How to Be a Better Dad

How do I actually become a better dad?

Not in the Pinterest-perfect, Instagram-dad way. But for real. In my own house. With my own kids. With all the noise, the mess, the chaos, and yeah — the guilt.

Here’s where I’ve landed:

There are two traps guys like us fall into.

Trap #1: The "Perfect Dad" Fantasy

This is the guy who never raises his voice, always knows what to say, plans the perfect day out, teaches life lessons while slicing apples, and tucks his kids into bed with wisdom and warmth every night.

Yeah. That guy doesn’t exist.

Trap #2: The "Well, This Is Just Who I Am" Lie

This is the guy who throws his hands up and says, “I work hard, I’m doing my best, this is all I’ve got.” So nothing changes.

Here’s the truth: You’ll never be perfect — but staying stuck isn’t an option either.

So what do you do?

You try. You get a little better. You take a step.

But try what exactly?

Start Here: Get More Selfless (Yeah, I Know… It Sucks)

This one hit me hard. I didn’t want it to be true. But it is.

If I’m honest, the root of a lot of my issues as a dad?

Selfishness.

I don’t mean I’m a bad person. I’m not neglecting my kids or anything. But I like my space. I like my downtime. I want to do what I want when I want — and being a dad... kind of messes with that.

Here’s an example that still hits close:

Long day. I worked. Helped with dinner. Cleaned something. Finally — FINALLY — I sit down. Game’s on. Maybe I’ve got a cold drink. And then I hear:

“Daddy… can you come lay with me?”

And everything in me screams:

“No. No, no, no. I earned this. I’m DONE for the day.”

But sometimes, I get up anyway. Not because I want to — because I’m choosing to be a dad right then, when it costs me something.

You Won’t Win Every Time. Just Win One.

That’s the trick.

You’re not gonna make the right call every time.

You don’t need to.

But try choosing your kid over your comfort just once.

Then try it again. One moment at a time.

Those little sacrifices? They build connection.

And honestly, they change you, too.

It’s Not Just Bedtime

These moments happen all over the place:

• You’re trying to finish a text, and your kid wants to show you a drawing.
• You’ve got five things on your to-do list, and they’re begging for a bike ride.
• You’re halfway through a show, and they wake up crying.

It’s always something. And it’s never convenient.

But when you start saying yes — not every time, but when it matters — you become the kind of dad your kid knows they can count on.

The Real Key

Look — I’m not saying you never get to chill. You absolutely should.

But here’s what I’ve had to learn:

Being a better dad isn’t about doing it all. It’s about being willing to do any of it — especially when it’s hard.

You don’t need a perfect plan.

You just need the mindset that says,

“If my kid needs me, I’ll show up. Even if it’s not ideal. Even if I’m tired. Even if it’s not what I had planned.”

Final Thought: You Don’t Need to Be Perfect. Just Present.

That’s it. That’s the whole thing.

If you’re asking how to be a better dad, I think it starts with letting go of the fantasy — and also refusing to settle. It’s that space in the middle where the real work happens. The hard, humble, uncomfortable, often boring work of just showing up — again and again and again.

And listen, I get it. Some nights you’re tapped out. Some mornings you’re running on fumes. Some weekends you just want to be left alone for five freaking minutes. You’re not a bad dad for wanting that. You’re human. But being human doesn’t mean you can’t grow. It doesn’t mean you get a pass on trying.

You don’t need to be a superhero. You just need to be someone your kid remembers as being there.

Because here’s the truth most of us don’t want to say out loud:

Your kids are going to remember.

They’re going to remember who looked up when they spoke.

Who came when they cried.

Who made time when it was inconvenient.

They’re not keeping a scoreboard, but they’re building a story — and you're one of the main characters. You get to help shape the narrative.

And no, it’s not about guilt. You’re not going to get it right all the time. That’s not the bar. The bar is: were you willing? Were you reachable? Did they know that, more often than not, when they needed you, you made the choice to be there?

Even just sometimes? That counts.

This is what I’ve been learning — and I’m still learning. It’s a moving target. Some weeks I feel like I’m nailing it, others I feel like I’m unraveling. But I’ve stopped expecting perfection, and I’ve started aiming for consistency with grace. Show up. Apologize when I blow it. Try again tomorrow.

If you’re still reading this, I’d bet good money you care. So lean into that. Don’t talk yourself out of trying just because you’ve fallen short before. Trying now still matters.

That’s how you become a better dad.

Not overnight. Not all at once.

Just one moment — one decision — at a time.