Lincoln Park Dad

Real Talk from a Lincoln Park Dad

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Fellow seekers in the maze of modern existence, welcome to the uncharted corners of my digital outpost. I’m LPD—Lincoln Park Dad—a veiled navigator charting the absurdities and profundities of fatherhood in the heart of Chicago’s relentless rhythm. No face to the name, just echoes of a life lived deliberately, one stoic step at a time amidst the chaos of tiny tyrants and urban adventures. Picture this: a transplant to the Windy City, drawn by its gritty poetry and culinary quests, with a wife who’s as much a co-conspirator in this epic as she is a fellow food explorer. We’ve built our fortress here sans the safety net of family nearby, embracing the solitude that forces us to forge our own paths. Parenthood? It’s the ultimate role-playing game—demanding, transformative, occasionally hilarious in its futility. Kids reshape your world like a cosmic joke, testing resolve while reminding you of life’s raw essence. Yet, beneath the diaper changes and midnight vigils, I cling to the fragments of self: gym rituals synced to vintage rap beats that pulse like forgotten philosophies, moments of quiet reflection amid the storm. We prioritize the sacred—self-care as armor, date nights as deliberate rebellions against routine. Dads today? We’re in the arena, evolving beyond the tales of yore where our forebears dodged the fray. This space is my scroll of musings: empathetic nods to the shared struggles, cool-headed insights laced with nerdy nods to life’s grand designs, and the occasional wry chuckle at the human comedy. Whether pondering the fourth trimester’s fog or the art of rekindling flames over Chicago’s epic eats, it’s all about balance—honoring the before, navigating the now, with an eye on the horizon. Steady on, wanderers. Let’s unpack this journey together. —LPD

Reflections

Struggling with my 3-year-old daughter not listening, refusing dinner, and preferring mom—any advice for a tired dad?

Hey everyone,

I’m a dad to a 3-year-old daughter (and a baby), and my wife and I both work full-time. By the time we get home, it’s absolute chaos: baby crying, dog barking, toddler demanding to “change the channel,” me burning the dinner sausages while trying to tune out my boss’s emails. It’s exhausting, and I feel like my daughter doesn’t listen to a word I say.

Lately, dinner has been a battle. She refuses to eat what we serve, probably because we’ve been giving her too many snacks after school. I’ve started trying the “this is your dinner—you don’t have to eat it, but you won’t get anything else” approach. Yeah, that hasn’t worked yet. She skips it, then at 8pm she’s hungry, we reheat it, and she still refuses. It’s only night two, so I’m hoping it clicks eventually. We’ve been caving and giving her whatever before, but I’m sick of wasting food all the time.

I don’t remember much from my own childhood, but my parents didn’t put up with any backtalk, negotiation on food, or waste. (Probably why I’ve been in therapy so long.) I think part of it’s income differences now vs. then, plus all the parenting info online. I just want a loving relationship with her. Tonight, we drew Paw Patrol characters with crayons before bed—she’s obsessed. She made fun of my first drawing, I told her it wasn’t nice and it hurt my feelings, she felt bad, apologized quickly, and asked me to draw more. That felt like a win.

But bedtime? She still prefers mom big time. Says stuff like “I want mommy” or “give me space,” which stings. My therapist says it’s conditioning and not to take it literally, but it’s hard not to. I read her a few books, trying to be as animated as possible to keep her interested.

I tried something I saw on Instagram: telling her she’s smart, she can do great things, she’s funny, creative… and she kicked me in the face and told me to leave.

Any advice from other parents? How do you handle picky eating without caving? Tips for building that bond when she prefers mom? Bedtime routines that actually work? We’re trying to be consistent, but with work and everything, it’s tough. Thanks in advance—feeling overwhelmed but determined.

A Solo Dad Night in Lincoln Park: Navigating Chaos, Finding Calm, and Rediscovering Appreciation 8/19/25

Hey there, fellow Lincoln Park parents! If you’re anything like me—a dad juggling the urban hustle with the beautiful madness of family life—you know that some evenings hit different. Last night was one of those classic solo parenting adventures, and it got me reflecting on just how much we pack into these “routine” days. My wife had a work event that kept her out late, leaving me in charge of the full kiddo lineup: pickup from daycare, playtime, dinner prep, feeding, and bedtime. Sounds simple on paper, right? But as any parent of young ones knows, it’s a whirlwind that society often underestimates.

Let me paint the picture. Our crew consists of a spirited 3-year-old toddler who’s full of opinions and a sweet 4-month-old who’s just starting to figure out this world. I’ve spent years working on my anxiety—therapy, mindfulness, the whole nine yards—and I’m finally at a point where I can actually try to enjoy these moments instead of white-knuckling through them. Don’t get me wrong; my brain still races a million miles an hour, hyper-alert in that “don’t mess this up” mode. But it’s way better than it used to be. Progress, folks!

The evening kicked off with the usual post-daycare energy burst. Playtime was fun at first, but things escalated when my toddler decided to battle me on screen time. I’m generally against TV for her, though we do bend the rules sometimes. Tonight? Full resistance. Then came dinner drama—she wasn’t having what I cooked, leading to a couple of epic meltdowns complete with “I want Mommy!” cries that tug at your heartstrings. Thankfully, the baby timed her nap perfectly, conking out while I was chopping veggies in the kitchen. Small mercies, am I right?

Of course, no evening is complete without the dog walk. This turned into a logistical puzzle: baby strapped to my chest in the carrier (adorable but sweaty), and attempting to let the 3-year-old “help” by holding the leash. Let’s just say it was a pain in the ass—dodging squirrels, untangling leads, and keeping everyone upright on those Lincoln Park sidewalks. But we made it, and there’s something oddly satisfying about conquering those little chaos moments.

Someone once told me that with your first kid, you’re basically learning how to parent on the fly—figuring out all the new challenges, second-guessing every decision. But with the second? You get to enjoy them more because you’ve got that experience under your belt. Man, I’m feeling that so much right now. With our toddler, everything felt like uncharted territory. But the baby picks up on my calmer, more confident energy. She’s chill because I’m (mostly) chill. It’s like parenting level-up unlocked.

By the time my wife walked through the door, we both had this deep wave of appreciation wash over us. First, for everything she handles around the house—the invisible labor that keeps our family ship sailing smoothly. And second, for how a little time apart can remind you just how much you love being together. Those work events or solo nights? They’re not just obligations; they’re resets that make the everyday magic shine brighter.

If you’re a Lincoln Park dad (or mom!) reading this and nodding along, drop a comment below—what’s your go-to strategy for solo parenting survival? Let’s share the wins and the “what was I thinking” moments. Until next time, keep embracing the chaos—it’s all part of this wild ride.

Cheers,

LPD