Month: June 2014

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The Papa Bear in Me: Yes, I’m Overprotective

July 1, 2011 at 9:14 pm , by 

Seven months.

It’s a big, dangerous world out there and it’s my job to keep this little bambino safe.  But I must channel my fears into positive, rational energy.

There is plenty of truth in the stereotype that parents are over-protective with their first child. I know, because I’m living it right now. Subconsciously, I preview every potentially dangerous situation for Jack; no matter how improbable.

I am Jack’s protector- I can not let anything bad happen to him. Like Bruce Banner (the Incredible Hulk), I can instantly turn into the biggest beast of a monster in an effort to protect him. So while I am an average-looking, mild-mannered man, all it takes is Jack being in potential danger for me to transform into a potential killing machine.

But what is most relevant is that I prepare for Jack’s safety in every situation. So that I never have to rescue or save him. Being over-protective means preventing dangerous situations; not just worrying about them happening all the time.

For my 10th birthday on April 20th, 1991, my parents bought me exactly what I wanted the most: Bible Adventures, the Nintendo game. (Yes, it actually existed!) The game was modeled after my favorite video game ever, Super Mario Bros. 2, in that you could carry items above your head and throw them at enemies.

The most interesting (and disturbing!) thing in Bible Adventures was that if you played as Moses’ sister Miriam, you held baby Moses over your head and for some unexplainable reason, if you pressed the B button, you would throw the infant Moses onto the ground…

Miraculously, he would never be injured; whether you tossed him onto the hard concrete sidewalk, on top of a giant mutant spider, directly into a guard throwing spears, or into the river. But I was a 10 year-old boy, so I didn’t let the physical practicality or the Biblical incorrectness of the game bother me too much. But I did have a lot of fun repeatedly throwing baby Moses onto the sidewalk and watching him bounce, cry for a second, then instantly start smiling again. Needless to say, Bible Adventures did not receive the Nintendo Seal of Approval.

Since the day Jack was born, I have always been fearful that I will drop him; knowing that unlike the invincible Nintendo version of baby Moses, my son would not simply bounce and smile afterwards. So now that he is beginning to crawl, it means I carry him around less. Which means I worry less about dropping him, and more about him getting into all kinds of other troubles.

With good reason, I worry about him drowning, being run over by a car, getting electrocuted, choking, falling, getting attacked by a dog, or maybe even getting swooped up by a long-lost pterodactyl. It even scares me to type my fears aloud, even if the last one was a joke.

I am the Papa Bear. I will do whatever it takes to protect Mama Bear and Baby Bear. Don’t make me angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.

Leave a comment Posted on parenting, Spirituality

Dads are From Neptune, Moms are From Pluto

June 30, 2011 at 7:25 pm , by 

Seven months.

The DadabaseWhat do some parenting blog titles reveal about certain insecurities that we may have as parents?

Back in March when I was trying to figure out what I was going to rename this dad blog for Parents.com, obviously the first thing I did was to Google-skim (I made that word up but I assume you’re hip enough to get it) the Internet for inspiration and to check out my competition… I mean, my… fellow dad bloggers.  During my 43 minutes of research, I picked up on blog name patterns for both dad bloggers and mommy bloggers.

The dad bloggers who were more vulnerable and self-depreciating with their blog names often focused on the fact that they didn’t know what they were doing, with titles like “Rookie Dad,” “Thingmababy,” “Daddy Knows Less,” and “Daddy’s In Charge?”.

Meanwhile, their mom blogging counterparts often focused on their attempts to organize the chaos of motherhood with “Three Kid Circus,” “And Then She Snapped,” “I Want a Nap,” “The Tightrope Walk,” “The Life of a Juggling Mom,” and “Cinderella is Falling Down.”

If I were to extract the assumed meaning of this particular pattern I discovered, it would be this: Dads want to be helpful and productive, but don’t necessarily know what to do by instinct.  And moms more instinctively know what to do, but they just don’t always have enough energy, “sanity”, and/or time in the day to get it done.

So I assume if these characteristics are at least somewhat true for those of us who blog about our daily parenting experiences, they are typically just as true for the parents who don’t blog about it.  There’s a reason why these blog titles I’ve mentioned do indeed ring true with readers.

Evidently, dads have the energy, sanity and time to get the job done, but not the know-how.  Conversely, moms have the know-how, but again, not the energy, sanity, and/or time in the day to do it.  As dad-and-mom teams, we have everything we need to pull this thing off.  It’s a matter of working together to win this three legged race.  Actually, we don’t even need to win the race; all we have to do is run it.

Or hop it.  Or walk it… whatever it takes for the family to move forward, together.

How can you enhance your own parenting skills today? Communication: Ask your spouse for help and be vulnerable enough to tell him or her the ways you feel sub-par as a co-parent. By nature, it’s easy to want to help someone who is being humble enough to ask for your help than someone who is complaining for lack of it.

I guarantee that your spouse abounds in the things you lack as a parent.  And have thi sconversation with them: Acknowledge that one of you often feels like a third wheel who tries to contribute in caring for your child, but often gets discouraged by not having the instincts to know what to do when it comes to parenting.  And that the other person often feels overwhelmed by the never-ending list of stuff that needs to get done. Then work out a plan accordingly. Then act on it.

We can allow ourselves to remain frustrated by our deficiencies or we can celebrate and make good use of each other’s goods and services.  As for me, I’ll always choose working smart over working hard. And working smart, in this instance, means confessing my weaknesses so that my strengths can be best utilized in both marriage and parenting.

All pictures were taken courtesy of Dave Stanley at Little River Falls in Fort Payne, Alabama.

 

4 Comments Posted on Nostalgia, parenting

Pass the Baby from the Left-Hand Side

June 29, 2011 at 9:46 pm , by 

Seven months.

The Dadabase

We all want our kids to be unique, right? But that’s easier said than done in an age where being unique is so darn trendy.

It was my mom who brought it to the attention of my wife and me: Jack typically reaches for things with his left hand; seldom his right.  In the process of deciding which pictures to use for my Dadabaseposts in the past couple of weeks, I realized it was true. In most pictures where Jack is holding a toy or reaching for one, it’s his left hand that’s in the action.

Left-handed people represent only 10% of the world’s population. No one I know of on my side of the family is left-handed.  However, my wife is 9 of 10 kids in her family; and she does have one brother and one sister who are left-handed.  So if left-handedness is indeed related to genetics, then at least it is there somewhere in the gene pool.

The Dadabase

So Jack is probably left-handed. And of course, I’m not the least bit surprised. I mean, he managed to utilize the rarest genes my wife and I had.  He’s a blond-haired, blue-eyed, fair complected, big-boned baby from a family of dark-haired, dark-eyed, olive-complected skin where most men are slender and never grow taller than 5’ 11”.

I’m convinced that one of Jack’s many purposes in this life is to preserve the endangered traits of mankind.  Of course, this doesn’t just go for physical traits.

His name was deliberately chosen to preserve a seemingly dwindling tradition: giving your son a simple, easy to spell, familiar, strong, masculine, classic American name that a girl could not be named. I noticed that so many modern baby boy names are now sounding more like Irish last names. And that’s fine- it’s just not my preference. With all the unique names out there these days, I figured the way my son’s name could actually be the most unique was to give him one of the most universally recognizable names in American history.

And I guess that brings me to today’s dose of irony.  It seems that most of us parents find value in knowing our child is unique.  After all, my wife and I grew up in the 80’s and were told on a regular basis by our teachers and cartoon shows that we were special and there is no one else in the world quite like us.  Of course, it is indeed true that we are all special.

The Dadabase

But I think we like to reinforce that fact in raising our kids. I named my son Jack in an effort for him to be unique.  Meanwhile, a good number of other parents have named their son a form of “Brady” or “Collin” or “Quinn” or “Aiden” with the same inspiration. I guess it’s safe to say that none of these names (whether classic or trendy) truly accomplishes the goal, because ultimately a name is either really familiar or it’s so unique that it’s not really that unique, because being “unique” is currently trendy.  And being trendy is not being unique.

I’m not convinced that a name itself can actually make a kid that unique anymore.  Unless he’s named something gnarly like Mayor McCheese or Grimace- and then he’d be branded as the weird kind of unique.  And that’s not what any parent wants for their kid.

So instead, I’m looking elsewhere for my son’s own uniqueness. Because he’s got plenty of it.  And so does your kid.  No matter what his name is, whether he’s left or right-handed, or whether or not he is an identical twin.

When my son laughs at my every attempt to scare him by making my “evil hissing cobra face” at him. When he gets so thrilled and excited he starts coughing as a result of me pretending like I’m going to step on him as he lies belly up on the rug.  When Jack gets completely quiet as I take him on a walk at 6:00 AM to help my wife catch up on sleep lost during the night while I slept soundly. That’s unique enough for me.

Sure, “Jack” was the 6th most popular boy name last year; so my Jack is one of a million.  But… my Jack is also one in a million.

The Dadabase

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Baby-proofing the House: What Would Jack Do?

June 28, 2011 at 10:27 pm , by 

Seven months.

The Dadabase

In every situation, before every action, I must ask myself, “W.W.J.D?”  No, I don’t need a bracelet to remind myself to consider what Jack would do.  Now that he is crawling, and therefore exploring the new world, I am overly aware of all the trouble that Jack can get himself into.  Because granted, by law of babyhood, a baby boy will without exception gravitate towards the item of the most potential danger.

Why would Jack want to be entertained by an age-appropriate singing toy when he can get his hands into my laptop cords?  Why would he choose to simply play with a paper towel roll when he could eat it (!) instead?  Yeah, needless to say, after one solid week of enjoyment, Jack’s beloved paper towel roll as made its way into that glorious toy box in the sky.  He only ate part of it, but still, he ate part of it!

The Dadabase

Jack with his Pappy and Nonna (my parents) on Memorial Day 2011.

By default, Jack chooses the most dangerous option over any safe one every time.  Therefore, I must do his decision making for him.  Not only must I intervene on a moment-to-moment basis, but I must also put my future-predicting skills to good use.  I must prevent the accident before it happens.  And I must do this constantly.

We recently had to officially lower his crib because not only did he begin bumping his head on the rail by pulling himself up, but also because we wouldn’t put it past him to be able to climb up his crib and fall out on the ground.

One morning last week, Jack and I were awake before Jill.  As a joke, I lifted him out of the crib and let him start crawling. He crawled out of his bedroom and past the doorway of our bedroom. Jill’s instincts kicked in: She instantly woke up when she heard him crawl up to the doorway.

My plan worked: She thought Jack actually escaped the crib on his own! The prank was successful and boy was I cool.

But while it was a tad far-fetched that Jack would escape his crib unharmed, it’s not that impossible knowing Jack.  He’s sort of an escape artist.

I know every parent believes their kid is the smartest ever; and I’m no different.  But the boy seriously impresses me in his ability to figure stuff out without assistance from his parents. He’s large for his age, he’s strong, and he loves to explore.

Lesson learned: Never underestimate the ability of Jack. That includes him eating cardboard.

In Memorandum

Jack’s paper towel roll toy

June 16, 2011 – June 24, 2011

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The Buddy Factor of Being a Dad

June 27, 2011 at 10:59 pm , by 

Seven months.

The Dadabase

I believe everyone has multiple personalities and different versions of themselves that they reveal based on their environment.  But these multiplicities of ourselves ultimately are still built on top of one default personality.  My default personality is amazingly similar to the character of Peter Klaven (portrayed by Paul Rudd) in my favorite movie ever, I Love You Man.

The movie focuses on Peter’s lack of ability to make and keep strong male friendships and the difficulty that means for him in trying to find groomsmen and most importantly, a best man, for his upcoming wedding.

Most of my guy friends are scattered across the country; instantly available via text message, but not for hanging out with on a regular basis.  And I’m completely okay and comfortable with that.  And interestingly enough, whether it was my female-orientated major in college (English), or every work environment I’ve been in since then, I’ve constantly been surrounded by women instead of men.  And again, I’m completely okay and comfortable with that fact.

Even here on Parents.com, I’m the only male parent blogger.  It is simply my life’s destiny to be a guy who relates to women almost as well as I relate to men.  Need I remind you, it’s mainly women reading The Dadabase.

(Granted, my wife edits out anything too masculine or overly male-driven.  Recently, she had me delete several paragraphs which went on way too long about the details of a Nintendo game.)

But now I have a son.  A baby boy who will eventually grow into a big boy who will eventually grow into a teenage boy and eventually a man.  This means that I will ultimately have a buddy.

I will always have a reason to get to do what I want to do with my free time, as long as Jack is with me.  Because I will be spending quality time with him while I do what I enjoy anyway (or at least enjoyed in my youth).

Already, I’m mentally working on a list of things I will enjoy doing that also will serve as good male-bonding, quality time with my son over the next 2 to 20 years:

1)     Watch the entire series of the following movies and TV series: Rocky, Star Wars, Harry Potter, Band of Brothers, and Lost.

2)     Go hiking and exploring in the woods on the weekend.

3)     Build awesome Lego sets.

4)     Take our bikes for a long ride in a new neighborhood.

5)     Have old school Nintendo game marathons.

6)     Blow stuff up with fireworks.

7)     If ever can ever afford it, take him on a trip to Thailand.

The Dadabase

Of course, this is only the beginning of my list.  But I really look forward to the underlying male friendship in my father-son relationship with him.

I am adamant on being Jack’s father, not his friend.  However, just like how I mentioned in the beginning that we all have different personalities, I know that a father is not simply the paternal figure of his son’s life.  Being a good dad means being someone to relate to and it involves a lot of mentoring.  It requires good communication and quality time.

Being a father is like being a friend, but it’s so much more than that.  Yet it’s paradoxically both more casual and more demanding of respect than simply being a friend.  But even though I won’t refer to my son as my friend, I will gladly call him my buddy.

Man, now I’ve got the jingle to the 80’s toy, My Buddy, stuck in my head:

“Wherever I go, he goes… My buddy, my buddy, my buddy and me!”

All pictures taken courtesy of Dave Stanley at Little River Falls in Fort Payne, Alabama.