Month: June 2014

3 Comments Posted on parenting, Storytelling

Rise of the Dadmobile: GM Sees Beyond Stereotypes

November 2, 2011 at 11:06 pm , by 

Eleven months.

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, it’s a fact that dads are now more involved in their kids’ lives than any past generation we know of before us. Therefore, this change in culture effects buying trends and consumer demands. So it’s no surprise that the mini-van is being fazed out, as the “crossover SUV” is taking its place. Accordingly, dads are showing a greater presence in the carpooling lane.

That means something to automakers like General Motors; so much so, that a couple of weeks ago they flew me up to their Detroit headquarters to show me, along with several other “daddy bloggers,” how their Traverse is designed- with dads in mind.

By the end of our 22 hour visit, I thought to myself: “Wow, we are being treated as a valuable demographic here, not a classic stereotype…”.

Zach Rosenberg, co-creator of 8BitDad, said it in a way that made me jealous I didn’t think of it first:

“As the dads, we’re expected to be meat-heads, muscle car enthusiasts, and wallets.”

He’s right. Even at best, typically today when dads are portrayed in commercials for household products (advertisements which are typically geared towards women), men are shown making messes, getting lost, and ultimately being put into place by their thin, intelligent wife who saves them from their buffoonery.

Though it was one of my favorite sitcoms growing up, Tim Allen’s Home Improvement capitalized on this concept. I feel like there remains a subconscious backlash from sitcoms like that which says all men care about are sports, light beer, sex, and cars with big motors.

While I recognize that as a valid stereotype in American history, I am overly aware that I represent a completely different demographic of men.

Obviously, this new and relevant demographic holds a lot of weight, because I later found out that we daddy bloggers (who I assume most easilty represent the “active dad” group) were the only targeted group that GM invited to Detroit to show the designing of the Traverse to.

I’m not rich, famous or hugely influential; but General Motors made me personally feel important, desired, and valuable. Evidently, I serve as a relevant symbol of the modern American dad, who may or not even make as much money as his wife and who has learned to adopt certain roles as a parent that would have previously gone to his wife.

In my next post, I’m going to take you behind the doors of General Motors; showing you some of the cool ways they design and test out the Traverse.

But not because they pressured me in any way; I didn’t at all feel like I was being coerced into buying a time share in Florida or forcefully invited to join a pyramid scheme selling trendy diet pills.

Instead, they were real people who treated me like a real person. They even specifically gave me their blessing to include anything negative in my upcoming blog posts, but not to feel like I had to write about the visit at all.

Wow; an invitation to be vulnerably honest. How weird.

I represent the demographic of American dads who actually contribute the bettering of the American family and who actually has buying power when it comes to the family crossover SUV; not the idiot you see on TV who forgets his wife’s birthday.

GM understands that about us dads. That’s pretty cool; to be part a relevant demographic, not a sexist stereotype.

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The Strange Thing About Flying Solo as a Dad

November 1, 2011 at 8:30 pm , by 

Eleven months.

I’ve been on so many plane rides in my life that now, anytime a pilot warns “we may experience some turbulence,” I remain unfazed; like in the opening scene of Garden State where Zach Braff’s character blankly stares ahead while everyone else panics.

However, two weeks ago on a flight from Nashville to Detroit to tour the General Motors headquarters, for the first time in my life I actually thought, “What if I die in this plane?” It’s not so much that the pilot faced some serious threat as he maneuvered the aircraft.

More likely, it was the fact that A) the last time I was on a plane was with my wife and son and B) I was overly aware of how if something bad did happen to me, I wouldn’t be able to share my life with them anymore. Therefore, the bumpiness of that hour-long flight had actually spooked me.

Even if it’s a slight cliche to say it (which it is), all my worries had disappeared while up in the air that day. I was able to just focus on what really mattered; not the thought of unpacked boxes in our townhouse, along with a living room ceiling that (at that time) still needed to be repaired.

As I made my way out of the baggage claim area, I looked up at saw a peculiar, yet appropriately serene sign that read: “Religious Reflections Room.” How random. I had to check it out.

The only way to get there was by taking the employee elevator up to the 3rd floor; keeping my GM chauffeur surely waiting at the terminal. I finally made it to the Religious Reflections Room. I slowly opened the door and saw a man bowing and praying over a compass painted on the floor pointing towards Mecca. Chairs lined the room in a horseshoe shape along the walls.

I figured if A) the Detroit airport saw the value in designing a Religious Reflections Room and B) I went through the trouble of finding it, that I should use it for its intended purpose.

So I sat down in the chair closest to the door and reflected religiously (for about 43 seconds) about how I didn’t die on the plane. Maybe it was a tad on the melodramatic side for me to keep thinking about being taken away from my wife and son, but I thanked God for my safe arrival anyway.

It was a pretty weird situation to have flown to a different region of the country without my family; like riding on an empty plane- or at least with dozens of cardboard cutouts instead of real people. Of course, it was just as bizarre to check into my hotel room in downtown Detroit without my wife and son; to try to legitimately fill the space of a king sized bed on my own, sprawling out like a kid making a snow angel.

How odd, to only be accountable to myself. Maybe above all, it simply felt unnatural.

I am no longer an island; I have a helper and a peripheral. Sure, it was nice to have a break from reality for 36 hours; but at least in my head, I sort of felt it was a lot like playing a dull lead character of a story where there is no plot. Sort of like The Hills.

 

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5 Things This Dad Won’t Publicly Admit

November 1, 2011 at 6:18 am , by 

Eleven months.

Note to self: This is just a private journal entry you wrote to help you serve as your own psychiatrist. Be careful not to press the “publish” button on this one. If you accidently do somehow, delete the post immediately!

No, my cell phone ringtone isn’t “California Gurls” by Katy Perry. It’s actually the theme song to the 1980′s show, Knight Rider.

And no, I don’t secretly have an obsession with Glee. (I’d almost rather watch 16 and Pregnant, which I loathe with a passion!)

However, there are certain habits concerning my actions as a father that I will never publicly admit to; especially not here on The Dadabase. After all, I don’t want to paint myself as a lazy, dimwitted dad who doesn’t do things by the book.(I’m not sure what all-compassing book I’m referring to there, by the way.)

So without any further ado, here are five things this dad won’t publicly admit:

1. I am sometimes that stereotypical unshaven dad you see on commercials; wearing a baseball cap and a goofy t-shirt, who was sent to the grocery store by his wife, cluelessly searching for an item that apparently doesn’t exist. When he does find the item, then he becomes even more dazed and confused as he has to figure out which exact variety he’s supposed to get. (This happened to me last Sunday as it became my mission to retrieve “oven surface cleaner.”)

2. My son’s diaper bag has become my newest official fashion accessory whenever I’m out anywhere with him and my wife. As I throw the strap around my neck and over my shoulder, I actually imagine it as an electric guitar I am strapping on instead; as I am preparing to play a rockin’ performance at the cafe of Whole Foods Market.

3. I often drive the scenic route if I know my son is asleep in his car seat. There was a day last week where my wife had to work late at work. It’s amazing how it took me an hour to drive home that day when it would normally only take 35 minutes. Not any bad traffic, no rain… just a coincidence, I guess. Turns out, I got home around the same time as my wife; despite her getting home so late.

4. I keep my son in wet diapers; for like, a really long time. I learned from the movie Meet the Fockers, “If it’s yellow, let it mellow; if it’s brown, flush it down.” If my son isn’t going to say anything, neither am I. Diapers can get expensive, man.

5. When one of his toys falls on the floor, I don’t wipe it off before it inevitably ends up back in his mouth. On the same token, I may have pretended not to watch as he has eaten morsels of bread off the floor that he lost from when he was eating in his high chair a few minutes before.

It’s safe to say I won’t be winning “Dad of the Year.” That is, as long as no one finds this stuff out about me.

Good thing I made my very own “Dad of the Year” award anyway!

 

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Dadabase Bonus: October 2011 in Review

October 30, 2011 at 9:03 pm , by 

Eleven months.

In this unofficial post (I’ve already published my maximum of 25 posts this month), I am taking a moment amidst the hustle and bustle of Halloween to remember what all has gone on as Jack has turned eleven months old.

1. Our move back into our townhouse was delayed by nearly three weeks, as we discovered the ceiling of our living room had nearly caved in due to a water leak upstairs in the bathroom.

2. Jack learned to stand and walk up to ten steps on his own.

3. Jack has worked hard on adding “yes” to his vocabulary; he’s already pretty good at “no.”

4. We discovered Jack really does look like Boo the Pomeranian.

5. Jack has learned to feed himself by hand.

6. General Motors flew me up to Detroit to visit their facility; much more on that in November!

Thanks for reading The Dadabase this month.

 

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Why My Son Isn’t Allowed to Watch TV

October 28, 2011 at 12:41 am , by 

Eleven months.

Yes, I’m that kind of dad. From the very beginning, I have stuck to my guns about my son not being prematurely exposed to TV, computers, smart phones, or any other kind of device that might confuse his brain regarding what is reality and what is a simulated image.

I’ve written about this before, saying that I’m part of the school of thought that believes there is a tie between Autism and TV. For me, letting a child under the age of 2 watch TV is like feeding him soda in a bottle; it’s simply unnatural in every way.

So ultimately, that is why my son isn’t allowed to watch TV, for at least another year. But the physical reason he can’t watch it is because we currently don’t really have one; unless you count the old-school (2006) 34 inch we keep just for watching Netflix and playing Wii, which rarely happens these days.

Even if we could afford cable, we wouldn’t have time to watch it without seriously jeopardizing the small amount of time we have together as a family. The TV we have is so outdated it won’t even pick up the main networks with an antenna.

Additionally, I’m not cool enough to have the Internet on my phone. Therefore, I’m fine with my son playing with my phone: The worst he has done so far is to text the message “xykghild” to an imaginary contact named “olkhgenjnbsd.”Sounds Icelandic to me.

Heck, he doesn’t even have age appropriate toys to play with. How does an eleven month old little boy learn to psychologically mature with a toy basket full of stuffed animals and some wooden blocks he mainly uses for chew toys? He doesn’t.

Instead, my son makes a game out of finding crumbs of a wheat tortilla that fell into the seat of his high chair.

He takes the cupcake pan out of the cabinet and walks to the other side of the room with it; then falls on top of it, using it as a sled across the carpet.

He speaks in some weird robot language to the invisible army of cats he evidently commands on a regular basis.

Honestly, I don’t see how my son would have time for TV and other electronic entertainment even if we could afford it. I guess he’s stuck with just his parents and his imagination. But I really don’t think he minds being a low-tech baby.

My son has plenty of time to catch up to all the cool, tech-savvy toddlers out there. I’m sure he’ll send me a text message from his first day at Kindergarten. That is, if texting isn’t culturally irrelevant by then.