Spotlight on Dads is a weekly series from Discovering Dad that features involved fathers from around the world. The objective of the series is to inspire fathers to connect and learn from one another, while also deconstructing the stereotype of fathers as ’second’ parents.

This week’s spotlight shines on Bill Heaton from Bill and Jill.  Bill and I share several things in common – it’s uncanny really, just how many coincidences and connections there are.  We’re neighbors on Alltop.com, and we’re “neighbors” in real life too (only live about 20 minutes apart).  The really ironic thing is that Bill (and Jill) actually live in a house built by one of my ancestors over 100 years ago.  With all of these cosmic forces drawing us together, combined with the fact that Bill is a great writer with an awesome blog, I had to invite him in the Spotlight series.

Tell a little about yourself. I’m Bill Heaton, father to three; husband to one. My wife Jill and I have been married for just over four years, and we have three sons: Liam (not yet 4), Nate (2½), and Sam (8 months). We live in Small Town, USA in an old historic Main Street Victorian that we’ve been restoring for six years. The upside is that everyone has their own room, but the downside is, you know, all the ghosts.

What about your family background? I grew up in a close-knit family in the late seventies and early eighties, which means that while our TV got HBO, it did so from within simulated wood grain. In many vintage off-hue photos of the period, my buck-toothed visage can be seen framed by both a bowl haircut and the wide, plaid collars of the day. And my days in turn were framed by Star Wars, the Bionic Man, Charlie’s Angels, Topps trading cards, Evel Knievel, Superfriends, Micronauts, and Donkey Kong. It was like a pop-culture tornado set to disco music with a geeky, neck-boned kid hovering in its vortex.

It was just my younger sister Leah and me, and my early memories are also filled with the freedom of green summers and unexpected snow days spent lazily reading and building things from popsicle sticks and board games from the top shelf of my toy-filled closet. ‘Clue’ was a favorite, and I still enjoy the singular distinction of being Mr. Green every time I have ever played. Really… every, single, time. Hopefully, my boys will understand this, and when they come of Clue age, they will respect the Green.

“Um, I accuse Miss Scarlet, in the Library, with the Candlestick! No! No! Professor Plum! IN THE CONSERVATORY!”

Both my parents were involved in our activities and supportive of our endeavors and interests. My mother was a soccer mom before the phrase was coined, and my Dad was the dad who stayed around the campfire at the Cub Scout jamboree telling ghost stories well into the night, long after all the other fathers collected their empties and stumbled back to their tents.

It is this legacy of togetherness and close family bonding that I want to ensure is enjoyed by my own boys.

Jill and I met on eBay when eBay was still cool. Ironically, I was collecting things with my last name on them, and I met Jill on the message boards as I was attempting to lodge a complaint about a new feature eBay was implementing that had caused me to lose an auction for an old postcard. So, I missed out on that antique card, but as a result, I was able to add a woman and three small children to my collection of things named Heaton.

Jill stays home with all three boys, and I spend as much time with them as the winning of our family bread will allow. There are no more snow days.

What do you like most about being a dad? All my priorities and goals realigned on the day I became a father, shifting and rippling across the board like one of those puzzles in which every piece has to move before a single one can find its correct position. Things that I once found important were suddenly rendered meaningless. I unshouldered and dropped them like a weighted pack the first time I held the reality of my tiny newborn son in my arms. I held him, and I cried. I became a father there in the delivery room, and it was electric – my very own superhero origin story. The lightning of fatherhood crackled, and with a sharp intake of breath, I suddenly became a guy who knew, and nothing would ever be the same again.

I am Da-da, and that’s what I love the most.

What do you find most challenging about being a dad? The constraints placed upon my time and resources. I used to watch a lot more TV and be able to devote time to things like hobbies and showering. Jill and I used to go places… together. These are the thousand little things that you lose as the gears of parenthood engage, and these are the thousand little things that no one tells you about. Forget about being able to go to dinner and a movie, Jill and I never even go to the supermarket together. We’re like Bruce Wayne and Batman – no one ever sees us together outside of Wayne manor. Of course, these are also the thousand little things that really don’t matter. But you miss them, just the same.

Oh, and all the cleaning.

What’s your most memorable experience(s) so far as a dad? The most memorable moments for me have been the first time I have seen each one of my sons in the moments during and immediately after their births. To finally have a face to go with the long months of kicks and planning and putting my hands on the hardness of Jill’s belly and talking to them.

The wonderment of their little blinking, furrowed, pissed-off faces and really seeing them for the first time. Their little ashen hands and feet, their saggy elephant knees… their little spines. And to think “Holy shit! We actually made something that has a spine.”

And the tops of their little heads that look like a wad of hair in a lump of chicken fat, and you never thought something like that could be beautiful, but it is. And now it’s all real, and he’s out of Mum-mum, and I’m up. I’m up, and I hope I’m ready. I’m up and it’s good to see you and I can’t wait to know you for the rest of my life. Or at least until everyone’s avoiding me because I’m just the old guy in the wheelchair banging on things with my wooden bowl.

As for the funniest moments, those are almost all fart-related – the humor of which is definitely inherent and apparently deeply ingrained within the DNA of all little boys.

In general, how do you think dads are perceived? Why? Generally speaking, I think dads are often viewed as the second of two parents. I think there exists a perception that fathers have the option to be as involved as they want or have to be. I think for most of us, that is not an option. I also think this notion is slowly changing. Luckily, I don’t feel that these generalities apply to my specific family dynamic.

How has the experience as dad helped you discover something new about yourself? I’ve discovered that I don’t listen. Not really. Not the way a child listens. I’ve had a lifetime of learning to unlisten, so it’s fascinating to watch them discover by paying attention to things that I’m not even tracking. They listen, and they notice. They ask me about sounds like birds whistling and motorcycles cycling that I didn’t even hear until they tapped their ears, looked at me, and said, “Whazzat, Da-da?”

Currently, they are endlessly fascinated by the outside condensing units for our air conditioners, and each time one starts up or spools down, they ask how many are going. To me, it’s part of the background cacophony that I’ve learned to filter out. To them, it’s an opportunity to listen, question, and if in the kitchen, to pull a small chair over to the window, and have a look.

Who do you go to for advice about fatherhood? I talk to my wife, and my family. I read, and I envision. I guess, and I readjust. I evaluate, and I gauge. I doubt, and I resolve. When something sticks, I incorporate, and when it doesn’t, I discard. Many times, I feel like I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. At these times, I’ll watch Jill and just do what she does. Kind of like when I was in 8th-grade band and I’d just drum my fingers on my saxophone, fake it, and hope that I’d be covered by the proficiency of those around me. I’m also learning that the skill set you develop for one son isn’t necessarily applicable to the others. Each one is their own special brand of crazy.

Do you hang out with many other dads? If not, why? If so, what do you do together? With three kids under four, the house of one thousand pressing projects, a full-time gig, several part-time ones, and our website, hanging out with anyone is often relegated to hours 25 and 26 of our day. There’s simply no time left. We’re all so busy making donuts there’s no time to eat them. Hey… donuts!

Tell a little about your website. But of course. Ours is a husband/wife blog called Bill and Jill. It began as an information site for our wedding, and then morphed into a patchwork of conflicting styles and junk-HTML, which I lazily updated with pictures on roughly the same schedule that normal people do their taxes. About six months ago, we started rocking WordPress, and subsequently recommitted ourselves to keeping it updated.

And, as with everything else having to do with parenting, it’s important to note that Jill is my partner, accomplice, and the man behind the curtain. I couldn’t do it without her. Plus, she has a crazy talent for writing, and I’ve gotten keen insight from reading some of the things she’s posted.

Lastly, the genesis of the site name itself is actually quite bizarre, because my wife is not named Bill, and I’m not named Jill, yet we called the site ‘billandjill’. Where did these names come from? No one knows, and the ghosts aren’t talking.

Anything else you’d like to share? It was Colonel Mustard, in the Ballroom, with the Lead Pipe.

Next week’s Spotlight on Dads will feature a dad who is a camera phone junkie expert! Come back and learn more about another involved Dad.  Make sure you don’t miss it – Subscribe to get free updates.

Spotlight on Dads is a weekly series published each Saturday on Discovering Dad. Please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments section. Your feedback and recommendations will help to shape this series. Thanks!

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