This past weekend, my family had one of those classic divide-and-conquer parenting situations. If you're a dad—or really, just a human being in a family—you know the kind: two kids, two tournaments, two cities. One in our hometown, and one in Bettendorf, Iowa. So we split up. My wife stayed back to hold it down locally, and I packed up with one of our boys and headed west.
Now, before I go on, let me just say this: I'm not new to fatherhood, travel, or responsibility. I’ve changed diapers on park benches and assembled bunk beds with missing pieces. But traveling solo with a kid—without the glue of the operation, my wife—opened my eyes to a few things I often overlook.
We got on the road later than planned (of course), which meant I was already playing catch-up before we even hit the interstate. Normally, my wife sits in the passenger seat, punching in directions, scouting food stops, and handling last-minute hotel details. This time? It was just me and my son—and my slightly outdated sense of direction.
“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up.” — Ecclesiastes 4:9–10
How do people do this without crashing?
Trying to plug in directions while driving felt like threading a needle in a moving car. Honestly, I’ve gained a newfound respect for anyone who manages GPS navigation, snack distribution, and playlist curation while staying between the lines. My son offered to help, but let’s just say he’s more of a “push every button until something works” type of problem-solver.
Eventually, we made it to Bettendorf… or so I thought. Turns out, I had plugged in the address of the sports field we were playing at later—not the hotel. When I finally dug out the email my wife had forwarded with the hotel reservation, I realized we were still 16 minutes away. I may have had a few choice words in my head, but what came out was, “How about we grab some lunch?”
After inhaling some sandwiches, we got back on the road. A few more directional blunders (which will now live on as private jokes between me and my son) and we finally made it to the parking garage. Once checked in, things settled down. We talked about baseball, superheroes, and a million other things. I had a blast—and so did he.
But throughout the weekend, something kept tugging at me: how much I rely on my wife, and how seamlessly she supports our family. She makes things look easy that aren’t. She fills in the gaps before they even form. I thought I gave her credit for all she does—but being without her reminded me there’s a difference between saying “thanks” and truly appreciating someone.
“Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: ‘Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.’” — Proverbs 31:28–29
This trip made me a better dad—and a better husband
Sometimes, stepping out of our routines is what helps us finally see them clearly. I realized how often I’ve depended on my wife to handle the details so I can focus on the big picture. But the truth is, those “little details” are the big picture. Knowing where you’re going. Keeping the family on track. Thinking three steps ahead so the rest of us don’t have to.
That night, after a full day of driving, baseball, swimming, and hotel exploring, I texted my wife: “We should snuggle more.” She replied, “That would be nice.” But what I really meant was something deeper. We’ve been married nearly 14 years. We’re comfortable in our routines, in our roles. What I was trying to say was, “I appreciate you.”
Don’t get me wrong—I’m always down to snuggle. But in that moment, I was overwhelmed with gratitude for the woman who chose me—or maybe more accurately, who gave me the privilege of being her husband.
“Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her.” — Ephesians 5:25
I don’t say this to diminish the role of the dad. Far from it. Being a dad is sacred to me. It’s the only job I ever really wanted. But being away from my wife reminded me that parenting—real, present, engaged parenting—isn’t a solo act. It’s a duet. And like any good duet, sometimes one voice leads while the other harmonizes. But both are needed for the song to make sense.
“Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord.” — Ephesians 6:4
The little moments are the big ones
What sticks with me from this trip isn’t just the stress of navigation or the late-night pool parties. It’s the moment my son looked over at me in the car and said, “This is fun, Dad.” It’s the look on his face—whether he was beaming with joy or wrestling with a tough loss. It’s the quiet moment we shared over ice cream. It’s the little things that build the big picture.
These are the memories I’ll carry forever—and I’m grateful I got to be there for them. But I’m also grateful for the woman who makes those moments possible. The one who handles the behind-the-scenes chaos so I can be fully present on the front lines.
Final Thought
If you’re reading this and you’re married or raising kids with a partner, take this as your nudge. Say thank you. Give credit. Acknowledge the quiet work. Because sometimes the person who keeps life running smoothly doesn’t ask for praise—but deserves it all the same.
“Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing.” — 1 Thessalonians 5:11
As for me? I came back from Bettendorf a little more tired, a little more grateful, and a whole lot more aware of just how good I’ve got it. And next time we hit the road, I’ll be handing her the phone and saying, “Babe, can you plug in the directions?”
Because I’ve learned my limits—and I’ve also learned how much I love sharing the load with someone who makes this life better in every way.
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