Three Tips On Making These The Best Times To Be A Parent
Jeff Nelligan • April 26, 2020
As my Army Drill Sergeant used to say:
"Don’t count the days, make the days count."
There are two types of parents today.
The first is the Dad or Mom who is hurting; a lost job and strained finances and general despair. I emphasize I’ve been there. I work in politics and several times my candidates have been on the south side of an election. When that happens, you’re abruptly fired and you’re soon thin in the wallet. There’s only one way out: Grind on. Keeping reaching out, keep calling, keep looking, and keep driving. As my old Army drill sergeant used to yell at my platoon: “Tough times don’t last. Tough people do.”
Either type of parent can become the third type of parent: The one that understands that this is the best time ever to be a Dad or Mom. Why? Because the kids are around and you have time - time with them that you never had before and may never have again.
Check out my book – Four Lessons from My Three Sons: How You Can Raise Resilient Kids.
The first is the Dad or Mom who is hurting; a lost job and strained finances and general despair. I emphasize I’ve been there. I work in politics and several times my candidates have been on the south side of an election. When that happens, you’re abruptly fired and you’re soon thin in the wallet. There’s only one way out: Grind on. Keeping reaching out, keep calling, keep looking, and keep driving. As my old Army drill sergeant used to yell at my platoon: “Tough times don’t last. Tough people do.”
The second is the Dad or Mom working at home and is beginning to go nuts because they’re balancing work and their kids are around all the time. Every person in the house has run out of things to do and every day is a slow march to dinner and beyond.
Either type of parent can become the third type of parent: The one that understands that this is the best time ever to be a Dad or Mom. Why? Because the kids are around and you have time - time with them that you never had before and may never have again.
Yes, hard to believe, but these unusual times are a gift. Use these moments now to get to know your kid in ways that will last way beyond this temporary setback, for years and years to come.
To come back to the first type of parent, hurting and angry: It takes a strong will to overcome adversity. I know. I didn’t think I was capable of mustering it but I did. And when I did, I became that third type of parent:
1. All Time With a Kid is Quality Time: The Bleacher Report
Most Dads know it takes effort to spend unrushed and undistracted time with your son. You’re grinding at work all week, your kid is at school, there are after-school activities, he’s got homework, it’s now 8 p.m. and you’re already thinking about tomorrow. It’s the iron grip of the Schedule. Now that iron grip is broken. It was sure broken for me when I was jobless. Even though I was anxious about finding work, I hid it from my kids and got a grip on the perpetual motion machine of normal times, i.e., when Dad is headed off every morning in a suit and tie to work.
How? I sat my three sons down and laid it out the only way I know how: With the unflinching truth. “Ok gents, we all know it’s bad right now. It won’t last forever but one thing will: Beginning today, we are making a schedule for when we spend time together.” From the web, I had downloaded copies of a blank office calendar for the rest of this year.
“We’re going into a hard routine. We’ll mark specific days and times until the end of the year when each of you individually spend time with me, no other brothers and no distractions. There’s only one rule: Each of you better be prepared to talk.”
Over time, this became unofficially known as the Bleacher Report. I and the designated son would grab snacks from home and normally go to the fields at the local high school, which on any given Saturday morning is one of the most peaceful places on the planet. If you can’t do that now, improvise. We’d throw around a football or lacrosse ball or a baseball for an hour, run sprints goal line to goal line and afterwards, sprawl across several rows of bleacher benches (hence the term) and just talk.
It was simple – I’d think up some topics to draw him out and then we’d slide into the rundown: How’d the week go? Name one big success, one big fail. Ok, here’s what happened in the old man’s week; ask me two questions about it. What’s coming up that makes you nervous, confident? Or we’d play the Fave Game: What’s your fave movie, car, cheeseburger, and teacher and why? There were zero distractions; the phones were left in car, there were no brothers to interrupt - just the fields stretching before us as our conversation graduated from everyday stuff to serious stuff.
This routine never varied. As the years went on, the conversations became more important inasmuch as the boys were wrestling with academics and sports and friends and the college matters.
The Bleacher report never ever ended. My middle kid was home from a deployment to the Persian Gulf this last Christmas and I’ll let you guess where Saturday found us. We talked as long and casually about his ship’s exploits with Iranian patrol boats as a decade earlier we had talked about the games of his 8th grade football team.
2. The Year in Review
When I was a stay-at-home Dad – that is, staying at home because I had no job to go to - in between husting for work, I took part in the All-American Pastime: Cleaning out the house. In fact, that’s what a lot of people are doing right now. I bet like me, they are going through every room, prowling the basement and attic and garage, opening boxes and closets and discovering treasures on once-unknown shelves. I guarantee that a lot of the stuff they are finding is kid-related. I did. That’s because every kid produces a record. And by that I mean: schoolwork, art drawings (yes, from when they were four-years old), photos from the last soccer season and winter swim meets and the family vacation; a program from the college football game that he insists on keeping; the Earth Day report with glued leaves and twigs; test papers and report cards and the certificate from the Science Fair and the community newspaper article with his name in it. I could go on but you get it. Like many parents, I’ve held onto it all.
Now is the time for you to rummage through it all. Go through all this kid flotsam and then carefully sorted it, making a stack for each kid. Photos and other docs that have been on your computer for years? I printed them all out.
Then, when I was surrounded by stacks for each kid, I sorted it all out, placing the items in plastic sheet protectors and adding to each a date and a whimsical note. All was inserted in a three-ring binder for each kid, on which the front was written, “The Year in Review.” Yeah, a scrapbook. You think that’s nuts? Keep reading.
The binders were a hit with my three sons; they will be with your kids. This was an entire year of page-by-page good memories and surprisingly, they were pored over throughout the year by the boys.
Indeed, the Year binders are ongoing. I save photos and emails they’ve sent and news clippings about the regions of the world they are in and put it together every year, it’s a constant and colorful reminder of what they had achieved.When the eldest kid, out of college, was at home carefully packing his gear for a Naval deployment in the Far East, I offhandedly asked him what he was taking. “One of the Years.” he said simply. “When I get homesick, I’ll pull it out.”
3. Get outside!
For goodness sake, GET OUTSIDE! Oh, AND AWAY FROM SCREENS! Yes, this is hardly original. But you can never do it enough. And here are some ways to change it up. No electronics permitted beyond the front and back doors! Walk through the neighborhoods and parts of your community you’ve never seen. Use this as an opportunity to tell them about your neighborhood and you life growing up as a kid. I guarantee this will spark the kid’s curiosity. Hey, you’ve got a captive audience and for now, you have all the time in the world.
In the backyard, throw balls - baseball, football, soccer, lacrosse – but just not back and forth. Challenge the kid by making it a competition. Ten times without a drop, five times opposite hand. 20 times in 30 seconds. And if want to jazz it up, put some minor money on it – 50 cents, a dollar. Have push up and sit up contests and other unusual events. How far you can walk with a book balanced on your head? How many times can you hop on one foot? Yeah, all sounds crazy.
Well, I did it all and it provided some of the most fun moments I even spent with my sons.
Last, I’m like a lot of you – working at home now and my youngest is home from West Point while the other two remain deployed on the outposts of the world. Nellie Junior has schoolwork but we have plenty of time together and sometimes I’ll tell him, Ok pal, this evening we’re gonna sit in the front room and read quietly for an hour. Then, you tell me about what you’ve read and I’ll do the same. You see, you can make even the simplest things come alive.
Sure these are odd times. Whatever your situation right now – and I’m darn familiar with both - be that third type of parent. None of us will ever again have this freedom and closeness to our kids. Don’t fall into the trap of going through the motions and wishing for it all to end and “normal” to ensue. Because my drill sergeant had another saying: Don’t count the days. Make the days count.
#####Check out my book – Four Lessons from My Three Sons: How You Can Raise Resilient Kids.
Ok, any easy pitch. This gem is only 60-pages long, a 45-minute read, hard and fast and funny. It tells the story of how I raised my kids and propelled them to the U.S. Naval Academy, Williams College, and West Point. It’s a step-by-step guide on how to develop boys who are steadfast in conduct, character, and ambition.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Every Dad in America wants to raise a resilient kid.
Four Lessons from My Three Sons charts the course.
Written by a good-natured but unyielding father, this slim volume describes how his off-beat and yet powerful forms of encouragement helped his sons obtain the assurance, strength and integrity needed to achieve personal success and satisfaction. This book isn't 300 pages of pop child psychology or a fatherhood "journey" filled with jargon and equivocation. It's tough and hard and fast. It’s about how three boys made their way to the U.S. Naval Academy, Williams, and West Point – and beyond.

The email from the Office of Personnel Management arrived in more than two million Outlook email accounts. Those employees who didn’t log in that week soon heard about it. Subject Line: Fork in the Road. Highlights of the communication included: “…restored accountability… majority of agencies downsized…employees subject to enhanced standards of accountability and conduct…hiring process to focus on merit…” The shocking missive immediately triggered a privacy lawsuit filed by anonymous feds, Jane Doe 1 and Jane Doe 2, regarding “email server violations,” which some dishonestly took to mean it was improper for the federal government to contact all those who drew a paycheck from the federal government. Simultaneously, the American Federation of State, County and Municipal Employees, filed suit to “stop the purge of qualified professionals from the federal government workforce. Not only are these actions illegal and a scam, but they are eroding the health and well-being of our communities! Stop it!” Within hours of the email, Agency employee assistance programs were overwhelmed and grief counselors deployed to Teams calls. Feds reeled from the Fork. What did it all mean? ________________ Reactions Veronica - “No one’s going to tell me what road I’m on!” Yolanda - “This may be a sign that I should spend time with my grandbabies.” Chad – “Who gave the government access to my private government account?!” Zoe - “Like, how do I like, process this skibidi rizz?” Eddie – “I wonder what Skip is thinking right now.” Skip – “They can stick their goddamn fork where the sun don’t shine.” Kim – “In Korea, we have a saying for this: paguk ui sijak.” _________________ Veronica This is what happens when you elect Hitler! First thing he does is have his brownshirts issue threats - no one I know voted for that! No way Jose! And I’m not on a road! I’m on a path, where people walk beside me even though I have a PhD in social anthropology but that doesn’t matter because we’re all humyns and I can sometimes learn from anyone. Besides, a road has all those cars on it and their all going too fast! *** Fourteen years ago the Strategic Synergies (SS) office was looking for a dynamic mission-driven results-oriented leader capable of taking everyone to the next level. Although I was locked in at my community college job, I stepped up and made it through that godawful year with the USAJobs mess and those jerks in the Talent Toolbox office. I thought it was the end of the world eight years ago when I was at the PussyHat parade and our democracy was dying but now it’s dying even more and here comes Elon Musk with his chainsaw to go through my files. I guess this is the world we live in today. This is what it’s come to - where your employer can send you emails telling you that things are going to change. But why would anyone want to change what we’re accomplishing in the SS?! I mean, it’s too complicated to explain but here’s what I see at the 50,000-foot level: A narrative synthesis of unique pods oriented toward transformative continuums. Yes, optimized pods empowering us toward nimble modular fusions in the Polyps paradigm. I’ve walked the talk with our Link and Leverage 2050 Strategic Vision Plan and our ppts are the talk of the town! Everyone around here raves about our gif mascot, “Linky” embedded in the bi-weekly ManSyst-wide emails – “Link with me, Think with me!” So cute but so powerful. Then there’s our presentations on Diversity, Equity, Inclusion & Accessibility – our “Rainbow of Hues” (don’t say colors, it’s racist) and our ReImagine Series “Close your eyes. Now open them.” Who says social anthropology has no place in the 21 st century workforce?! I sure don’t! *** Then, several days after this outrageous email (well fork you too!) I get a voicemail from some mysterious DOGE jerk who calls himself “Lunchbox.” He says he’s calling on behalf of Skip, our deputy director who assigned me to L & L, to discuss my work in the SS. No way Jose! I have no interest in fraternizing with the enemy as they say but I do need to set him straight on some of the work I’ve done before he talks to the other folks around here – some of them can be so dense when it comes to optimized pods. Sure, Lunchpail may sound harmless enough but that’s how these fascists roll. Ask Hitler. And I’m going to make myself clear right now. No tool named Lunchbox is going to tell me what to do. I have a decade worth of presentations that show my worth and I can easily take my talents elsewhere. The good thing is I have some great contacts at USAID. __________________________________ Ok, Lunchbox isn’t my real name. It’s Doorknob. Gotcha! Boom! Ever since Big Ballz got all that buzz people have been razzing me about making up my nickname to be cool. But hold on, hombres. Mine came wayyyy before the Ballzman. I first got snagged for it because of the Star Trek lunch boxes I had in junior high school. Major-league Trekkie here from the get-go. All my friends back then started calling me Lunchbox and it stuck through high school and then college and for a gag because I consider myself a total jokester, I got the retro ST plastic Next Generation and took it to my first job out of MIT at Google and all the tech nerds loved it and it became my new gag here and it still is. So there - I cleared that up. I try to live on the lighter side of life and I even do a little improv on the side at Bay Area clubs using Trekkie and Star Wars gags, like, “Which program do Jedi use to open PDF files?" "Adobe-WanKenobi.” Bang! I gotta a hundred of them. *** I’m part of a data analytics team at Alphabet (one of the original googlers, old-timers from before we became Alphabet. Even scored a signed cocktail napkin from Sergey Brin at an investor conference. Shazzam!). My typical week is tracking where a beta group goes and is likely to go and not to go for ads and news and purchases. It involves strategy, small s, and no, it has nothing to do with synergies. We know our products and we strategize – there’s no other word – on what makes us money. Strategy equals data equals revenue. Period. I’m grateful for my job and my G posse and so when my boss came looking for guys for a four-month detail to Washington, D.C. – bonus attached, downtown apartment and an expense account - and a buncha time to see all the museum stuff, I said beam me up Scottie! Given my background I was assigned to a place to review five offices with Strategy in the title and one was called “Strategic Synergies.” WTH?! So I was ready to boldly go where no googler had gone before but no one prepared me for SS. Or Veronica. *** Now, I have no axe to grind against government. The only time I deal with it is at the DMV back in Mountain View. But I couldn’t figure these offices out. Like I said, strategy results in results. If you can’t measure it, it didn’t happen. And it’s not happening here. From what I scan about Veronica’s office is that they just turn out power point decks for presentations - “ReImagine the Process!” “Topple the Silos!” “Convergent Paradigms!” Like what is the impact at the end of a week or a month? What do you get? Like, dollars saved, task times reduced, more clients served? Instead, I got of gibberish words. Dammit Jim, I’m a doctor, not a bureaucrat! I asked one of her staffers what he does in a typical week and he says multi-domain interfacing. I asked what that meant and he replies “Ask Veronica.” Like I said, ManSyst has five offices with Strategy in the title and all I can tell is that they each shuffle their slide decks between them, change the font style and add in smiley face and thumbs up emojis. So weird. Sounds like what those chumps to do at Meta – ha! Boom! When I finally met with Veronica she was defensive and who could blame her? She was wearing a long tie-dye skirt and necklaces of beads that looked like dry macaroni. There were all these weird aspirational posters in her room. “There’s no I in Team,” “Pulling Together We Can,” “Today is Today and Yesterday Can Be Tomorrow.” I told her up front I had no authority or anything. I was just an observer and was like her, into strategy. She softened up a bit and told me what she was “trying to accomplish in the modalities space” with the Linkages and Leverage 2050 Strategic Plan and then showed me this funky email with a gif of a talking paper clip. She was being so sincere about this stuff and I started to get uncomfortable and a little sad so I asked what happens after you give the ppt presentation? She told me people are empowered to envision a new workspace reality. Then what? Well, we schedule another presentation. Since this is my first time in government, I just let it go. The four other offices were just as, well, raw. I wrote up a brief report and said the SS had some challenges. I’m not here to be the bad guy. Like I said, she means well. She just got into believing her own headlines. Or PowerPoints. *** A couple weeks before heading back to the googleplex I heard that Veronica was saying that everything had become so toxic with all these fascists hanging around and she was going to leave with her dignity intact and go where they appreciate pods. But man have I seen a lot of cool stuff! White House tour? Check. Capitol tour? Check. Udvar Hazy? Check. D.C. Improv Club? Check. Kensington Antique Row (at which I picked up a special collector’s item!)? Check. Air and Space Museum? Check! I put it all together in a scrapbook (tech geeks can go old school!) and I even got a photo with the DOGE boys outside EEOB. I’m in the front row holding…wait for it…my 2016 Star Trek 50th Anniversary Lunch Box. Boom!! The Day Before and After DOGE is available on Amazon.

It was a small cemetery reached by an unpaved country road near Hebron, a Maryland town named after the city south of Jerusalem known as a burial ground for prophets. Ten years ago this month my old platoon leader, U.S. Army Master Sergeant Stephen “Smitty” Smith was buried with full military honors - four soldiers in dress blue uniforms carrying a flag-draped casket while a volley of shots were fired and Taps sounded. Alas, it’s a ritual that has been carried out many times since Smitty’s funeral. Smitty’s military career spanned a quarter century of American conflict - the Cold War, post-Cold War European turmoil and Islamic jihad. He was in Germany at Bad Aibling Station in 1985 as an enlisted soldier serving with a detachment intercepting Soviet and East German transmissions. He left active service, went to college and then joined the Maryland National Guard where I met him in the 629 th Military Intelligence Battalion, a Cold War-focused unit which exists no more. The First Gulf War in 1991 passed over the battalion but then there was a need for troops to police the turbulent Balkan states. Smitty volunteered in 1999 and deployed to Bosnia for more than a year. Then came 9/11 and because of the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, manpower was stretched worldwide and in 2003 Smitty deployed again with the National Guard when the battalion sent a company of solders to Kosovo. Smitty served many years as a Non-Commissioned Officer (NCO), whose creed rightly establishes them as the “Backbone of the Army,” the human bridge between officers and enlisted soldiers. Says the creed: “My two basic responsibilities will always be uppermost in my mind—accomplishment of my mission and the welfare of my Soldiers.” A simple but a profound leadership charge. I saw those NCO leadership qualities up close as an enlisted Army Reservist then Army Guardsman for 14 years. And yet, I still find it difficult to properly explain to my non-service peers the deep military ethic behind such leadership - the sense of duty and loyalty, the cohesion of diverse units (my battalion was majority-minority) and the camaraderie that fostered performance and accountability. Of course, compared to the vast majority of servicemen and women, my military service was modest, mostly composed of maintaining Humvees, cleaning weapons, and performing administrative tasks. However, my three sons are active-duty military officers; two of them lead dozens of enlisted men and women and work with complex equipment (some of it lethal) worth hundreds of millions of dollars and have been in tight situations that are unfathomable to their non-military peers. My sons depend heavily on the Smittys of this world. Even after the grind of patrols in Kosovo Smitty hung in there and in 2007 deployed to Iraq to work in an intelligence role, the same job he’d had at Bad Aibling Station 22 years and several new world orders prior. He came back a year later and his closest friends immediately knew something was wrong. He isolated himself and when he did emerge, he was erratic in behavior and a changed man. He hadn’t been in combat in Iraq; the closest to danger he’d come was when one evening several Iraqi soldiers on his base haphazardly fired hundreds of rounds into the sky and dozens of bullets rained down through a large tent in which Smitty was attending a briefing, injuring several soldiers. At the beginning of 2012, he was found dead in his home of “natural causes” according to the Anne Arundel County coroner. At the funeral, his mother was defiant that “the war killed my son.” His sister insisted it was PTSD from Iraq, somehow amplified by his previous two deployments. A dozen guys from the old unit gather in the cemetery parking lot after Smitty’s burial, smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee and all of us are still shaken by the anger and rage of his Mom and sister. None of us knew what exactly had happened. And as with all guys who’ve served closely in a military unit, there was no lack of candor. One senior NCO, a real hardass though grudgingly admired, had driven 130 miles that morning to Hebron and he said, “Look, guys, you all know Smitty didn’t really like me at all and I didn’t really like him. We had some real blowups in Kosovo and at Victory [Camp Victory in Iraq] and all those rounds through the tent put us even more on edge. But I knew he respected me and I respected him.” Regret was the dominant sentiment. Why hadn’t we made more of an effort to see Smitty? To all these guys, mostly vets with an experienced outlook on service, it was a mystery. One thing though: The anger of his mom and sister pounded in our heads. The U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs notes that Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder was a “significant public health problem in Operation Enduring Freedom and Operation Iraqi Freedom (OEF/OIF) deployed and non-deployed Veterans” with studies that show “15.7% of OEF/OIF deployed Veterans screened positive for PTSD compared to 10.9% of non-deployed Veterans. Overall, 13.5% of study participants screened positive for PTSD.” For the National Guard, the PTSD number is 14.5 percent of deployed troops. The U.S. Department of Defense Casualty Status report for Iraq and Afghanistan still updated weekly, lists 4,431 U.S. deaths in Iraq and 2,352 in Afghanistan. On this Memorial Day, we honor the more than 1.1 million men and women who are listed as the casualties of all the wars fought by America. But as one of my old battalion comrades – himself an NCO - said in the cemetery outside Hebron, sometimes there can be a different kind of casualty of war. ____________ Jeff Nelligan is the author of "Four Lessons from My Three Sons - How You Can Raise Resilient Kids"(https://www.amazon.com/Four-Lessons-Three-Sons-Resilient/dp/B0C9SB2NLX) and lives in Annapolis, Maryland,









