but why NOT paint myself as the hero?

Every morning, around 6 AM, my 2-year-old son calls out, "Daddo!"

It's the best alarm clock I've ever had.

Do I wish it had a snooze button? Absolutely. But that happy little voice, the way he sings "daaaah" "doeeee," I wake up feeling like a hero.

And rightfully so! After all, I am sacrificing my morning. What used to be an early morning date with the writer's chair is now yogurt and bananas, and singing peel bananas, peel peel bananas. Then it's off to the toys. Garbage truck. Firetruck. Construction trucks. In the summer, Caleb declares, "I want to ride my bike," or, "I want to ride my scooter." We head to an empty playground. "Where'd my friends go?" he asks. They're asleep, Caleb. They're sound asleep!

Again, don't get me wrong. I love it. My old writing routine pails in comparison to —oh, no! Sharks! Run to the couch, hide under a blanket, slowly peek our heads out only to find the sharks have turned into monkeys. And now they're zebras.

At best, writing recreates a childlike imagination, so why not go directly to the source? Every morning, I'm living inside one of Caleb's stories.

It's a win-win; I have a blast AND I get to paint myself as the hero. And boy do I love playing that hero card. Waking up early is just the beginning. I play the hero card for making dinner AND doing the dishes. I play the hero card for taking out the garbage. I play the hero card for having a sensible, 9 to 5 job vs. being some risky entrepreneur. Look at me being all financially stable for my family.

I even find a way to play the hero card when I'm asleep on the couch. Let me set the stage real quick. My wife actually is a hero for her gauntlet of a schedule. Not to pander to any moms reading this, but "Mom" really is a full-time job. And Ashley adds a full-time job on top of that. And she's getting her MBA. And she runs a high school dance program. How is this even possible? Theory: she has more hours in a day, more days in a week. It’s the only logical explanation.

But she still picks Caleb up from school. Plays with him while I'm cooking dinner. Reads books before bed. Pajamas. Turns out the lights.

And yet, even with these bonafide hero credentials, it'll be 11 o'clock at night and she feels guilty. Why? Because she didn't do the whole bedtime routine. Tagged me in at 7 so she could log into class. She gave Caleb a goodnight hug — and came back for another after his nightly serenade of, "One more hug! One more hug!" but still, Ashley's internal monologue is "I'm not doing enough" or its slightly more positive cousin: "I could be doing MORE."

Meanwhile, I'm asleep on the couch. Sleeping like a baby.

Same exact moment; she feels guilty for working hard and I feel like a hero for sleeping. And it's not just my internal hype man, Ashley says that when she looks over she sees everything through the supportive husband lens. That's not a guy snoring on the couch, that's a guy who woke up early. He's supporting my MBA... by playing with firetrucks.

The whole thing reminds me of this bit from Ali Wong. As dads, we get pats on the back for showing up, even if we're playing Candy Crush. Moms not only have to show up but pitch a perfect game. And even then it's like, "Well, you could've cleared out more candy pieces."

Is there a way to flip this script? Should I be imitating Ashley, motivating myself by saying "I'm not doing enough, I could be doing more." Or maybe the reverse, should Ashley turn on Superwoman by Alicia Keys, exhale, and start playing the hero card herself?

We Speak in "We"

Not sure if this is my own Midwesternness beliefs or what, but it feels like "I'm not doing enough" is a healthier mindset than "I'm kicking butt!" Whenever my self-talk gets too positive or sounds remotely like Muhammad Ali, I need to repent. Midwesterners swap "I'm the greatest!" with "Eh, I'm alright." And if we do win a championship, before talking about anything we did, we gotta acknowledge God, our teammates, and hey, let's give a lot of credit to the other team.

No saying, "I did this" or "I did that." Nope. As the old saying goes, there's no "I" in "Team." (But there is a "We" in "Midwest.")

Yep. Gotta be careful with that hero card. Don't want to get a big head. Another risk is it's remarkably close to the victim card. Remove the praise, even if it's self-congratulatory, and suddenly, "I woke up early, I did the dishes, I cooked dinner," turns into, "And nobody said thank you." Woah, it's me becomes woe is me. At least when I'm in hero mode, I can pump myself up and work harder. Victim mode I start caring less and less because nobody cares.

Eh, I'll just do the dishes tomorrow... not like I'm getting a Doordash giftcard or anything...

But I think the biggest risk is that every hero needs a villain. This works great if the villain's robbing a bank, or the villain's a giant fire, or the villain's trying to take over the world, but what happens when the villain's your spouse? Turns everything, at best, into a competition and, at worst, into a spite-filled battle.

Slip into this mindset and the brain is more than happy to keep framing everything through a hero vs. villain lens.

I'm cooking and doing the dishes because Thanos over there doesn't have enough time (ignoring that she's done the laundry, folded the laundry, cleaned the floors, ordered new paper towels, and 12 other things that I'm unaware have even happened)

The credit card's too high because of HER purchases (ignoring my $25 sandwich yesterday).

How come she gets to invest in her MBA and I'm over here scrapping together a few hours a week on my side hustle, and I don't have time to write, but I can't put in more time because then my day job suffers, and I gotta keep that steady paycheck, and come 6 AM I'm gonna hear "Daddo!" so I'm stuck playing with firetrucks (ignoring that Ashley has somehow figured out the Parent/Day Job/Second Job/MBA combo. AND she makes more money than me... Oof. The writers love skipping over that last part)

It's an absurd game and it's filled with endless scorekeeping. I did this. You did that. I'm always seeking credit, but when credit's given, that endorphin hit lasts for all of 10 seconds. Then it's right back to the hero/villain narrative.

But What's the Alternative?

One time I tried flipping the script, making the argument that I was the villain and she was the hero. But that escalated out of control. Turned into the Roast of Tom Brady.

Basketball you played a "Stretch 4." The only thing stretching now is your waistline!

Your son calls ya "Daddo?" Surprised he doesn't call you "Dad Bod."

Your wife's getting her MBA? The only three letters you're getting are an N-A-P.

Went from feeling like a hero to feeling like Eeyore.

Then I opened the Bible. Dusted off that ol' wedding day classic: 1 Corinthians 13. Love is patient, love is kind. But when I reached the whole, "it keeps no record of wrongs" part, I thought to myself, "Wait a second, then who's keeping score?" This can't be like grade school basketball where we pretend the final score's 0-0. There's gotta be a winner and a loser! Waking up early, doing dishes, that puts points on the board. Can't take that away. I'm already not getting a Doordash giftcard...

What other options are there? Maybe I lean into Ashley being the hero, but instead of me being the villain, I'm just a supportive dude. I become the male version of Lois Lane. Yeah. It's like those old Gatorade commercials, I need to be like Mike, but not Michael Jordan, Mike from Stranger Things. Ashley's Eleven and I'm asleep by 11.

This one works... for a little bit. But then I start getting the itch. Hey, I want to be the hero. I want people to say wow, look how hard he's working. That's not a good spot to be either. A suppressed hero card is a dangerous thing. Makes ya do things like buy a jet ski or select Kanye West songs at the karaoke bar.

I mean look at Walter White. It wasn't the cancer diagnosis that led him to the RV meth lab, it was his perceived lack of respect as a chemistry teacher and part-time car wash associate. He knew he could do more with his knowledge of chemistry. And as much as he convinced himself he was doing it all for his family, in the end he realized he did it for himself.

A suppressed hero card turned family man Walter White into the druglord Heisenberg.

Wait a Second, Maybe There is Another Option...

Not sure when I saw this, probably consumed it subconsciously when I was asleep on the couch watching an NBA game, but I heard Shaquille O'Neal talking to Boston Celtics guard Jaylen Brown. This was before the Celtics won the championship and Brown was named NBA Finals MVP.

Shaq's advice: Don't worry about useless titles. Don't worry about who's the man. Who's Batman, who's Robin. Know your role. Be confident in your role. Know what you have to do to be successful.

"When I stopped worrying about useless titles, I started winning championships," Shaq explained. He even confessed that Kobe was the better player on the Lakers.

I've been looking at this all wrong. Seems obvious, now that I'm typing it out, but makes sense that marriage is a team sport. Your spouse isn't your competition, the competition is everything surrounding the marriage. It's hard having a toddler. It's amazing, it's fun, it's the best thing that ever happened to us, all those things, but it is tiring, and it is non-stop, and day care is so freaking expensive. I feel like we're paying college tuition. And the number on the credit card is higher than I ever imagined seeing on a credit card and then someone gives you the advice, "You know, the trick is having an emergency savings fund," oh, is that right? With what, the coins between the couch cushions? Telling a toddler parent they need an "emergency savings fund" is like telling someone whose house just got leveled by a tornado, "Ya know, the trick is having that emergency second home in Nantucket."

Waking up early is hard. Staying up late getting an MBA is hard. Parenting is hard.

And so are dishes, and laundry, and cooking. If AI's so amazing, and AI's ready to take over the world, why not start by taking over our chores? Self-driving cars? I just need a self-starting dishwasher.

These are our shared opponents. Who cares who gets to be Kobe and who gets to be Shaq? We're on the same team. Fighting off villains, together. That's the sweet spot. That's when love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.