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It’s Fathers’ Day, and I am waking up in the hospital with my daughter Ellie. Her roommate started fussing in his high-pitched voice around 5:30, which jolted my day into motion. It is only a matter of time before he wakes my daughter. My family will join us in a few hours, and we’ll celebrate by having brunch in the hospital cafeteria.

This isn’t the Fathers’ Day you seen in cards or on commercials, at least this part of the day. No breakfast in bed or golf here. Yesterday we heard an ad that said that Fathers’ Day is about sleeping in, good food, and family. I didn’t get to sleep in, and my breakfast will be institutional grade. But…my family will be awesome, and that part of the day started when I sat up and saw Ellie.

Ever since I became a dad, I’ve wrestled with what to do with Fathers’ Day. Is it a day for me, a “day off” when I can relax and do some of the things I’ve put off because I’ve been changing diapers and helping with homework and coaching youth sports? Or is it a day for the kids, an opportunity for me to show them how important they are by giving them my undivided attention for once? The yin-and-yang of the day has always made me a bit uncomfortable.

On this particular day, however, I begin the morning as the caring and responsible parent of a child in need. Granted, this is a role my wife plays regularly, and I am merely the weekend substitute. I take no special credit. But I do take great comfort in the notion that I am doing what I am supposed to be doing as a dad. I am being the best dad I can be, and that’s a great way to start Fathers’ Day. I can’t wait till she wakes up, looks over, sees me and smiles.