Family Protocol
Presence Over Performance
Thursday night. Presidents’ Day weekend. Kids are bouncing off the walls of the garage while we load the trusty VW Atlas. They don’t want to wait until tomorrow to get on the road, so we’re leaving now.
“Where are we going?”
“Montana. Maybe. We’ll see.”
Rebecca gives me that look. The one that says I can’t believe we are winging the first day of a five-day road trip with kids?
Yes. Yes, we are.
After 30 years of military planning—mission briefs, operational orders, contingency plans for the contingency plans—I’m learning something: The most important missions can’t be completely scripted.
We stopped at random places that looked interesting from the highway. Rebecca picked a restaurant because it sounded like the most fun. We rolled into a motor lodge that looked decent online but was... not. The room we reserved? Broken door lock. Got bumped to a smaller room. The pool we’d hyped up? Required a frozen parking lot trek, and looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since the Clinton administration.
My kids were in heaven.
Three of them stacked in a queen bed like sardines. Rebecca and me in the queen bed next to them. Cramped. Chaotic. Perfect.
We had put more planning into our four-day trip to Salt Lake City. Way better hotel with a nice, clean pool where the kids lived for hours. Local hockey game—not NHL, just good people playing hard. The Little Mermaid at a community theater with kids acting. Meeting up with friends we hadn’t seen in forever. A trip to a local farm where our kids went feral petting goats and chickens.
Zero “Top 10 Family Destinations” energy.
It was magic.
Here’s what hit me while throwing my kids up in the air in that Salt Lake pool, Rebecca laughing at something we were doing:
They don’t need me to be the hero. They don’t need the perfect vacation. They don’t need Dad executing flawless family ops.
They need me here. Actually here.
Not mentally planning tomorrow. Not checking social media. Not performing “present father” while my brain is stuck on a problem somewhere else.
And I’m still terrible at it.
Rebecca’s dealt with my military transition bullshit since we got married after retirement. Searching for purpose. The getting mentally kidnapped by whatever project I’m working on. Being physically at home but mentally on the next important thing, which provides a sense of purpose.
Meanwhile, the actual important stuff—my kids growing up, my wife working hard—happens whether I’m present or not.
This weekend worked not because I’m good at presence. I’m not. The phone discipline wasn’t perfect. I still checked social media more than I should have.
But you know what? You can’t be on your phone in the pool. And the kids spent hours in that water, and I made a point of getting in there with them.
Sometimes the best systems are the ones that remove the option to fail.
Core Concept
Presence isn’t a feeling. It’s a practice. And it requires actual systems.
Not “try harder to be present” bullshit. Not guilty about checking your phone. Not performing your presence for an outside audience.
Building conditions where presence becomes the path of least resistance.
Here’s what I know from watching myself screw this up repeatedly:
Family time without systems becomes accidental. And accidental doesn’t cut it.
You think you’re present because you’re in the same room. But your brain’s running three projects ahead. Your phone’s buzzing. Your mental task list never stops.
Then you look up and your kids are older. Your spouse has built a life that works around your absence. The moment’s gone.
Can’t get that back.
The Three Circles That Actually Matter
Circle 1: Kids
Ground zero. Blow this, nothing else matters.
My kids don’t need perfect. They were thrilled in that sketchy motel because we were all together in one room. They didn’t care that the pool was questionable—they cared that I got in the water with them when we found a clean one.
They need you on the floor playing their stupid game for the hundredth time. Reading the same book again. Listening to school drama that seems trivial but is their entire world.
Not the highlight reel. An ordinary Tuesday. The boring stuff.
That’s not filler. That’s the whole game.
Circle 2: Spouse
Rebecca married a guy who was trying to figure out who he was without a rank and a mission.
She’s dealt with me being mentally absent while physically present. Taken away by projects. Lost in the next thing that feels like it matters.
That’s on me. Still working on it.
Your spouse doesn’t need grand gestures. They need you to actually listen when they talk. Put the phone down during a conversation. See them as more than a logistics coordinator for the household.
They need a partnership. Not performance.
Circle 3: Extended Family & Friends
This circle flexes more, but it still counts.
That friend’s visit happened because we protected the time. We reached out, and they drove out of their way. We all said yes when it would’ve been easier to skip it.
Our kids got to be kids with their kids. We caught up. Simple. Important.
These relationships either deepen or drift. Nothing stays the same.
Why We All Suck at This
1. We confuse busy with present
A packed calendar of kids’ activities ≠ presents parenting.
You can attend every game and never actually see your kid.
2. We perform instead of connecting
Instagram family. Perfect photos. Curated moments.
All performance. Zero presence.
3. We don’t protect the space
Work bleeds everywhere. Phone interrupts everything. Mental noise never stops.
Presence requires boundaries. Most people won’t set them.
4. We wait for “later.”
“I’ll be more present when work calms down.”
“After this project.”
“When things settle.”
Later never comes. You build systems now or you don’t.
The Hard Truth
Being present is harder than working hard.
Work is a clear mission. Defined success. Measurable outcomes.
At home? The mission is: Be here. Fully here.
No medals. No awards. No promotions. No atta boys from your boss.
Just kids who feel seen. A spouse who feels valued. Relationships that work.
What Actually Worked This Weekend
Not because I’m good at this. Because systems removed options:
Pool time = no phone (can’t scroll while swimming)
Road trip = captive audience, actual conversations
Random stops = presence in the moment, not the plan
Cramped hotel room = forced togetherness that became a memory
Farm time / Hockey Games / Musical Theater = locked-in time, no escape to “important” work
Sometimes the best discipline is designing situations where you can’t fail.
Your kids are growing up right now. Your spouse is building life right now. Your relationships are moving—deeper or drifting.
Presence is the work.
Not the heroic work. Not the impressive work.
The work that actually matters.
That sketchy motel with my kids stacked in one bed? Not the worst night of the trip.
Not because it was perfect.
Because we were all actually there.
Lead with Love,
Doom
Beautiful Doom.
My wife and I are working on creating several recurring times throughout the week where presence becomes natural. Game night, family dinners, and various times without technology of any kind are all things we’ve done but want to consistently do as the return on investment is always great.
Creating effective systems for those who matter.
Love this so much. Not just for those with kiddos also is great for couples of all ages where things just take over. Thank you