Surviving Fatherhood with Six Daughters

Four Lessons from the Trenches: Surviving Fatherhood with Six Daughters

When people hear I have six daughters, their reactions range from awe to horror. “How did you do it?” they ask. Well, let me tell you, it’s been a wild ride.

Here are four crucial lessons I’ve learned along the way:

1. Embrace the Chaos (and the Glitter)

Remember when your house was tidy? Yeah, me neither. With six girls, our home resembled a glitter bomb explosion in a hair accessory factory. I’ve found bobby pins in my cereal, mascara wands in the garage, and don’t even get me started on the bathroom counter. That’s before you get to the vehicles that experienced clothing changes, make-up while riding, soccer cleats, and cheerleading outfits.

My advice? Surrender to the chaos. As the great philosopher Taylor Swift once said, “Shake it off.” And by “it,” I mean the sparkles stuck to your work clothes.

2. Master the Art of Selective Hearing

Between the squeals, giggles, and occasional melodramatic sobbing, the noise level in our house could often rival a rock-n-roll concert. I’ve developed a superhuman ability to tune out everything except the important stuff – like “Dad, I need money” or “Dad, I crashed the car, again.”

As one wise man (probably another girl dad) said, “Silence is golden, but earplugs are silver.”

3. Become a Human ATM and Uber Driver

I promise you that my daughters thought I was made of money and had nothing better to do than chauffeur them around. Between dance recitals, soccer practice, volleyball games, birthday parties and mall trips, I’ve put more miles on my car than a long-haul trucker. All loudly and proudly earned.

Pro tip: Keep a stash of emergency cash in the glove compartment. You’ll thank me later when you’re making your third trip to the craft store in one day.

4. Learn to Let it Go (of Your Masculinity and Your Sanity)

There comes a time in every girl dad’s life when you have to embrace your feminine side. I’ve been roped into countless tea parties, makeovers, and Disney princess marathons. I can now braid hair, paint nails, and discuss the merits of various boy bands with alarming expertise.

As the former President (and fellow girl dad) Barack Obama once said, “We need to keep changing the attitude that raises our girls to be demure and our boys to be assertive.” Well, Mr. President, mission accomplished. My girls are anything but demure, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

In all seriousness, being a father to six daughters has been the most challenging, exhausting, and rewarding experience of my life. Yes, there are days when I fantasized about the peace and quiet of solitary confinement. But then one of my girls will give me a hug, tell me a joke, or ask for advice, and my heart melts all over again.

So to all the girl dads out there: Stay strong, stock up on coffee, and remember – one day, they’ll grow up and leave the house. And then you’ll miss all the chaos, glitter, and giggles. (At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.)

On a more serious note, being a father to six daughters is an incredible honor and privilege. Despite the challenges and occasional chaos, watching these amazing young women grow, learn, and become their own unique individuals is truly awe-inspiring. Each of our girls brings something special to our family, and I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything in the world.

As they mature and face life’s challenges, I’m constantly amazed by their strength, intelligence, and compassion. Yet, no matter how old they get or how independent they become, a part of me will always see them as my little Disney princesses. Those precious moments of childhood – the tea parties, the bedtime stories, the first dance recitals – are treasures I’ll carry in my heart forever. Being a girl dad has taught me more about love, patience, and the true meaning of family than I ever thought possible. So to all the daughters out there: know that in your father’s eyes, you’ll always be his little princess, even when you’re conquering the world.

Go in Peace, Chuck