Dads in Australia are generally expected to be “breadwinners” – but is this for every dad?
The priority for a breadwinner dad is to work and provide for the family while mum or partner is at home with the kids and looking after the family.
We call this the “Providing dad”. This type does not suit everyone and dads may want something different that will work for their family and fits their parenting style.
We have put together seven different types of dads, based on research1 and consultation2 with dads in Australia:
- Responsible dad
- Thoughtful dad
- Nurturing dad
- Affectionate dad
- Interactive dad
- Sharing dad
- Providing dad
Which dad are you now?
Which dad would you like to be?
We know that each dad is unique, and we’ve explained the seven different types of dads below in more detail.
Maybe the items listed are things dads already do and can keep improving on. Maybe some are new to dads and they can try out the different things and types of dads.
For single dads, they can step in and out of these types. For those dads who are parenting with mum or partner, they may already share some of these types.
Whatever the dad, whatever the scenario, we are encouraging dads to try the different types of dads out, talk about how it’s going and discover what works.
Here’s where dads can get started:
- Pick the type(s) that best describes the dad
- List their strengths and gaps for each type
- Celebrate the strengths
- Work on the gaps
- Try out different types of dad every day/week/month
Responsible dad
Responsible dads are good at organising important things for their children and family.
These dads are responsible for their child’s appointments such as child health nurse, GP or immunisation sessions, and being organised with school-related things such as school supplies, uniforms or music lessons.
Thoughtful dad
Remembering dad is always thinking about their child, what they need and they want.
These dads are great at knowing their child’s strengths and limits, their favourite toys, friends’ names and what they love to play. They are also good at planning ahead and thinking about things such as planning their child’s birthday present or party.
Nurturing dad
Nurturing dads make sure their child is cared for and looked after.
These dads are involved in things such as preparing meals, bath time and buying clothes. They also look after their child when they are sick, stay home from work to look after them or take them to the doctor.
Affectionate dad
Affectionate dads show their child how much they love them.
These dads express their love, give their child hugs and kisses and say, “I love you”.
Interactive dad
Interactive dads do the following together with their child: play, communicate and explore ideas, manage emotions and think creatively.
These dads encourage their child to be involved in decisions such as choice of game to play, which park to go to and what to eat for dinner. They also encourage their child to talk about feelings and ideas that have been raised in things such as books, shows or movies.
Sharing dad
Sharing dads share parenting roles with their partner and use a teamwork approach to parenting.
These dads share household tasks, discuss parenting strengths and weaknesses with mum or their partner, and decide on how respond to their child’s feelings and behaviours.
Providing dad
Providing dads are the breadwinner and protector of the family.
These dads work to provide for the family while the mum or partner is home looking after the kids. They also ensure the family feels safe and implement rules in the home.
References
- (2009) Introduction to working with men and family relationships guide. Canberra: The Department of Families, Housing, Community Services and Indigenous Affairs
- (2019) Support for Fathers national survey. Melbourne: Relationships Australia Victoria.
About four years ago, Motherlode ran my essay “In Defense of the Doormat Dad,” in which I championed my permissive free-range parenting style. I allowed my then-2-year-old son, Benjamin, to set his own bedtime, take hour-long baths, and basically rule the roost. He was an amazing kid and I was content to step back and let him find his way without too much fatherly interference. I knew my essay was provocative, but still bristled at the comments section predicting Benjamin would end up a brat, or worse, incarcerated.
Benjamin is now 6, finishing up kindergarten, and I’m here to report back.
Our refrigerator is covered with good behavior awards. When his teacher gives the class a collective timeout, Benjamin receives the special honor of getting to go up to her desk to play on her iPad. He recently confided to me that he refrains from trying to be funny at school, lest it bother his teacher.
“Daddy,” he said, “I want to be really good.”
I was not really good at school, perhaps because I associated the rules with my own controlling father who could become violent when I didn’t listen to him. I was disruptive in grade school, got suspended in junior high for shoving a teacher (after he had shoved me), had detention virtually every morning in high school, and barely graduated, finishing third from last in my class. I then quickly righted myself, transferring to Northwestern, graduating in the top of my law school class, clerking for a federal judge. But it still bothers me how poorly I did in school and how stupid and masochistic I was.
Benjamin, though, is not burdened by a bullying father at home, so when his kindergarten teacher tells him to raise his hand before speaking or to use his inside voice, those rules don’t invoke familial power struggles and he can rationally obey and glide through the system. Plus, humans naturally crave rules and order to feel safe, so maybe my starving Benjamin of rules at home makes the rules at school seductive.
Obviously Benjamin is young and the jury is still out, but so far it seems my lax parenting has contributed to his superlative behavior. The only problem is lately I’ve been feeling a lack of attachment between us. We as parents want our kids to be better than us, but not be so different that we can’t recognize them. Benjamin is so good that it’s like he’s not my kid.
We live in the same New Jersey town where I grew up, and Benjamin is attending my old grade school. For his parent-teacher conference this past March, which I attended solo, I stepped into what might have been my former classroom and squeezed into a tiny chair across a low slung table from Benjamin’s teacher. When I’m outside the school, dropping Benjamin off or picking him up, it generally doesn’t register that I had once been a student there, but being inside the building, in a stuffy classroom, brought on a flood of uncomfortable memories.
“I just have to say,” the teacher said, “what a pleasure it is to see Benjamin’s smiling face every day in class.”
My son loves school so much he literally skips into the building in the morning.
“He listens,” she said. “He does his work. He’s respectful of the other kids.”
He has to be my biological son, I told myself, because we have the same eye color and the large feet that run in my father’s family.
After listening to 20 minutes of such nice statements about my son that it qualified as parent porn, I asked her if he had done anything wrong in the seven months she had him. “There’s got to be one thing,” I said.
“Benjamin?”
“One thing,” I begged.
“Well,” she said.
“Yeah?”
“No,” she said, “there’s nothing.”
I thanked her for being a great teacher, unscrewed myself from the chair, and walked quickly out of my old school. I then went home and let my son do whatever he wanted.
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