Reset: The Hug That Didn't Fix Everything
But it showed me where to start. And sometimes, that’s enough
I didn’t ease into fatherhood. I cannonballed into it.
Twins came first—like skipping the parenting manual and jumping straight to the final boss level of Super Mario Bros. on the original NES.
Not one of those fake Bowser levels with manageable chaos.
I’m talking real Bowser.
The one with fireballs, hammers, disappearing bridges, and a jump that never makes sense.
Clearly overweight. Deeply inflatable.
Somehow combining every nightmare from the previous levels into one lava-filled meltdown.
And just as we started to figure out which way was up…
we added a third boy 20 months later.
Because clearly, we weren’t tired enough.
Fast forward, and we’ve now got four boys—10, 10, 9, and 3.
Which means:
More forks than hands. More shoes than chairs.
One kid’s laughing, one’s crying, one’s bleeding, and the fourth is naked for no reason.
Every hallway is a WWE entrance ramp.
Every couch cushion is either a fort, a battlefield, or a trampoline.
And every attempt at a calm morning feels like giving a TED Talk in a bounce house.
We don’t have a family rhythm.
We have a family stampede.
But somewhere in that chaos—under the Legos and the laundry and the sound of someone yelling “BRO STOP!”—I’ve learned something sacred:
When chaos is constant, peace isn’t something you wait for.
It’s something you anchor yourself to.
And one night, years ago, I caught a glimpse of what that anchor could look like.
He didn’t want a lesson. He didn’t need advice.
He needed a hug.
And not a half-hearted, distracted, one-arm, “hang in there, buddy” kind of hug.
He needed the full-on, chest-to-chest, dad-is-actually-here kind of hug.
And the crazy thing is… so did I.
I don’t even remember what triggered the meltdown, maybe his brother breathed too loud, or someone took the “wrong” Lego, but I remember the moment I dropped to one knee and just held him.
My body slowed.
My breath slowed.
My mind was still catching up, but something in me already knew:
Just hold him.
No words. No fixes. Just presence.
And instantly, I flashed back to the baby stage.
Not necessarily this child specifically, but to what my wife helped me see in those early years: that when our kids are in distress, words don’t usually fix it. What they need most isn’t noise, it’s presence.
In those moments, my job wasn’t to lecture, fix, or distract.
My job was to calm myself, so he could become calm.
Later, I learned there was a name for this: co-regulation.
Back then? I just called it trying not to lose it before bedtime.
Truth is, I was so dysregulated in those years. So tired, distracted, and stuck in my own head that I had to fight to be present.
I had to slow down enough to silence everything else.
To notice.
To hold still.
To drop the anchor—so he could steady himself too.
Because that’s what presence is: an anchor in the chaos.
And the wildest part? I needed it just as much as he did.
That sweaty, sobbing, Lego-obsessed human wasn’t pulling me away from something important. He was bringing me back to it.
That hug didn’t just calm him—it reset me.
It reminded me that sometimes the strongest thing a father can do is be still.
Rooted. Grounded.
Anchored.
That moment became a line in the sand, reminding me of something my now slightly older kids still need just as much today:
Not a dad who has it all figured out,
but one who is fully here, no matter how messy it is.
Why This Space Exists
That hug didn’t fix everything.
But it showed me where to start.
And that’s the idea behind The Daily Dad Reset.
I’m not writing from a mountaintop—I’m writing from the middle of it.
From the early mornings and the pulled-back bedtimes.
From the car talks and the workout sheds.
From the quiet apologies, the big wins, and the days I blew it.
This space is for dads like us, who don’t need a perfect formula, but who believe in showing up again tomorrow.
It’s for the ones who want to reset daily, not just survive weekly.
To laugh at our mistakes, reflect on our patterns, and decide with intention what matters most for our families.
There are no magic fixes here.
No 30-day guarantee.
Just real work, small wins, and honest connection.
Because in a world full of noise, we don’t want to be background static in our children’s lives.
We want to become anchors—steady, present, and growing alongside them.
That’s what this space is for.
And we get to figure it out—together..
The Daily Dad Reset Framework
Let’s be real, most of us don’t need another parenting hack.
We need something that helps us show up, catch our breath, and lead with a little more purpose each day.
That’s what The Daily Dad Reset is built for. Four pillars. One rhythm. Everyday presence.
Body → Strength Through Consistency
Train to lead your body.
Finding consistency with movement and nourishment. When you take care of your body, you model stewardship, not perfection.
Mind → From Reaction to Presence
Reflect to lead your home.
Responding with calm instead of reacting with frustration. Stillness, learning, and rest promote mental clarity which leads to emotional presence.
Spirit → Daily Devotion + Discipline
Surrender to lead your spirit.
Prayer, purpose, surrender—these aren’t extras. They’re the compass that keeps you oriented when life pulls you in every direction.
Fatherhood → Reset Your Day, Lead Your Home
Where the other three come to life.
The Fatherhood pillar isn’t a new list of things, its an application of body, mind, and spirit into your family. Into habits. Into rituals. Into rhythms. Into the moment in between. It helps you insert and recognize the moment that your learning from the first three can be applied to your kids.
Train → So you show up strong
Reflect → So you lead with calm
Surrender → So you anchor your family in grace
You don’t need to be perfect.
You just need to be present—and willing to reset.
What You’ll Get Each Week
This isn’t just a newsletter. It’s a rhythm.
Each week, you’ll receive two anchor points to help you reset and lead intentionally:
MONDAY: Reset + Reflection
A short, story-driven insight from real life—usually mine.
No fluff, no shouting. Just truth, clarity, and a mirror to check in with your own fatherhood journey.
What to expect:
One grounded story or moment
A reflection you can carry into your week
A reminder that you’re not alone in the work
FRIDAY: Fatherhood Fieldwork
Small steps. Real moments. A weekly invitation to lead from where you are.
Each Friday, you’ll get one bite-sized practice you can try this weekend, grounded in one of three rhythms:
🟢 Lead with Presence (Body → Action)
🔵 Lead with Intention (Mind → Awareness)
🟣 Lead with Connection (Spirit → Heart)
Here’s a preview of what that looks like:
🟢 Show Up Fully (Even for 15 Minutes)
Let your phone stay on the counter. Join their game without fixing it. Offer your time with no agenda.
Fieldwork Prompt: Give one child 15 minutes of undivided attention. Let them lead. Let it count.
🔵 Speak Life This Weekend
Say what you see in them. Speak identity, not just instruction.
Fieldwork Prompt: Name something specific you admire in one child—and look them in the eyes when you say it.
🟣 End the Day with Heart
Ask a question. Share something you felt. Say a short prayer together.
Fieldwork Prompt: End one day with connection instead of correction. See what opens up..
Ready to Reset?
You don’t need a new identity.
You don’t need 27 steps to dad perfection.
You just need to reset—daily—
and lead from a place that’s present, steady, and anchored.