There’s a subtle mistake a lot of us make on family adventures. We become the cameraman.

The hike starts, the beach day unfolds, the birthday candles get lit, and we’re behind a screen trying to capture it all. We tell ourselves we’re preserving memories. And we are. But we’re also missing pieces of them. There’s a better move.

Buy your kid a camcorder. Then make them the official family documentarian. It sounds simple. It is. And it changes more than you’d think.

The Problem With Dad Holding the Camera

When Dad runs the camera, Dad disappears from the footage. You get great clips of your kids jumping off docks and chasing waves. What you don’t get is you — laughing, wrestling, cannonballing, being fully present.

And if you’re honest, when you’re filming, you’re only half in the moment anyway. You’re adjusting angles. Checking focus. Making sure you “got it.” Hand the camera over, and something shifts.

You stop managing the memory. You start living it.

A Camcorder Changes How Kids See the World

Give a kid a camera and a normal Saturday becomes a mission.

They don’t just walk through the woods, they look for shots. They notice light coming through the trees. They film the dog shaking off water in slow motion. They zoom in on things you’d never think to capture. It trains attention. It builds awareness.

Instead of passively consuming the day, they start actively observing it. That’s a skill most adults are trying to relearn through meditation apps and productivity books. Kids can build it with a camera.

You’re Not Buying a Gadget — You’re Giving Responsibility

This isn’t about tech. It’s about trust.

When you hand your kid a camcorder and say, “You’re in charge of documenting today,” you’re sending a message:

  • I trust you with something valuable.
  • Your perspective matters.
  • You’re part of telling our story.

That’s a different level of ownership than just tagging along on a trip Dad planned. Kids rise to responsibility when we give it to them. Not perfectly. But meaningfully.

The Hidden Win: You Get to Be in the Frame

Here’s the part most dads don’t realize until later.

If you’re always filming, you’re rarely in the footage. Years from now, your kids won’t care about 4K resolution or cinematic angles. They’ll care that you were there…in the water, on the trail, at the table. When they’re the one holding the camera, you get to wrestle in the grass. You get to jump off the dock. You get to sit back at the campfire without thinking about storage space and battery life.

You get to be Dad, not the production crew.

Watching It Back Is the Real Magic

The best part happens later.

You sit down together and watch the footage. It’s shaky. The framing is off. There are 30 seconds of someone’s forehead. And it’s perfect. Because you’re seeing the day through their eyes.

What they chose to film says something about what mattered to them. What they ignored says something too. It’s a time capsule of their perspective at that exact age, something no perfectly edited highlight reel can replicate.

A Few Rules So You Don’t Ruin It

If you try this, keep it simple.

  • Don’t micromanage the shots.
  • Don’t critique the footage.
  • Don’t turn it into a film class.

Let it be messy. Messy is honest.

If they drop it or forget to hit record, that’s part of the learning. The goal isn’t perfect documentation. The goal is participation and ownership.

The Bigger Lesson

Modern parenting often swings between control and anxiety. We try to manage every detail, optimize every experience, preserve every memory. Giving your kid the camera is a small act of letting go.

You’re handing over control of the narrative, just a little. And in doing that, you gain something better: presence. You’ll end up with a collection of imperfect videos. But more importantly, you’ll have been fully inside the moments they captured.

And one day, when you watch those clips years later, you won’t just see what your family did.

You’ll see how your child saw you.

The other night I was in the garage, reorganizing absolutely nothing, when a song came on that I hadn’t heard in years.

It was Higher by Creed. Seventeen-year-old me used to blast it with the windows down, convinced I understood life. Then I grew up, discovered irony, and decided my music taste had “evolved.”

But standing there between a half-assembled shelf and a bag of grass seed, I didn’t skip it. I turned it up. And it sounded… good.

That’s when it hit me: something has shifted. Not dramatically. Not overnight. But steadily, quietly, over the past few years of becoming a dad.

I Get Choked Up Now

I was never the emotional guy.

  • Breakups? Managed.
  • Stress? Internalized.
  • Movies? Unmoved.

Now I find myself clearing my throat during car commercials. A dad teaching his daughter to drive. A kid hitting a game-winner while his parents lose their minds in the stands. The ending of Toy Story 3? Forget it.

Fatherhood doesn’t turn you fragile. It removes your emotional armor. Once you’ve held your own kid, the world feels more personal. Every story about a child hits closer. Every moment of pride feels earned.

You don’t cry because you’re weaker. You cry because you understand more.

I Care About Things I Used to Mock

I used to think adults were dramatic about household stuff. Now I have strong opinions about lawn stripes. About thermostat settings. About the correct way to load a dishwasher.

The house isn’t just a place anymore. It’s the backdrop of your kids’ childhood. It’s where scraped knees get cleaned up and bedtime stories get read. When something feels off, it’s not about control, it’s about stewardship.

You stop seeing chores as chores. You start seeing them as maintenance on the life you’re building.

Sleep Is a Performance Tool

In my twenties, I optimized for fun. Now I optimize for sleep. Seven and a half hours feels like a competitive advantage. Five hours feels like I’m negotiating a hostage situation with a toddler at 6:12 a.m.

Patience requires fuel. And kids burn through it fast.

My Social Life Got Smaller…And Better

Here’s one nobody talks about.

You don’t just lose time. You lose tolerance. I don’t want to sit around complaining about work, politics, or how “crazy things are right now.” If I’m leaving my house at night, which already feels like a logistical operation, I want to spend it around positive people who are getting after it.

Building something. Training for something. Thinking bigger. Being good dads. The circle gets smaller. But the quality goes up. You realize energy is finite. And who you spend it with matters.

Risk Feels Different

I still believe in big swings. Start the thing. Build the thing. Bet on yourself. But now there’s a second layer to the calculation. Before kids, failure bruised your ego. Now it affects the people who call you Dad.

That doesn’t make you timid. It makes you measured. You’re not less ambitious. You’re more responsible. The math changes when it’s not just your landing anymore.

Music From Your Past Sounds Different

When I was seventeen, Creed felt dramatic and intense.

Now it feels nostalgic. It reminds me of a version of myself who worried about curfews and college applications, not daycare costs and pediatrician copays. Listening to it doesn’t make me young again. It just connects me to who I’ve been.

You don’t go back to old songs because they’re cool. You go back because they anchor you.

The Shift No One Talks About

The biggest change isn’t your taste in music or your bedtime. It’s your tenderness.

You’re quicker to forgive. Slower to judge. More aware of how short everything is. You look at other kids and realize they’re someone’s whole world. You think about your own parents differently. You start to understand their worry, their exhaustion, their quiet sacrifices.

Becoming a dad didn’t harden me the way I expected. It deepened me. I didn’t lose my edge. I lost my indifference.

And honestly? That’s a trade I’ll take.

Parenting has seasons. Some feel light. Others feel heavy. Brooks Reitz understands both.

Brooks lives in Charleston, South Carolina, where he owns and operates multiple businesses across food, clothing, CPG, and writing. He’s also a husband and a dad to two kids, one six years old and one seventeen, which means he’s parenting in two very different worlds at the same time.

When Childhood Changes

When asked about the hardest part of parenting, Brooks doesn’t point to logistics or schedules. He points to something quieter.

Watching his children lose pieces of their innocence. It shows up when they realize some people suffer for no reason. When teasing happens at school. When the protective varnish of childhood starts to wear thin.

Brooks knows childhood is short, and seeing those shifts reminds him how fleeting it really is.

Leading by Example

The most rewarding part of parenting, for Brooks, is also layered.

He values being an example. Teaching humility, kindness, and manners. Not just saying those things matter, but living them in front of his kids and watching those lessons take root.

That kind of influence isn’t loud. It’s built slowly, over time.

What He Wishes He Knew

One thing Brooks wishes he’d understood sooner is something many parents learn the hard way. Teenagers don’t want to talk to you. Not because you did something wrong, but because they need space to form their own identity.

Letting go, without disengaging, becomes the work.

Advice That Stuck

Brooks became a father at a young age, and not under easy circumstances. During a difficult season, his mom gave him advice that’s stayed with him ever since.

“You’re only one workout away from a good mood.”

It wasn’t parenting advice on the surface, but it became foundational. Taking care of your body matters. Movement creates margin. Many parents would benefit from remembering that.

A Day Built on Rhythm

Brooks’ days run on routine, and that’s by design.

He’s up at 6am for coffee and reading while his wife meditates. Their six-year-old joins them downstairs around 6:45 for snuggles and breakfast. After school drop-off, Brooks heads to the gym, then back home to work.

He runs multiple businesses, mostly from home, working in focused blocks until lunch, which he prepares and eats with his wife. Afternoons bring more work, meetings, or writing. When his wife handles school pickup, Brooks uses that time to reset. A bike ride, a sauna, or a walk.

By late afternoon, the day slows. Family time. Dinner at 5:30. A walk around the block. Bedtime routines. Reading or a show. Lights out by 9.

It’s a schedule that works, and Brooks protects it.

Staying Grounded When Things Get Heavy

Balancing work, life, and family isn’t always smooth. Some seasons feel manageable. Others feel overwhelming. Brooks keeps his footing by returning to what gives him ballast.

Regular exercise. Time outdoors. Home-cooked food, heavy on vegetables and quality protein. Good sleep. Plenty of water. No alcohol. Sunshine and fresh air.

Nothing lasts forever, he reminds himself. Not the easy seasons. Not the hard ones.

Non-Negotiables That Matter

One rule stands firm in the Reitz household. Breakfast and dinner happen at the dining room table, together. No eating separately. No screens. No counter meals.

Those daily touchpoints matter more than they seem. When Brooks gets time alone, he keeps it simple. Long walks and hikes. Museum visits. Reading. Listening to music. Quiet pursuits that refill the tank.

Brooks’ approach to fatherhood isn’t flashy. It’s intentional, rhythmic, and grounded. A reminder that consistency, presence, and shared meals can quietly shape a beautiful life.

You can follow Brooks at @brooksreitz or read his newsletter A Small & Simple Thing on Substack.

If you want to be a better parent, here’s the uncomfortable truth:

You have to parent yourself first.

That’s not Instagram fluff. That’s straight from Daniel G. Amen, one of the most well-known brain doctors in the world — and a guy who’s spent decades studying how our thoughts literally shape our brains.

In a short but powerful clip making the rounds on Instagram, Dr. Amen drops a line every dad should sit with for a minute:

“You want to be a really good parent? Number one, you have to parent yourself.”

No toys. No hacks. No parenting tricks. Just you. And the voice in your head.

The Chatter That’s Always On

Dr. Amen asks a deceptively simple question:

What’s the chatter going on in your head like?

Is it:

  • Thoughtful?

  • Kind?

  • Loving?

  • Forgiving?

Or is it:

  • Harsh

  • Critical

  • Short-tempered

  • Always assuming the worst

Because here’s the part that hits hardest: That voice? That’s the voice your kids eventually inherit.

Not because you tell them to. But because they watch you live with it.

You’re Modeling More Than You Think

We spend a lot of time worrying about how we talk to our kids. But we spend almost no time thinking about how we talk to ourselves.

  • When you blow a fuse in traffic.
  • When you beat yourself up for missing a workout.
  • When you replay a mistake from work for the hundredth time.

Your kids are learning something in those moments.

They’re learning:

  • How men handle stress

  • How men respond to failure

  • How men speak to themselves when things don’t go their way

As Dr. Amen puts it, the first step to raising mentally strong kids is managing the thoughts in your own head.

Why This Comes From a Brain Doctor (Not a Motivational Poster)

Dr. Amen isn’t just tossing out feel-good advice.

He’s the founder of Amen Clinics and a pioneer in brain imaging using SPECT scans. His work has shown — over and over — that thought patterns physically affect the brain.

Negative self-talk isn’t just “in your head.”
It’s wiring your brain toward stress, anxiety, and reactivity.

And when dads live in that mode? Kids feel it.

Not because we’re bad fathers. But because brains are contagious.

A Simple Gut Check for Dads

Here’s a quick exercise worth trying tonight.

Ask yourself:

If I talked to my kid the way I talk to myself… would I be proud of that? If the answer makes you uncomfortable, good. That’s the work.

Parenting yourself doesn’t mean pretending everything is fine or chanting affirmations in the mirror.

It means:

  • Catching the spiral before it runs the show

  • Replacing “I’m screwing this up” with “I’m learning”

  • Coaching yourself the way you’d coach your son or daughter

Firm. Encouraging. On their side.

The Real Flex of Fatherhood

We all want confident, resilient kids. But confidence isn’t taught. It’s absorbed.

And resilience doesn’t come from perfect parents. It comes from watching imperfect parents regulate themselves, reset, and keep going.

That starts upstairs…in the six inches between your ears.

Dad Day Takeaway

Parenting isn’t just what you say to your kids. It’s what you say to yourself when no one’s listening.

Clean that up, and you’re already ahead of the game.

Raising kids while building something of your own is a constant balancing act. Charlie Lima knows that tension well.

Charlie lives in College Station, Texas, where he owns and operates a gym while raising four kids. Three boys, ages six, eight, and ten, and a thirteen-year-old daughter. Different stages. Different needs. All happening at once.

Holding the Line While Adapting

The hardest part of parenting, Charlie says, isn’t effort. It’s discernment.

He’s constantly navigating the space between how he was raised and how his kids need to be raised in a completely different time. The goal isn’t to copy and paste his childhood. It’s to carry forward the big themes and values, then shape them around the world his kids are growing up in.

That tension is ongoing. And intentional.

Why the Small Moments Matter

The most rewarding part of fatherhood for Charlie is the way his kids love. Purely. Loyally. Fully.

That loyalty makes even the smallest interactions meaningful. A hug. A quick conversation. A shared laugh. Those moments add up, even when the days feel long.

Becoming a dad also revealed something unexpected. How much patience parenting actually requires and how quickly kids expose perfectionism. With four kids, control disappears fast. Charlie admits he’s still working on both, but those lessons have made him a better father and a better person.

Showing Up for the Big Stuff

One piece of advice that stuck with Charlie came from a 2013 EntreLeadership Master Series. Dave Ramsey spoke on a panel with his daughter about work and family balance. When asked if her dad worked too much, she said yes, but added that he was always there for the big stuff.

That line stuck.

It stuck because Charlie’s own dad lived the same way. Self-employed. Building a business. Still coaching teams. Still showing up when it mattered. That example shaped how Charlie approaches fatherhood today.

You can’t be everywhere. But you can be present for what counts.

A Day in the Lima Household

Charlie’s days start early. His favorite part of the morning is when the kids wake up and find him at the table. Wrapped in blankets. Half asleep. Full hugs.

Before heading out, he kisses his daughter on the cheek while she’s still sleeping. Then the day begins.

If he’s home before dark, he’s in the front yard playing football with the boys. Evenings mean dinner together, baths, and bedtime. Charlie and his wife tuck the kids in together every night and pray with them before sleep.

It’s a rhythm. One built on consistency.

Navigating Busy Seasons

Owning a business pulls you in multiple directions, and Charlie doesn’t pretend otherwise. The biggest blessing, he says, is how he and his wife, Alicia, complement each other.

When the gym needs more from him, she carries more at home. When things are lighter, he steps back in. Communication is key, especially during heavier seasons when missing things at home hurts the most. They navigate it together.

Resetting and Staying Grounded

About a year and a half ago, Charlie found a reset that stuck. Sauna and cold plunge sessions at Sweatscape. It’s become a grounding ritual. Every time he leaves, he feels renewed.

Physically and mentally.

Non-Negotiables

Charlie’s non-negotiables are clear and deeply rooted. Hugs and kisses. Saying “I love you” often. Tucking the kids in every night. Praying together. Being present. Providing.

When he gets time alone, it usually involves movement. CrossFit. Running. Ironman training. Sauna and cold plunge.

Charlie’s story is a reminder that fatherhood isn’t about perfection or control. It’s about presence, patience, and showing up for the moments your kids will remember.

You can follow him at @trainwithcharlie.

Most parenting advice is optional.

This isn’t.

In this Instagram video, Dr. Michael Milobsky—pediatrician, dad of seven, and someone who’s actually had to use these skills—breaks down the three things every parent needs to know about choking.

He’s not speculating. He’s not repeating a checklist. He’s telling you what saved his own child’s life.

Watch the Video

Video and profile screenshot courtesy of Michael Milobsky, MD (@pedsatthemeadows).

Why This Video Matters

Choking doesn’t give you time to Google. By the time you call 911, the damage may already be done. That’s why knowing what to do immediately matters more than knowing what to do perfectly.

Dr. Milobsky’s video cuts through panic and focuses on action—what actually works when a child is choking in front of you.

The Big Idea

Most choking incidents:

  • Happen at home

  • Involve toddlers

  • Occur when kids are eating and moving

The goal isn’t to be calm. The goal is to be decisive.

As Dr. Milobsky explains, hesitation—or doing the wrong thing with good intentions—can make a bad situation worse.

The 3 Rules Every Dad Should Know

1. Don’t Blindly Stick Your Finger in Their Mouth

This is the instinct. And it’s dangerous.

A child’s airway isn’t straight—it’s shaped like a funnel. If you can’t see the object, blindly sweeping with your finger can push it deeper and lodge it permanently.

Rule:
👉 Only try to remove it if you can clearly see and grab it.

2. If They’re Coughing or Making Noise—Let Them

Noise is good.

If your child is coughing, gagging, or making sounds, their body is still working to clear the airway.

Rule:
👉 Don’t interfere yet. Let them cough.

No sound = it’s time to act.

3. Back Blows First, Then Abdominal Thrusts

If your child can’t breathe or make noise:

Step one:
Deliver firm back blows between the shoulder blades. Harder than feels comfortable.

If that doesn’t work:

Step two:
Perform abdominal thrusts just below the breastbone—forcefully, in and up.

That exact sequence is what dislodged the food and saved Dr. Milobsky’s own child.

The Most Important Prevention Tip

Almost every choking incident Dr. Milobsky has seen—including in his own home—had the same setup: A child walking around while eating.

Kids should eat:

  • Sitting down

  • Staying still

  • Fully focused

No snacks on the move. No bites during play.

Simple rule. Massive payoff.

The Real Takeaway

This video isn’t meant to scare you. It’s meant to prepare you.

  • Watch it.
  • Rewatch it.
  • Send it to your partner.

And then hope you never need it.

There’s a certain honesty you only get from musicians who’ve lived a few lives. Tony Kamel fits squarely in that camp.

Tony writes and performs songs for a living. Some people even listen. He’s toured, recorded, chased the dream, and done the unglamorous work that keeps the lights on. Now, he’s also a dad navigating a very different kind of stage.

Tony lives in the Austin, Texas area with his wife and their four-year-old daughter. Their second child is arriving this February. When asked what the hardest part of parenting has been, he doesn’t romanticize it.

Everything is hard. Once you accept that hard is the baseline, it oddly gets easier. That mindset shift matters, especially in the early years. Sleep deprivation, he admits, is a real personality test.

Finding Meaning in the Small Stuff

For Tony, the most rewarding part of fatherhood isn’t the big milestones. It’s the small moments that show up quietly and disappear just as fast.

Right now, he’s his daughter’s favorite person in the world. He knows that season has an expiration date, and instead of fighting it or brushing past it, he’s choosing to enjoy it fully.

That awareness runs through how he approaches both parenting and work.

How Fatherhood Changed His Career

Before becoming a dad, Tony didn’t realize how much parenting would reshape his relationship with touring. It didn’t end his career, but it did change how it feels.

He still tours, just less. Not because he can’t do it, but because he doesn’t love it the same way anymore. There’s more guilt now. More awareness of what he’s missing. In his words, it’s a total blessing, even if it comes with tradeoffs. He also notes, with dry humor, that the middle-class touring world has mostly disappeared anyway.

Fatherhood didn’t shrink his ambition. It refined it.

The Best Advice He Ever Got

The advice that stuck with Tony is short and absolute.

Never go against your wife’s motherly instincts. Ever. Not even a little.

It’s a reminder that partnership matters, and that parenting works best when trust runs both ways.

A Typical Dad Day

Tony describes his days as suburban bliss. Early mornings, coffee and breakfast, school drop-off, yoga if he’s lucky, then work. It’s not flashy. It’s steady.

When work, life, and family all collide, he admits he doesn’t juggle it gracefully. Balls get dropped. Chaos shows up. The key is getting better at picking things back up and riding the wave instead of fighting it. His wife, who he describes as wildly organized, is the anchor. Without her, the operation falls apart.

Yoga and meditation help too, but he’s clear about what really keeps things moving. Teamwork.

Dad Life Non-Negotiables

Tony’s non-negotiable is one every parent recognizes instantly. If his daughter wants a song repeated, he repeats it. Even when it’s annoying.

He remembers what it felt like to be obsessed with a song as a kid. That joy, that sense of wonder, matters more than convenience.

When he gets time alone, his guilty pleasure isn’t glamorous. He paints houses. It’s a survival job. Not very rock-and-roll. Extremely relaxing. Especially the part where he’s not broke.

Playing the Long Game

Tony’s story is a reminder that fatherhood doesn’t end creative ambition. It reframes it. The wins get quieter. The priorities shift. The meaning deepens.

He’s still writing songs. Still performing. Still building a life that works for this season.

You can follow Tony at @tonykamelmusic.

When I first read Shoe Dog, I wasn’t looking for parenting advice. I was looking for business inspiration—grit, risk, vision, all that good stuff.

But halfway through the book, somewhere between maxed-out credit cards and Nike barely surviving another year, it hit me: This isn’t just a startup memoir. It’s a fatherhood book—just written sideways. Not about kids. About the kind of man kids grow up watching.

The Real Theme of Shoe Dog: Living With Uncertainty

Strip away the swooshes and success and Shoe Dog is really about doubt. Long stretches where nothing feels impressive. Years where the outcome is unclear.

Phil Knight didn’t have a master plan. He didn’t know Nike would work. He just kept moving forward anyway.

That’s dad life.

Most days of fatherhood don’t feel heroic. They feel uncertain. You wonder if you’re doing enough, if you’re screwing it up, if everyone else somehow knows what they’re doing better than you.

Here’s the comfort Shoe Dog offers dads: you don’t need certainty. You need commitment.

Progress Beats Confidence (A Dad Skill No One Teaches)

Knight didn’t wait until he felt ready. He shipped, adjusted, survived another year, and did it again.

Parenting works the same way. You don’t become a great dad because you read the right books or feel confident all the time. You become a great dad because you keep showing up without guarantees.

You don’t know how your kid will turn out. You don’t know which moments will matter most. You don’t know if today’s choice was the “right” one.

Neither did Phil Knight. He just didn’t quit.

The Myth of “Having It Together”

From the outside, Nike looks inevitable. From the inside, according to Shoe Dog, it was chaos held together by belief and stubbornness. That’s true for dads, too.

Your kids don’t see your inner doubts. They see whether you try. Whether you recover. Whether you keep going when things are hard.

That’s the lesson. Not perfection. Not confidence. Momentum.

Playing the Long Game Without a Scoreboard

One of the most underrated ideas in Shoe Dog is patience. Nike didn’t win quickly. It survived, then survived again, then survived some more.

Fatherhood has the same timeline. There’s no scoreboard. No quarterly results. No applause. Just quiet consistency. Bedtime stories. Car rides. Regular Tuesdays that don’t feel special until years later.

You’re building something you won’t fully see for decades. That’s not inefficiency. That’s legacy.

Identity Matters More Than Outcomes

Phil Knight wasn’t obsessed with being rich. He was obsessed with running, with craft, with building something meaningful. Good dads aren’t obsessed with outcomes either. They care about being steady, being available, being someone their kids feel safe copying.

You don’t need to be extraordinary. You need to be clear on who you are.

If Shoe Dog Had Dad Advice

If that book could talk, it would probably say this:

  • Don’t wait until you feel ready. Build anyway.
  • Your kids don’t need a finished product. They need a builder—someone willing to try, fail, learn, and keep going.

That’s the real win.

My Takeaway

We don’t need more parenting hacks. We need more long-term thinkers. More builders. More dads willing to live unfinished lives out loud. Because one day, your kid will look back and realize you didn’t have it all figured out, but you never stopped showing up.

That’s a hell of a legacy.

If you’ve ever seen a photo that made you want to quit your job, buy a Sprinter, and chase cold waves until your eyelashes freeze, chances are Chris Burkard took it. The world-famous photographer and filmmaker from Pismo Beach has turned remote landscapes into a global calling card. But behind the wild adventures is a dad with two boys who is still figuring out the playbook like the rest of us.

And that is exactly why this Q&A hits.

Who Is Chris Burkard (Beyond the Screensavers)

Burkard is the guy brands call when they need a shot of someone doing something incredible in a place most of us only see on postcards. His images show the edges of the world, but his life at home is surprisingly grounded. He is a surfer, a husband, and a dad trying to raise two boys with wonder instead of worry.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by ChrisBurkard (@chrisburkard)

The Q&A

When you ask Chris Burkard about the hardest part of parenting, he barely pauses. This is a man who has stood on icebergs and photographed storms, yet fatherhood still brought him to his knees in a way the Arctic never could. He told us the real challenge was accepting that he had no idea what he was doing and learning, slowly, that the early years he once feared were unappreciated were actually the moments that mattered most.

Chris grew up without a father, so he had no blueprint to follow. Every chapter he is writing now, he is writing for the first time. And the thing he learned early is this: showing up is the job.

Ask him about the rewards and his shoulders drop a little, the way people soften when they talk about the good stuff. For Chris, the payoff is watching his boys find joy. Not achievements or polished milestones.

Pure, unfiltered joy. Laughing together. Losing themselves in awe, even when the house feels chaotic. Coming from a guy who has chased awe across continents, it says something that the best version of it still happens in his living room.

If he could go back and tell his younger self something, it would be this: your kids might become your best friends.

It is a truth no one tells you when you’re knee deep in diapers, but it hits like a warm wave once you’re there.

One piece of advice stuck with him through the years. Someone once told him that being a dad is not an old man’s job. He carries that line like a compass. You don’t wait for the perfect moment, the perfect bank account, or the perfect career arc. You learn to parent in the mess. And sometimes the mess ends up being beautiful.

A typical day in the Burkard house reads exactly how you hope it might. He drops off his oldest son at school, then sneaks in an hour-long surf before the emails and projects take over. His wife handles the younger one’s school run. Midday is work. Afternoon folds into pickup, food, sports, more food, and the nightly wind-down.

For all the airports and expeditions, the rhythm at home is familiar to every dad. It is proof that even the world’s most adventurous photographer still spends half his life in the same cycle the rest of us do.

Balancing work, life, and family for Chris starts with a simple practice: knowing what he needs each day to show up well. Some days that means sleeping in. Other days it is a three-hour bike ride. The point, he says, is to advocate for your needs and communicate clearly with your partner. Burnout is real, and the best way to fight it is honesty.

His reset button is easy to imagine. The ocean. Even a few minutes in the water recalibrates him. It reminds him what matters.

The one non-negotiable in his dad life is time with his kids doing something that costs nothing. Teaching them how to have fun in nature. Passing down the kind of joy you cannot buy.

And when he is solo on the road, he laughs at himself a little. He admits he spends way too much on boujee snacks and great coffee. Every dad has a weakness. His just happens to taste better.

THE TAKEAWAY

Chris Burkard travels farther than most of us ever will, but his parenting philosophy is simple. Show up. Keep wonder alive. Invest in the moments that cost nothing and matter most. The world will always pull, but the real adventure is at home. Follow Chris here.

If you know country music, you know Midland. The retro-leaning, tequila-toting, Grammy-nominated trio built their whole brand on style, swagger, and storytelling. And behind the bass, and behind the camera for many of their videos, is today’s RAD Dad: Cam Duddy.

Cam lives in that rare overlap where creative careers, family life, and school schedules all collide. One minute he’s on stage or directing a shoot. The next he’s at the bus stop. It’s a very specific kind of juggling act, and he makes it work without pretending it’s glamorous.

Parenting’s Hardest Part

Staying consistent with the school routine. This is the universal dad battle. The spelling lists, the reading logs, the forms that magically regenerate every week. Even rockstars have to track homework.

Parenting’s Best Part

Watching his kids become their own people. No crafting them into performers, no forcing the family business. Just observing two young humans figure out who they are.

What He Wishes He Knew Before Fatherhood

That it goes fast. The kind of fast where ages 5 and 9 arrive before you figured out where the toddler years went.

Dad Advice That Stuck

Try everything. Give kids as many experiences as possible. Not to manufacture prodigies, but to help them build range, confidence, and curiosity.

A Day in the Duddy Household

  • Wake up
  • Coffee
  • School drop-off
  • Work
  • Bus stop pickup
  • Dinner
  • Focus on the kids until they’re down for the night

This is the blueprint. Routine as an anchor, no matter how unpredictable the entertainment world gets.

How He Handles the Pile-Up

He schedules his days. Not in a productivity-guru way. More in a “this is how things don’t fall apart” way.

His Reset Button

Sauna time. Sweat, quiet, heat. A simple ritual for recalibrating when life gets loud.

His Non-Negotiable

Dinner is family time. Everyone present, even if dinner looks like a half-chopped rotisserie chicken and baby carrots.

When He Finally Gets Time Alone

He reads. And he does not want to be interrupted. Every dad deserves a sanctified hobby.

Where to Find Him

@cameronduddy

Dad Day Takeaway

Cam proves that being a great dad isn’t about slowing life down. It’s about keeping the parts that matter steady, even when the rest of your world is moving at tour speed. Family time, real presence, shared meals, repeat. That is the craft.