Serving the Sherman Oaks and Studio City communites for over 27 years
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Serving the Sherman Oaks and Studio City communites for over 27 years
Not training for the World Championships, not cutting 25 pounds in four weeks to make my weight class in wrestling. That stuff, in comparison, seems almost easy. Being a father to my two daughters? That’s the real challenge.
Don’t get me wrong—I love them more than anything. It’s just incredibly hard when someone else owns a piece of your heart. We don’t get breaks, and there’s no double pay for overtime. And let’s be honest, being the perfect parent is just as doable as finding a unicorn.
With that being said, somewhere deep down, I know I’m probably f***ing this up somehow. And as someone who always tries to think ahead, I also wonder what I can do now to help my daughters later overcome whatever I’m doing wrong today.
So, one afternoon, while they were doing their homework and the house was unusually quiet, I took advantage of the silence. I asked them a question.
I told them that many adults end up resenting—or at least blaming—their parents for certain shortcomings in their lives.
“I’m like this because of you” is something I’ve heard too many times.
“It’s your fault I turned out this way,” others say about their folks.
The truth is, some adults were abused as children. Others went through trauma early on. And plenty of parents just don’t know how to raise a child properly—so they mess it up. Who’s to say I’m not one of them?
So I continued: “One day, you might come to me and blame me for things you feel shouldn’t have happened in your life—or things you don’t like about yourself. So, in an effort to avoid missing anything, I want to ask you now: What do you think I’m doing wrong? What might you blame me for later?”
My 12-year-old looked intrigued. The 9-year-old started smiling, clearly amused at the idea of pointing out something she didn’t like. After a short pause, the older one responded confidently:
“Nothing, Daddy. I can’t think of anything you’re doing wrong.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yes,” she answered.
Then the little one chimed in, still smiling: “Daddy, I think you should let me eat ice cream before dinner. That’s what you’re doing wrong. Maybe I’ll blame you for that later.”
We all laughed. And in that moment, we agreed—there was nothing serious or concerning we needed to address now to prevent future regrets. Just ice cream.
Parenting doesn’t come with a blueprint, and most of the time, we’re just doing our best and hoping it’s enough. I’m not under any illusion that I’m getting it all right—but I’m trying. Talking to my kids like this reminds me that being present, open, and willing to ask the tough questions might matter more than getting everything perfect. If they ever do have something to blame me for one day, I hope they’ll also remember that I loved them enough to ask.
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