Up in the Air

One of my favorite bloggers and also a good friend, You Know It Happens At Your House, Too, kindly asked me to write a guest post for her short series featuring Dad Bloggers this month & here it is. Thanks, Tara!  

You should follow her on Facebook and Twitter, too. Especially if you like pictures of Johnny Depp. 

Before I was married, I used to travel a lot for business. Connecting flights to random airports were the norm for me. If I was lucky I got upgraded to First Class. If not, I usually tried to sit in the quiet part of the plane, i.e. away from the parents traveling with little kids.

It’s not that I didn’t like kids, it’s just that I was invariably seated next to a mother traveling with screaming triplets and no other adults to help. I really think it must have been a similar experience that inspired the invention of noise-cancelling headphones.

Yes, I had no sympathy. I just wanted quiet so I could read in peace watch my DVDs of Anchorman or Old School for the 64^th time.  Do you know anyone who likes being kicked in the back for 3 straight hours?  I walked off of many flights feeling like a soccer ball after the World Cup.

That all changed when I became a parent and started flying with the Little Dude. He was 7 months old and it was our first trip as a family of 3. We’d pre-boarded our aisle and middle seats in the bulkhead of the plane. A few minutes later, a woman approached and noticed us. The look of disgust on her face resembled Morgan Spurlock’s after he ate at McDonalds every day for a month.  I watched her complain to the flight attendant before ultimately taking her seat. Let’s just say that my kid is so charming that within 30 minutes of departure she wanted to hold him.  It wasn’t lost on me that the way I’d long felt about kids on planes was being forced to evolve now that I was on the other side of the equation.

Traveling solo, I was thrilled to board a recent flight before most of the cabin. I staked out my carryon space in the overhead compartment and watched the huddled masses squeeze down the aisle, silently guessing who I would get stuck with. As I was getting settled in my aisle seat, I saw a woman with a screaming newborn baby headed in my direction.  I cringed and empathized concurrently.

They slowed down and sat across the aisle from me. I thought to myself that it was going to be a long 90 minutes. But then my parental instinct kicked in and told me to chill. I watched as they got settled and the baby calmed down a little.  It’s not a stretch to say I’ve mellowed over the last 2 ½ years.  But I felt much more at ease than I anticipated given the situation was compounded by my lack of sleep and change of time zones. As I was trying to get comfortable, a man claimed the window seat to my right and I stood up to let him pass.

I sat back down and was checking email on my iPhone when I heard someone say “excuse me, sir”. I looked up to see a woman with a boy who was probably 7 or 8 years old. “That’s his seat.”

Caught off guard, I stood up and let the boy pass. He had an Elmo backpack slung over his shoulders and was clutching a teddy bear tightly. He sat nervously between me and the window-seat man.

I looked around, expecting his mother to be headed off the plane after having dropped him off. Maybe to see his grandparents or his father, I wondered to myself.  Instead, she was headed 4 rows behind me to her own middle seat.

It was my turn in a heated game of Words with Friends, but I was suddenly distracted despite an available Triple Word space.  I started to feel badly for the young boy stuck alone between two strangers.  It wasn’t that long of a flight and he had things to occupy him, but I wondered how he was feeling. Was he scared? Should I say something to put him at ease? And it made me wonder how I would feel if my own young son was in his position.

I looked to my left and suddenly that baby didn’t seem to be crying so loud anymore.

I stood up and turned around. I spotted the boy’s mother and asked her if she wanted to switch seats.  With a look of joy and a tear in her eye, she happily said yes.

So I grabbed my things, headed down the aisle and crammed into a middle seat for 90 minutes. It was totally worth it.

Dude of the Week: Dudes with Friends

And I got the Triple Letter score, no less. 

If you would like to nominate a Dude that you think would make a good 

Dude of the Week please email me. 

Remember, it doesn't have to be a person & could be a graphic, sign 

or other Dudely interpretation.   

You Know You're a SAHD if...

For the past 2 ½ years I’ve been lucky to be a part-time Stay-At-Home-Dad (SAHD). On a daily basis it’s afforded me the pleasure of interacting both with those who whine and cry all day, as well as toddlers. I’ve spent a surprising amount of time doing things that I never could have imagined just a few years ago. Like watching the same 3 Pixar movies over and over. And over and over. And that’s just in one day. 

The reality is that being a SAHD is a gift. I get to spend quality time with my Little Dude and not worry about the stains on my shirts while out in public, which strangers (usually incorrectly) assume were caused by him. During a recent viewing of Cars, I started thinking about some of the unique characteristics of SAHDs and came up with this short list. 

“You Know You’re a SAHD if...”  

1)     You own what you refer to as your "good" sweatpants.

2)     You know about all of the "kids eat free" deals at nearby restaurants and exchange birthday cards with the manager at your local IHOP.

3)     Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name and that place is MyGym.

4)     You like taking your kids to story time at the library so you can get caught up on 5 games of Words With Friends while they listen to a librarian read 5 books about talking elephants.

5)     Your most recent Facebook status update was "jklljhhhhlppnnn".

6)     You used to know the names and statistics of all your favorite athletes. Now you know the names and numbers of Thomas the Train and his friends.

7)     Your Breaking Bad episodes have accidentally been deleted from your TiVo to make room for additional episodes of Super Why.   

8)     You are more than a little freaked out by your kid’s seemingly innocuous toys after repeated viewings of Toy Story.

9)     The backseat of your car contains more Cheerios than the General Mills factory.

10)  You think Sesame Street jumped the shark when Mr. Noodle's brother Mr. Noodle joined the cast. 

11)  You can justify why dunking your head in the sink and some strategically placed baby powder are just as good as a real shower.

12)  You have plenty of time to finish writing a list like this. At 1:30am.

What unique traits do you associate with SAHDs and SAHMs?

What Judd Apatow Taught Me About Parenting

There’s a scene in the 2007 movie Knocked Up where Paul Rudd’s character Pete (a married father of 2) and Seth Rogen’s character Ben (unwed father-to-be from a one-night-stand) are watching Pete’s two daughters playing excitedly at a park as the older one blows bubbles. The girls and some friends are laughing and having a great time.  Ben and Pete have this exchange:  

BEN

They seem to love bubbles.

PETE

They go ape-shit over bubbles.

BEN

They’re really going ape-shit.

PETE

That’s an incredible thing about a child. What’s so great about bubbles?

BEN

They float. You can pop them. I mean, I get it. I get it.

PETE

I wish I liked anything as much as my kids like bubbles.

BEN

That’s sad.

PETE

It’s totally sad. Their smiling faces just point out your inability to enjoy anything.

When Knocked Up was originally released in 2007, I was a few weeks from getting married and 2+ years from becoming a parent. Yet the quoted interaction that I mentioned from the movie has stuck with me for 5 years, even though it wasn’t really relevant to me at the time of my first viewing.

Now that I’m 2 ½ years into this parenting gig, I know that what both Pete and Ben said is very true.  Kids are amazing because they can find joy in just about any situation presented to them. Whether chasing bubbles in the wind, pushing a grocery cart or receiving a balloon while at a store or restaurant, kids manage to find sheer bliss in what most adults generally consider to be mundane activities.

When I go to the grocery store it’s usually to get milk, cereal or whatever else we need for the house. It’s a task, not a party. But for my Little Dude going to Ralphs is an adventure. An opportunity to steer a massive steel robot on wheels through narrow aisles while avoiding bumping into old ladies (usually). 

So when does one’s focus shift? When does that simple bliss become a mindless task? I don’t know that there’s any event that can be easily pinpointed as the culprit, but I do know that it’s easy to get lost in a world of work, hectic schedules and “Draw Something”.  But the key is to figure out what is really important? Is it that Triple Word Score in Words with Friends? Or taking a 2 year old for an ice cream cone? (Believe me, I am guilty of the former more than I’ve eagerly done the latter.)

As hard as the mindset change has been, I have been trying to be more present with my Little Dude.  And I mean present figuratively, literally isn’t a problem. When he’s running up and down the hallway, I am chasing him. Not just checking out baseball scores on my iPhone until he makes a return lap to where I’m standing.   If he’s having a great time then I want to, too.  For he’ll remember that when he’s older, when he has a family of his own, much more than I’ll remember whether the Cleveland Indians won or lost a meaningless game.

So during this Father’s Day season, maybe we should be taking lessons from our little ones when thinking about what really makes us happy and not think about it. Just let it be.
And don’t forget to blow some bubbles. 

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.

Pain in the Neck

It started with a scream.  It was 6:00am on Tuesday and I was jolted out of a dream about whipping Alec Baldwin at Words With Friends. Believe me when I tell you that dream would have been a lot more fun than what was actually happening in my bed.

I immediately jumped to attention. Alert but very confused, I felt like a Kardashian at a spelling bee. Initially I assumed the scream was BC in his crib. But after a moment I realized that the scream was my wife, who had somehow tweaked her neck while sleeping and pinched a nerve.  I had a feeling a very long week was in my future. Maybe I should be a psychic. 

Over the last couple of years, I’ve become pretty good at taking care of the Little Dude. He’s pretty low maintenance, other than the diaper changing business. And the uber-picky eating. And his lack of an income. OK, maybe I should say he is generally very easygoing and adaptable.  What I’d forgotten about was taking care of my wife when she isn’t 100%. 

Unlike me, my wife is not a big complainer when she doesn’t feel well. In fact, I generally have to force her to take medicine or rest when she doesn’t feel well.  Me? If I sneeze three times in an hour, I’m getting a blanket and becoming one with my Tivo for two days. Or at least that’s how we used to be before the baby arrived.  BC BC, if you will.

A big part of parenting is being selfless. Even when you don’t feel well, you still have a job to do.  The problem arises when you just can’t do that job.  I could see it was going to be a difficult adjustment for my very active wife who suddenly couldn’t move her head, let alone lift our 35 pound bundle of kid. I know it’s not funny, because I’ve had that kind of injury and the pain is excruciating. But she did remind me a little of Joan Cusack in Sixteen Candles. Much cooler, however. 

So back to 6:00am, it became obvious that her pain was pretty severe, so I did the only thing I could think of at the moment. I Wikipedia’d “Pinched Nerve”.  Did you know that the medical term for a pinched nerve is Radiculopathy? Perhaps they named it that because it's a ridiculously annoying problem to have.  

Since Wikipedia was no help, I did the next best thing. I emailed a doctor friend to ask for advice.  Doc said to alternate heat & cold on the area and take Advil.  As I looked at my semi-immobile spouse I realized I was unexpectedly now on full-time BC duty for at least the next 24-72 hours.     I told you I should be a psychic. 

Our family has a unique arrangement. My wife usually takes care of the Little Dude in the mornings up until nap time.  I come home once he’s sleeping and she goes to work. Sometimes we even have time to say hello as we cross paths. Then I am on duty from the time he wakes up until bedtime. Hopefully he naps for 3 hours so I can continue working.  When he doesn’t, I unplug the monitor and hope for the best.

I’ve never been a great juggler, but this week I think I did OK. Each day I would take BC out for some exercise (which somehow always turns into a better workout for me than for him), make sure my wife had ample amounts of Advil & rest and keep up with my own emails at the same time.  Needless to say, I can’t remember ever being so tired.  After three days of this schedule, I felt like a post-Burning Man Charlie Sheen. 

Fortunately, each day she felt a little better.  By Friday she could lift BC again, so I could finally get back to my regularly scheduled programming.  I felt like a champ for having weathered the storm and was looking forward to a relaxing weekend with a (finally) healthy family. Until my wife called me that afternoon to tell me that BC woke up from his nap covered in hives. Maybe I'm not ready to take over for Miss Cleo just yet. 

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