We talked about how fatherhood can bring out vulnerability in even the biggest jocks, how to hold a marriage together when you're gone for three weeks out of four, and what Norm Macdonald taught him about the only thing time never gives back.

I hope you enjoy this conversation as much as I did.

Hey Kevin, thanks for being here. First things first, how long have you been a father?

I have been a dad for 16 years. I have three girls, Sophie, Molly and Keegan. Molly was born in 2009 and Keegan in 2012, and five years ago in 2021, I married Sophie’s mom and became her stepdad, which is a blessing I never knew I needed.

You’ve spent your career writing about athletes under enormous pressure — Ravens players, college athletes, PGA pros. Has fatherhood changed the way you see those stories? Do you find yourself reading the human stakes differently now?

It’s funny, I remember talking to Joe Flacco about the impending birth of his first kid. His attitude was: “Look, my job is really important. A lot of people depend on me. If my kid is born when I’m about to play a game, I’m not going to be there.” That was kind of surprising to me, but it also made me grasp that not everyone has to do fatherhood the same way. I can remember asking both Brooks Koepka and Scottie Scheffler what they were looking forward to about being a father, and their faces lit up and they gave great answers. I think sometimes those questions can help reveal things about athletes they might be reluctant to share. Both Brooks and Scottie are what we’d think of as hardcore jocks, but they were willing to be a little vulnerable when faced with that question, and I don’t know that I would have asked it early in my career. Rory McIlroy wanted me to know he put his daughter in golf lessons because I’d written so much about my daughter’s love for the game. I think those moments feel earned when they happen now in my career.

You moved from Montana to Maryland to work at the Baltimore Sun, built a career, and raised three daughters. How has place shaped family and fatherhood for you?

I miss Montana a lot, and I think sometimes that’s an undercurrent in some of my work. I’m always trying to understand how a sense of place shapes people. I wrote a piece for Garden and Gun recently about asking my daughter Molly to read my favorite book from when I was in college, The Prince of Tides. That’s almost entirely about how a place can shape you. I think I explore that theme in almost everything I write because it was so important to me. Scottie Scheffler likes to tell everyone he’s from Texas, but actually he was born in New Jersey and raised by two parents from New Jersey and I think that is essential to understanding part of him.

As far as how it’s shaped my parenting, I often wish my kids could grow up the way I did, in Missoula, MT, a little college town tucked into the mountains. But I also know they have a much broader education about the world than I ever did as a kid. They are city girls, and they’ve been exposed to far more diversity than I ever was growing up. They have tried all kinds of interesting foods and experienced all kinds of interesting culture that I did not while growing up in Missoula. It’s a little scarier to imagine them driving on the Baltimore Beltway than it was for me driving around at 15 in Montana, but there are tradeoffs.

How about your own father? How has he influenced your parenting? Do you ever find yourself doing things that remind you of him?

My dad was a prosecutor who also worked in politics. He served in the state legislature for 20 years, almost from the time I was born. Doing the right thing — which isn’t always the popular thing — was very important to him, and I know that rubbed off on me and my sister. Sometimes people criticize me for some of the stances I take, but I promise you they’re never performative. I’m trying to abide by a code of what I think is moral and just. It isn’t for everyone, but it doesn’t have to be. Lately, I find myself asking my kids questions where I sound exactly like my father, and it’s a little disarming. I also sneeze just like him, which is even weirder. I am more open about my feelings than he is, but I’m also not afraid to stand up for what I believe in or care about, and I think that’s one of the lessons I try to pass down to my kids.

Sportswriting at the highest level means traveling for big events — Masters week, major championships, bowl games. How do you and your wife navigate those stretches?

The honest answer is it has not always been easy, and it’s been a trial that has spanned two marriages. Marrying a sportswriter is hard, you end up carrying a considerable burden as the spouse who isn’t traveling. My ex-wife and I struggled with it at times, and we still have to navigate those challenges now as co-parents. I’ve learned it helps to try and lay out what I think my schedule will be for the year with her. Here is every trip I hope to take, every major I plan to attend, every reporting trip I think will be scheduled for this week. Life won’t always adhere to that plan, but you need to begin with a framework at least. My wife and I have less of that tension in our marriage because when I’m traveling, there isn’t an additional burden on her to care for my daughters, they are almost always staying with their mom. But it doesn’t mean that it’s easy. I recently had to be gone for three weeks in a four week stretch. That’s hard on a marriage. Some nights we will try to watch a movie together while in separate cities, texting back and forth the entire time about the film. It’s a good way to at least feel some connection when traveling.

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You played college football for a couple seasons at the University of Montana. What did competing at that level instill in you as a father that you couldn’t have gotten any other way?

I think I’m realistic about college sports in ways that many parents probably are not. I see a lot of parents who think their kids are going to get a scholarship and internally I’m thinking: “Sorry, but your kid has no chance.” Mostly what playing a couple years for the Griz taught me that I’d love for my kids to experience is the value of community that sports offers. Two of my best friends are guys I played with on the football team, even though it’s been 30 years since we put on shoulder pads. My college girlfriend was an elite volleyball player, so I attended a lot of matches, and once I joined the student newspaper, I wrote a lot of stories about Montana’s very successful women’s basketball program and its women’s soccer program. It really helped me love and appreciate female athletes in ways I might not have otherwise. The story that helped me get a job at the Baltimore Sun right out of college was a magazine feature I’d written about one of the women’s basketball players. I’m still friendly with the subject of the piece. I can see echoes of it in my girls’ approach to team sports. I hope it helps them find their people the way sports did for me.

You’ve worked at the Baltimore Sun, ESPN, No Laying Up, and now The Fried Egg. I know it’s easy to say this looking backwards, but each move seems like a deliberate step toward doing the work you actually want to do. How do you talk to your daughters about ambition and the trade-offs that come with chasing something you believe in?

Each place has taught me a lot about the kind of journalist and storyteller I wanted to be. At the Sun, they were so little, they didn’t really understand what I did for a living yet. Keegan wasn’t even born, in fact, until a month after I started working at ESPN. But at ESPN, they began to understand that it was often my job to talk to really important people, and sometimes I had to do that on my cell phone in the school pick up line. What’s your dad doing? Oh, he’s talking to Aaron Rodgers. That kind of thing wasn’t unusual for them. They grew to enjoy telling the boys at their school that their dad was at the Super Bowl or at The Masters or he was talking to Rory McIlroy or Peyton Manning this week. Some of their classmates thought it was a lie, but it never was. I think what they learned from that time in my life is that sports are just the stage where a lot of big themes play out. When Aaron Rodgers and I ended up talking about COVID and cancel culture, my kids understood it was about more than football.

When I worked for No Laying Up, they grew to understand what it was like for their dad to be a niche celebrity. It was very disarming for them to attend golf tournaments with me and have tons of middle-aged men in half zips come up to their dad and talk to him like an old friend. They began to understand parasocial relationships and podcasting. There were also hard lessons to learn. When No Laying Up decided I wasn’t in their future plans, my daughters were deeply hurt. Explaining to them that sometimes your employers don’t think you’re the right fit, and that’s life, was a very raw and difficult conversation. They had come to see NLU as family — perhaps because I saw it that way — and it was a hard lesson for us both to learn that your job really shouldn’t define you or your self worth. It’s just a job. Unless you are your own boss, you might have your job disappear one day. It was a sobering lesson, but an important one.

I think the Fried Egg is teaching them that writing still has a lot of value for the right audience.

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Is there a piece of writing — yours or someone else’s — that you’d want your daughters to read someday, not because it’s about sports, but because of what it says about how to be a person?

Colson Whitehead’s essay about New York, which is a love letter to the city after 9/11. It’s only about 9/11 in the abstract, however. The twin towers warrant only a brief mention. It’s actually about how things in your life will disappear as you get older, but you don’t realize you should have appreciated them before it came time to mourn them. But it’s also a reminder that your experiences are unique to you; they’re part of your story. New York is the best place to understand this. It is an endless cycle of renewal and change and hope. My girls already love New York and want to live there someday. I think it’s the best piece to help them understand their story doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to be their own. My stepdaugher Sophie loves the theater, so last year we went to New York for two nights and saw The Great Gatsby. It was such a wonderful bonding experience. New York has a lot of meaning to us both, and I like to think of our family story as one of hope and renewal too.

What’s one piece of advice you’d give a new father that you wish someone had given you?

There is a Norm Macdonald quote that I love and think of almost weekly.

“The only thing an old man can tell a young man is that it goes fast, real fast, and if you’re not careful, it’s too late. Of course, the young man will never understand this truth.”

One of the hardest things to wrap my head around is that my girls will never again be the little girls they once were, the girls who put on plays in our backyard during COVID, or who made their first ever birdie at age 7. They’re racing toward adulthood, just as I was at their age, experiencing big moments with big feelings — first dance, first kiss, first college visit. It’s disarming for me because I can remember 17 so vividly. How can I have kids that age when I still fall asleep some nights and return to that age?

I think the only advice I would give a new dad is to try and savor the moments when your kids are little because you don’t get them back. Take them on trips, listen to their silly stories, sing to them and show them the things you cherish because if you always assume you’ll have more time, one day you’ll realize that you do not. During COVID, my wife implored me to rent an RV and drive from the Grand Canyon to Montana and back. I was resistant at the time because of the cost and the time it would take. But we did it at my wife’s behest and I’m so glad we did. We saw Yellowstone and Glacier and Zion and the Grand Canyon and we sang Kacey Musgraves and Jason Isbell songs on the open road for two weeks. That opportunity was never going to come our way again.

You can always make more money. You can never buy more time.

We talked about balancing writing with fatherhood, building confidence and emotional resilience in kids, and how stay-at-home dads can find community, purpose, and their own version of modern masculinity.

Hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

Hey Shannon, thanks for making the time to chat. What’s going on today?

Spent the morning writing and getting my stuff out. I have some articles finishing up, worked on the book, and now I get to do Easter stuff for the rest of the afternoon. My kids are 20, 18, and 13, and they still get an Easter basket. I just can’t let it go. I don’t care.

I love that and it actually segues pretty nicely into the reason I wanted to talk to you today. You’re a proud stay-at-home dad, and you’re also a writer. What’s the key to balancing those two things?

It’s hard. I’ve written so much in the stands of soccer fields and volleyball practice, either longhand or with my computer on the longer days. You’re always pulled in twelve different directions. Before the kids went to school, I would write mainly at night when they were in bed. When they got to school, they gave me more time during the day to actually commit hours to it. But writing is one of those things where my creativity doesn’t work nine to five. I did time at Second City, and one of the things we did was discover the times we’re most creative. So I actually know when I’m most creative.

The way I handle it, and this was a struggle, is I literally think of hats. When it’s time to be a dad, all writing goes out of my brain. I’m a dad, one hundred percent, in there. When it’s time to write, I’m no longer a dad. I’m the writer. I try to keep those worlds separate during the time I’m with my kids.

That said, as the kids got older, I’ve found joy in writing with them. My daughter is a sophomore at the University of Arkansas, majoring in English and wanting to write and be an editor. We trade stuff. I read all her work for class. My middle son is creative and smart as hell, so we’ll go over plot points together. My youngest just likes to laugh, and I write humor, so we joke around a lot.

It's nice that you're able to connect with all three kids in slightly different ways, and that they they seem to have gotten a little of your creativity or at least an appreciation for it. Did you find that writing the book brought more stay-at-home dads into your orbit?

All the time, actually. It happens all the time, even now. Before the book, I had my own dads’ group here in Kansas City. The five of us have raised sixteen kids together over eighteen years. We’ve been best friends that long, raising each other’s kids since they were babies. We were lucky enough to have a village that we created.

When people reach out to me about the stay-at-home dad thing, or just fatherhood in general, they’re looking for connection. They’re looking for understanding from someone who’s been down the road. That was the reason I wrote the book. I needed someone to show me where to go and what to do without feeling weird.

I didn’t want to be the stoic father standing on the sidelines. That was never going to be me. But once you get into the day-to-day, you realize you’re not prepared because there were no resources out there. It’s a lonely life as a father. So I tried to bridge that gap. With most men, it’s not sentimentality we want. We want the how-to. And I think you can reach men through humor — where they can see themselves and make that connection. That was the goal.

Wow, what a network you’ve had in KC. Looking a little closer to home, is there anything you learned from being the primary caregiver that gave you a greater appreciation for your wife?

The role reversal that my wife and I have done has given us more empathy and understanding for each other than we would have gotten the other way around. I understand what it’s like to be at work all day getting hammered by high-stress moments and then coming home just needing a minute of peace. She understands that there have been days where I am touched out, exhausted, with everyone throwing poop or sand or dirt or whatever at me.

So we came up with a system a long time ago that we still use. Every day when my wife gets home from work, she gets thirty minutes. She walks in the door like she’s not even here and disappears to wherever she wants, just to exist in the space and make that transition. Then after dinner, I take thirty minutes while the kids clean up, just to step away. These are little things we do to maintain our own mental health. And that understanding helps with the bigger conversations about money, travel, love and romance. We’ve really seen the other side of it.

The funny thing I noticed during the teen years is it wasn’t the physical labor that was hard anymore. It was the emotional labor of guiding those emotions and helping the kids understand them. My wife is better at it than I am, but I’m still dad and the first one they come to. So I’ve had to learn new techniques throughout the years to better relate to my teenagers and guide them to the people they want to be.

That mutual empathy is really beautiful. How do you and your wife handle divvying up running the household?

I’ll say right off the bat, I hate when she tries to reorganize my kitchen. It bothers me.

Haha get out of my kitchen!

The division of labor has changed over the years, but at the beginning we came up with my job description. Setting expectations. Who’s going to do what and who’s responsible for what. That made a huge difference in avoiding arguments. I basically run the house. I told my wife, dinner’s at six whether you’re here or not. I hope you’re here. One thing I said I wouldn’t do was windows. And the reason is I needed to have something I pushed back on. There was no real reason. I just didn’t want to do windows.

From my wife’s standpoint, she had a list of things she was responsible for around the house. Not so much the day-to-day, but overall things. When COVID hit, we changed it up. She became responsible for laundry since she was working from home, but I had so much of my free time consumed with the kids and teaching every day for a year that I didn’t have time for it. She also took on making all the appointments for us during that whole stretch. I’d still be the one to take them, but she organizes all the insurance and everything. We sit down to discuss how it all looks, and basically every year we kind of redo it. Now we’re in a new section of our lives with two kids almost out and the third on his way. We’ll have to sit down and do it again.

I imagine because of the generational difference that he wasn't a stay-at-home dad, but I'm curious how your dad influences your parenting.

This is gonna blow your mind. He actually was a stay-at-home dad. We just didn’t call it that. My dad had multiple sclerosis. By the time I was in seventh or eighth grade, he had to quit work. He couldn’t walk anymore or drive. He was home for my teenage years. I lost him about ten years ago, when I was around 40. He was my biggest supporter in doing the stay-at-home dad thing. He loved it.

He was a very stoic guy. Southern man from the sixties. Went to Vietnam. Very quiet man. But he loved his children and his grandchildren. The book I have on submission right now, called Armageddon Days, is about my father and the ways that I am like him and the ways I am not.

My father had great patience and never swore. I swear all the time. It’s like a second language to me. He was also very rigid in his rules, where I’m more flexible in looking at outcomes. That’s a generational change. Back in his day, there were a lot of spankings. That’s something I’ve never done with my kids. I don’t believe in it. You can’t hit your children and tell your kids not to hit. I prefer discipline in different ways, redirecting things before they even get that bad. There are a ton of techniques, from overhead praise to positive reinforcement rather than negative reinforcement.

Even now at 50, with my teenagers, I think of my father a lot. Especially when I’m upset. Controlling our anger as fathers is hard. We’re not taught that when we’re young. We’re taught to be competitive, to fight for everything. So when things get out of hand, that’s when I think about my father the most, because he was very good at it. Sometimes it requires you to put yourself in timeout, especially as a young father. Just put yourself in timeout. It’s okay. Put on some headphones. Walk away for a minute.

Sounds like you learned a lot from having your dad at home. What do you hope your kids take away from having a dad who’s been home, been available, and been the person they come to first?

There’s an old saying that moms prepare the road for the child and dads prepare the child for the road. I’ve found that to be true with my kids.

The things I hope they take away, and what I’ve tried hardest at, is their sense of self-worth and self-confidence. When I tell them they can do something, I really believe it. It’s not an after-school special moment. I know who they are. You can do this, whatever that happens to be. It’s going to be hard. It’s going to be difficult. But I want them to believe in themselves enough to get there. That’s such a long-term skill to build, and it’s not something you can instill in a year. It takes a lifetime to work at.

With my daughter, I’ve worked on that a lot. I remind her that “no” is a complete sentence. You never have to explain it. You’re going to be told no enough in your life. And if someone tells you something you don’t like, you just say no and walk away. Dating, job, I don’t care.

The other thing I really want my sons to take away is that I’m always here. Unconditionally. Any problem, any thought. Not going to be ridiculed here. A lot of young men don’t feel like they can share themselves. By the time they’re 17, studies back this up, you’ve had your vulnerabilities used against you. As young men, you shut it down and do what’s expected. With my sons, I need them to know that when they’re with me, that’s not a thing. And that comes from being involved in their world.

Those are my two biggest hopes. Self-confidence and a place where they can be vulnerable.

Last one. What’s one piece of advice you’d give a new dad?

It’s yours. It’s nobody else’s. You do not ask permission. Own it from the very beginning. Whether you’re going to be the primary caregiver or not, that doesn’t matter. Stay-at-home dad, working dad, foster dad, it doesn’t matter. We’re all dad. And you need to own that role immediately. Then you’ll be okay.

While he drove, we talked about building community as a creative instinct, what it means to parent in the shadow of a great dad, and why the best thing you can do for your kids might be to grab yourself a beer and let them run wild.

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This conversation has been edited for length, clarity, and a couple uhhs and umms.

Hey Casey, first things first — how long have you been a dad?

I have a son who was born in 2020 and a daughter who was born in 2022. And now we’re done. But I have always, my entire life, known that I wanted to be a father because my father and I had such an incredible relationship.

I love that. Tell me more about how your dad influences your parenting.

My dad was my best friend. We were unbelievably close. He died in 2021, but he was just the biggest-hearted guy you’d ever meet. And I think I have some of that in me. When you have a kid, that’s what your heart has been waiting to focus on. If you’ve got love inside of you, as soon as you have a kid those floodgates just open and you’re like, I didn’t even know I had all this in me.

I can see now, in retrospect, how my father showed me that same attention. And I hope my children and I are as close as he and I were. And growing up on the receiving end of that relationship, I just always knew — of course I’m going to have kids. Why wouldn’t anyone want that? And then you actually have one and you find yourself obsessing over them. Even on your worst day, you come home and they sprint to give you a hug. No matter how bad things are, there’s that.

I know just what you mean about how a smile or a giggle can freeze time and hold you in the present, and I think it’s great that you’ve created a space where dads and kids can spend more of that time together. That’s actually why I wanted to talk to you — I recently attended my first Dadurday and wondered if there was a specific moment that sparked this idea.

It literally grew out of my business and brainstorming ways to meet more people I could help with that. I’ve always enjoyed production — I’ve put on concerts, and I was always backstage in high school and college doing stage managing — and when you get dropped into real estate, it’s like, go find leads. And of course there are 50,000 other agents trying to do the same thing so you have to get creative.

The best part of this job is that you can focus on whatever you want and market yourself however you want. So you play to your strong suits, and event production has always been one of mine. Being a father also made it a natural fit to tie these interests together.

Before real estate, you spent some time as a creative director. How does that background connect to what you’re doing now — and how do you balance being a father, a real estate agent, and someone putting on community events?

It all works really well together. When it comes to my children, it’s fun to see what they’re into and use that creative part of your brain to make something really fun. My son obsesses over the strangest things. Right now it’s license plates. Literally, it’s all he talks about. So using the little I know about Photoshop, I took a map of the United States and filled each state with its license plate design and had it printed. He carries it with him wherever he goes. I have to take it away from him at night or he won’t sleep. I wouldn't change a thing about him, but he's a little weirdo.

As far as real estate goes — you’re marketing yourself, which is what I did for a living for fifteen years. It’s great to be able to do that without a creative director getting in the way or a client second-guessing you. You get an idea and you just go for it. Dadurdays is the second event I’ve put on in Brooklyn after a home brewing festival I ran for seven years before COVID and it’s all about coming up with ideas and being able to execute on them. That applies across the board — as a father or as someone building a business.

Is there a certain type of person that Dadurdays attracts?

I wouldn’t say there’s a type. They all sort of feel the same to me — cool Brooklyn beer-drinking parents.

What do you think they’re getting out of it?

There are very few places where you can bring your children and feel like it’s a playground for both of you. That’s really what this is. You take a kid to a bar and maybe they’re running around or maybe you’re throwing an iPad in their face to keep them quiet. But what people get from Dadurdays — and certainly what I get from it — is that my kids are equally entertained. I can have a beer and talk to other parents while they’re running around with friends. It’s mutually beneficial for the children and for the parents, which is genuinely rare.

Now that your son’s a little older, what does he think about it?

When it first started, a lot of the early crowd was parents of kids my son went to school with — that’s really where it grew from — so he still loves going because he gets to see friends he’s known since he was a baby. My daughter’s not old enough to remember living in Brooklyn, but it’s just great for them to come back.

In addition to the other benefits of Dadurdays, it’s a natural break for moms. Is there anything you’ve learned since becoming a dad that’s given you a greater appreciation for your wife?

That is an understatement of the year. My wife is just an unbelievable mother. The amount of obsession and focus and work she puts into their welfare — their schools, their summer camps, their clothing — it’s amazing. Her job isn’t flexible — she’s a lawyer — so I focus on pickups and activities. And when she has work events or travels out of of town, I’m handling both kids. I carry my weight, but it’s never going to be what she does. The appreciation is just unbelievable.

Sounds like you make a good team. OK, last one — what’s one piece of advice you’d give a dad thinking about starting something like Dadurdays in their own community?

Know your audience and what it is that they actually need. What’s great about Dadurdays is that it’s equally entertaining for children and parents. People have said, “This should be a full-time thing” — and that reaction tells you something. So if you have other voids in your life as a parent, create something that fills them. You’ll find that other people have the exact same ones.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

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You can find more information about Dadurdays here. The next installment is on Saturday, April 18th at Wild East Brewing Co.

Lisa brings both professional insight and lived experience to questions of care, community, and what it means to help raise children in an increasingly isolated culture. Her newsletter has become a gathering place for thousands of aunties seeking language and community around a role that’s often invisible in mainstream American culture.

We spoke about why aunties and dads make natural allies, how to ask for and offer help across the parent/non-parent divide, and why handing the baby to Dad might be one of the most subversive acts an auntie can perform.

This conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

I think we have to start with the obvious, and that’s that you don’t quite fit the mold of the father figures I've featured before. But I love what you're doing with The Auntie Bulletin and strongly agree with the importance of parental figures who aren't the actual parents. As someone without children of your own but a desire to live a childful life, why is it important to you to provide a space and resources for fellow aunties to connect?

First, I want to say I’m really thrilled to be asked to talk to dads. I’ve long felt an affinity with dads because aunties and dads both live in this highly mother-adjacent space. There’s a ton of content for moms by moms, not nearly as much for dads, and hardly any for aunties. Both of us are called upon to be supports to moms, who in our society often carry an undue amount of the caregiving load.

It’s been really interesting to me to learn from dads and read dad newsletters because the folks writing about fatherhood are really thinking about how to more equally distribute the mental and emotional load of parenting. How do we show up for moms? How do we distribute the work of raising children so everybody can thrive? In that, I think dads and aunties have similar aims.

There’s actually fascinating research by on the neurobiology of fathers. She has a book coming out in the spring called Dad Brain. Her research shows that the more fathers are involved in caretaking, the more their brain chemistry and architecture resembles that of birth mothers. To me, that suggests that any people—the more we’re involved in care, the more our brains actually rewire for care. I’m really interested in what her findings about fathers might mean for non-parental caretakers as well.

That’s fascinating, I definitely feel like my brain has changed. And so what about the community aspect—why create this space for aunties specifically?

When I started the newsletter, I felt really lonely. I didn’t even know any other aunties. The kids who are most centrally in my life aren’t any familial relation to me—they just call me Lisa. People can’t tell what I am to them or what they are to me. The non-familial alloparental relationship is kind of illegible to people.

As I started writing and meeting other people making similar life arrangements, it was affirming and validating. I wasn’t doing something weird—this is actually normal. Over human history, this has been a really important role and still is in many cultures. It was very grounding for me.

About 75% of readers are themselves aunties or prospective aunties. I hear over and over how lovely it is to be able to find each other, because we don’t necessarily cluster in real life. We get mistaken for moms a lot, and for those of us who are involuntarily childless—whether due to infertility or not finding the right partner—it can be really painful to be mistaken for a mom when you’re not. Having language around that, being able to talk about it and be recognized for the role you actually have rather than the role you wish you had, is a healing pathway.

I wasn’t aware of the term “alloparent” until I started reading your work. Have other people told you they’re finding language for things they weren’t expecting?

I’ve seen a lot of people picking up the words auntie and alloparent and I don’t know from what extent it’s coming from reading The Auntie Bulletin. We just don’t have language for this, especially bourgeois middle-class white people who weren’t raised in distributed kinship cultures.

Alloparent actually comes from research about the animal kingdom—there are lots of species that have alloparental figures who help raise children. Primates, whales, elephants, birds. That term has been brought over to think about human societies as well. People grab onto these words because otherwise they don’t have any. I tend to find that if I drop alloparent into conversation in context, people understand what it means right away.

Something you wrote about earlier this year really stuck with me: you said the number one best way to decide if you want to have kids is to spend a lot of time with families. As a single or married person without kids, I don’t think I was ever thinking of that as homework I should have done. It felt like I was in one community and people with kids were in another, but now that I’ve recently switched teams, I’m curious if you have any other ideas for better integrating parents and non-parents into the same community?

That post continues to have traction because people are always googling “how can I decide if I want to have kids?” It’s a perennial question.

One of the biggest obstacles I see to integrating parents and non-parents is that it’s really hard for us to ask for help and to receive help. We have this culture of independence and self-sufficiency. Parents might be desperate for support but don’t know how to ask, or when they do ask, they don’t really get it. I’ve heard multiple stories from moms walking past active retirement communities, gazing longingly, like “anybody want to be a grandparent?”

There was a Surgeon General’s report about parent overwhelm—something like 48% of parents report being overwhelmed on a daily basis. And there’s a symmetrical problem on the non-parent side. People offer help and it doesn’t get taken up by families. They’ll say “I’ve offered over and over and my friends keep saying no.” They describe walking past playgrounds, gazing longingly: “anybody want an auntie?”

There’s this symmetrical longing between many parents and a certain group of non-parents to find each other. But our culture of isolation makes it really hard for that to happen.

So what do we need to do?

Be brave and be persistent when we ask. Putting ourselves out there—whether you’re a parent asking for help or a non-parent offering it—is like starting a romantic relationship. You have to name how you feel, be vulnerable, risk rejection, and show up emotionally. It’s scary. But that same courage is necessary in these situations.

The other piece is that one of the biggest reasons parents don’t take up aunties’ offers of support is they feel like they can’t reciprocate. They’re too busy. We have this culture of reciprocity, which is lovely, but young parents of young kids don’t have the capacity to reciprocate in kind to someone offering consistent childcare out of the love of their heart.

We need to rethink what we mean by reciprocity in this relationship. If there’s an expectation that parents are going to repay in kind for childcare, that relationship will never get off the ground. It’s not possible, especially with the tattered safety net we have in the United States.

But somebody like me who’s an auntie gets repaid tenfold by getting to have kids in my life that I otherwise wouldn’t have. I get families in my life, relationships and meaning that otherwise wouldn’t be there. That’s invaluable to me. And I’m thinking long-term—I used to be fearful about not having young people in my life in my old age. I’m not worried about that anymore because I’ve really leaned into these auntie relationships. I trust that the young people in my life now will stay in my life. That’s huge reciprocation for providing some childcare right now.

That’s beautifully said about what you’re getting in return. It sounds like we all need to be a little more direct about what we need and what we're capable of doing and even why we would want someone to be in our lives and in our children's lives. So we talked a little bit about the mental load falling primarily on mothers. How might the addition of alloparents help alleviate that load?

I wrote a post last year where I said one of the best ways to disrupt patriarchy is to hand the baby back to the dad. When the auntie takes the baby at a party and the baby starts to cry, we have this deep conditioning to hand the baby to the mom. A kid falls down—let’s find mom. A kid asks for a snack—let’s ask mom. We default as a society to “let’s find mom.”

So it’s a really disruptive thing to direct to dad. That helps rewire everybody’s thinking—the kid’s thinking, the auntie’s thinking, the parents’ thinking. It can even be a helpful cognitive dissonance moment for couples who haven’t thought much about these dynamics.

There’s some collusion that aunties and dads can do together. Here we are at a barbecue and anytime I’m with the kid, I’m going to hand them back to you. Or the dad can say, let’s give my partner a break, anytime you’re with the kid, try me first.

I love the idea of aunties being gently subversive.

The larger piece about alleviating mental load is that ultimately moms—and parents generally—are carrying a massive mental load. The role of aunties is only going to be a small drop in the bucket. An auntie like me doing pickups one day a week and making dinner a couple nights—for the most part, I’m not doing a ton of decision-making. There’s so much aunties can’t take off parents’ plates, like figuring out summer childcare and camps. That’s many moving pieces, expensive, you have to think about it in early winter.

In most cases, an auntie isn’t going to understand the scheduling complexities enough to contribute to that. But even taking a little bit off the plate—parents appreciate it. Whatever we can take off, it helps.

What about parents? Are there ways parents can make it easier for their friends to support them?

I think it really comes down to using our words. Making that invisible load visible is really helpful. Making concrete asks.

I also think being attuned to who around you has been signaling interest is important. Either they’re crazy about your kids, always wanting to hold them, or they’ve said “I would love to help.” A lot of people who write about care work have made this point: sometimes the people who show up for families are not who you’d think. It might not be your best friend from before you had kids. It might be an acquaintance or your parents’ good friend. Sometimes you find alloparental figures in unexpected places.

I want to ask about your own journey to become an alloparent. Is there anything you remember doing to signal that you were interested in that role? It sounds like it started when you were first asked to participate in a friend’s child’s life. Did you have any parental role models or any particular ways that you sought out the skills and knowledge to be an effective caregiver?

I feel very fortunate. I have wonderful parental role models in my own parents and grandparents. I was raised by educators—early childhood educators primarily. My mom taught kindergarten for many years, my grandmother taught preschool, my paternal grandmother taught special education. I come from a family of people who work with children.

I grew up with my mom running summer camps at our house when money was tight, and I’d help. I’m one of six siblings, so I had kids younger than me that I was taking care of when I was a kid. I used to volunteer in the nursery at church to get out of sitting through the sermon. So I got a lot of actual direct modeling, which girls tend to get much more than boys do.

Both my parents are really good with kids. My dad is really fun and an incredibly good storyteller. I picked up habits of fun and silliness and storytelling from my dad, and habits of nurturing from my mother and grandmothers. I draw on those all the time.

I have a recurring funny interaction with my mother, who reads my newsletter. She’ll say “Oh, I learned so much from your newsletter this week.” And I always say, “But I learned it from you, Mom. I got that from you.”

This has been great. Before we go, I’ll end with a question I like to ask everyone, tailored a little differently for you: What’s one good piece of advice you’d give to people who want to show up meaningfully for their friends with kids?

I’m going to cheat and give three.

One: Be curious and educate yourself about what parenthood is like. Read stuff, talk to parents, ask questions. Really try to learn what parents go through so you can empathize. Parenting in our society is really, really hard.

Two: When you’re making offers, make them really concrete and specific. “I would like to pick up your kids after school one day a week. Let me know what day works best.” Or “I want to make gingerbread houses and go see the Christmas lights and I would love for the kids to come with me. Can they come on Saturday?” The more specific, the easier it is for parents to take up.

And three: Be persistent. If parents say no, ask again.

In addition to being a surfer and writer, Travis is also a dad, and we chatted about why surfing is the world’s greatest parenting parallel, how his own dad unlocked an entire lifestyle for him, and how you can feel liberated to parent your way.

This conversation has been edited for length, clarity, and a couple uhhs and umms.

Hey Travis, where are we finding you today?

I’m at my desk in my home office in Long Beach, CA (read: garage). The blessed curse of the modern condition—the peaks and valleys of working from home. But honestly, it’s something I’m sure our parents could never fathom or dream of so I always check myself that this working from home thing is pretty sweet, even when my daughter comes in to color on my planner and hammer my keyboard “like daddy.” The bonus time spent here with her and my wife and not commuting on a freeway are priceless.

How long have you been a dad?

I’ve been a dad to Agnes for 3 years this March. My wife and I are expecting a new little girl in February as well.

Great news! I’ve been looking forward to speaking with you because you balance multiple creative acts: surfing, writing, and fatherhood. How do you go about making time for all three?

Well, there is zero balance to this act. I suppose when I think about it, it’s a lot of discipline and often forcing yourself. It’s really easy to skip it. Whether it’s surfing or writing or taking a walk. For me, surfing serves as therapy, gym, exercise, nature walk and so instead of having to do all that, it’s my one-stop shop. It does so much for me and it also inspires most everything I do creatively, whether it’s surf-related or not. So I kind of have to force it sometimes even when all I wanna do is catch up on something else.

Having children requires you to not be so precious about your creative time and forces you to just create. When you sit down to work or write, you do it. There’s no time incubating or marinating or whatever euphemism we make up for procrastinating. Which has actually freed me up and really inspired me to be a bit more consistent.

What has surfing taught you about parenthood?

Surfing is the world’s greatest parenthood parallel. We spend an incredible amount of time forecasting, planning, charting, mapping, theorizing and predicting what conditions will be a certain way, only to find that despite all the technology, wave cams, and forecasting tools, we’re constantly wrong. We’re honestly always wrong. Which is similar to parenting in that we all have our best-laid plans—the day-to-day ones to the most elaborate attempts at travel, field trips, and dinners, only to find that a 2-year-old will come up with new ways to change the plan. Surfing is pretty good training for reading and reacting—which is the majority of parenting.

What has parenthood taught you about surfing?

I think it’s taught me how ridiculous it is. And how lucky I am to get to enjoy such a ridiculous activity. I love it and I try to make it happen every day, and I miss lots of days, but when an opportunity arises, regardless of conditions, I enjoy the opportunity to ride a few waves and just be out there. I care about scoring waves a lot less and just love putting on my wetsuit to go in the water. Nothing like having children to remind you how lucky you are to just get a chance to go in the ocean. It simplifies my surf life and I love that.

Have you learned anything since becoming a father that’s given you a greater appreciation for your partner?

Yes, of course, there are so many. But I think her ability to prepare our family for success is mind-boggling. The thoughtful attention to everything—things I’ve never even considered and how that allows us to avoid so many convenience traps. From eating well to taking trips across the country and around the planet or experiencing unique things, her tireless planning and thoughtful preparation opens the world up for our family. Creating magical moments with your kids often takes some serious planning and preparing and she has the utmost patience and willingness to lead us into those moments and make them look like they just appeared out of thin air.

You’re a lucky man. What about your dad? How has he influenced your parenting?

My dad is the reason I surf. His devotion to showing my friends and I all the nuanced magic that exists in surfing is why I have become the surfer—and writer—I am today. He didn’t just take us surfing, he unlocked an entire lifestyle. I obviously now see where a father’s drive comes from to give their children access to whatever resource they need, through whatever means they have, with no amount of work being too much—he always made it happen.

I love the subtle nuances he showed me about life, art and surfing. I see myself pointing that out to Agnes all the time. Those offbeat moments that accompany acts. Not just surfing, but the sand crabs at the beach. The way sandbars work. How a pelican dives. Just making sure she sees all that, because I know my dad made sure I did.

A way of looking at the world is an amazing thing to inherit. What’s something you can’t learn from your dad? What was your last dad-related Google search?

“Can a toddler have Tums?” Potty training can put both of your stomachs in knots. The answer was no, of course.

Always a good idea to double-check. Before we go, what’s one good piece of advice you’d give this dad?

I actually feel like the amount of information we have access to can be overwhelming to new parents and creates a lot of rigidity and unneeded stress. Like, “Ah! The book said don’t do this or that!” The book doesn’t know your son or daughter. So feel liberated to parent your way. You don’t need to read every dad book or find magical quotes to guide you. Trust your instincts. There’s no right or wrong way, just cherish any and every moment you get with them. The old cliche is right, it does go way too fast.

We talked about caring for a child with a rare genetic disorder, how he builds community, and how improvisation is inevitable as a parent.

This conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

Hi Chris, where are we finding you today?

I’m currently on my lunch break from my job. They are gracious enough to let me work from home in the afternoons so I can handle my caregiving responsibilities. This is my one precious hour of free time during lunch and before my son Bray Bray comes home.

How long have you been a dad?

Eleven years ago this November, we had our son Brayden, who we call Bray Bray. I can’t believe it’s already been eleven years and yet it also feels like a lifetime ago.

Bray Bray was born with a rare genetic disorder called GNAI1, which we actually didn’t know the name of until he was about 9 years old. He has global developmental delays, is nonverbal, and cannot walk. He is also prone to seizures and is legally blind. With all of that said, Bray Bray is the happiest, sweetest kid, and he is my miracle, my hero, and my muse.

Bray Bray has taught me that you don’t need to talk to be heard. You don’t need to walk to climb mountains. You don’t need to live in the clouds to feel divinity and grace. His persistent smile in the face of it all lights up the world.

I love that you uphold caregiving as a central part of your writing and the way you’re building community here on Substack. What has this responsibility revealed about you that you might not have otherwise found out?

I would not be the human I am today without Bray Bray. All of the obstacles and challenges of caring for him pale in comparison to the positive impact he has made in my life.

I’ve always prided myself on hustling and putting in the effort. What Bray Bray has instilled in me goes even one step further. It’s not just about the grind; it’s about not letting those hardest moments change the core of who you are.

Where do you find time to write between a full-time job and caregiving?

For as long as I can remember, writing has been so integrated in my everyday life that I don’t actually choose to write. Instead, it’s like writing chooses me. 90% of the time, I have the words rattling around in my head, and then they just come pouring out onto the page. During those times, I have no choice but to write it all down because it’s my subconscious telling me what needs to be expressed — and only the writing process can provide me with that unfiltered emotional release.

Has your writing changed since becoming a father?

I’ve never been more inspired and prolific in my writing since Bray Bray was born. And with all he’s gone through, I just feel it is my calling to share his story. Maybe it’s because he can’t speak for himself, and so I just want to make sure the world sees Bray Bray for what he truly is: a warrior, a hero, a shining light that makes everyone around him feel just a little bit brighter.

I’m curious if you’ve found a greater appreciation for your dad since becoming one yourself?

My dad and I have always gotten along well and I always appreciated his willingness to coach my sports teams and just be present. It’s been very rewarding seeing him light up as a grandpa and having a special connection with Bray Bray that only grandparents can have.

Do you ever find yourself doing anything that reminds you of him?

It’s hard to compare since my upbringing was so much different just based on Bray Bray’s conditions. I will say that my dad was always calm and cool under pressure, which is something I strive to do as well. It takes a lot to phase me.

Thanks for your time, Chris. Can you leave us with one good piece of advice for other fathers?

You can plan all you want, and you should. But improvisation is inevitable, so be flexible.

We didn’t know Bray Bray was going to have the hand he was dealt. But when he did, we embraced it and we’ve worked really hard to make sure he has unlimited adventures, even if it’s in his wheelchair.

If you want to learn more about Chris and Bray Bray, you can find Chris’s Substack here, read a special post about Bray Bray here and you’re also invited to join a 90-Minute Journaling Workshop he’s cohosting with fellow parent and Substack writer to help give other parents and caregivers the time and the tools to utilize writing as healing.

After spending some time in Boston and Brooklyn, Pat’s now back in his hometown in northeast Pennsylvania. We spoke about what it’s like to raise a family in the same place you grew up, what it means to be maintaining a business rather than scaling it, and reframing ambition as presence.

This conversation has been edited for length, clarity, and a whole lot of uhhs and umms.

Pat, thanks for being here today. Let’s dive right in. How long have you been a dad?

My daughter, Lucy, is about 16 months old.

Has becoming a dad over that time changed how you feel about your career or ambitions?

My friend Paul has a daughter who’s about two and a half. When he was on paternity leave, he said it gave him a 10,000-foot perspective on work that shifted his career outlook. For me, it hasn’t been like that because my work is so personal and idiosyncratic. I’ve been self-employed for 13 years, mostly running an English tutoring business. I’ve had teams at times—up to ten part-time tutors—but mostly it’s me.

I enjoy my work because it allows me to be myself. Other dads in more corporate jobs might feel the contrast between sheer life with a baby and the corporate BS at work. For me, being a dad hasn’t really changed my job, but maybe it has affected my ambition...

I like the idea that your work allows you to be yourself. For context, you’ve built an English tutoring business for professionals learning English as a second language, especially in business settings. Did you know that work would fit well with fatherhood, or has it surprised you?

I’d correct the language a bit. I’m not building a business – I’m maintaining one. It’s sustainable, it pays the bills, but I’m not trying to scale, and my wife also has a full-time job.

About ten years ago, I was in entrepreneur scale mode—had an office at WeWork, a team of ten, zero work-life balance. That actually led to my relationship with Rosie, now my wife, blowing up. Thankfully, we got back together. So now I think of my work more like a corner store: small, steady, and flexible.

I’ve always appreciated that flexibility. I can schedule meetings when I want and I’ve recently started giving myself 30 minutes between calls instead of 15. Optimizing for energy, not just time, has been huge.

COVID also changed things. I loved in-person work in Boston, but now everything’s remote. The trade-off is I don’t commute—I just go downstairs and spend time with my daughter. Rosie’s schedule is flexible too, and we’ve opted not to do daycare yet. My mom, Nan, watches Lucy about five hours a day, three days a week, and that’s been enough so far. We call it NanCare.

NanCare, that’s great. And a good segue to talk about your proximity to your family. So you’re back in your hometown now, with your parents nearby. Walk me through the decision to return after time in Boston and New York.

Sure. It’s something I think about a lot. Sometimes it feels like a fairy tale, sometimes… less so.

It was a mix of things. We were in Brooklyn before Lucy was born, then moved in with Rosie’s parents to save for a house. That was tough—I value independence, and living with in-laws isn’t easy. Boston and New York are expensive, and Rosie is a little more introverted and less of a city person. So we had to find a compromise and it just so happens that I grew up on a beautiful street with one of the oldest rivers in the world nearby and so we came here, to the street where I grew up.

Another huge factor has been having family friends nearby. They lived in Minneapolis before, so they understand life outside a hometown bubble. They have two daughters who adore Lucy. That community made the decision much easier. My parents are also down the street, and my mom helps with childcare. So here we are: quiet town, safe streets, friends next door, and family close by. It’s worked out well so far.

That sounds a lot like my childhood—ringing neighbors’ doorbells until someone came out to play.

Exactly. Your son will have a different experience in Brooklyn, but it’ll be its own kind of beautiful.

I’m curious—beyond having those physical markers of community, like being able to call for help watching your kid—are you seeking out connections with other parents, especially other dads? Do you think about that intentionally, or let it happen organically? And what’s that like in a more rural setting compared to the city, where you can’t step outside without running into another stroller?

That’s a great question. Back in grad school, I was in a men’s group—not parenting-specific, but it was about guys connecting with their softer sides, which I think all men should do.

It’s been a struggle here, honestly. I live in a state that’s grown redder, and you can feel a doubling down on traditional masculinity—“boys play sports, boys are tough, boys don’t cry.” All that stuff I reject. Not that sports are bad, but if that’s your whole identity, it’s limiting.

This question makes me realize I should think more about connecting with like-minded dads locally. Right now, it’s mostly small moments—like waving across the street to my neighbor Gene, who has two daughters. He’s a sweet guy. But otherwise, the dads around me—my father, my uncles—tend to hold more traditional views on discipline and “man of the house” roles that I’d like to undo.

That said, I’ve found an unexpected source of community: a Buddhist group here in Scranton. It’s not parenting-specific, but it’s been grounding. It meets at a Unitarian Universalist church, and the elders are all women. It’s been valuable for me spiritually and socially.

That sounds really grounding, which weirdly makes me want to circle back to ambition. You framed it beyond jobs and careers. Can you talk about where ambition and creativity fit in your life now, as a dad and business owner?

I used to measure ambition in career terms—make money, achieve success. And we’ve had modest success—we bought a home, live comfortably enough. But now, ambition for me means presence. Presence over productivity.

It’s paradoxical because it seems unambitious to just sit with your kid, read a book, or go for a walk. But that’s actually my ambition now: to be here. The world has never been more distracting, and presence is a counter to that.

There’s a teacher named Jim Newman, who talks about radical non-duality. His message is that what is happening right now is already what’s longed for. I find that powerful for parenting. We’re always trying to get to the next thing, but with kids, what’s happening right now is enough.

So, that’s where I’m at—ambition as presence.

I love that. Easier said than done but a great example to set. Are there any other pieces of advice you’d give to a new parent?

I’ll share a few guiding lines Rosie and I like: “Your kid isn’t giving you a hard time—they’re having a hard time.” Or, “Connection before correction.” Another mentor said, “Parenting is more in the melody than the specific notes.” That one resonates with me—it’s about creating a family culture of trust, communication, safety, and fun, knowing we’ll make mistakes along the way.

Now an estate lawyer, he and I talked about planning for the future, automating parenting tasks, and what it meant to have a dad who was comfortable fathering outside of the usual pressure to teach masculinity in a specific way.

Hey Danny, where are we finding you today?

I’m in Park City, Utah. My family and I have been lucky enough to figure out how to split our time between here and New York by renting and subletting.

More specifically, I’m in my basement office here that I set up to have a door I can close while our daughter is at home with her nanny.

How long have you been a dad?

I’ve been a dad for 2 years and 2 days to my daughter, Ella.

Happy birthday, Ella! I imagine a two-year-old is keeping you plenty busy. What was your last dad-related search?

I’m mostly using ChatGPT these days. I’ll read my most recent dad-related inquiry:

My daughter just turned 2. She was easy to sleep train and slept perfectly for the last year. Over that past month, she has started requiring us to be on the floor next to her in order to fall asleep. We've introduced a "lovey" and blanket, which she likes, but has not solved the problem. What can we do?

ChatGPT says this is normal and gave a bunch of tips for re-training, but I just got a fluffy mattress topper for our Nugget so that I can keep this up for a while longer.

When we worked together, and even for personal pursuits like planning your wedding, you always had a knack for automating repeat tasks. What have you automated to make dad life a little easier?

After Ella was born, I set up an Airtable to keep notes and memories. I created an email alias to make it easy to send thoughts as they came up. It turned out to be overly ambitious – as much as I would love to have my real-time thoughts from Ella’s early days, we ended up only using it rarely.

Beyond that, I like to think of myself as the quartermaster of the household. I haven’t introduced much automation, but let’s just say I still have enough raw brainpower to ensure we never run out of diapers.

Is there anything you purposely haven't touched so as not to miss out on the experience?

I like to record things, and I definitely take a lot of photos and videos. But I haven’t obsessed about recording milestones or anything like that. I trust myself to remember the important things. Although that’s probably misguided, if Ella’s grandparents are anything like me…

Your wife, Michelle, is also a lawyer which must make for spirited debates around parenting. Have you learned anything since becoming a father that's given you a greater appreciation for her?

So much. Michelle and I have been together for 15 years, and we’ve taken on a bunch of projects together. We’re a pretty well-oiled machine and we know each other quite well by now.

Every parent goes through a transformation after having their first kid, but from my perspective being a mom seems utterly unique. There’s obviously the physical components which I could never handle, but it’s been incredible to see Michelle transform into a mom. She of course does an amazing job at the day-to-day tasks, but it’s really an all-encompassing role. I have my own special relationship with Ella, but her relationship with Michelle is just so intense. They were literally a part of each other not so long ago. It’s amazing and beautiful to witness how that shapes their relationship.

A lovely tribute, and so true. What about your dad? Do you ever find yourself doing anything that reminds you of him?

My dad was never someone to teach us explicit lessons. Well – with a few exceptions – he’s didactic about always having good A/C. But it was always clear how much he prioritized his family. He would do anything to not miss a bedtime. I remember him going on a business trip to London and coming back the same day. And I know that coaching my baseball team was one of his life highlights, and that it took some work to make that possible.

But more than that, he arranged his life and his career so that he could be present for most our lives. The world has gotten a bit easier in that way as Michelle and I both work from home and rarely travel for business, but we’re still constantly balancing career choices with access to Ella. Knowing that my dad was able to balance a successful career with constant presence at home is an inspiration to me.

Beyond that, he’s just incredibly giving. He’ll wake up at 4:30am to drive us to the airport when we visit without a second thought. That’s the type of dad I want to be – I want Ella to feel that she is my absolute priority, and that it makes me happy when I can help her out.

I love that your dad is such an inspiration, and I also look forward to inheriting the same zeal for the airport run that our dads have. Tell me more about how your relationship with him influenced the way you parent.

My dad was has always been very comfortable with being a softy. He was silly and cuddly, but also introduced me to sports, business, etc.

I think it’s been helpful to have a role model who was so comfortable fathering outside of whatever pressure there might have been to teach masculinity in any specific way. I think that’s probably easier to do today than it was in the 80s and 90s, but I really value having him as an example to look to.

If there was a Dad Olympics, what event would you compete in?

I’m finding that I really excel in imaginative play. I have a long attention span for playing with pretend kitchens, dollhouses, etc. That and keeping our home fully stocked with the top baby supplies that money can buy.

Lastly, what’s one good piece of advice you'd give this new father?

This too shall pass.

All too soon, I’m sure. Thanks, Danny.

We talked about how he balances fatherhood, technology, and more.

Hey Sam, where are we finding you today?

I told you I would answer these questions 22 days ago, but I'm just now getting to it because the kids are away with mom at her dad's house for a couple of days. I'm home alone on a 90 degree evening, sitting outside looking at Greenwood Lake in northern New Jersey.

Very relatable to steal back some time while the kids are occupied. How long have you been a dad?

I can claim 8.5 years of experience on my dad resume currently, with 6 years served in the two kid configuration. I've got two girls, Cleo and June.

What was your last dad-related Google search?

"katydid life cycle" because we were trying to figure out if two different looking green bugs we found were both katydids, but at different stages.

I think your question is asking about searches for parenting solutions, but these days I'm more commonly searching on behalf of my kids' curiosities. They are getting pretty good at hitting me with stumpers (they were both katydids).

Your background is in engineering and data. Does this influence how you use technology as a parent?

For me, working in engineering all day heightens the tensions many of us are feeling these days between tech as friend and tech as foe. While parenting, I have my own phone locked down pretty hard to insulate me from the Sirens’ Call. I use Android's app timers and an app called minimalist phone which makes my phone boring to look at. My wife and I tried to do Flip Phone February this year, but we only lasted a couple of days because phones are good at things too. I try to channel all the protective fear I feel around them getting screen-addicted and turn it around on myself.

As a parent, I have two views I'm trying to subtly impart.

1. Creating things is so much fun, and technology is a lively, fruitful medium for making things.

2. Consuming things seems fun, but is often pretty boring in the long run unless you're very selective, and technology is often working against your ability to be selective.

In addition to working full-time, what are your dad duties? How do you and your wife split up caring for your kids?

I do drop-off, she does pickup. She packs the lunches, I clean out the lunch boxes. She's the ultimate authority on screen time and dessert, but I can be counted on to thoughtfully hear lengthy appeals. I taught the girls to ride bikes, she does most of the homework help. She takes them to the doctor, but I talk to the teachers. I do back rubs and long bed time snuggles, she offers the supportive ear on 3rd grade drama. Not sure if it counts, but I walk the dog, she cleans the cat litter.

I think she would agree on each of those despite never having declared any of them out loud.

Have you learned anything since becoming a father that's given you a greater appreciation for your wife?

Something I noticed as soon as they were old enough to have personalities is that they are surprisingly easy to parse out into little bits of Sarah and I. The weirdest experience is identifying something about them, looking around the room, and realizing it came from ... me. Our kids are a nature and nurture mirror of us, but because they're so cute and maybe because I haven't known them as long, I spot interesting things more often.

Being married is hopefully a guarantee that at least one other person is as interested in your romantic relationship as you are. Being a parent with your spouse is an infinite well of mutual interest in your kids and how they reflect you both. I've always loved my wife's deeply thoughtful views about people which is great news because now there are two new people we can talk about endlessly.

What about your dad? Do you ever find yourself doing anything that reminds you of him?

One of my favorite early memories is from one day when my dad picked me up from day care when I was 4 or so. I was sitting in the front seat of his pickup truck, probably picking my nose or sticking my fingers in the AC vents, and he looked over at me and just chuckled. I asked what was funny, and he smiled really warmly and said, "you'll get it one day." I'm sure he had no intention of me actually remembering that, and I'm not sure how it's possible that I did.

I now have that experience constantly. They're just doing their thing, and I can't help but chuckle to myself about what knuckleheads they are and how much I love them. June always calls me out for laughing at her, but I tell her she'll get it one day.

How else has your relationship with him influenced the way you parent?

We've had the good fortune to get my dad moved up closer so that we see him really frequently. Being around frequently means he gets the unvarnished version of their kid behavior and my parenting. I know he's thinking about how much the style of parenting has changed in two generations. That makes me think about my style of Dad-ing in the 2020s compared to his in the 80s or his dad's in the 50s. The themes are not specific to our family: the status hierarchy between parents and children is much less pronounced, and parents are much more involved in our kids every challenge. I'm doing what makes sense and feels right to me, but I enjoy having a sense of historical contrast to keep me questioning assumptions.

Is there a dad from pop culture who looms large in your parenting style?

Mr Wizard? Does that count as pop culture? Does he count as a dad? He hosted a popular show in the 50's teaching kids about science and then somehow did another run in the 80's on Nickelodeon of the same format. I watched him every morning. He wasn't cast as a dad per se, but he had 6 kids, and hosted a different neighborhood kid on every episode and they did cool science stuff together.

His obit contained this quote which captures what I think was so valuable to me,

“What was really remarkable about Mr. Wizard was that he talked to the kids as if they were real people,” said Frank Wilczek, a physicist at the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton, N.J.

If there was a Dad Olympics, what event would you compete in?

Cross-town kid transportation triathlon. It's a round trip, point to point race through the city in which the baton is 2 kids and everything they need for dance class. You have to do incorporate at least a mile each of transit by bike, subway, and pulling them on scooters.

What’s one good piece of advice you'd give this new father?

Don't try to make a happy baby happier.

Hey Jerry, where are we finding you today?

I'm finally back in Amsterdam and settled in. I like to bounce around to different places for spending my days and coworking. Right now I'm at my friend's place who lives right on the bloemenmarkt (flower market).

How long have you been a dad?

I've been a dad for 15 months and 24 days. My son is Elio Lawrence.

I’m learning that an important part of parenting is knowing what you don’t know. What was your last dad-related Google search?

I mostly talk with ChatGPT about dad stuff, this one was horrifying but very reassuring once we found the answer:

"What does it mean if my 14 month old son is losing a few of his finger nails but is otherwise healthy ?"

The answer (which was right)…

As the CEO of CodeCov, which was acquired under your watch, and now an entrepreneur in residence with Bain Capital Ventures, it's safe to say you've had some pretty good ideas in the business world, but what's one of the best ideas you've gotten from your son?

Best idea I've gotten from my son: Wheels on a car or truck are absolutely magical and deserve to be closely inspected and touched until your hands turn black.

Best idea I've had in service of my son: Things were working great before you got here, they can work great after you've arrived with intention and planning.

In addition to your career and your dad duties, you're also a pretty serious DJ. How has being a father impacted your creative practice?

I care much less about being "cool" or "underground" and instead care much more about making him, others, and myself have joyous moments.

Being with a child forces us to be present—or at least greatly incentivizes it.

Tell me about your parenting partner. How do you split up parental duties and have you learned anything since becoming a father that's given you a greater appreciation for her?

My wife, co-parent, and life partner is Colette (or Coco). She's an absolute beast of a mother. As far as splitting things up, here’s a simple one: I'm a morning person, she's a night owl. We did handoffs around 4am during the early early days, which worked fairly well.

There are also more subtle things we've learned that I deeply appreciate, like the fierceness a mother feels in protection of their child, even when things are extremely hard. I try to honor that fierceness even at times when I cannot understand it.

What about your dad? Do you ever find yourself doing anything that reminds you of him?

My dad always said "to be a great parent, you don't have to discipline, you have to BE disciplined." I try to bring that consistency and reliability to my own relationship with my son.

More recently, my father told me that he viewed walking through life with his kids as problem solving together, instead of solving everything for your child. Even though my son is quite young, if he knows how to do something I encourage him to do it himself, or try to learn something new.

If there was a Dad Olympics, what event would you compete in?

The "maintaining a spontaneous social life" event.

What’s one good piece of advice you'd give this new father?

You and your birthing partner have most likely learned yourselves and each other quite well in the lead up to parenthood. It's as if you've been navigating a boat on this shared lake for years.

What you'll find post-parenthood is that it's the same lake, but the water level (in other words, your energy and resources) is much lower. That lower water level will reveal new islands and shipwrecks that you may not know or have forgotten were there.

The task is to re-learn each other and navigation in this lake in an energy-constrained environment. You can do it. And don't sleep on couples therapy, even prophylactically.

Dad Mag: Hey Frank, tell us where you’re taking these questions today.

Frank Lee: I’m under blankets on our living room couch in San Francisco, taking advantage of some down time before picking the girls up from summer camp. The TV is playing a soccer match with the volume low.

How long have you been a dad?

We launched our portfolio in 2016. Zoe is 8 and Maddie is 6. Diversification is a myth.

What was your last dad-related Google search?

How to fix a child car seat that won’t close…

You have multiple engineering degrees from some of the best universities in the world. Tell us about the lego set / dollhouse / piece of furniture that really humbled you.

My wife’s dad and I had to assemble our girls’ bunk bed with built-in stairs. It was an eight-hour endeavor. We lost a lot of good men out there that day…

You spent a good part of your career co-founding Bevi, and now you're taking some time off to pursue personal interests and spend time with your girls. Do you find having more free time makes you a better dad?

I do find myself having a much higher level of patience. My girls are great, but I still get tested from time to time. For example, when I’m trying to save my family’s lives from terrible drivers and I get a song request from the backseat that requires a complicated Spotify search.

Taylor Swift would be proud. Are there things you can do now with your girls that you weren't able to 5 years ago?

I try to spend a good amount of time volunteering at the girls’ elementary school—field trips, classroom helper, morning exercises, etc. It’s been really fun observing Zoe and Maddie in the classroom setting. I get to see how they interact with their teachers and other kids. The kids know me as Mr. Frank, and I make it my mission to reuse this name tag sticker as many times as possible.

Have you learned anything during this time off that's given you a greater appreciation for your partner?

Definitely. Growing up, my parents were busy running their own manufacturing company in Taiwan. And they did their best with the little time they had with my sister and me. That shaped my perception of parenting. From a career standpoint, I always had a specific career path in my mind that led me to meeting my co-founders to launch Bevi. When it came to parenting, I honestly didn’t have a clear vision.

Meeting my wife literally changed my life. The girls are very much at the center of my existence. I’ve also been inspired by my wife’s parents, who have been very involved with their grandkids.

Do you ever find yourself doing anything that reminds you of your own father? How has your relationship with him influenced the way you parent?

My father was super strict with us growing up. At times, I asked myself why he was so hard on me. Since becoming a parent myself, I’ve learned to appreciate my dad more as I realized my parents just didn’t have as many opportunities for face time as we do.

It took a while, but I’ve come to realize my dad was just trying to be efficient. He had a limited amount of time to teach us how to conduct ourselves as decent human beings. He did his best with the best intentions. And I really respect that.

With my kids, I try my best to lead by example. Especially with two girls, I try to be self-aware of how I act as a partner to my wife, hoping that my girls know to expect the same for their future partners.

Who’s your most memorable dad from pop culture?

Robin Williams from Mrs. Doubtfire. He’s a flawed dad with so much love for his kids who does his best with what he has.

If there was a Dad Olympics, what event would you compete in?

I really love learning, and I enjoy learning about the things my kids love. There should be a Dad Olympics event where you try to study two chapters ahead before your kids on any topic where you had no previous knowledge.

What’s one good piece of advice you'd give this new father?

They grow up too fast. Hold them tight every day because there will come a day when they don’t want to nap with you any more.

Dad Mag: When did you join the dad ranks and who do you have to thank?

Michael: I’ve been a dad for 39 and a half years, which is the age of my oldest child, Caroline. My fraternal twin sons, Jack and Noah, just turned 36.

I didn’t get to meet him so I’m curious how your relationship with your own dad influenced the way you parent.

My dad, John, passed away from a stroke when I was 17, shortly before my graduation from high school. I was the youngest of three boys; a "mistake," no doubt, as one of my brothers was 7 years older and the other 14 years older!

I feel I inherited qualities and tendencies from my father, but I can't say I remember being shaped by his parenting, per se. He was a fine guy and role model in many ways — reader, wordsmith, raconteur and served on every town board you could think of — and some memories include his attending many of my Little League games, playing together in parent-child golf tournaments and his help in polishing up the Memorial Day address I was asked to give at our town's ceremony.

No other real father figures for me, though I did admire and probably emulate some bosses over the years. I'm not a big advice-seeker. I like to add up the facts, mull it over a bit and make a decision. The best advice and support I received as a father came from my wife and life partner; I believe you know her.

As someone who’s thinking about the ways that parenthood will shrink the time I have for more individual pursuits, I’d love to hear how you balanced personal interests that were important to you with the demands of fatherhood.

It comes down to being consistent. You can't attend every event in your child's life but you can get to 99.9% of the important ones. Sometimes you’re lucky enough to have overlapping interests with your kids, but family rituals such as having dinner together and summer trips count for something, too.

There’s one hobby that you didn’t explore until your kids were out of the house and you had retired from a long career in hotel and club management, and that was modeling, a field you had no previous experience in. Tell me about what drove that decision.

The modeling adventure took place over a year and a half. I never thought about it during my working years. I guess it popped into my head when all the free time appeared after retiring. The benefits seemed to me to be: work as much or as little as you want, pick up some easy dough, and meet some interesting people.

I researched the Florida modeling scene and quickly realized the action was in Miami. I made a list of agencies which were all in the Lincoln Road area, and most of their websites said they were available to meet new prospects without an appointment so I psyched myself up for a couple days and pointed the car south for the 100 mile trip.

On the way down I felt a little like I was jumping off a pier. I carried with me a card with several headshots and my contact information that a friend helped me pull together. The only agency name I recognized was Ford so I started there. Very nice, but no dice.

The next one within walking distance turned out to be MP MEGAMIAMI. An attractive and pleasant woman stepped out of a staff meeting and interviewed me. After a short time she basically said "Let's give it a try" and, just like that, a door had opened. I remember her saying I shouldn't expect things to take off like a rocket ship and, lightheartedly, "You'll be my golf guy."

That day was the best part of the experience - research, door-knocking and resiliency had paid off and I felt pretty good. After approximately six unsuccessful casting calls which each chewed up a full day and 200 miles, I got my first and last paying job. If you're ever in Colombia, look for the TV ad for a bladder control product with a handsome guy in it.

Do you regret not pursuing it sooner?

No, I just wish the opportunities had been closer to home so I could have avoided the hellish two hour drive to Miami.

Did you learn anything from the experience that could help a new dad wrestling with work and creative pursuits?

I would tell a new dad not to fret over where creative dreams fit in the grand scheme of things. First things first - take care of your family and the rest will fall into place.

Your kids are now in their 30s and building families of their own. What does fatherhood look like now that your kids have grown up?

The script is gradually being flipped. Things that I taught you by example — looking after those in your care, being positive, working hard, even party planning! — are now your strengths with your mother and I being the beneficiaries.

I appreciate you taking the time to kick off Dad Mag’s interview series. Before we go, can you leave us with one good piece of advice for new fathers?

New dads should be aware that even if they execute their role perfectly, divine guidance and/or Mother Nature dictates that mom will forever be the glue in the equation.