First Note: Short of death there is nothing that will keep me from being in my daughter's life. The sun rises and sets with my daughter. As much as is humanly and appropriately possible, I want to be present for all of it...

Inspire The Dad In Your Life To Be His Best All Year Long

In this all-new episode, Oprah Winfrey and Iyanla Vanzant address an audience and online community of daddyless daughters who reveal their personal stories of how not having a father present in their life affected who they are today. With symptoms of low confidence, overcompensating in other relationships, and seeking love in all the wrong places, daughters who want to heal seek guidance from Oprah and Iyanla in order to prepare to move forward with their life with a positive, new outlook.

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I recently had the opportunity to meet Jackie Brewton at a college prep workshop she was hosting for recent high school graduates. To my surprise, she called out to me before I was able to introduce myself thanks to her "knowing me" via this blog, my writings elsewhere and my appearance in Men Ain't Boys. After connecting on several topics, most importantly our kids entering adulthood, I told myself I'd pay her blog a visit. When I saw a post entitled, "Why Daughter's Need Their Dads," I couldn't help but share. Especially with this being the week of Father's Day. Please, continue reading:

...What happens when a girl’s father is not actively engaged in her life?

Often times she makes poor relationship choices, becomes sexually active at a young age and spends the rest of her life questioning why her father did not love her enough to want to be a part of her life.

 A teen girl tells us why:

We were discussing the “father issue” in class one day and a young lady gave the following explanation as to why many young ladies make poor relationship decisions and do not always demand to be treated with respect or recognize their value:

A father sets the bar on how girls expect to be treated. Girls know their fathers are supposed to protect, love and cherish them. When fathers aren’t there for them in that way, some girls tend not to expect that from the guys they date. They figure if their own fathers don’t protect, love and cherish them maybe it’s because they don’t deserve it.

.  .  .

 How fathers help keep their teen daughters from becoming sexually active:

1. Fathers provide the love and validation every girl longs for so she does not have to seek love and validation from another male.
2. The teenage girl who has a good relationship with her father AND knows that her father disapproves of her being sexually active is more likely to refrain from sex to avoid disappointing her father.
3. Engaged fathers “school” their daughters about what the average teenage guy is thinking. They also educate their daughters on the manipulative things some guys will do just to get what they want.

What can parents do?

To find out read the rest of this article, which includes more real-life comments from teen daughters over at Jackie's blog.

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My Tuesday went sideways when I received a call from my daughter's school 40 minutes after arriving to work. I packed up my desk, walked rout the door and drove 30 miles right back to where I had just dropped her off. I collected my sick and weary child, took her out to lunch and drove back to work to make a meeting I was running.

I expected my Wednesday evening to be a mellow one once I got home from work, taking turns with my wife who opted to keep her home from school and work from home. Instead I never went to sleep, staying up all night watching over her as she struggled to sleep despite all that was paining her.

Today I just knew she'd be better, and looked forward to tearing through my to-do list. Instead she began to fade almost immediately after waking up. I called her doctor every hour on the hour from 11am to 3pm until we had an appointment at 5pm. She got a couple of shots, more meds than I'd care for her to have and is on the mend. We celebrated at Wendy's. Now she's asleep and I'm still awake, trying to take inventory of all that I was supposed to do today. But you know what? All that stuff can take a back seat or suck and egg as us old folks used to say when we were young'ns. I wouldn't trade being a father for anything in the world. My job as caretaker of my kids is the best job I've ever had...and then some. I'm sure there's plenty of people who disagree, but I wouldn't have it any other way. In good times and bad I've been blessed by the experience - It all Makes Me Wanna Holler!

We're talking about this on Facebook too!

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Thoughts? Please, let me know in the Facebook or Disqus comment sections below.

Last week while I was in the car with my daughter (as these things typically happen while we are in the car together), she says:

"In order for a man to be a dad he has to be married."

I appreciated her sentiment but decided to ask why. Her answer was: "A man has to find a woman with kids and marry her in order to be a dad."

I chuckled a bit, turned the rear view mirror to face her and asked her how is it that she looks just like me. She shrugged her shoulders with an innocence that made me bubble over with a love for her that is indescribable and immeasurable.

It's only a matter of time before a real conversation that truthfully addresses her observations will need to be had.

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Thanks for reading! Follow me on Twitter at @EPayneTheDad.

Yesterday when I picked my daughter up from school I turned the engine on and began reading emails on my phone.

My daughter asked, "Daddy, let's go. What are you doing?"

I answered, "Checking some emails, baby."

She said, "You can do that when you get home. There's electricity there for you to do that."

I looked over my shoulder at her, completely wise beyond her years, put my phone down, drove off and didn't pick it back up until after dinner.

Moral of the story...you know the moral of the story...I hope you know the moral of the story.

Please, don't forget Family Day - A Day to Eat Dinner With Your Children is Monday, September 24th. Take the Star Pledge today.

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Thanks for reading! Follow me on Twitter at @EPayneTheDad.

A few days ago, on the way to school I told my daughter, "I love you," to which she responded, "I know." When I asked who told her she answered,

"No one has to tell me. I just know because you are my father."

I wish all kids knew love like this and could speak on it.

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Thanks for reading! Follow me on Twitter at @EPayneTheDad.

This is my daughter attending an awards ceremony for a piece of art she created. Bright. Focused. Driven. Poised.



and........this is my son.

A little more than a week ago, a couple of days before Halloween, my family was given a legitimate scare. Not the kind when your wife sneaks up quietly behind you and screams or even the type that occurs when you come home and find some of your doors are unlocked (because you left them unlocked). This was nothing of the sort.

My daughter and I were playing in her room this past weekend when she suddenly asked, "Why is everything made in China?"

I looked at her, a bit caught off guard by the question and the fact that she's five. Then I realized we were handling most of her toys.

I answered as thoughtfully as I could, "You know...that is a very good question."

She was satisfied with my response (and probably deduced that I wasn't going to come up with a reasonable answer) and we continued to play.

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My daughter has had a at least one pair of Crocs in her life since she began to wear shoes. Each pair has been more sophisticated than the last pair but they've all been variations on the same theme: some sort of open-toe or open-heel shoes made of some kind of foamy rubbery stuff. They are the quintessential wash and wear summer slip on. She's rarely worn them to school and on those occasions (when Mom dressed her in them) the teacher would always pull me aside at the end of the day to politely ask me to make sure she wears closed toe shoes. Well now the game has changed.

Yesterday, my daughter began Kindergarten. It was her first day of real school. If there is anything that requires some getting used to it's starting school on a single digit date in August before the summer is even close to being over.

She was very excited. On the flip side her brother, ten years her senior, lamented with the drama of a Shakespearean actor over the horror that has been set upon him. The only sign that suggested a human soul inhabits his teenage body was seeing him happily impressed by the show being put on out in front of his sister's school: a speaker was set up blasting music and the principal along with a handful of teachers were cheering on each student (complete with pompoms) as they walked inside.

As my daughter and I neared the hallway where her class is located I observed a rather large subset of overwhelmed and teary parents, most of whom were mothers. I smiled, nodded at folks, shook hands with my baby's teacher, took some pics with my camera phone (yes, I left my hardware at home), made sure she was comfortable, gave her a hug and kiss and left her to experience her first day. I went down the hall to the new parents' reception, passed on the doughnuts, scooped a bowl of fruit for myself, made a couple of brief acquaintances and made my way out the door.

And then I circled back to my daughter's class one more time. I stood back in the hallway and watched for a second before her teacher closed the classroom door. My little one was fine so I was fine.

Later on that morning I posted a first day of school picture of her on Facebook. Of course the obvious question came up: Was I able to keep it together when I dropped her off? On Facebook my answer was a quick yes, but as I thought about it the reason for that yes is the sum of the following parts:

• I'm used to it - I've been dropping my daughter off to day-care or pre-school since she was seven months old (the first day of day care I was ready to kick down the doors I was so scared to leave her).


• My daughter is supposed to be growing. I'm filled with a sense of joy not sadness that she is advancing. Despite that natural urge to hold onto the past she can't stay little forever. If that were even possible I'd be doing her and the world a great disservice.


• I live for these moments because I missed them with my son. For those of you who are new to my story...when I met the woman who would be my wife she came with a big-eared boy who was already five years old. This boy would become my son. Although there was no way it could have happened because I didn't know my wife at the time, it sometimes pains me that I wasn't there for him during years 0 to 5.125. I often find myself making up for those initial years I never had with him by doubly investing in the early years I have with his sister.

I am losing nothing. If anything she gains every opportunity she deserves and is destined to have.

I know some women reading this might say, "Pish tah, stop being a robot! I cried when my baby went to school." But this is my answer and I'm sticking to it because I have no reason not to.

I'm the author of DAD: As Easy As A, B, C! - 26 Dos & Don'ts for Fathers. Click here for my story and the origin of Makes Me Wanna Holler. Do you Tweet? Follow EPayneTheDad on Twitter. Live on Facebook? Like Makes Me Wanna Holler on Facebook.

Navy Pier at Sunset. Eric Payne © 2011. All Rights Reserved

Tickets for Baby Girl & I for a Lake Michigan Boat Ride: $40

Dinner with views of the Lakeshore at Chango Loco at Navy Pier: $30

Temperature on Lake Michigan: Freezing

Wednesday Night Fireworks on the Lake during boat ride: Spectacular

Whispering in my daughter's ear, "We are on a date," and she responding, "I know, Dad.": PRICELESS

Being out on the town for the evening with two other fathers doing the exactly as I was in the name of hanging and doing something with our kids at the same time: Simply Unforgettable...


I'm the author of DAD: As Easy As A, B, C! - 26 Dos & Don'ts for Fathers. Click here for my story and the origin of Makes Me Wanna Holler. Do you Tweet? Follow EPayneTheDad on Twitter. Live on Facebook? Like Makes Me Wanna Holler on Facebook.

Eric Payne ©2009. All Rights Reserved.

E.Payne is the author of the soon to be released DAD: As Easy As A, B, C! and I Didn't Invented Sex. For the past 3 years he has posted 600+ articles about fatherhood, marriage and everything in between here at Makes Me Wanna Holler.com. To learn more, click here.

It's not often that I get into matters of religion in this space. I save that for conversations with my mother, my family, select friends and a pastor who personally counsels me from time to time. But I will today.

I grew up saying my blessing/grace before every meal. My father led the prayer and if he wasn't around then my mother did. I have been saying the same 3-sentence grace since learning it and I have in turn taught it to my family. My wife says it, my son says it and my daughter follows along mouthing it with the intention of being able to say it on her own very soon.

Then she (babygirl) decided to throw us a curveball.

"Daddy, Daddy! I have a blessing I want to say," she announced before dinner not too long ago.

"Sure go ahead." We all waited for her to stop giggling and she said:

"Dear God, we love you. Thank you for this food. Amen."

My wife loved it and clapped for our daughter. My son loved it as well as it shortened the usual grace by about 45 seconds and allowed him to bury his face in his plate that much quicker. I thought it was cute, but like a Pharisee was skeptical of the "meat and potatoes" of the blessing. Regardless, we've been alternating between hers and "ours" ever since.

Just yesterday it hit me like a bag of bricks: My daughter begins her grace by saying "We love you." I've never said that --- not even once before giving thanks and asking that my meal, anything from a hamburger to a salmon fillet, give me wisdom, health and strength. My little one is giving praise and then thanks. Her little "2-sentence" blessing is more potent than the most long and drawn out "sermons" at the table. It has more meat and potatoes than any I've ever heard to date.

Out of the mouths of babes. She is so ahead of the curve.

Photo Source

E.Payne is the author of Investing In An Emotional Letdown and I Didn't Invented Sex. For the past 3 years he has posted 600+ articles about fatherhood, marriage and everything in between here at Makes Me Wanna Holler.com. To learn more, click here.

Two nights ago before bedtime, my daughter and I were talking about the future. As she has a teenage brother she often imagines what life will be like as a teen.

Growing up my God-fearing mother and stoic-realist father both used to say, "God willing, if I'm still around, I'll..." For one parent it was humbling oneself before God, for the other it was a statement of fact.

For me it's a little bit of both.

Two nights ago before bedtime, my daughter and I were talking about the future --- her life as a teen. What she wanted to do included me, to which I said...

"God willing, if I'm still around."

To which she responded: "Where are you going?"

I didn't pause, stutter or stammer. I answered her frankly, explaining that tomorrow is promised to no one (something I rarely contemplated before becoming a parent). The skin around her eyes began to redden and tears began to stream from them, down onto her chubby cheeks. She boo hooed that she would miss me and didn't want me to go anywhere. I remember doing the same the first time I contemplated the idea that my parents could cease to exist.

I smiled and held her tight, wiping away her tears and telling her everything was fine. I explained that I will be here for as long as I am supposed to be and that because she loves me and I love her I will always be with her no matter where she goes. She nodded and put her forehead against mine.

Then she started talking about Justin "Beaver" (Bieber).

E.Payne is the author of Investing In An Emotional Letdown and I Didn't Invented Sex. For the past 3 years he has posted 600+ articles about fatherhood, marriage and everything in between here at Makes Me Wanna Holler.com. To learn more, click here.

5 years ago today at the break of dawn I became the father to a beautiful baby girl. Amazingly, we named her before she was born, and it's meaning: dawn's light.

It's been an amazing experience so far.

I am very thankful, very honored and very challenged to be bestowed with such an awesome responsibility.

I'd be remiss not to mention another little girl. Please keep the family of Christina Green in your hearts and prayers.

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Early on in my daughter's life, her mother explained her anatomy to her.

All of it...

Though I protested, I don't really have a place in the Family of Women and accepted that my wife's actions were for my daughter's benefit. I, on the other hand, opted to refer to my daughter's nether region as "Middle Parts".

Nowadays, I'm on board. It's good to know my daughter can let us know if she has a UTI. But a new complication emerged. For me, that is. My daughter believes we all have vaginas or as told to me by Blogger's spellcheck, vaginae.

A month ago I was getting dressed and my daughter walked down the hall to traumatize me:

"Ewww, I can see your vagina!"

I immediately looked down at my boxer briefs and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw all was in tact and not out of place.

"No, you can't, baby."

"Yes, I can. I can see it through your panties. I can see your vagina!" She was practically singing at this point.

I sighed heavily and said, "I'm not wearing panties. Boys wear what's called boxer shorts," and weakly mumbled, "I don't have a vagina."

"Uh huh, yes you do!"

This wasn't the first time this has happened. I've actually lost count at this point. I usually stand there looking helpless while my wife (if she's within earshot) laughs until she cries.

So nearly five years into my daughter's life here I am doing what I never anticipated: having a conversation, at least once a week, about my daughter's vagina. And when we're not talking about hers, we're discussing mine. And my panties too.

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Over the weekend my daughter's hair was unbraided and out, all over the place. At one point, I pulled it back into a ponytail for her and marveled how her curly tresses are nearly to the middle of her back.

Me: "Oh my God, baby girl! You have so much hair."

She smiled at me and looked like she was blushing.

Me: "Can I have some of that hair? Please!" I begged, playfully. "I need some hair."

She: "Nooo, Daddy!" She giggled.

Me: "Why not?"

She (still giggling): "You have to go to the wig store for your hair."

I literally busted out laughing, shot her a stern look, and then went back to laughing with her laughing at me.

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After getting my daughter home from school she sat down next to me and said:

"Sharif (a boy in her class that she likes or who likes her - I can't really tell from her daily stories) said he's my friend today."

"That's nice, baby." I said.

"Today, he showed me his woody."

"He did?"

"Yes, it was little and it was hard."

I paused, looked up from what I was doing and looked at her. "Woody from Toy Story, right?"

"Uh huh."

I had to laugh.

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Originally posted on MakesMeWannaHoller.com on April 28, 2008.

There are only a few men who don't think ménage à trois when they hear the word "threesome." God forgive me for even desiring such a thing, but I never got the chance to indulge in this debauchery prior to being married and unless my wife completely loses her mind, I don't expect to have the opportunity now that I am. The literal meaning in French is "a household of three" --- a married couple and some other chick.

As it turns out, however, I've recently realized I've been involved in a ménage à trois for the past year or so, indulging at times at least three times a week. When my daughter decides she's done with the austere comforts of her crib, she makes her presence known in the middle of the night with a wail or a scream and joins our bed. Sometimes she never even makes it to her crib, as she begins her nightly slumber in our bed between us. Depending on how tired mom and dad are, we might not get up the energy to move her once she falls asleep. "We" means my wife because I am damn near dead when I'm asleep.

In any case, what I gleefully envisioned as a sinful, wonderfully lustful experience no less than two years ago has in actuality materialized into an experience where I am headbutted, poked in the eyes, slapped, kicked in the mouth and stomach, slept on, farted on, pushed off the bed, and deprived of sheets and covers. Sometimes only a few of these things happen (in varied combinations), and on other days, like last night, my daughter is capable of all of this. Once the sun rises, I greet the day beat up and ready to go back to bed. And who's out cold, sleeping like a lamb? My daughter of course. God has an awful sense of humor.

Photo Credit: Serch On Flickr

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