Tag: Dad Blog

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Dad Blogs Family Fatherhood

Please buy my product

Working from home definitely has its privileges. Frankly, I get just as much work done from home as I do when I go into the office, AND when I’m not terribly busy, I can do things around here that need doing so that I’m not trying to do them when CareerMom comes home and wants to hit the gym.

When I’m home, I often turn the television on for the background noise. It’s interesting what’s on TV when it’s not prime time. It really gives you insight into the target audience. For instance, so far today, I’ve seen:

  • Robert Wagner pitching reverse mortgages (He used to be one cool cat!)
  • J.G. Wentworth commercials by the oodles (How many losers have structured settlements out there anyway?)
  • Wilford Brimley hawking diabetic medical supplies (Is it just me, or does he seem just REALLY angry all the time?)

Apparently, in addition to Work from Homers, there are also a lot of people who have sued others (and won), along with a bunch of older folk with money problems.

This got me thinking about how, when I get to be 75 years old, who will be on TV trying to get me to buy stuff!

“Hi, I’m Harrison Ford. Do you have enough life insurance?”

or maybe…

“Hello, I’m Calista Flockhart. You may remember me from a little show called “Allie McBeal” and today I’d like to talk to you about freedom. Do you have problems getting around Wal-Mart? Is taking care of your grandchildren too difficult because you didn’t eat enough when you were younger (like me) and now your bones are brittle? Maybe what you need is a personal Hover-Chair!”

Isn’t it sad? Already it’s difficult to watch people like Tom Selleck and Pierce Brosnan–people we thought were cool–get old before our eyes. I haven’t seen the latest Indiana Jones movie, but I know that when I do, I’m gonna be scrutinizing Harrison’s face, looking to see how bad he looks!

Me, I’m going for that “distinguished gentleman” look as I age–as if I have any say in the matter. But who knows, worse comes to worst, maybe I have a career as a non-celebrity spokesperson for the pharmaceutical industry:

“Did you try to lift too much weight in the gym? Did you screw yourself up good doing it? Me too. Let’s talk…”

Makes me smile just thinking about it!

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Dad Blogs Family

Cuz it’s One, Two, Three Strikes You’re Out…

three strikesAs I’ve mentioned, the daycare we have our kids in was recently purchased by a major chain (sounds like, “Bids R Bids”). Turns out, the new owner also owns a facility just up the road; one which, I might add, we had previously looked at and turned down summarily! Since the hostile takeover, the following things have happened:

– They didn’t tell anyone about the purchase until it was a done deal. Even people who had put deposits for Fall enrollment were not told. I know of one lady who dislikes the other facility these owners have so much, that she walked away from her $250 down payment.

– They removed all the wood chips in the playground, effectively shutting the playground down for a week. They have now put in different wood chips that are apparently easier on the lungs of those with breathing problems (so…let’s charge everyone more so that we can make it easier on one or two. Sounds similar to our government)

– They have now instituted a “3 strikes and you’re (at least) suspended” biting policy

It’s this last biting policy that most concerns us and many of the teachers. If you have ever had kids, or had kids around other kids, then you know that biting is common among toddlers. It’s not nice, it’s not fun, but it’s a fact of life. MLE is a bit of a biter and we’ve been working on him at home by not letting him and MLI wrestle (which sucks because, Come ON! they’re boys!), by reprimanding him when he does, and even by swatting his hiney when he does it.

But yesterday was his first offense under the new policy, so CareerMom is freaking out already about what we’ll do IF he gets suspended or kicked out. Neither of us have jobs that lend themselves well to keeping our kids at home and we’ve already scoped out all the daycare facilities around us and aren’t thrilled with our choices, not to mention the fact that with Pre-K registration having just finished, space is at a premium (if available at all).

The teachers of MLE’s class are trying to talk some sense into the owners, explaining to them that you can’t reason with a 15-month old like one of them tried explaining to us, “Well, have you tried sitting him down and explaining to him that biting is bad?”

*snort* I wish it had been me there when they said that rather than CareerMom because I would have retorted with, “I would hope that anyone who owns a daycare would be more aware of the developmental milestones of children.” You can’t reason with a 15-month old, when their attention span is no bigger than a Goldfish cracker. Sure, you can get their attention for the moment, but in an hour, in the heat of playing, their not going to stop what their doing and suddenly recall a lesson about biting! It’s madness I tell ya! Madness!

In his defense, he’s gotten better, but every now and then, usually when he gets excited and when he’s in close proximity to another person, he’ll just latch on, not hard though, but enough to hurt a bit.

But we do understand the concern that biting causes. MLI got bit a LOT when he was little and thankfully, he only bit a couple of times, and only in retaliation; but, as the mother of the child MLE bit yesterday said to CareerMom, “Oh, don’t worry about it! My son has certainly done his share of biting too!”

Anyway, my daily prayers now include, “Dear Lord, please don’t let MLE bite anyone today…oh and please let us have World Peace! Amen!”

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Dad Blogs Family Fatherhood

The Things We Do For Love

As a man of equality, there’s not much I wouldn’t, or haven’t done in the name of fatherhood. I know men who didn’t change a diaper until the child was almost a year old. I know other men, like my father, who feel the man’s place in the home is to keep things running smoothly, only stepping into the role of “caregiver” as a last resort, or when all hell has broken loose and a little law is in order. I, on the other hand, pride myself on being a near-equal to CareerMom in all areas of rearing children.

These thoughts were running through my head yesterday, as I stood in CVS talking to a female pharmacist, in front of a row of various “creams” for um…yeast infections for MLE’s diaper rash.

“Yes, this is a very good one here. It has applicators for girls, but since your baby is a boy, you can just take it right from the tube and rub it along the infected areas.”

My mind wandered, as any man’s would, and I couldn’t help but think to myself, “What would I have to do if we had a girl?”

The pharmacist droned on, “Now, are you using packaged wipes when you clean him? Because it’s best if you just use a squirt bottle and then pat him clean with a soft cloth.”

I heard myself mumble, “Well, he’s in daycare all day, so we can’t control what they do, and when he’s at home, we change him on a padded plastic thing, so I can’t really use a squirt bottle, but I do wipe him very gently and then pat him clean with a warm washcloth.” And then I had a “Scrubs” moment and in my head, a vignette played out, recalling how as I have his two ankles clasped in my hand and I lift his legs so that his booty is off the table, how he grins as I press the warm washcloth against his hiney. And I chuckled and immediately feared that the pharmacist would read my chuckle as embarrassment and even further patronize me.

It was clear that she thought this was my first go-round at this fathering thing, and being of Indian origin, I’m pretty sure she didn’t hold in too high esteem, the parenting skills of most men (I’m stereotyping here, I know), but rather than launching into my usual soapbox about how we men are perfectly capable, I just nodded along with her sage wisdom.

But in my head I was just thinking, “Look lady, just tell me which of these creams works best, Vagisil, or the store brand, and then let me get out of here through the checkout with the shortest line so nobody sees me buying it!”

Alas, it was not to be. Luckily, the checkout person was an older man, who had probably seen it all and who gave my feminine purchase little more than a casual glance. And also luckily, there was no need for a public price check over the intercom.

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A Boy's Life Dad Blogs Family

I’m too sexy for this post…so sexy it hurts!

aerosmith T here are lot of things about a person, physically, that help shape how others view them. And many of us spend out entire lives tweaking our personal presentation through the way we dress, or by the types of exercise we do; and of course, through our hairstyle. But there’s one area of personal attention that I’ve always paid close attention to, and which, I might add, is sadly lacking among young people today. This area is in how a person carries him or herself.

Ages ago, before it was widely recognized that women held talents beyond those of the household variety, young ladies were taught how to walk, how to sit, and generally how to present themselves to company (and young ladies, nothing is less attractive than a woman who slouches all the time. Be proud, be strong, pull your shoulders back and look men in the eye.

Men, on the other hand, have never had formal training; rather, we learned to pattern ourselves after our heroes, and those we thought cool. For a man, a large part of the way he carries himself is in the way he walks.

There’s the “I crap bigger than you” Jack Palance swagger.

There’s the “Hey, you talkin’ ta me” spunky side sway as presented by people like Di Niro and Pacino.

There’s the Peter Parker, “Maybe if I don’t look up, nobody will notice me” walk.

And then there’s my personal favorite, the Obi Wan Kenobi, “…move along, there’s nothing to see here” walk that tells people, “Hey, beneath this calm exterior, lies pain you don’t wanna mess with. Feel free to admire from a distance, but generally leave me alone.”

So, when I was in my early teens, my father and I were walking through the mall together, something we rarely did because he hated shopping. While walking, he casually mentioned to me that I should, “Stop bouncing.”

When I asked what he meant, he explained that I was strutting and that I had a bounce to my walk.

Well, being a short feller, I had been the object of many a bully’s attention. Most times, I’d been able to avert those attentions, sometimes through implied aggression and other times through simple avoidance, but the last thing I wanted, was to draw attention to myself through a bouncy, strutty, “Hey, come take my lunch money!” kind of walk.

So, over the years, I have strived (striven? strove?) to remove all traces of a cocky bounce from my gait, and instead turn it into a smooth stride that says, “Ignore me if you’d like” even if it wasn’t terribly graceful. I like this walk in the gym especially, because, while I’m not a powerhouse, for my size, I use a lot of weight and as I move around, I like the economy of movement it provides, while also making me appear humble, and not like some muscle-bound roid freak! I’ve found that what I’ve strove to achieve, is very much like what Tai Chi teaches about walking, though I never made the connection until recently.

But since my latest back injury, my smooth walk has gone out the window. I’ve become this flat foot landing, leg dragging hunchback instead. What I’m finding now as the pain starts to dissipate, is that my body still wants to walk like this, even though the pain isn’t really there. It’s become my new walk and it IS NOT a graceful thing of beauty. I am not a gazelle!

It’s taking me real effort to attempt to walk normally, because somewhere in my head, my brain is telling my legs and feet that if they try and take a full step, and if they try to land heel to toe, it’s gonna hurt. And while the pain isn’t all gone, it’s certainly not like it was.

So if you see someone walking down the road and your mind vacillates back and forth over whether he looks like Quasimodo or a really cool martial arts dude that could probably kick your butt, it might be me (but I probably could not kick your butt).