From 0 to 5K with #RunDisney & The Avengers

If you know me in real life, you might know that there are three things I’m typically not a big fan of: waking up early, exercising and birthdays. So naturally when I was invited to participate in RunDisney’s inaugural Avengers Half Marathon at Disneyland, which was scheduled to begin at 5:30am on my birthday, I rejected the concept in my head before I even knew what it was really about. But then I found out about a 5K race being run the day before the half marathon and actually gave it a second thought, and then a third thought, before accepting the invitation/challenge. Oh, did I mention this call was 9 days before the event?

So why would I jump blindly into something like a 5K with no notice? Because I had to. No, neither Captain America nor Mickey Mouse forced me to run, my sons did. It occurred to me over the summer when we’d take our nightly family walks after dinner that I was having trouble keeping up with my two boys. Kids love to run, especially after a meal that has refilled their gas tanks, and mine love to sprint back and forth down the blocks to burn some of that energy. After several weeks of feeling winded from running half a block to catch them, I knew it was time for change. I just didn’t know how to actually do it.

So Mrs. Dude and I started going for power walks in the evenings through our hilly neighborhood. At first I thought I was going to collapse after 10 minutes, but it got incrementally easier the more often we did it and before long we were averaging about 2 ½ miles. The problem was consistency, as my exercise frequency varied between zero and 2 or 3 times per week. Finding the time, or rather making the time, to exercise can be challenging. It can also be daunting to someone like me who’s never really had much fitness experience or education.

So with my almost-big birthday looming and having committed to running the Avengers 5K, I had to figure some things out quickly. And not the least of which was how was this lifelong night owl going to run a race at 5:30am! I knew that my workout inconsistency had to change. I figured that if nothing else I could at least walk the 5K course, but my goal quickly became more than that. I didn’t know how to quantify my goal, but I knew I needed to do a couple practice 5Ks to gauge things. I figured with 9 days to go, I could fit in 3 or 4 trial runs before the actual event.

So that night I set out alone in the dark to figure out how to prep for a 5K. It had been almost a month since my last vigorous exercise, but I wasn’t quite starting from scratch. I knew that 5K equals 3.1 miles and using the “Map My Walk” iPhone app, I started walking until I reached that distance. Up, down and around my neighborhood I watched the app’s odometer inch upward, seemingly very slowly, until I returned home a wheezing, sweaty mess. But I’d done it. I’d now completed a real 5K via a hybrid of mostly walking with bursts of running interspersed throughout.

5 days until the Avengers 5K

Five more times over the next week I did the same thing and despite varying the course on every occurrence, on each instance my overall time improved. I was feeling good about my prospects in the race and, more importantly, also about myself. With only a few calendar ticks remaining until I began the last year of my 30s, I was on a mission for my family and myself. Avengers 5K and Disneyland, here I come…

1 day until my first 5K!

To Be Continued

Disclaimer: I was invited by RunDisney to participate in their Avengers 5K race weekend. All opinions and ideas expressed in this post are mine alone, for better or worse. 

Note: Before beginning any rigorous exercise/training program you should consult with your physician. My exercise/training results and race preparation were not typical. YMMV.

Your Kids are Growing Up...Believe It or Not

While skipping past my Facebook Timeline’s myriad “I need coffee!” grumbles most mornings and “I need wine!” laments later in the days, I’ve discovered another type of social media declaration that has even more of a nails-on-a-chalkboard effect on me: when parents denote their child’s birthday by saying things like “I can’t believe it’s been 9 years since my hilarious, mischievous, handsome and effervescent Little Johnny was born”.

No, I’m not a Grinch who hates birthdays, children or adjectives. Rather I’m a father who is totally enamored with and constantly amazed by my children, as I’d hope my friends and acquaintances would be by theirs. My two boys leave me in a perpetual state of awe. The Little Dude is 4 ½ years old and I can believe that because I’ve lived it. Day-in and day-out, through better and worse. 

4 1/2 years in the blink of an eye

His almost-2-year-old brother, the Littler Dude, started walking recently, which is one of the most incredible early developmental milestones for a parent to witness. Watching your child trying to figure out how to graduate from being a totally immobile food-recycling lump into a quasi-self-sufficient-being in a matter of months is magical. It seems like eons ago when we watched the Littler Dude eagerly observing his older brother running around outside, while grunting to express how badly he wanted to join him. Willing himself to accomplish that goal, that mission to keep up with his idol, in such a relatively short amount of time was a look into the soul of hope.

2 years

So when people compose a status update like “I can’t believe my bubbly, clever, generous, ornery Tatiana is 8 months old today!” I always think of the preposterously named I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter. If you can’t believe that oozing yellow goop is not butter, either you’ve never actually tasted butter or your taste buds have been brainwashed into thinking that some artificial faux-dairy product tastes better and is healthier for you, when in reality its ingredients are nearly as plastic as the container it comes in. In order to believe, we must open our mind’s taste buds to savor the complexity of our intellectual manna.

Being a parent is easily the greatest gift in the world (beside a Ferrari), but what makes it incredible is actually experiencing the emotional hills and valleys that make a life lived. Of course those journeys happen at breakneck speed to make us appreciate how fortuitous we as parents truly are. As a wise man once said “Life moves pretty fast, if you don’t stop and look around once in a while you could miss it.” Ferris Bueller yearned to maximize every moment of his journey and I strive to do the same with and for my family. I’m wistfully aware that my 4 ½ year-old son has already used up about ¼ of his time at home with Mrs. Dude and me before he hopefully heads to college. It’s that rapid changing of the calendar that frequently makes me reminisce about some of my own life’s adventures that seem like they recently occurred, yet it’s only when I stop to reflect that I realize they were really 10 years ago. Or 20. Or 30.

For me, parenting has been challenging, stressful, messy, sticky and infinitely more. And that’s just in the last hour. I’m beyond lucky to have my Junior Dudes and their wonderful mother as my companions for the odyssey that comprises the story of our family, wherein time is merely a subjective factor in the grand equation that is our life. As parents we often watch the clock for things like “is there really still 20 weeks left of this pregnancy?” or “will my child ever sleep that extra hour so I’m 3% less of a zombie tomorrow?” But the reality is that time is what we make of it. Everyone is allotted the same 24 hours per day, yet those 60-minute blocks seem to move supersonically as we age. Since there is no way to slow them down we must Carpe the hell out of our finite number of Diem to make sure we savor each treasured moment before they slip away.

Just when I’ve gotten used to the Little Dude going to preschool, he’ll soon move up to Pre-Kindergarten while his brother starts at the same school, coincidentally where their grandmother took their mother over three decades ago. I understand the disbelief so many friends claim to feel regarding their children’s growth and empathize. Time does move fast.  Certainly much faster than desired through these prized early moments. That’s why I attempt to savor each one, for though we don’t know what’s coming next we must buckle our seatbelts and be ready for the adventure.  

I can’t believe there’s anything better than that.  

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The Day Hope Arrived in my Mailbox

A piece of mail.

So often overlooked today, what is now frequently called “snail mail” for its lack of immediacy in a world that demands timeliness, I believe that Postal mail still has its strengths. And today a simple piece of mail gave me hope.

The truth is that I look forward to bringing in the mail every day, for who knows what wonderful surprises may be hiding in a pile of soon-to-be-recyclable bills and their antithesis, credit card offers. The mailman frequently drops off a stack of stress but I cherish the days when he doesn’t.

Sometimes the mailman brings greeting cards meant to elicit smiles, though the ones I received recently just made me feel another year or ten older. Another year has passed me by. It wasn’t all bad, but it wasn’t all good either. Our financial tide is starting to turn, though a long road to recovery will come first.

I glance at the glossy postcards for European cruises that I’ll probably never take my family on and toss them quickly toward the recycling bin. I don’t want to torture myself over what I can’t give them today, no matter how badly I wish I could. The Little Dude turned 4 years old recently. His life is just beginning. I want him to have every opportunity in the world to make his life as personally fulfilling as possible, though I know my resources will limit him to some degree.  

So how can I enrich their lives without being rich? Sometimes amazing experiences fall into my lap. Just as this autumn began, I received an unexpected invitation to an LA Dodgers game. What used to be a several times per year activity that I took for granted suddenly hadn’t occurred in several years. The games start at challenging times, it’s too far to easily get to, it’s expensive – those are some of the excuses I’d conjured over the last year or two for why I hadn’t gone.

“Bring your family”, they said. “There’s nothing better than a father taking his son to a baseball game” they said, and my only response was “sure there is, it’s bringing two”. As the Los Angeles air began to turn crisp, I would take my family of 4 to our first baseball game.

After navigating through torrential LA traffic and parking headaches, we made it to Chavez Ravine. Dodger Stadium, home of so many legendary moments. Kirk Gibson’s home run off Dennis Eckersley. Orel Hershiser’s scoreless streak and so many more that I want to share with my sons. In due time, I told myself.

Sitting close enough to hear the catcher’s mitt pop as it swallowed myriad blazing fastballs, my sons’ eyes widened at the largess of what surrounded them. 50,000-plus people wearing blue and cheering toward a common goal, another victory for the good guys. We sang while we stretched and cheered every time the ball screamed off the long pine “toothpicks”. I was enamored by watching them take in the sights and sounds of the experience. Their first Major League experience. Those moments were joy.

The Little Dude wearing his Rally Cap.

Though the home team lost 1-0, my family won 4-0. And not only because of the Dodgers Snuggies the team distributed to all fans in attendance. The Little Dude was hooked on America's pastime. He sang Take Me Out to the Ballgame repeatedly for weeks afterward until I introduced him to John Fogerty’s Centerfield. He asked questions about the players and the game and eagerly wanted to learn more. All in due time, I told him.

With the year ending soon and rare frost in Los Angeles, I look forward to a new year filled with promise, joy and new experiences with my boys. As a frequently let-down fan of my hometown Cleveland Indians, we are often told to “wait ‘til next year”, for hope springs eternal and next year will surely be our year.

Today the mailman brought a catalog. Not for clothes or plumbing supplies or stereo equipment. For experiences. And in a few months the Little Dude will get one of his own when he steps onto a baseball diamond for the first time. Wait ‘til next year? I hardly can.

Disclaimer: The fine folks at Dove Men+Care offered me tickets to a recent LA Dodgers game as part of their "Big League Dads" campaign and it was epic. All opinions expressed in this post are solely mine, for better or worse. 

Rockin' Friday: My Birthday

Today is my birthday. Hard to believe another year has passed, but I guess that’s what happens when you aren’t clock watching. Since my last birthday I’ve been the lucky recipient of the Littler Dude and enjoyed the Little Dude getting older and wiser, too. And Mrs. Dude and I celebrated 5 years of wedded bliss, though that period has felt more like a month.

Not my cake, but I wouldn't mind if it was. 

Life certainly isn’t easy, but I think after 36 years, I’m starting to get the hang of it. Fortunately I have a great co-pilot and crew to back me up. As a wise man once said, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” And I don’t want to miss it.  So I’m going to end with this week’s Rockin’ Friday tune of the week: Going Down the Road Feeling Bad.

That title isn’t indicative of my current state of mind, but rather just an upbeat fun song as I’ve already conquered some of the road and am certainly living where the climate suits my clothes. It’s a classic folk song that has been remade countless times. Here’s one of my favorite versions: 

 

Thanks for your ongoing support of Dude of the House!!

You make the road I'm traveling much more fun. 

My Stolen Birthday

As the youngest of three siblings by several years, I never really had to get used to sharing.  When I was in elementary school, my siblings were in high school and college so I didn’t have to worry about them taking my GI Joes or WWF action figures. I don’t say that to make a point about selfishness, but more related to growing up with a high level of independence. What was mine was mine and I liked it that way.

That all changed three years ago this week. My birthday is coming up in a few days. I haven’t really been a big birthday celebrator in many years, partly because aging is a frustrating thing when your life isn’t exactly what you hoped it might be. I’m not complaining, as I’m very fortunate to have a wonderful wife and family. But for quite a while I brushed off my birthday as just another day.

The Little Dude was born 9 days before my birthday three years ago. In the Jewish religion we have a ceremony called a Bris that is performed on a newborn boy’s 8^th day of life. It’s a powerful ritual that goes back thousands of years and is also an important milestone shared joyously with family and friends. Given the timing of his birth, the Little Dude’s Bris was held the day before my birthday. It was a wonderful day, but I think it made me a little jealous.

As parents of a newborn, Mrs. Dude and I mostly hung around the house for the first few weeks after he arrived. And just like the day before it, the day after the Bris was no different. But it was my birthday. And part of me wanted to reclaim it like a dog who gets angry when another dog finds one of his long-forgotten buried bones.

Little Dude & me at lunch that day. 

My parents were in town and we went to lunch on my birthday at a nearby place where we could sit outside. Southern California is one of the few places in the country that affords that kind of luxury in mid-November. After lunch we went back to the house to sit around and look at the baby. And it was boring. The Little Dude was a great sleeper since birth so most of the time we just watched him. That day we also opened gifts that people had brought for him to the Bris and ate leftovers from the Bris for dinner.  

Sometime that evening, I got upset. I didn’t know why, but my emotions got the best of me and I had a slight meltdown. I’m sure exhaustion played a part, but there had to be another reason. I was blessed to be sitting with my family and beautiful baby boy so what was the problem?

It wasn’t until late that night while lying in bed that I realized my life had really changed.  Because that day was supposed to be my day. And even though I hadn’t intended to celebrate my birthday in any particular manner, it had been unknowingly co-opted by an innocent person who, ironically, was partly there because of me.

I’d wanted to get dressed and go out to dinner that night instead of just eating leftover corned beef while wearing sweatpants as we actually did. And that’s when I realized what being a parent really meant.  It took me exactly 9 days of fatherhood to realize that parenting is about being selfless for the betterment of my family. So this year I will happily share my birthday with my wife and two boys and do whatever they need or want me to do. For they are truly the greatest birthday gift I could ever hope for. 

Little Dude Turns Three

When I started this blog, my life couldn’t have been much more different than it is today. In a mere 16 months I have found a new career, I have a new baby and my pants are much more snug than they were then.  But one thing that remains is the Little Dude who inspired it all.  And today he turned 3 years old.

day 1

He has certainly changed since I started writing. In fact, my first post was written while he was taking a nap. Unfortunately napping has gone the way of floppy disks and bell bottoms in our household. That’s one change I’d like to have back, actually.

When I started blogging, my Little Dude was new to walking. 

His vocabulary was extremely limited.

He was shy in many situations.

Now he has turned into a very funny, smart and handsome little guy who is the star of his preschool class.  

He loves to identify every car by manufacturer when we are driving or in a parking lot.  

He has unbelievable knowledge of exotic animals that I’dnever even heard of until he introduced me to them.

And he’s a proud big brother.

Many people say he looks like me. Frankly, I don’t see it. He has my hair, finicky palate and inherent stubbornness. Thankfully he also shares Mrs. Dude’s gentle nature and good heart.

We've shared countless one-on-one Dudes' Dinners at his favorite restaurant. 

It’s cliché to say that the time went so fast, but it truly has.He helped me get through the loss of my mother and it’s amazing now to see reminders of her in him even though he was very young when she passed.

It’s an honor to call him my son and I look forward to watching him grow.

And maybe someday tasting a piece of pizza. 

The Dude and Little Dude, October 2012

Your birthday good wishes are appreciated in the comment section below :)

Rockin' Friday: Yakety Yak

This week’s Rockin’ Friday song has been the toughest one for me to choose in the several months I’ve been doing this.  When applicable, I try to select something timely (holiday, newsworthy events, etc.) and choose a related song. But today is my mother’s birthday and this is the second year that she isn’t around for me to wish her a happy birthday. Or at least if I do talk to her, she won’t talk back.

I went through dozens of ideas while trying to select a song and ultimately I picked one that reminded me of time we shared when I was young. As the youngest of 3 kids, I was the last one who needed to be driven around town in her big Buick station wagon with the fake-wood paneling on the sides. We shared a lot of quality time together. She loved music. She loved to sing the songs from her youth,  and as a baby boomer she was a child of the 1950s.  One song that she always liked was The Coasters’ Yakety Yak.

I hadn’t thought of the song in that context before, (at least consciously) because I started playing Yakety Yak for my own Little Dude close to a year ago. It’s short, fast and doesn’t contain a lot of tricky words. I guess that sort of describes him, too.

The song is about the punishment a kid will incur if he doesn’t do things he’s tasked with. And it does contain the ultimate parental order as part of its’ refrain:

Yakety Yak, Don’t talk back!

Happy Birthday. I wish you could talk back.

My mother & me, 2008

Dude vs Nature

I’m admittedly not an outdoorsy person. I went to sleep-away camp for many summers as a kid and my least favorite experience every single year was the night we had to hike into the woods, roll out our sleeping bags in the dirt and actually go camping. Yes, nature is beautiful, wonderful, etc. I’d just rather observe it while driving by in an air-conditioned vehicle. 

So when I received an email inviting my family to a KOA Blogger Event, I was excited. Then I Googled “KOA” to see what it was. If you don’t know, as I didn’t, KOA stands for “Kampgrounds of America” which is a company that franchises campgrounds throughout the US. Knowing absolutely nothing about camping, I assumed people just walked into the woods, popped tents and did their thing. I now know those people are usually known as vagabonds or hobos.  

After learning what KOA was, however, I figured this event wasn’t for us. To me, roughing it means staying at a Hilton that doesn’t offer a full breakfast buffet. Then I looked at the KOA website and saw that this wasn’t just camping. It was “glamping”. And yes, that’s a real term people use, meaning "glamour camping".  While there are traditional campsites for people who enjoy sleeping on dirt, many KOAs also offer luxury cabins, teepees and other amenities that are the antithesis of “roughing it”.

The event was being held the weekend of Mrs. Dude’s birthday, so I figured that’d be a good reason not to go.  Since neither of us could be considered “outdoorsy” by anyone other than an agoraphobic, I figured the birthday girl would nix the offer. But then again, it’s been so long since we’ve had a real vacation that I would’ve considered a getaway to Siberia if it was free. Lo and behold, when I told Mrs. Dude she said we should do it. (Camping, not Siberia.)

I really didn’t know what to expect as we trekked the 50-something miles to KOA Ventura Ranch. Frankly, I was surprised to learn that there is real-live nature so close to where we live. Nestled in the mountains near the town of Ojai, CA, I was captivated by the beauty of the surroundings as soon as we entered the area. And not just because there wasn’t a McDonalds or Starbucks in sight.    

We drove to our “Comfort Cabin” and unloaded enough stuff for a week, even though we were only staying 24 hours:

We had a queen-size bed, full bathroom, mini-fridge, microwave and air-conditioning. (It wouldn't be camping without artificial air.)  And to top it off, literally, was a loft area where our Little Dude could play, hang out and sleep.  He thought it was the coolest thing ever. I did, too, until I cracked my head on the super-low ceiling for the first time. 

As you can see, they maximized the cabin space by limiting the width of the staircase leading to the loft:  

We wanted to explore the property a bit before dinner and since their pool is under construction, we wandered down to the creek. I already felt like a figurative fish-out-of-water by this experience, and that was compounded when I found myself surrounded knee-deep by literal fish-in-water.  Schools of tiny white minnows fluttered in the clear water as we walked by. I could almost feel their sliminess through the water:

The Little Dude was having so much fun he almost had to be dragged out of the water. And not just because his non-waterproof diaper bloated when immersed and weighed about 11 lbs.  

With a new diaper in place we headed to the recreation area. They had a giant jumping pillow, but after he nearly got catapulted off by an overeager tween’s flying leap, he’d had enough.  He was too small for the rock wall and most of the other activities, but was eager to ride the peddle bikes with me. I can’t remember the last time I rode a bike in general, and am pretty sure I’ve never done it with a 35-lb lump sitting on my lap. As we navigated the dirt path, the Little Dude cackled with delight while my legs burned in agony. 

At dinner KOA buttered us up, literally, with rich buttercream. They got a special cupcake-cake in honor of Mrs. Dude’s birthday:

Thankfully my child/picky eater, who declined the hosted BBQ dinner, wolfed down two cupcakes in his mother’s honor. And looked like Heath Ledger’s Joker in the process:

Our amenities were very comfortable and our son was so tired from his fun day that he crashed on the loft for 10+ hours. After he passed out Mrs. Dude and I ended up talking, which is apparently an evening activity that people utilized in the old days.  In our attempts to connect with nature, we’d left our laptops at home. Who would have known that a 75-acre campground had Wi-Fi? Thankfully our iPhones had full service. 

Since you are reading this, you know that we survived our night in the wilderness.  And much more pleasantly than I ever would have imagined.  I've stayed in motels in big cities with much scarier accommodations and  surroundings than this. Considering the closest I normally get to nature is buying Girl Scout Cookies every year, I am glad to know that glamping exists.  Even if I had to venture all the way into nature to experience it.
  

Disclosure: KOA hosted us at Ventura Ranch and provided a cabin, meals and more fresh air than an Angeleno is used to. This post is entirely my opinion.  
For more info or to find the nearest KOA campground, please visit KOA.com.

Three Times a Lady

Since it’s the last Monday in May, today is Memorial Day which is an important American holiday for many reasons. First and foremost, Memorial Day is a tribute to the brave soldiers who’ve perished while serving in our Armed Forces. Another way of looking at it is as the only holiday in a 3 month period where I don’t have to get Mrs. Dude a gift.

Don’t get me wrong, my wife is amazing and totally deserving of every kind of gift, card and cake that you can think of.  If I had the means I would get her everything she wanted plus things she didn’t even  know she wanted, like a gold-plated toothbrush. Or a night off. But that isn’t an easy task from May through July every year. (Side note: If enough of you read this, think it’s wonderful AND tell friends who are TV producers and/or book editors, that might happen sooner than later.) 

What’s the issue?  I pay tribute to my superlative wife on the second Sunday in May for Mother’s Day. Then a mere three weeks later (give or take, depending on the year) is Mrs. Dude’s birthday. Again, gifts and cake are mandatory.  The former for her, latter for both of us. Then a little over a month later is our wedding anniversary.  Each year a more elaborate gift is customary, per some old list made by people who thought that people wanted gifts made of paper, iron or wool.

I want to make it clear: these are all great occasions that I am fortunate to celebrate. I just wish they were spaced out 2-3 months apart. Ideally an April/July/October schedule, if you know anyone who can help me reconfigure our family calendar.  Like Doc Brown.  

So what’s the bigger issue? I will be the first to admit that I am not a great gift shopper. I always tell myself that I should start looking weeks in advance, then never do and scramble at the last moment to put something together. There must be some deep psychological reason for my procrastination, but I will have to figure it out later.

It’s a challenging situation that I face. Possibly even a lose-lose situation as Michael Scott is fond of. Is one of these three days more important than the other or are they all equal? Mother’s Day rewards her for the hard work she’s done on a daily basis for 2 ½ years.  But our anniversary rewards her for the hard work she’s done on a daily basis for the last (almost) 5 years.  I must give my wife a lot of credit. Dealing with babies is not easy. And neither is raising children. 

I’d have to guess that the birthday is the least important. While it’s nice to be celebrated, no woman I know over the age of 21 wants the actual reminder that she is a year older. Then again, from my experience, they don’t usually seem to mind the cake so much.  

Another twist in this whole scenario is the Little Dude. He’s fantastic, but also a sponge financially. He rarely picks up the tab when we go out to eat and never pays for gifts. Even when he makes homemade cards for his mother, I have to do all the writing.

So what should I do if I have limited funds and want to make sure Mrs. Dude gets the most special recognition that she truly deserves?  We all know the old saying “it’s the thought that counts”, so if I merely think about getting her really nice gifts, will that be sufficient?  I’m 1/3 of the way through this year’s triumvirate. My Mother’s Day earned decent reviews, with bonus points for fresh bagels and flowers, but now I have to top that and only have a few days to spare. Can you spot me a Benjamin?

What would you do if you were me?

I'm linking up with the Yeah Writers again.
Go check out some great writers and vote for your faves.

Are You Husband Enough?

Given the recent controversy spawned by TIME magazine’s sensationalistic cover story “Are You Mom Enough?” there has been a lot of public discourse on the merits of the cover photo. Perhaps even more than the article itself, which most pundits have claimed to have not read. Since I fit that criteria, I thought I’d chime in with my list of “10 Things Husbands Should Do”, or “Are You Husband Enough?”.  I realize that not all husbands are fathers and not all fathers are husbands, but I am both so here’s my list.  

10 Things Husbands Should Do

1)      Support their Spouses: In traditional contexts, this meant financially. Period. But it today’s society it means so much more. It means staying home with the kids while wives work. It means grocery shopping. It means a lot of things that would make Ward Cleaver roll over in his grave. But this is the year 2012 and as Bob Dylan said, “The Times, They Are A-Changing”.  

2)      Cooking: It may not be Wolfgang Puck quality, but as long as it’s better than Ronald McDonald makes, it’s probably good enough for at least once a week.

3)      Fix Stuff:  I’m Jewish, so I take a flier on this one. But on every TV show, it seems like the thing that husbands do. I’ll take their word for it.

4)      Negotiate Car Deals: We just need to coordinate that our wives wear appropriately low-cut tops while we do so. If car salesmen can play games with no rules, why can’t we?

5)      Hold Their Hands During Childbirth: We may be looking the other direction, and possibly checking game scores frantically texting relatives on our iPhones at the time, but we’ll be there.

6)      Share in childcare fun: Both parents should be able and willing to give their kids baths and change their diapers. For if they don’t, who knows how the reciprocity will work in 50 years?

7)      Kill Bugs: They might be big and nasty looking but it is our sworn responsibility to slaughter the creepy-crawlies that the Mrs. discovers crawling on the ceiling, inevitably just as you are about to go to bed. Otherwise she will be convinced that the almost-invisible-to-the-naked-eye arachnid she just spotted will leap from above to take a giant munch out of her neck like Dracula. (Note:  husbands are sometimes reluctant to do this in hopes that it’s the spider that bit Peter Parker and we may soon acquire Spidey Senses.)  

8)      Remember important dates: If you can’t remember your wife’s birthday, your anniversary or other key dates, you are an idiot.

9)      Be willing to alternate preferred entertainment with spouse’s:  I may sit through an awful romantic comedy every so often, but I will not be afraid to play Words With Friends while doing so.  

10)   Communicate: You may not always be together due to work or other commitments, so even when you can’t be there, be there. I have three different ways to videoconference with my wife on my iPhone. I think it can even make phone calls, too. Plus texting, email, etc. Just saying hello can sometimes make both your days. Especially if you are standing outside a strip club at the time away on business while she’s home with the kids.

VD Is Not Fair

I’m not a big political person, nor am I big into protests but there is one cause I feel very strongly about. Whoever decided that Valentine’s Day should be a big national celebration should be shot.  I’m sure it was someone from American Greetings or Tiffany or Whitman’s, which are all fine American companies, but they are more exploitative than Britney Spears at the Hometown Buffet.  

Valentine’s Day is confusing to Dudes their whole lives. When I was a kid, the girls at school used to pass those crappy quasi-cardboard Masters of the Universe Valentines’ cards around to the boys and the boys would reciprocate with Strawberry Shortcake. If you think about it, who could be more romantic than He-Man or Skeletor?  But it was a trick. The girls usually weren’t interested in the boys, but social convention and overbearing parents forced them into distributing V-Day cards to all the boys in the class. 

So if the girls gave cards to all the boys and the boys gave cards to all the girls, how can I say the boys were being deceived and the girls deceptive? Because the girls’ mass distribution was an act of being polite, even though the popular girls really only had eyes for the captain of the kickball team.  When the boys gave cards to all the girls in their class it was more of an act of covering all their possible bases, like playing 5 bingo cards at a time, than actual romantic interest.  Thus in elementary school, the game of cat-and-mouse begins.

Fortunately those cards didn’t cost much and were usually paid for by parents hoping their kids would come home with some mini Snickers bars they could pilfer. In high school and college, the stakes were much greater.  Was it worth the risk of working for several months to rent a limo, go to a fancy dinner and buy an ugly corsage for a girl who may or may not like you?  Again, for the captain of the football team, it’s all good. Captain of Academic Decathlon, think again before passing go or spending $200.

In my mid-20’s, I met a girl just before New Years and started dating her just after.  If I’d known better I would have waited six weeks before calling her, as her birthday was just a few days before Valentine’s Day. The ultimate double-whammy for a Dude to handle.  Perhaps I should have bought her a pack (or two) of Doublemint gum which allegedly would have doubled the pleasure and doubled the fun.  Instead, I had several consultations with her biased roommates which probably led to me spending more than I should have on such a new lady friend that things ultimately didn’t work out with.  In retrospect I should have gone with the gum.

Now that I’m married and have a child, it’s still not clear exactly what I need to do for Valentine’s Day.  Do I need to buy my wife a gift from my 2 year old? Is a card sufficient? Do we need to get him something? He’s not in school yet, so thankfully he doesn’t know about those cheap cards which probably contain modern cartoon characters like Thomas the Train or the Kardashians. 

After hearing all my kvetching you might wonder if I hate Valentine’s Day.  In reality, I don’t. In fact if it wasn’t for Valentine’s Day, I might not be here today.  What you probably don’t know is that my birthday is almost exactly 9 months to the day from February 14^th.  So I guess I should live it up, for if not for the magic of Cupid I might not exist.  

Happy Valentine's Day to my 2 favorite people!

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