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“Listen, my child, to the instruction of your father, and do not forsake the teaching from your mother.” — Proverbs 1:8
Last Friday I almost fell off my chair while attending my son’s Parent teacher Orientation three times.
The orientation wasn’t boring… but I had just come straight from a night shift, running on whatever was left of my coffee and my commitment to show up for my son.
Three hours.
I stayed for all three.
And when it was done I paid the tuition, walked out to the playground’s bahay kubo and just sat there for a minute.
Just breathing.
Nobody asks us if we’re okay.
I’m not complaining.
June is Men’s Health Month but I know not a lot of people are going to talk about it because men are just expected to go on with their lives without complaining.
I was one of those people who deemed men who complained as weak.
And now here I am.
Monday he starts Senior Kinder.
A new classroom, a new teacher, a whole new year of figuring out how the world works one small lesson at a time.
I hope he listens to her.
I hope they get along.
I hope she sees in him what I see… this loud, laughing, endlessly energetic boy who is so perceptive and sensitive, who just wants to win the world with his big heart and laughter.
Very much like his Lolo Tatay.
Proverbs 1:8 has always struck me as quietly radical.
It doesn’t say the father teaches academics and the mother handles feelings.
It says both parents carry the instruction.
Both voices matter.
The wisdom of a home isn’t a solo performance… it’s a duet.
And when both voices are present and consistent and pointed in the same direction, a child grows up knowing not just what to think, but how to live.
I believe that deeply.
I also believe our roles at home look different from what either of us imagined.
These days, Lyle is with me almost five days a week.
I am the one doing the school runs and the housework and the cooking and the bedtime routines, on top of the night shifts and the extra hours I put into my own work because the farm doesn’t fund itself yet and the blogs don’t write themselves and the bills don’t wait for anyone to catch their breath.
I am tired and I haven’t really had a full night of sleep.
And I worry sometimes that tired translates to being less present.
That he sees a dad going through the motions when what he deserves is a dad fully in the room.
I try.
I always try.
That’s why when I’m with him, we have full blown conversations about anything and everything he is curious about. My phone, lies a few feet away from us. I don’t let that gadget interfere in our bonding time.
The only time I pick up my phone is if Lyle decides that he wants a little solo playing time or if he wants to watch a certain Lego episode that helps him figure out how to build things.
Trying while exhausted is a quiet sacrifice that nobody sees. It’s something I deal with on a daily basis. It’s something like sitting in an orientation hall fighting to keep your eyes open and wondering how you’re going to do this for another week.
I wrote recently about why Filipino men in particular tend to ignore the signals their bodies and minds send them until something breaks.
I stand by everything I said there.
And I’ll add this here, personally, man to man.
We are not okay just because we are functioning.
Functioning is not the same as thriving.
Men can run on empty but they’ll still show up, pay the bills and the tuition, sit through orientations and other events patiently, tuck their kid in at night… don’t assume that just because he’s standing, he’s ok.
Most probably, he’s not.
If you’re reading this and you’re that man… I see you.
I am you, more days than I’d like to admit.
June is Men’s Health Month and I refuse to let it pass without saying that out loud.
And this is for the future:
To my son: your dad showed, sleepy and stretched thin and present.
That’s what I want you to remember when you’re older and the world asks more of you than you think you have.
You show up anyway.
You stay.
You pay what needs to be paid.
And then you sit for a minute and breathe before you go back out and do it again.
That’s not weakness.
That’s what love looks like when it’s doing the quiet work.
Monday morning’s coming.
New classroom, new teacher, same dad cheering the loudest from wherever I’m standing.
Let’s go.
Defintiely AI-Generated Image because I don’t have any good graphic design skills on my own.
