The Birmingham Dad Meetup: Letters for the Hard Days
Monthly updates from a space for dads and their little ones in Birmingham, AL
Saturday morning, my wife and I woke up tired. It’s as if our bodies are tuned into the days of the week. The body knows the weekend means it;’s time to rest—every body and everyone except the body of a toddler, who prances into our room like an alarm clock with legs, screaming, “The sun is up, the sun is up!” no matter what day it is.
I want to tell you I love this kind of wonder, a child who acts like every morning, the light that bleeds into his room is something he sees for the first time, but truthfully, I wish he would just stay in bed a little longer. We were up late last night because we had friends over. And every time, where our logic says if we sleep late, he will wake up later, toddler logic says “na.”
As soon as our friends left, my wife started the bedtime routine, and I ripped open a pack of thank-you cards I got from the dollar store earlier that day. For weeks, I had been trying to figure out what to do for the next dad meetup. Again, the same thoughts that circled around my brain last month came up. How do you plan something that will keep a bunch of dads engaged—especially with a bunch of toddlers running around?
Earlier in the week I began thinking about what I needed in this season of fatherhood. I thought about how hard some days feel: working full time and trying to be a present father, husband, and friend . I thought about every time we thought we had potty training down pat, wet underwear reminds me just not yet. I thought about the kind of math that happens when 1 +1 becomes 3, or how when my son was born I started to feel like I didn’t matter as much to anyone anymore, and how I wish someone told me I wasn’t alone. How I started to process this shift by writing to my son, when I really just needed someone to tell me “it’s going to be okay.”
Last night, after our friends left and my son and wife were asleep, I sat down with those thank-you cards and began writing the notes I wish someone would have taken the time to write to me—reminders of worth, reminders that fathers are loved even when they do not feel like it, reminders that sometimes showing up gets to be enough. I wrote that we are good fathers, even on the days when we struggle to believe it. I finished writing around midnight, and for the first time in weeks I slept through the night.
When Myles and I got to the library that morning, Ms. Carla was beaming. She was excited to see me, and even more excited to see Myles, who had missed the last meetup because he had a fever.
“Is this the famous Myles I have been hearing about?” she said, and Myles ran and hugged her like he had known her his whole short life.
If a good library is hard to find, a good librarian is even harder to come by—Ms. Carla is a gem. She told me she was going to reserve a room for us for the rest of the year, just for us. And something about that still warms my heart as I write this.
To be honest, I didn’t know who was going to show up. Only three people RSVP’d, and four of my friends who came last time said they weren’t able to make it. I usually leave the RSVPing to my wife, and I thought to myself, this must be what karma feels like.
But to my surprise, dads started rolling in—a couple from the last meetup, and mostly dads I’d never met. One came with a friend he’s known for twenty years. Another came with his daughter and son, who could’ve easily been the babysitters. Another brought coffee (thanks, Dan). Another, my neighbor, came with juice boxes and squeezes. And of course, every dad showed up with a little version of himself.
I smiled because I knew my letters weren’t going back home with me.
The space was filled with the smiles of fathers and their children, and the fatigue I had been feeling just melted away. I felt light. The conversations I overheard and the ones I was a part of reminded me that dads are looking for both care and community.
About forty-five minutes in, I asked the dads to introduce themselves, their kids, and to share a dad win. Some shared about finally getting their kids to use the toilet instead of diapers, while others said simply getting to the meetup on time was a win. I forgot to share mine, but I knew I did’t have too, because I was standing in it.
I thanked the dads for sharing their wins and told them I also knew there are moments that feel like wins but carry the weight of tough losses. Like when your child won’t go to sleep, or throws a tantrum because you won’t let them make snow angels in Target, or when you have to tell them they can’t wear the same underwear they wore yesterday.
I handed each of them a card and told them there was no money or gift card inside, but what it did hold was a note from a dad who wished he had received one of these on a hard day. I told them it was cheesy, barely legible, but it was for someone who knows what it feels like to sometimes feel invisible—someone who is always questioning whether they are a good father.
My favorite moment from the meetup came from a dad who had just wandered into the library with his family—let’s call him D. Carla was telling D about the meetup and when she made eye contact with me, she signaled me to come over. I told D what we were doing, and something about the questions he asked and how he stayed for the meetup let me know I was going to see him again. My last thank you card in my bag went to D, and as I handed it to him and explained what it was for, he smiled.
Saturday was a reminder that showing up in your truth gives others permission to do the same.
If you are a dad reading this, you’re doing a great job. You matter so much so much to world, but especially to the little person who calls you Dad.
Thank you for showing up. And if no one has told you they love you today, I do.
The next meetup is on March 21st and I can’t wait.
See ya’ll soon,
Marc
I’ll be using this part of the newsletter to share some recaps from the monthly meetings. Don’t worry, you’re already subscribed. You’ll continue to get the letters I’ve been writing to Myles, and now you’ll also get an update from the Birmingham Dad Meetup once a month.
If you’re a dad who happens to be in Birmingham, AL, or nearby at all, join the meetup page to stay connected about the monthly gatherings.
As always, thanks for being here.
Marc, this new project of yours makes my heart feel truly happy. What a gift for all involved, a low-stakes way to make connections, give moms a break if there's a mom back home, or dads vital companionship if they're with their kiddo(s) on their own. I seldom see this kind of open door opportunity for young parents. Your light is shining bright. In fact, it's brilliant!
Whether you see it now, later, or never, I want you to know that what you're doing is sacred work. I would have killed to have seen my husband doing this when our kids were young. Not just because of the break for me, but what it would have impressed upon him as being a part of something bigger than just an opportunity to not be alone. It's growing, dads. It's growing hearts and an opportunity to connect in ways they may feel freer to use in other parts of their lives. There's just no downside to that, for sure. Kudos, again, Marc. Sending love and prayers to each and every man and kiddo in that picture!