Growing up, my dad had a handful of sayings he’d repeat to us before school, parties, or big events. Whether it was “read the damn problem” before a test, “proper planning prevents poor performance” before a speech or game, or “the hurrier I go, the behinder I get” when we rushed through something and made it worse — they were endless.
And, in my adolescence, admittedly annoying. But one that’s always stuck with me is: “Remember who you are, and where you came from.” That one usually came out before dates, going to a “friend’s house” (aka party) in high school, or leaving for college.
It was my dad’s simple reminder that our actions reflected not just on us, but on our family — and that first impressions are what reputations are built on.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve started to see that phrase differently. Whether it’s in a job search, finding a spouse, or becoming a dad, the best thing you can do is know who you are, be proud of that, and stick to your values. When something doesn’t sit right, have the courage to speak up — but also the humility to listen and respect a different perspective.
Now, as a new father, that saying hits even deeper. It makes me think about how I want my kids to remember me — how I make them feel. I want to be the kind of supportive dad mine was: someone they can come to with anything.
And while discipline has its place, love and understanding should always lead the way. For others, “remember who you are and where you came from” might mean something entirely different — maybe it’s a promise to never return to a painful place or mindset. And that’s just as meaningful.
In the end, that phrase can mean many things to many people — and that’s the beauty of it. But I do believe it’s one of the most important lessons we can pass down to the next generation.
I never set out to become an expert in health insurance. I just wanted to take care of my family and not feel like I was lighting money on fire every month. If you’re self-employed, you know the drill. Every year it’s the same dance: compare plans, fill out forms, get hit with a number that makes you say, “There’s no way that’s right.”
For years, I paid over a grand a month for coverage that somehow didn’t cover anything. I’d get bills that made no sense, sit on hold for hours, and still end up paying for stuff I thought was included.
It’s the one part of being a dad and a business owner that always made me feel helpless. No matter how hard I worked, this one system had me beat.
One afternoon, I was sitting at the kitchen table doing that dreaded math again. Premiums, deductibles, out-of-pocket limits, and whatever else they can think up to confuse you. I just thought, this is insane.
I’d rather take that money and buy peace of mind somewhere else.
That’s when I found CrowdHealth.
At first, I figured “community health” was just another gimmick. It sounded like one of those vague startup ideas that disappears in six months. But I started reading, watched a few interviews, talked to a couple of members, and it just made sense. It was simple, transparent, and cheaper.
So I joined.
Within a month, my costs dropped by about 40 percent. My family of four went from paying $1,000 to under $600. And if something major happens, my max out-of-pocket is $500.
That’s it. No fine print. No “actually, that’s not covered.”
I still remember talking to my wife after that first month and saying, “I think this might actually work.”
The biggest game changer has been the virtual care.
With two little kids, someone is always coughing, sneezing, or breaking out in a rash. Now, instead of packing everyone in the car for urgent care, I just open the app, hop on a call, and talk to a real doctor. Usually within minutes.
They take their time, ask real questions, and if we need a prescription, it’s handled right there. It’s easily the most dad-friendly system I’ve ever used.
(And just to be clear, if it’s an emergency, you go to the ER. No question. This just covers everything else that makes parenthood a constant game of “Is this serious or just Tuesday?”)
But what really sold me wasn’t the cost or convenience. It was the community.
A few months back, I got an email from CrowdHealth about a woman who lost her husband unexpectedly. Members could chip in to support her as she faced life grieving an unimaginable loss while taking care of two little boys. My wife and I sent a little bit through Venmo.
It wasn’t much, but it felt right.
When was the last time your insurance company asked you to help someone instead of sending you another bill? That moment made it feel less like a system and more like a circle. Real people helping each other out.
I don’t usually write stuff like this, but switching to CrowdHealth has been one of the best calls I’ve made. Not just for our budget, but for my sanity. It’s simple. It’s human. And it doesn’t make me feel like I’m getting hustled every month.
I used to think traditional insurance was the responsible thing to do. Now I think being responsible means finding something that actually works.
So yeah, I’m not going back.
“Peace of mind shouldn’t cost more than your mortgage.”
Being a dad means protecting your family. Sometimes that means finding a smarter way to do it, even if it means walking away from the system everyone else says you need.
Editor’s Note:
Yep, we use CrowdHealth ourselves here at Dad Day. It’s been a game-changer for our own families, which is why we’re comfortable sharing this story.
If you want to give it a try, you can use our code DADDAY for a 3 month discount on your membership.
I’m assuming most of the dad’s out there had a pretty similar experience to learning as I did growing up. From elementary school to high school and any schooling thereafter, they all had a certain rhythm—the teacher or professor gives a lesson, you take notes (or, like me, you don’t), maybe you ask a question or two (or, like me, you don’t), then there’s a quiz to check progress, and finally The Big Test to see what you’ve learned.
It’s predictable—you study, you prepare, and you take the test. In theory, you know what’s coming (or, like me, you don’t do any of these and simply hope your guessing game is on point on test day).
But fatherhood? Oh man, fatherhood completely rewrites that playbook.
- In school, you learn the lesson, then take the test.
- In parenting, you get tested and then learn the lesson.
There’s no syllabus for this parenting thing. No heads-up before a pop quiz. No cramming for The Big Test.
In school, there’s consistency. Two plus two equals four, every time. The War of 1812 happened in 1812 every time (right?).
But parenting? Every child and situation is slightly unique and hardly anything is consistent. It’s almost impossible to prepare or know what’s coming and when.
Rarely, if ever, are two similar situations even remotely the same when you’re dealing with kids’ personalities, temperament, age, etc. When it’s time to take a bath, one kid may throw a temper tantrum while another may happily sprint to the bath to play in the water. That could all be completely different the next day.
There’s no consistency.
One day you’re coasting, thinking you’ve finally figured out this whole dad thing and the next, your toddler is having a meltdown in Target because you picked the wrong color of sippy cup.
Test administered. Lesson pending.
There’s No Study Guide for Fatherhood
Fatherhood is a lifelong series of pop quizzes and surprise tests. You don’t know when they’re coming or what subject they’ll be covering. Some are small—like realizing too late that nap time is sacred and should never, ever be disturbed. Others are bigger—like figuring out how to stay calm when your child says something hurtful or when your teenager makes a mistake that genuinely scares you.
These tests don’t come with a study guide. You can’t tell your toddler mid-tantrum to hold still for a second while you review the lesson plan for Tantrums In Target. And, unlike school, there’s no clear right or wrong answer. Sometimes you get it right by instinct, and sometimes you don’t.
So, as you’re standing in the middle of Target and after the tantrum finally gets to be too much, you lose your patience and say something you shouldn’t have, and you inevitably feel the sting of guilt afterwards.
Test failed.
Or, you get tested in a different way, one that on the surface seems like an easy A—your child is having a problem and you fix it. I mean, you’re Dad, right? You’re the parent who tries to fix every problem for your kids. That’s great until you realize later on that in order for them to succeed, they need to stumble a bit on their own. Although you had good intentions and a soft heart, you ended up taking the accomplishment away from them.
Another test failed.
(I’ll be the first to admit that this test is difficult for me to pass.)
In both cases, unlike school, the lesson is learned after the test.
You can’t mentally prepare for every situation because rarely will it happen how or when you thought it would. You just experience them as they happen, mess up, and grow from them.
Failing The Test Is Okay
Not all failure is equal.
In school, failure feels like a fixed trait. You bombed the test, your grade drops, your confidence takes a hit, and you live the rest of your days believing that History just isn’t your subject (or mine, in this case) and never will be. But in fatherhood, failure doesn’t feel so final. If used properly, it feels more like growth. It’s like you already know failure is part of the deal; it’s part of the curriculum. You’re expecting it but just hoping you don’t fall on your face too hard.
You fail, you reflect, you repair, and that is the learning.
You learn patience by losing it. You learn empathy by forgetting to show it. You learn the power of words by saying the wrong ones.
The test comes first. Then the lesson.
Who Needs a Study Guide Anyway?
As I’ve been on this dad journey for nearly two years now, I’m slowly realizing that this backward way of learning may actually be better. School prepared me to get the right answer. Fatherhood is teaching me to keep trying even when I don’t have it.
So, if you’re feeling like you’re constantly being tested and don’t have the right answers and are failing the tests—it’s okay. With each failure, you’re learning how to pass the next time.
And remember, we’re all learning as we go. Nobody has this dad thing figured out beforehand.
Oh, and don’t forget to suck up to the teacher (read: your spouse). If you do it right, it can help improve your grades (read: your life).
I can’t believe I’m even writing this. Seven years ago, I was holding a newborn and wondering how anyone does this whole “dad” thing. Now, my wife and I are getting ready for our third. It goes fast.
Everyone tells you that, but you never really believe it until you look up and realize your baby is riding a bike, correcting your grammar, or asking questions that make you pause before answering.
Seven years in, here’s what I know for sure.
1. It Goes Way Too Fast
You blink and they’ve changed. The nights feel long, but the years? They vanish. I still remember thinking I’d never sleep again, that my life was permanently on pause.
But now my seven-year-old is sixty pounds and half my height, and I honestly don’t know when the last time I carried him was. No one ever tells you when the last backyard game with your neighborhood crew happens. It’s the same with holding your kids. One day it’s just… the last time, and you don’t realize it until much later.
Don’t rush through the hard parts. Don’t wish for the next stage. Soak in the one you’re in, even if it’s messy, loud, and exhausting. Because it’s quietly slipping away while you’re busy trying to survive it.
2. Kids Are Amazing Teachers
I thought parenting was about what I would teach them. Turns out, it’s the opposite. Kids are little mirrors. They reflect your best traits and your worst habits. They remind you to slow down, to laugh at dumb jokes, to actually watch the sunset instead of just snapping a picture of it.
They’ll humble you, test you, and somehow make you better without ever saying a word.
3. Change Comes From Wanting, Not Needing
I’ve changed, not because I was forced to, but because I wanted to. Kids don’t demand perfection. They demand presence (a lot of it). And that quietly forces you to grow up in the best way possible.
I care more about patience now (and the pursuit of it). About legacy. About how I show up. Parenthood doesn’t rewrite who you are; it refines it.
4. The Connection Takes Time
It took me until my kids were around two to feel like a real dad. The love was always there, but the connection changed. At first, it’s survival mode. You’re tired, confused, and mostly wondering if you’re doing any of it right. But then one day, they say “Daddy,” or reach for your hand, or tell you they love you out of nowhere, and it clicks.
It’s not instant for everyone, and that’s okay. The bond grows with time, not just proximity.
5. Some Days Are Really Hard
There are days when parenting feels like the heaviest weight in the world. You’ll lose your patience, question yourself, and wonder what happened to the version of life that felt simpler. And that’s normal. Sometimes I look back at life before kids, not out of regret, but curiosity. Who was that guy who had time to think, sleep, and shower in peace?
Here’s the truth: life didn’t get easier, but it did get richer. Every hard day is still a day with your kid in it. That perspective helps.
6. Take a Breath. They’re Clueless.
Kids don’t know what they don’t know. They’re figuring it out as they go, just like we are. When they spill, cry, lie, or melt down, it’s not personal. It’s human.
Take a breath. Remember they’re learning how to be people. And we’re learning how to be parents. Grace goes both ways.
7. It’s an Honor
Parenting isn’t just a job. It’s an honor. We get to shape these tiny humans. We get to model how to love, how to fail, how to get back up. That’s heavy, sure, but it’s also incredible.
Our kids won’t remember every toy or trip. They’ll remember how we made them feel. That’s the real work.
The Takeaway
Seven years in, I don’t have all the answers. Some days I feel like I’m crushing it; others, like I’m one tantrum away from a breakdown.
But I do know this: fatherhood isn’t about being perfect. It’s about wanting to be the best dad you can be. So take the photo. Read the book twice. Be the calm in the storm.
It’s going fast. Don’t miss the good stuff trying to get to the next thing. Easier said than done, but definitely something to strive for.
I have a picture of Ham Porter in my boys’ bathroom. He’s standing there, pointing to the outfield, mid-smack talk, big grin on his face. Every time I take care of business in their bathroom, I’m reminded of something simple: The Sandlot gets it right.
That movie isn’t just about baseball. It’s about friendship, courage, and figuring out who you are. Pretty much everything that matters in life, especially for dads raising boys.
Here’s what that movie keeps teaching me.
1. Every kid just wants a team
Scotty Smalls moves to a new town. No friends. No skills. Total outsider. But when Benny invites him to play, none of the other kids care how bad he is. They just want to know if he’ll show up tomorrow. That’s the secret to fatherhood too. Your kid doesn’t need the perfect dad. He needs the one who shows up. The one who picks up the glove and plays catch, even when he’s tired.
2. Let them get dirty
That sandlot field was a wreck. Uneven dirt. Rusty fence. Half the gear probably stolen from a garage. But it worked because the kids made it theirs. We’ve turned childhood into a safety seminar. Hand sanitizer, supervision, rules for everything. Kids need dirt. They need bumps and bruises. That’s how they figure out what they can handle.
3. Every kid needs a Benny
Benny “The Jet” Rodriguez saw something in Smalls before Smalls saw it himself. That’s the blueprint for being a dad. Your job isn’t to control the game. It’s to see the spark in your kid and fan it until it catches. Let them dream. Let them try. Be the guy in their corner saying, “You got this.”
4. Let them chase the beast
The boys spend half the movie running from that dog. Then one day they stop running. That’s the moment they grow up. Courage isn’t about being fearless. It’s about doing the thing anyway. As dads, our job isn’t to protect our kids from every fear. It’s to teach them how to walk toward it.
5. The game ends, but the story doesn’t
By the end, the field is gone. The boys grow up. Smalls calls games from the booth. Benny steals home. Different roles. Same team. That’s the goal for all of us. Our kids won’t need us forever, but if we do it right, they’ll still want us around.
The takeaway:
Every time I see that picture of Ham pointing to the outfield, I think about how simple it really is. Show up. Let them get dirty. Teach them to chase what scares them. Believe in them when they don’t yet believe in themselves.
That’s fatherhood.
Go outside. Throw the ball. Talk some smack. Laugh a little. Those moments build more than memories. They build men.
“Good manners never go out of style. They just evolve — especially when your kids are watching.”
Why This Matters
GQ recently dropped their “125 Rules for the Modern Gentleman (2025)”, a monster list of life lessons for men who want to lead with a mix of style, empathy, and self-respect. But let’s be real, dads operate in a different arena. We’re the ones modeling how to treat people, how to handle chaos, and how to stay decent when the world’s spinning sideways.
So we pulled the rules that hit home hardest for dads: the ones that matter at home, on the sidelines, or in the school pickup line.
GQ’s Modern Gentleman Rules — Dad Day Edition
1. Take out your AirPods when you’re talking to someone.
Muting isn’t the same as being present. When you’re with your kids or your partner, ditch the distractions. Listening is the new flex.
2. Hold the door — no matter who’s behind you.
Courtesy and respect never go out of fashion. Your kids are always watching, and chivalry looks damn good on dads.
3. If you’re walking with someone, don’t be on your phone.
Family walks, school drop-offs, or grocery runs — be the dad who gives his attention, not just his presence.
4. Send thank-you notes.
A handwritten thank-you after a birthday, favor, or playdate stands out. It’s gratitude in ink — and a lost art worth reviving.
5. Never ask why someone’s not drinking.
Respect is the rule, not the exception. Whether it’s a buddy at a cookout or a parent at soccer practice, model what empathy looks like.
6. Teach your kids to introduce people.
When you bring your kid into a conversation, model how to include others. It’s a small move that makes everyone feel seen — from in-laws to teachers.
7. Stay calm when plans fall apart.
Flight delays, rained-out games, broken toys — all opportunities to show patience. Stoicism isn’t cold; it’s leadership under pressure.
8. Dress with intention — even at home.
Effort matters. The goal isn’t vanity; it’s setting the tone. Show your kids that how you present yourself reflects how you feel inside.
9. Offer your seat to someone who needs it.
Pregnant, elderly, or just struggling — stand up. It’s basic decency that builds better humans, one small act at a time.
10. Don’t blast your music or calls in public.
Because the world doesn’t need your playlist or your Bluetooth convo. Teach awareness beyond your own bubble.
The Dad Takeaway
You don’t need 125 rules — just a few you actually live by. These simple, steady habits teach your kids more about character than any lecture ever could. Start small. Hold the door. Say thank you. Stay calm. That’s the real “modern gentleman” playbook.
Credit: Adapted from GQ’s “125 Rules for the Modern Gentleman” (2025). All original ideas and source material belong to GQ. We’ve reimagined a handful for modern dads who want to lead with presence, patience, and style.