We had friends over last night.  Friends with kids, that is.  It was a chance for the boys to play and a chance for Mami and me to have some grown up company.  We had some drinks (the grown ups, I mean), fed the children and sent them off to play while the older folks sat down for a simple dinner and nice conversation.

It’s been a blessing to have friends who are parents and can relate to where Mami and I are in our lives.  Some of our friends with kids are people we’ve known for a long time.  We were in college around the same time, got into relationships or got married around the same time and had our kids around the same time.  Other friends with kids are people we’ve met along the way.  People we’ve come to respect because of how they treat their children and each other.  Either way, as a relatively new parent I’m learning the value of having other parents in my life.

As a dad specifically, I have discovered how important it is to have other dads in my circle of friends.  I still appreciate my single friends, and they play an important part in my life, but there is no doubt dads are part of a special club.

There is something about being able to talk to or just spend time around other guys who have children in their lives.  Children who they are responsible for, sacrifice for and continue to parent and learn from.  Granted, how we are responsible for them, what we sacrifice for them and what we learn might look different; but there is an underlying understanding of what being a dad calls us to.  How we answer that call is perhaps a topic for another time.

But I do find some similarities across dads I meet.  For example, sometimes as dads we have the same glazed look in our eyes.  A look that says, “I can’t believe a child has that much energy” or “I can’t believe my child turned seventeen.  How’d that happen?” 

Other times I can sense what I can only call the overpowering nature of being a dad.   I’ve seen men who’ve only known how to be strong and blustery reduced to being kittens at the hands of their little girls.  And I’ve seen the most soft spoken dads become great warriors in the eyes of their boys.  If we feed this it can be a way to open up who we think we are or have to be.

There are other times when we dads might share a similar enthusiasm in our voice about something our children have done or just the persons they’re becoming.  Or it might be a knowing look when a daughter or son sings their first song or puts on an entire talent show in their bed room.  And sometimes all it takes is a shared look because between dads so many things are just understood. 

When dads are with other dads they don’t have to be embarrassed to drive in a car full of blankets, cups, dinosaurs, car seats and an assortment of children’s DVD’s and children’s CD’s (instead of all the latest chart toppers)-it’s just understood.  I didn’t say we like it but it’s understood.

Two dads in a conversation don’t have to excuse themselves every time a child comes into the room and pulls one dad out to go and play.  The conversation will continue after a quick game of hide and seek.  It’s just understood. 

When we have friends over with their kids I don’t have to explain to a fellow dad why a trip to the store to get ice cream, while the wives or partners talk and the children play, can seem like a week’s vacation or a trip to the Super Bowl.  It’s just understood.

And when the kids come running to the kitchen table, where the adults are still finishing dinner and a fellow dad is taking a fork full of food as my son Q yell out, “Papi, is poop the stuff our body uses because it needs it or is poop what isn’t any good anymore?” there is no need to comment or explain.  It’s just understood.

What do you think?  Share with me other experiences you feel you don't have to explain to dads or moms because it's just understood.