Focusing on the mundane annoyances of parenthood and cracking a smile

A long Philadelphia drive that shouldn't have been — and learning not to wish a single moment of it away

It's the weekend during the school year, and in the Stamm household of five, that means only one thing: activities.

From fall ball baseball to flag football to soccer to neighborhood events to running to errands, the schlep is on as my wife, Shelby, and I divide and conquer.

I find myself at times feeling like I'm just going through the motions, losing myself in the distraction of logistics rather than appreciating the little joys of the moment. 

Then this week, a newsletter (yes, I read other writers than myself, silly) hit my inbox and gave me a focused pause. It was the Oct. 9, 2026, edition of The Daily Dad (you don’t have to be a dad to subscribe).

"You're tired. They're tired. It's been a long day or a long drive. You're ready for the school play to be finished up. You're ready for bedtime." - Ryan Holiday

I only began getting this regular dose of fatherhood philosophy after reading (OK, Shelby and the show Ted Lasso would chide me for not admitting that I listened to it instead of opening the book) Holiday’s The Obstacle Is the Way — a book that challenged my outlook on living.

But the piece of advice that really stood out to me wasn’t Holiday's, but those he quoted from Daniel Klein's Travels with Epicurus:

"I remember one long-ago evening, on an overcrowded train to Philadelphia, hearing a young woman moan to her mother, 'God I wish we were there already!' Her white-haired mother replied eloquently, 'Darling, never wish away a minute of your life.'"

I stopped and thought for a moment before I read Holiday’s simple take on that wisdom. Once I did, the whole picture came into focus:

"That’s what we—supposedly the wiser adults—are constantly doing ourselves. And worse, we are wishing away our kids' lives. The most beautiful and cute and fleeting part, too," Holiday wrote."

Don’t wish it away, no matter how frustrating this phase or this bedtime or this age is. Before you know it, they’ll have grown. They won’t need you as much anymore. You won’t see them every day (you probably won’t even talk to them every day). And you’ll wish for it all back."

Amen!

This isn't me, but it could be since he's driving a blue minivan.

I used to have “appreciator of the little things” in my AOL IM profile (another thing I dearly miss now that it's gone). I find in my most distracted times of fatherhood I have strayed from that.

Which brings me back to action-packed Saturday. While driving my children from one baseball practice to a game — coaching both — we sat in a car jam-packed with items my wife needs for a fair she’s exhibiting at on Sunday, sitting in snarled traffic — coincidentally in Philadelphia. The drive should have taken 10 minutes or less. 

My antsy sons questioned what was going on. I explained that the Schuylkill Expressway (I-76) was closed, as was 20th Street, leaving 22nd Street a parking lot for drivers going south to north. We weaved to 18th Street only to be stopped by an art fair at Rittenhouse Square. 16th Street wasn't much better. (Another aside: Shelby also says I love talking about traffic, and it was something I shared deeply with my father.) 

By the time we got to Broad Street and actually started driving more than 5 mph (but of course not over 25 mph thanks to the persistent speed cameras), half an hour had passed. 

My sons were uncomfortable but being good troopers, despite me getting snappy a couple of times. 

It was then that this idea of appreciating the mundane, the annoying moments, crept in: How much better I was experiencing this with my boys. How much I appreciated the song on the radio. How the sun shone brilliantly on all those stationary cars. If someone snapped a photo of me at that moment, I may have actually been smiling. 

That’s my focus. I don’t want to take for granted a single moment I get with my kids. Even when they wake me up at 3 a.m., even when they slouch down in the chair next to me, even when I'm cooking dinner as they watch a show on the couch, even when they forget to use the bathroom before we leave the house.

I don’t want to waste those moments in distraction, because soon I’ll have my last one with them. 

Have a great Sunday. Go Birds!