I Was the Perfect Parent. Until I Wasn’t. (Final Version)

I never knew I wanted to be a parent.

Not in a “I hate kids” kind of a way. More like… buying a Himalayan salt lamp.

Warm glow. Promises spiritual growth. Mostly gathers dust. Like every good parenting book.

Then one day — Universe aligned — my partner and I were “ready.”

Sperm met egg. Boom - Parenthood. No manual. No Refunds.

I wasn't going to be a good dad. I was going to be Yoda.

Calm, Wise. Speak with Logic. Bakes Banana Bread.

Worked from home for four years—because nothing says ‘dad of the year’ like changing diapers during Zoom calls.

Every birthday had a theme. Not one cake—oh no—three-tier extravaganzas with sidekick cake pops.

Playdates had homemade pasta. French Macarons at the school fair. Mason jars, people.

She wasn’t playing, she was catering a food blog.

I didn’t just attend her school functions—I participated. Loudly. Sometimes in costume.

But somewhere between themed cupcakes and artisanal guilt .. I mutated.

From “cool, involved dad” to “walking, talking performance review.”

“Great effort, but let’s circle back on the messy room?”

She trained at 5:30 AM. Four years. For a sport she wasn't even good at.

No medals. Not even a consolation sticker shaped like a star.

Then—boom—eighth grade. She wins three. I cried. Not out loud. Just... quietly into my overly priced protein shake.

Not because she won.

But because she finally believed she could.

And yet, even now, I struggle to say, “I’m proud.”

Not because I’m not.

But because I want it to really land. Like a compliment from Simon Cowell.

I’ve stopped expecting from the world.

But from her? I expect the world.

I expect her to be kind. To listen. To hustle. To hydrate. And yes—for the love of god—to charge her phone.

I want the world for her. But sometimes I forget to give her me.

So maybe tomorrow, we start over. We skip the feedback form. And focus on Just pancakes. And a warm hug.

Because turns out, kids don’t need perfect parents — just ones – who occasionally shut up and pass the syrup.