If you are a religious person you know that the gift of grace from God is something that is called unmerited favor. It’s something that God gives us to help us through difficult parts of our life and sometimes even the difficult parts of a day, an hour or a minute. About eleven years ago I received the gift of Grace from God, and it wasn’t a spiritual experience. Rather it was my daughter Grace who was born on October 9, 1996. I have two daughters, Sarah and Grace. Sarah was my first born; Grace came along more than five years later. I ended up separated and divorced from their mother when Grace was almost four years old. Both of my daughters have rallied behind me and continue to let me know how much they love me. I owe a debt of gratitude to the two of them. Just like a father is supposed to devote time to each of his children on an individual basis, I would like to devote this writing to Grace and spend the time letting her and everyone know what she means to me.

After my divorce it took me about 5 years before I finally bought a house. I chose to buy a house close to my children so I could get to them with ease whenever I wanted to or needed to. They both slept at my house on some weekends and sometimes on a day during the week. Sarah’s scheduled seemed to keep her from doing this as often as I would have likee, but Grace always kept coming to my house week after week. We developed a routine. I would pick her up from school every Tuesday and Thursday, and she would come over to my house. We would have dinner, do homework together, go to bed, and start over the next morning. On top of that, she stays with me probably every other weekend. Sometimes she would ask me on a Sunday if she could come over on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of that week, and of course I would say yes. As time went on and Grace and I were spending all of this beautiful time together, Grace and I were becoming best friends. The word grace has taken on new meaning for me. As I mentioned earlier, the word grace refers to what God has given us to get through the hardest times in our lives. The gift from God of my daughter Grace has truly allowed me to survive the very difficult years after my divorce. She is God’s gift to me, and I am so grateful that He has given her to me.

I think the most excitement that I ever have had with Grace has been watching her evolve into an unbelievable soccer player. Grace started playing soccer at about four years old and has participated in soccer for about 7 years. If you count her participation in the spring and fall that’s 14 seasons. When she first started out she did nothing but run up and down the field. She didn’t care one bit if she ever even touched the ball. She just loved playing the game. That changed very quickly as she learned how to handle the ball, pass and shoot in no time at all. She worked hard and became an unbelievable team player. I can remember her complaining to me only a year ago that she had never scored a goal. She always knew that she would at some point. This past fall season she broke through. She was named captain of the team, and I don’t think a game went by when she didn’t score a goal. The season ended with something called a soccerama on a Sunday afternoon. Grace played soccer from 2:00 in the afternoon until 8:00 at night that day. She was exhausted. I never saw anyone play that hard. She was named the MVP of the team.

I love Grace. To me she is an MVP also. She is my Most Valuable Person. She is an example to me. She has so many wonderful qualities that they are just too numerous to mention. She hugs and kisses me all the time; she covers me when I fall asleep. She watches out for me. I remember when a dog that was in her friend’s yard came after me this summer. I was trying to run away, and I fell down in the driveway. I will never forget that worried look that she had in her face thinking that I really got hurt. We laugh and we learn together. I never had a friend like this ever, even when I was a little boy. Grace is a friend that is more interested in giving than getting. She knows how to be a friend. I have been blessed by God’s gift of Grace.

As a dad nothing gives me more pleasure than attending school events. When my daughter Sarah was on the track team I used to love to go to her track meets. I watched my 11 year old daughter Grace develop into a wonderful soccer player, this past season she was recognized as the most valuable player on her team. School events are especially fun, especially the ones that are held during the Christmas and Hanukkah season.

Last night I attended Grace’s holiday concert and I have to tell you I had a great time. The fifth and sixth grades put on one of the best shows I think I ever attended. There was singing, dancing, ballet, solo acts, and comedy. It was absolutely fabulous. There were two shows, and I stayed and watched the second show also, that’s how good the performance was.

I must admit that attending some of these shows in the past usually put me to sleep, and at times I would be nudged by someone to stop snoring. Last night I didn’t want the show to end. I realize that at times it is tough to attend these events. Schedules always seem to get in the way for a dad. Do yourself and your kids a favor, the next time the school has an event, clear your schedule and attend it. Grace was thrilled that I was there. They will always tell you that they are happy that you were there; they know that you are proud of them, and your attendance shows that you are. They never seem to say anything when you are not in attendance, at least not at the time. We usually find out how they wish you saw them in the school play when they are married with their own kids. That’s not something any of us as dads want to hear. Remember something, no person on their death bed ever wishes that they had spent more time at work. Do the right thing.

My two daughters Sarah and Grace live 30 miles south of me so driving just seems to be part of my life. I have worn out a path going south on the Garden State Parkway. I bought a new car in September of 2006. The car was a 2006 Honda Accord. It now has 65,000 miles on it. I bought a Honda for good reason. The car that I had before this one was a 1997 Honda Civic. I put 500,000 miles on it. That’s a lot of driving.

I got Grace on Friday. We had our own Thanksgiving dinner on Friday. She slept over on Friday night. She woke up on Saturday and I drove her back to the town where she lives with her mother so she could play with her friend at about noon. I then turned around and drove home. I went back to get her at about 6:00. Her friend Mikayla came back to my house for a sleep over. Mikayla’s mom was nice enough to come to my house to pick them both up at noon on Sunday so they could continue to play at Mikayla’s house. I am now waiting for a phone call from Grace because I’m going back to pick her up and bring her back here to stay at my house tonight. Tomorrow morning, I will take Grace back down for school. If you do the math that’s about 150 miles of driving in about a day and a half.

I do drive a lot of miles, and many of them involve my kids. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I want to see my kids. As a divorced dad I have the benefit of living pretty close to my kids. Thirty miles to me is close. Some dads live in other states and don’t have the luxury of being able to see their kids almost on a daily basis. For me, all this driving goes with the territory. I can’t live any closer than I do to their house, because if I did, I know all too well that my ex-wife, their mother, would wander over to my house without an invitation to complain about some problem that she blames me for. This distance is perfect, for me at least.

I try to look at the trade offs. I have to drive a lot, but I get to see my kids a lot. I try to make my kids understand that the driving is not a big deal to me. I tell them when I drop them off to call me thirty minutes before they want me to pick them up and bring them back to my house. They really do appreciate my availability, and when I am not available they know that I want to be. It’s about 5:00; I just got the phone call from Grace telling me she’s ready for me to pick her up from Mikayla’s house and bring her back here for the night. I am tired, and I’m watching a good movie. I know that Grace could easily go home to her mother’s house, and that that would save me another 60 miles of driving. But I’d rather have Grace with me tonight. The trip will be worth it.

As a divorced dad with two daughters I can get resentful when my teenage daughter Sarah spends limited amounts of time with me. She comes over to my house and does what I call a cameo appearance. What usually happens is she arrives at my house and spends a few short hours with me. Just as we are starting to enjoy our time and settle in she says to me, “When are you going to take me home?” It seems as if she needs to rush home because she is afraid of missing one minute with her friends because they might suddenly find new friends to hang around with. This just happened yesterday. I celebrate Thanksgiving on the Friday after the holiday. It makes it far easier to have my kids with me the entire day. On Thanksgiving Sarah and Grace were at their aunt’s house with their mother. I picked them both up at 12:00 on Friday and brought them back to my house. I had twenty people at my house including my sister and her husband who were very excited to see my kids. My sister left at about 8:00, and things were starting to wind down. My daughter Sarah came to me and said to me, “When are you going to take me home?” I replied “Take you home, I thought you were going to stay over night and I would take you home in the morning.” That was the plan until her cell phone started ringing. I must say I felt unimportant and somewhat displaced. I have never been one to express any displeasure with my daughter’s requests, even though some of the things that she has wanted to do at times did not make me happy. I guess I’ve always been afraid of voicing any disapproval at all because I was concerned about driving her away from me. This time I had the feeling that I had to say something, and I did. We ended up in a discussion and I expressed my disappointment that she was leaving, and made a few other comments, that communicated my unhappiness. I did take her home, and things were fine on the ride. We spoke like nothing happened.

Let me let you in on a little secret. A divorced dad will never get anything from his children including respect if he doesn’t request it and sometimes demand it. The guilt, the pain and the thoughts about being a failure are all too real for me as a divorced dad. I suffered through these emotions and feelings for many years after my divorce. They don’t change one very important piece of this puzzle, and that is that I am my daughter’s father. I am her father, and I can place demands on her, make requests, and tell her how I feel regardless of any negative reaction that she may have. Sarah may continue to make cameo appearances at my house but I will continue to tell her that I don’t like it.

Our children will grow up fast. They will always look back on their childhood and wonder if we cared, or if we were apathetic. They will want to know why we let them get away with certain things and draw conclusions in their minds about our strengths or weaknesses as a father. Avoiding a confrontation because we are afraid that we are going to alienate them now may only lead to a relationship later that only involves a cameo appearance.

I used to play baseball in high school and college. I even played in an over thirty league back in the mid eighties. When my child Sarah was born in 1991, baseball wasn’t something I thought she would ever be interested in. But when she was about six, I took her over to the park to hit some baseballs. She picked up the balls after I hit them, and she got up to bat. She hit a few balls, and she even ran the bases. Sarah had and still has athletic ability- good hand eye coordination, flexibility, strength and agility. Well, when Sarah was 7, she came to me one day and said, “Hey dad can I play soccer?” I said, “Sure.” So I went out and bought her a soccer ball, shin guards, and cleats. I signed her up for the recreational league in town. I must admit I was pretty enthused. We practiced kicking the ball in the backyard, and we were both getting pretty excited about her first game.

Well, the Saturday of the first game came, so Sarah and I headed up to the soccer field. After some warm-up activities and a pep talk from the coach, the game started. To my surprise Sarah was in the starting line-up. She ran up and down the field for the first ten minutes or so, and she finally had an opportunity to kick the ball. She took her first kick, missed the ball, and landed flat on her back. She got up, and came crying over to the sideline and begged, “Don’t make me play anymore, Dad, I can’t do it.” She refused to go back into the game. The game ended, and on the way to the car she continued to cry, “Don’t make me play Dad, please, I don’t want to.” I mustered up all my courage and I said to her sternly, “You’re playing. You are playing. Now get in the car.” She got in the car and we drove home. On the way home all I heard was a bunch of sniffling and whining in the back seat. I didn’t have a very long ride home, but I can tell you this. She wore me out. I was emotion ally exhausted by the time I got home. We pulled up into the driveway, and I sat miserably in the car as I watched Sarah get out and walk into the house, sniffling and shaking as she walked through the front door. I sat stewing in the car and said to myself, “Who wants to play soccer anyway, dumb game.” I then attempted to further rationalize my thoughts by saying to myself, “Soccer’s for boys anyway.” I walked into the house, stood at the bottom of the stairs and yelled up the stairs, “SARAH.” She sniffled her way through a “Yeah dad.” I said, “Come down here.” She came down the stairs, and I said to her, “Look honey, you don’t have to play soccer, if you don’t want to play. It’s ok with me.” She said, “Oh thank you daddy.” She gave me a big hug and kiss and ran back upstairs.

Honestly, I felt like her hero. I was her knight in shining armor. I had just come through for her, and given her exactly what she wanted. I was sure I had made the prudent decision; I didn’t even have to ask her mother’s opinion. I figured what’s the big deal, no harm done. I was content in the knowledge that I had allowed my six year old daughter to make her own decision.

Well, I have another daughter named Grace (Grace is 6 years younger than Sarah) who came to me when she was six years old and said, “Hey dad, can I play soccer?”

I said, “Sure honey.” The same routine started again, the shin guards, the cleats, the soccer ball, the practice, and finally the game. But this time, the outcome was much different. Grace ran enthusiastically up and down the field from one end to the other. She never got near enough to even touch the ball, but she had a great time. Grace came off the field with a look of absolute joy in her eyes and said to me, “Boy that was fun Dad.” She played the first season, and had a ball. She played the next season and really improved a lot. She wanted to score really badly, but didn’t have the opportunity. She still loved the game. To her, every game was an event, an outing that ended with a snack and a Gatorade, lunch, and a fun time spent with me.

While this was going on Sarah was into cheerleading, gymnastics, track, palates, and even a little weight lifting. She loved designer clothes, having her nails done, tanning, make-up, and just looking good. She watched her weight and understood that in order to look good, she had to spend a good deal of time exercising. She commented to me one time that some of her friends on her track team had less body fat than she did and that they could run faster than she could. It was just a passing comment but I remember her saying it, and I most definitely noticed that she was bothered by this.

One day Sarah and I drove over to the soccer field to pick Grace up from a soccer practice. We got to the field, and Grace got into the car sweating; her face was as red as a tomato. Sarah handed a Gatorade and a snack over to her in the back seat, and Grace just sat there, contentedly guzzling her drink. Sarah looked back at Grace, then looked forward, looked back again at Grace again, and then stared straight at me. She said, “Hey dad, why didn’t you make me play soccer?”

I said (defensively), “I wanted you to play. Don’t you remember? You kicked the ball once, missed it, and fell on your head. Then you begged me not to make you play again.”

She answered me with, “SO? Why didn’t you make me?”

Now I was the one who was starting to sweat. I said, “You didn’t want to play. You wouldn’t let up until I agreed not to make you play.

Sarah then made a statement to me that I will never forgot as long as I live. She said, “But dad, you’re supposed to be in charge.”

Where had I gone wrong seven years earlier? At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do was to give in to what Sarah wanted. But it turned out that I hadn’t done what she needed me to do. I had allowed a six year old to decide whether or not she wanted to play soccer. What had she really needed at the time? She needed me to tell her that she was going to play soccer because I as the parent knew what was best for her, and I wasn’t going to give her a way out. She wanted me to be in charge, not allow her to be in charge. I unknowingly had let her down.

When I teach my graduate courses, I ask my adult students the following question all the time. How many things did your parents let you get away with as a kid that you wish you had never gotten away with? I usually get lots of stunned looks from my students.

Too often we allow our children to make choices and decisions that they have no business making. I see it all the time in supermarkets, stores, and malls, parents giving in when their children demand they buy something, or parents trying to coax their kids to stop crying or to stop running away from them. The children ignore their parents’ pleadings. Usually, the parents say something to their children like, “What do you want to do?” Well honestly, who cares what they want, they’re three years old!

I’m not totally sure where this whole attitude has come from, but I have my own theory that Dr. Benjamin Spock had a lot to do with it. Spock’s first book, Baby and Child Care” was first published in 1946 just in time for the baby boomer generation. In his book he spoke about feeding on demand, respecting your children, the need for flexibility, and the lack of the necessity to worry about spoiling. The paperback sold more than 50 million copies and was translated into 30 languages. Critics of Spock claimed that he was “the father of permissiveness.” In later years, Spock claimed that he never changed his basic philosophy on child care, that it was imperative to respect children because they’re human beings and they deserve respect. But he seemed to retreat somewhat from his teachings when he made statements such as “I’ve always said ask for respect from your children, ask for cooperation, ask for politeness. Give your children firm leadership.” Years later, he became more moralistic and he said that parents should give their children strong values and encourage them to help others. This is only supposition, but I hypothesize that Spock may have decided that he didn’t like what he saw in society and realized that he may have played a part in the screwing up of generations. In later editions of the book originally titled The Common Sense Book of Baby and Child Care, he stressed that children needed standards and that parents also had a right to respect. He stated in his book that parents were starting to become afraid of imposing on the child in any way.

I ‘m not claiming to be an expert on child rearing, but I do know that if children are re fed on demand they will be demanding. If they are allowed to say anything they want they will be disrespectful. If they are not held accountable they will be irresponsible. And if there are no consequences for inappropriate behavior they will be non-compliant. Parents today always ask, What can we do with our kids today? My question is, What are we going to do with these parents?

Once I relinquished my natural right as a parent to make decisions for my children, I was never truly able to reestablish my parental authority. From the moment that my daughter convinced me to allow her to make the choice not to play soccer, she learned she had the power to make basically every decision that came along in her life whether large or small. And the saddest part of all of this for me is that she blames me because I wasn’t strong enough NOT to let her assume a role she was never designed to play in her own young life.

Dr. Spock has since passed away, and I think many of us looking for a new voice to offer us some solid advice to help us sort out the mess we are in today.

This afternoon, I went to my 11 year old daughter Grace’s school conference, and it was wonderful. She is doing so well, and I am so proud of her, you don’t know. She is progressing in math, and doing excellent in all of her other subjects. I called Grace when I left the conference and told her that I was going to be picking her up. She was playing with a friend and asked me if I could take her and her friend to McDonalds. Was she kidding? I live for this. Unfortunately, her friend couldn’t go. But Grace wasn’t disappointed. She said, “I really just wanted to spend the time with you dad.” I love it when she says that to me.

By the time I got over to pick Grace up, my 16 year old daughter Sarah was home from school. I had promised her the night before that I would take her to the grocery store to pick up a few items. She’s working out now at a gym, and believe it or not, she consults me for her work out schedule and her diet. We went to the store and picked up some fruit, yogurt, cottage cheese, and salad fixings. Sarah has her permit now, so she drove us to the grocery store. I have to be careful that I don’t give her too much credit for her driving ability. She’s good, but she is a kid, and needs to be taught how to handle the more difficult road situations. Honestly, when I look at her behind the wheel, she looks like she’s 12 years old. I’m never sure if she really hears me when I give her driving tips. I get those short answers from her like okay, right dad, and I know. Is she listening to me? I don’t know. We got the groceries, and I drove her home. She got herself together, and then we drove to pick up her friends so I could drive them to the gym. I dropped them off. Then I drove back to my house to sleep over. We stopped at McDonalds on the way, picked up dinner, and brought it to my house. We ate dinner, then sat down at the table to do homework. It makes all the difference in the world to just sit at the table with her while she does her work. It shows her that I’m there in case she needs my help, and it also shows that I mean business- that I expect her to do her homework. When I saw she was done, we went in the den and put on the TV. Then we got down the Christmas lights, and had a great time, laughing and joking around. Then I sat down in my recliner in front of the TV. She always lets me doze off in my chair. When she gets tired herself she wakes me up and we go to bed. It’s 4:17 in the morning as I write this post. She is still asleep. I love having her here when I wake up in the morning.

I don’t know about anyone else, but I feel like I spend more time with my kids now than I ever did when I was married. It can be done, but as a father I have come to realize that I need to just do it no matter what, and not think about how tired I am or that I just don’t feel like making the drive to pick them up. As I said earlier “I live for this.”

My parents owned a bar and from the time I can remember which was about four years old I spent my time sitting on a bar stool. Most kids were playing with their friends or some toys that they had I was always talking to strangers and playing with beer boxes. It did have its advantages, like as I got older I had a built in job and I really learned how to talk to adults. You always had to agree with them because you did not want to lose them as a customer. Always polite always considerate and never giving anyone a hard time, of course I learned how to curse like a sailor at a very young age and got a taste of beer when I was about ten years old. The place had its characters that were both humorous and sad at the same time. I always thought it was normal for a guy to spend 4 or 5 hours drinking at the end of a work day before they went home. Many times as I got older I would drive some guy home who was to drunk to drive. When I got him home I found out why he spent that amount of time in the bar after work, his wife was less than happy to see him when he got there not because he was drunk she just didn’t like the guy.

One of the things I loved as a kid was the fact that there was always cash around. I would ask my dad for a dime or a quarter and he would reach into the till and hand it over. One warm summer evening around 5 o’clock I asked my dad for a quarter and he said “no.” I asked again and he said “no.” I finally said “c’mon dad please.” He did not give in. I got as mad as an 11 year old could get and walked out passing four customers sitting at the bend in the bar right by the door and on my way out I said “CHEAP.” As soon as I said this I knew I was in trouble and I tried to think of words that sounded like cheap that I could use to try and convince him that he just heard wrong. Then I had to find a way to get back in without him seeing me. There was only one way in and that was through the bar. Well I rode my bike for a while and then decided to try and get passed the blockade. When I got back to the bar the bar was closed. The bar that was open 364 days a year was closed. He locked the door and made me knock to get in. I knocked on the door and he opened it. I asked him to hold the door open so I could bring in my bike. He stood there grabbed me by the arm and said to me “What did you say on the way out of here.” I told him I said “cheap.” The grip on my arm got tighter and he said to me “After all the nickels, dimes, and quarters I have given you call me cheap.” I said “sorry dad.” He then loosened his grip and told me to go upstairs. My dad took a break around 7o’clock for dinner and took a nap until 9 when he went back downstairs to work. Around 8:30 I learned the biggest lesson of my life. He called me into his bedroom and sat me down. My dad said to me “Do you know why I locked the door to the bar after you left.” I said “no.” He said to me “After you left the bar the four guys who heard what you said started talking about you and what an ungrateful and selfish kid you were, and I couldn’t take it. I had to put them out, I just got sick hearing them talk like this about my son.” My dad put those guys out in my defense and because of the ache he felt in his heart. My dad used my own stupidity as a time to teach me that I can’t say anything I want and he wanted me to understand that whether or not I think anybody else hears my comments doesn’t matter, somebody hears and starts to develop a perception of you as a person. I never forgot this lesson. You see all along I thought those guys would ride my dad on what a cheapskate they thought he was because he would not give me a quarter. I was so wrong. As I look at this story all I can think of is the way kids speak to their parents today at a younger age than I way when I called my dad cheap. Kids didn’t just wake up one day and decide that they were going to be rude to their parents. This has happened so slowly it was almost unrecognizable at first but now we ask “What are we going to do with these kids.” I could have named this essay “Cheap” because of how ironic it is that I called my father cheap in front of his customers when he truly was not cheap, and I ended up feeling cheap, and deservingly so, when my father was done with me. Even though it is cheap to sit a kid down and talk to him today the way my dad did, does anyone take the time to do it anymore?

<a href=”http://behavioral-management.com”>for more about Jim
Burns http://behavioral-management.com/</a>

As a young boy I experienced all kinds of problems in my family. My father was a bar owner and a pretty heavy drinker. His behavior was very unpredictable at times, and we never knew what was going to set him off. We were always walking around on egg shells because we didn’t want to say or do something that would send him off on a drinking binge. I knew though that my father had a real interest in me, and wanted the very best for me. He just had a hard time expressing how he felt. As I became older and entered my teenage years my dad started to enjoy watching me play high school and community league baseball. He would go to my games, leave alone when the game was over (as I went with my friends), and would usually say very little to me about my performance. I never really expected him to say anything, so I was never disappointed.

During the summer of 1971 when I was 16 years old, my first cousin Jim and I spent a lot of time together at each other’s houses. We played baseball and hung out with other kids. I enjoyed the visits, and so did he. He was an only child, and I was the only boy in my family. We had a lot in common, and during this time we were pretty good friends. My cousin wasn’t quite as good at baseball as I was, but he was what I call a rooter. He enjoyed watching baseball and really enjoyed watching me play. During one of his visits I had a scheduled game. I had to be at the game early so my dad and cousin came later. During the game I had three hits including the game winning hit. I was the catcher and threw three runners out trying to steal second base. I had a great game. When the game was over my dad drove my cousin back to his house, and I hung out with my friends.

I went home, went to bed and got up early the next morning and left the house. The normal routine was that would open the bar in the morning. My father would sleep a little later and then relieve her in the bar around 11:00 in the morning. He would work until about 4:00 in the afternoon and then come upstairs and take a nap. I can always remember him sitting in his recliner napping in the afternoon. He needed that nap; he was in his late 50’s and had to be ready to work the night shift.

That afternoon, I returned home around 5:00 to find my father in his recliner, but he was awake. He jumped up out of his chair like he had a spring under him. He ran over to me and hugged me hard and said, “I was so proud of you last night.” I thanked him, and I felt him squeeze me like he never did before. I felt the warmth of his body, but even more felt the warmth of his words.

Well, I’m 53 years old now, and I still remember that hug and those words. Sometimes parents can say so much to their kids about their performance that it can almost seem like white noise. Most kids know their parents are going to speak well of them, because they are their parents. But sometimes kids can get a false sense of their abilities when their parents go overboard with the praise. But, the right words of praise and encouragement at the right time can actually change a child’s life. In my case, my dad didn’t offer a lot of praise. As a matter of fact he was very critical of me at times. This experience was life-changing for me. I quickly forgot all the times my father had said critical things to me. As a father myself, I know I have the power to determine how my own children view themselves. A father’s words do truly make a difference.

<a href=”http://behavioral-management.com”>for more about Jim
Burns http://behavioral-management.com/</a>

I was watching a report on the nightly news the other day that was talking about Mommy Blogs. Stay at home moms who have started blogs to talk to other moms about child rearing, disciplining kids, best buys on disposable diapers, and other things that are related to being a mom. This was a novel idea, but as I was watching this I said, “What about the dads?” Well this blog is for the dads. It’s for me as a dad and for you as a dad, whoever you are. Dads need advice, inspiration, guidance and wisdom when it comes down to raising their kids and dealing with their wife, or as in my case an ex-wife. I am divorced and I have spent unending hours over the past eight years working to maintain a positive relationship with my kids. I have two daughters, Sarah and Grace. Sarah is 17 and Grace is 11. I am going to share daily stories about them, offer advice, and try to inspire you with some stories about my own up bringing. I want the dads out there to contribute to this blog to offer help to me, and to other dads who need help who are sick of seeing their wife or girlfriend at the computer reading mommy blogs.