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Monday, February 3, 2014

What is a Renaissance Dad?

The question has arisen - What is a Renaissance Dad? How did I come up with that name for this blog?

When I think of Renaissance men, I think of Leonardo DaVinci and Michelangelo, the turtles who used the swords and nunchucks. If you don't get that reference, you're either too old, too young, or too female. Of course I'm referring to the polymaths of Italian descent who were known to be experts in many different fields. While I'm not quite delusional enough to place myself in the same category as these two great thinkers, I do find that through a lot of studying, research, and trial and error, I am able to be successful in many different things.

A Renaissance Dad uses power tools AND wears princess bandages
My flavor of Renaissance Dad is kind of a combination of Norm Abrams, Dave the Garden Guy, Atticus Finch, Norman Rockwell, and James Bond. I love building things, spending time with my family, taking my girls on "dates," gardening, milking cows, reading, cooking with my wife, making stained glass, and volunteering in my community. A Renaissance Dad has varying interests, does not give up when he fails (which he does a lot), but rather uses these opportunities as learning experiences, and most importantly, enjoys learning new things. A Renaissance Dad has no problem crying at the national anthem, especially when it's for the first football game of the season. In fact, I could give you a whole list of things that I cry for, which partially includes:
  • Listening to the aforementioned National Anthem 
  • Thinking about a daughter's future wedding day (my daughters are 3 and 5, so this is WAY in the future)
  • Saying goodbye to a power tool that has been through many house projects but no longer works
  • Watching Rocky I and IV
  • Thinking about my two brothers serving in the Army (with a combined 3 tours overseas)
However, a Renaissance Dad does not cry because of the occasional power tool injury.

My daughters regularly bandage me up when I injure myself. The first time my oldest put a princess bandage on my finger, I was embarrassed.  I thought, "I can't go out in public with a princess bandage. I'm a grown man." But then I had an epiphany. I am a grown man with daughters who love me enough to care for me, and I can show them love by appreciating their care and not letting my pride get in the way. So I now wear my princess bandages with pride. They are indicative of my battle wounds, and a reminder to be a little more careful next time because I am not just a Renaissance man, but a Renaissance dad. I have a family that needs me, little hands that love holding mine, and I need to take care of myself so I am here for them for a long, long time.

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