that require contestants to pull all-nighters, or wake up at an absurd hour to perfectly execute some barbecue. Sleep does not appear to be a core value of the competition. 

We always used to comment that it must be near impossible for these contestants to perform near the top of their game. Even as professional chefs who are probably used to functioning on little rest, the demands of these challenges seemed to occasionally border on cruel and unusual. 

Now, after 2.5 years of moderate-to-extreme sleep deprivation, we joke that being a parent must be a competitive advantage of Top Chef. After dealing with screaming kids all night and day, trying to execute the perfect brisket seems downright pleasant.  

Less Judgement of Arbitrary Things Other People Do

Both our girls aren’t great sleepers, which is an extremely generous statement to both of them. They also each share an aversion to napping in the crib, which means that we’ve heavily leaned on the double-edged sword salvation that is the car naps. 

Because red lights are a dire threat to their sleep cycles and my parental sanity, I frequently drive the same circuitous route for the same 90ish minute stretch in the afternoon. Sometimes I do this for a week or two straight. At this point, I’m shocked that no one has called the police on me.   

Before having kids, I’d probably observe someone exhibiting this behavior and try to theorize all of the possible reasons they could be driving in circles for hours on end.

Now when I see odd behavior like this, I really only do two things. 

Pretty often, I now do things that I would previously qualify as borderline insane. So to pass judgement on any other person’s behavior would feel hypocritical. 

Everyone has their reasons to do whatever they need to do, whether they are parents, single, or one of those people who say they have three children, but the three children are dogs. Who am I to be the arbiter of kosher behavior?

Taking the Next Best Step

Often, I’m faced with situations where both my daughters have competing needs. The older one needs my help in her quest to figure out the potty, but the younger one can’t be left alone. Or they’re fighting over a toy. Or they both desperately need to nap at the same time. 

My wife and I joke that our daughters, as amazing as they are, are extremely talented at making sure we have no margin for error. Balancing the needs of our two girls is like calibrating a pendulum that must be kept at perfect equilibrium at all times. Even the tiniest bit out of sync, and there’s a decent chance that we’ll be paying for our mistake for the remainder of the day. And night.

When chaos strikes, which is guaranteed to happen multiple times per day, I’ve learned to detach, take a step back, and simply think:

What’s the next best step I can take?

This mindset makes the fact that they are both screaming at the top of their lungs relatively managable. It may not be possible to solve the underlying cause of the chaos at this very moment. But by focusing on what’s actually in my control, and doing the best I possibly can to get through the situation at hand has helped immensely. 

Obviously my patience wears thin way more times than I’d like it to. That’s just what being a parent is. But continually working to think in small, actionable steps makes these moments of major stress feel not as life-or-death. And occasionally, even funny.

If you enjoyed this article, consider sharing Millennial Dad Journal with your spouse, your Facebook official boyfriend/girlfriend, that friend you used to have good AIM conversations with, or even a former enemy who is now sort of a friend. Like many aspects of parenting, this newsletter does best with word of mouth recommendations.

If you are not currently subscribed, we welcome you to do so.