Author: Family Friendly Daddy Blog

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“You May Be Right” Shrugs Off Unwanted Parenting Advice

August 25, 2012 at 9:51 pm , by 

21 months.

I am convinced that the best way to get someone to stop nagging you with their wrong opinion in regards to unsolicited parenting advice is just to simply smile and respond with, “You may be right.”

If they still go on rambling in an attempt to convert you, just said it again; this time raising your eyebrows and smiling even bigger.

You can even throw in peripheral phrases like “I think I might have read a blog about that recently” or “I’ll have to check that out.”

We live in a time when “I don’t agree with you” translates to some people as “I hate you.”

So if a person is already passionate about a polarizing parenting topic that I either A) already have a strong opinion on or B) am indifferent about, I’d rather just move on as quickly as possible to the next conversation topic, as opposed to becoming the next victim of a parenting extremist‘s solicitation speech.

Sometimes it’s just too much hassle to admit with someone that you disagree with them.

I don’t mean to sound like a person without passion and conviction. Because I am very passionate about the things that matter to me; likewise, I am extremely indifferent about the things I don’t care about or care to change.

“You may be right” is clever because it is also undeniably true.

No matter how firmly set I am in my opinions and stances on things like the kind of food I feed my kid or how I choose to discipline him, I could easily be wrong.

I am aware of that at all time. Whether the experts and scientific research support my view or not, still, I may be wrong.

Therefore, the other person with a different perspective as mine may very easily be right.

How arrogant of me to assume that I’m right most of the time about stuff. Or even half the time.

I might as well just assume, at best, I’m only right 49% of the time.

Granted, I want to be right, but I overanalyze stuff a lot.

Like when I half-jokingly wrote a post about hand-cuffing my son on the way to time-out.

It just seems weird to me that in the eyes of parents like me who are “non-spankers” it’s okay to discipline your child by physically restraining them by exiling them to time-out, as opposed to physically striking them.

Yet somehow the idea of taking physical restraint a step further and putting handcuffs on your kid is absurd.

I see double standards there. I see norms based on tradition. And I question that. I question myself.

So, I may be wrong about a lot of my parenting perspectives. The other people may be right.

And when I give them confirmation of that, it helps skip the annoying conversation topic I don’t want to be involved in, like a chapter on a DVD.

I’m such an impatient Millennial parent.

 

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Teaching My Son To Be A Modern Day Southern Gentleman

August 23, 2012 at 10:47 pm , by 

21 months.

“Jack, be gentle.”

Every time I tell my son that in an effort to help him transition his playful hits into gentle pats, I feel that I should also tell him to be nimble, quick, and to jump over the candlestick.

Of course, somehow I don’t think my son is yet qualified to jump over a candlestick.

His most recent accomplishment is graduating from a focused obsession on Elmo; now also including Ernie and The Count as part of his Sesame Street favorites.

“Five. Ah. Ah. Ah.”

Jack always says it so seriously. And he never actually counts before or after the number 5. Just 5. About three times in a row.

I love teaching my son new things. And fortunately, he loves learning from me.

It’s only natural as a parent to want to prepare your child to become everything you wished you were by the proper age. In particular, I am very aware that I am always thinking of how I can instill in my son how to be an all around gentleman.

(Because we live in Nashville, I feel the need to add the word “Southern” in front of the word “gentleman” to get the full effect.)

Even if right now the greatest lesson I can teach him is to not hit his friends like he’s in some kind of Toddler Fight Club…

I look forward to the day when I start giving him advice on how to talk to girls. Because let’s face it: I’m good at it. (That’s how I met his mother.)

And though my skills as a handyman aren’t much better than the token goofball 1980′s sitcom dad, I think it will be really fun to (try to) teach him how to fix stuff around the house.

Just as important as knowing how to use a wrench and a power drill, I believe, is knowing how to keep a tidy house.

I’ve read enough trendy Ecards on Facebook to know that being a true, relevant gentleman in today’s culture means being very active in the household chores.

Yes, I want my son to be able to caulk a bathroom sink. But I also want him to be a natural at cleaning that sink along with the shower and toilets.

As for myself, I feel that I am really good at a couple things, and am fairly clueless on the rest.

That’s not how I want it to be for my son. I want him to be a jack-of-all-trades and a master of some.

On top of that, I believe it’s also largely up to me to teach him how to treat people with respect; thinking of them before himself, while at the same time being able to stand up and fight for himself when necessary.

I figure, too, that in my attempts to teach him all these things, I can become better at them myself.

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Toddler Fight Club: “No Pinching, Only Punching”

August 22, 2012 at 11:27 pm , by 

21 months.

While listening to The Wally Show this week, I heard about this buzzing story of a real life fight club… for toddlers!

Apparently at a daycare center calledHands Of Our Future in Dover, Delaware, three female workers have been accused of and arrested for encouraging 3 year-old toddlers to fight each other; being told, “No pinching, only punching…”.

A cell phone captured the evidence as a toddler turned to an adult for protection only to be pushed into the fight.

Unfortunately, those “hands of our future” were being taught to punch and hit.

My first thought was, “Wow, that’s incredibly sad to think about! What if my son was ever in that situation?”

My next thought was, “I wonder if like in the movie Fight Club, there are other Toddler Fight Clubs scattered across the United States…”.

Because seriously, if three adult daycare workers supported a Toddler Fight Club in Delaware, of all random places, what are the odds that was the only place it has happened and is happening?

Granted, there is no justification in forcing toddlers to injure each other, but what could have possibly been in it for these three women?

Bragging rights? That’s beyond messed up.

A crazy news story like this only feeds into the imagination of parents like us who have to send their kids todaycare for more waking hours than we get to spend with them ourselves.

Fortunately, I have a lot of trust in my son’s daycare center. Enough to know that if he comes home with a bruise, it’s because he fell down while playing with a toy; not because he was involved in a Toddler Fight Club.

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My Son Sleeps Like A Baked Potato (Or A Taco Town Taco)

August 20, 2012 at 11:01 pm , by 

21 months.

“Oh! You have the son that sleeps like a baked potato!” That’s what someone said to my wife at a birthday party a few weeks ago.

She and her husband had just met me downstairs and somehow I ended up explaining how Jack looks whenever I go to check on him at night before I go to bed.

When he sleeps, I just imagine my son as a baked potato, half-wrapped in foil, with butter, sour cream, chives, and pepper. He always has his back curled in away from me, like a little amoeba.

Please know that as I say these obscure things about my toddler son, I say them adoringly. I mean, what’s not to love about a baked potato? Everybody loves a baked potato!

Jack officially became a baked potato when he was three months old. That’s when he got this completely unflattering pajama looking-thing that made me embarrassed for him to be wearing it. Even if it was only at night. (Pictured below.)

A year and a half later I have fully embraced, and now celebrate, how he looks like a baked potato when he sleeps.

Jack also makes me think of that Taco Town commercial on Saturday Night Live; where they advertise a taco wrapped in a tortilla, wrapped in a burrito, wrapped in a corn husk, wrapped in a pizza, wrapped in a blueberry pancake.

I’m the one who puts Jack to sleep for naps and bedtime: He has to be holding his water cup, a toy, and his Mimi (thin security blanket) all while wrapped up in a regular blanket.

Without all of those peripherals, there is no chance of him even thinking about falling asleep.

Yet still, once he actually does fall asleep, it’s often in the most uncomfortable-looking positions. Sometimes he’s balled up in his baked potato position with his head mashed up in the corner of his bed.

Other times, his ankle will be caught in the wooden bars of the crib.

You would think this would lead to a night of restless sleep. But how does Jack sleep?

Like a rock.

Or maybe more like a baked potato.

Leave a comment Posted on Nostalgia, parenting

The Oregon Trail Game Vs. Actual Car Trips With Kids

August 20, 2012 at 8:21 pm , by 

21 months.

Looking back over 20 years later, that green-and-black “educational” game we played during computer class was not only not really all that educational, but it somehow completely glamorized the turmoil of those Americans who actually made the trek to Oregon.

(Sort of like the way 16 and Pregnant does with teen pregnancy, but that’s a whole other story I’ve already written about.)

The Oregon Trail made you not really mind so much when a member in your wagon died, due to a snakebite, dysentery, cholera, typhoid, exhaustion, or measles.

Even if it was morbid and I’m just now realizing it, I suppose it was fun to get to write on the fallen member’s tombstone.

And boy was it exciting to hunt my own furry food: squirrels, rabbits, bison, deer, elk and bears. If my aim was really good that day, I would kill over 200 pounds of meat and not be able to fit it all on the wagon. (Bragging rights!)

If only driving your kid around in the car was that much fun.

I suppose, though, if they could make The Oregon Trail such a glorious and engaging game, they could do the same thing with take a road trip with your kid.

Just like in The Oregon Trail game, you would have to pack enough clothes and food before you even head out.

While it’s not likely that anyone in the car would die of a snakebite or dysentery, it’s possible I could die of annoyance because my son keeps pretending to drop toys in the back seat, then cries when I don’t pick them up for him, causing me to explain that as long as the car is moving, my job is to keep us all safe by paying attention to the road.

As the parent who drives our kid around almost exclusively, I know how challenging and nerve-wracking the process is. My 30 minute drive to and then back from work each day used to be my “reflection time.”

Now the only reflecting that goes on is me looking in the review mirror to see my son dousing his shirt in water from his cup and stuffing his shorts full of Goldfish crackers.