Author: Family Friendly Daddy Blog

Leave a comment Posted on Nostalgia, parenting

My Son, The Starving Chalk Artist

June 19, 2012 at 11:33 pm , by 

19 months.

Crayons are the gateway drug to chalk.

It began so innocently when we took home some crayons from Mellow Mushroom Pizzeria, followed by my wife soon after buying him a cheap coloring book.

But on one fateful, antsy Saturday afternoon, we naturally had the clever idea to buy Jack some chalk to decorate our sidewalk. And since then, you’d think the kid has 6 fingers on one hand; one of them typically being blue, green, yellow or red.

Jack values chalk more than Elmo. Yeah, you heard that right.

I mean, he still loves Elmo; calling out his name in vain as he sleeps, sometimes.

But right now, Jack is totally beginning his  ”starving artist” stage.

(I think he’s inspiring to become the next Julian Beever; that famous chalk artist whose genius work you’ve seen in email forwards.)

On the car ride to and from daycare, Jack often requests a piece of chalk; to hold, not to draw with. He just likes the satisfaction, and the pride, of grasping it for 30 minutes at a time.

That’s how much he appreciates the arts.

This past weekend we took Jack to Menchie’s, a pay-per-ounce frozen yogurt place right down the road from us.

Two things in particular make Menchie’s stand out to me:

Evidently the owner is Jewish and he has a rabbi bless each new flavor as soon as possible. That’s why certain flavors have a mysterious Hebrew sticker next to them and others don’t; because the rabbi hasn’t blessed them yet.

(I guess? I’m not Jewish so I don’t know. I’m all in favor of hearing a better explanation on that one.)

The other thing is that there’s a giant community chalkboard inside the shop for the customers to express themselves. Needless to say, Jack cared a lot more about the chalkboard than he did his frozen yogurt.

Lucky for me, because I got to eat all of his bananas and cream dessert.

Just look at that intensity. He wouldn’t have been a starving artist if he would have just eaten his frozen yogurt, though.

For more pictures of the event, go toThe Dadabase’s Facebook pageand see the picture folder called Menchie’s Yogurt Bar in Nashville.

 

“A man paints with his brains and not with his hands.”

-Michelangelo

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Raising A Different Kid Than My Parents Did

June 18, 2012 at 8:33 pm , by 

19 months.

Have you ever thought about how if your parents raised your kid instead of you, you’d probably end up with a much different child?

The irony is that your own parents raised you in a way that ultimately causes you to raise your child differently than they would.

Sometimes I feel a little bit bad about the potential stress I put my parents through when I have them watch Jack for an afternoon or overnight. It’s not simply, “Here the kid. See ya!”

Instead, it’s more like this: “Okay, here’s his sleep and nap schedule, and exactly what he needs to eat for each meal, and make sure he doesn’t watch TV either…”

I guess it somewhat resembles the concept of the classic TV show Family Ties, where the parents were easygoing and their son Alex P. Keaton was… basically the complete opposite.

Comparing myself to my own parents raising me in the 80′s and 90′s, I feel that they were also nicer than I am. They didn’t seem stressed out by this parenting thing; the way I often am as I raise my son.

I admit, at times, I take being a dad too seriously.

And I know it can’t just be me who feels this way when they compare their own parenting style to their parents. There are undeniable generational and cultural differences between Generation X and Y parents and their own Baby Boomer parents.

Of course I am very aware, too, that my son is wired differently than I am. My mom said she never had to worry about me trying to play in electrical outlets, for example.

As for Jack… ha! I can never turn my attention away from him for any given second. He’s way too adventurous to trust at this age.

Evidently I was a well-contained little boy. Well, my son is definitely not.

Even if I tried, I would not be able to raise my son to be just like me. But maybe my parents could….

Leave a comment Posted on Nostalgia, parenting

Infographic: Anatomy Of A Dad

June 17, 2012 at 7:22 pm , by 

19 months.

Last week I noticed at the bottom of “Daddy’s Roughhousing: Good Physically and Psychologically” in the automated portion, You Might Like, was a link to a seemingly random article written by Jenna Bromberg for H&R Block.

It was actually an infographic called “The Anatomy Of A Dad” which contrasts the stereotypical dad of “back then” to today’s modern dad.

What I thought was most interesting was how Dear Old Pops’ favorite drink was a light beer in a can, while The New Dad’s drink of choice was a microbrewed beer; in a bottle, of course.

This is actually something I’ve observed for a while and have been wanting to write about, but feared it would come across as irrelevant to the subject of parenting.

But Jenna Bromberg has helped me legitimize this cultural concept about today’s dad:

Light beer in a can is as outdated as those lame commercialsmaking Dad out to be a bumbling idiot.

So long, Al Bundy and Homer Simpson.

The beer of choice for today’s active and involved dad is most likely to be A) impossible to find in a can, B) heavy and filling, and C) made by a quirky-named company that has been established since I was born in 1981.

(Samuel Adams, America’s largest craft brewery, was only established in 1984.)

Microbreweries, also known as craft breweries, are  identified as “small, independent, and traditional.”

Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but at least for myself, I see a co-relation between microbrewed beer and the modern American dad:

I tend to see myself as an underdog (small), confident in my unique identity (independent), and quite nostalgic (traditional).

As a child of The Eighties, I was regularly told that I could do anything if I believed in myself, put my mind to it, and just said no to drugs. Now as an adult, I’m dealing with the repercussions of that over-inflated truth/false hope.

Sure, we’re all special. But that’s the problem; we’re all special.

So it totally makes sense that us Generation Y and latter Generation X dads don’t mind being perceived as different, open-minded, and maybe even a little bit weird; in a good way.

I just want to be a good dad.

And somehow, drinking light beer makes me think of the two TV shows I hate most:Two And A Half Men and16 And Pregnant.

Even if I’m simply a fleshed-out part of a well-marketed demographic, I am that modern American dad who regularly compares notes of the most recent unheard-of brand of microbrewed beer that happened to be on sale at Kroger this week.

It’s a mindset against drunkenness and irresponsibility and the need to escape from our fatherly duties; as I feel light beer in a can is often associated with.

Instead, it’s an appreciation for the finer things in life. It’s like being a responsible beer connoisseur makes you part of this cool club of relevant dads.

Maybe after a lifetime of exposure to the opening credits of Cheers, I want to be like those sophisticated, mustachioed gentlemen who lived before my grandparents were even born.

I suddenly feel the need to grow an ironic mustache.

 

Leave a comment Posted on Nostalgia, parenting

He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Son

June 15, 2012 at 7:21 pm , by 

A year and a half.

Earlier this week, someone commented on this picture onFacebook:

“What a little man! Such a cutie!”

Swiftly I responded with, “Hey I’m 5′ 9″ and 156 pounds… I’m not thatlittle…”.

Turns out, the person was talking about my 18 month-old son, not me in a Ryan Seacrest sort of way.

As of a few weeks ago when my wife took him for his check-up, Jack weighed 27 pounds. He was in the 75th percentile for weight and 50th for height.

But I promise you, since then, it feels like he’s a sack of flour heavier.

It makes me wonder if it’s common at a year and a half for your kid to suddenly become “uncarriable.”

Gone are the days when I could physically carry him around the neighborhood for a 25 minute walk. That’s part of the reason we have the wagon, now.

And so much for holding him in the grocery store as my wife shops. Yeah, he definitely rides in the shopping cart.

Despite his vegetarian diet, Jack is one meaty little boy.

 

Leave a comment Posted on parenting, Storytelling

The Non-Doofus Dad Awareness Ribbon

June 14, 2012 at 10:38 pm , by 

A year and a half.

I’m gonna say it: I’m suffering from “over-awareness awareness.”

What started out as noble and respectable causes, the use of awareness ribbons on cars and on the Internet has now officially jumped the shark.

Earlier this week I was driving behind a car displaying  a “zombie awareness” ribbon magnet, with an image of a rotten brain oozing out.

And another car promoting Labradoodle Awareness. Um, okay. I’m aware. Now what?

So I figured today, I might as well add to the noise. I hereby introduce to you the “Non-Doofus Dad Awareness” ribbon.

One of the re-occurring themes here on The Dadabase has always been an attempt to stigmatize the practice of making dads and husbands out to be idiots; especially in ads and sitcoms.

Yeah, remember the whole Huggies fiasco not too long ago? Oops.

This week more than one person forwarded me an article from Adweek entitled “The Demise of the Doofus Dad in Ads: A backlash against the bumbling father figure is paving the way for Superdad” by Heather Chaet.

It felt good to read such an on-target article reiterating what I’ve been saying for a long time. Here’s the meat of it:

“The garden-variety parent, regardless of gender, suffers from sleep deprivation, wrangles pickups for play dates and hopelessly dodges pointy little plastic things strewn across the kitchen floor…”.

Chaet goes on to point out in her article that for many parenting couples under the age of 30, Mommy is now making more money than Daddy:

“But as the family dynamic has changed, with more women becoming educated and entering the workforce and men sharing more of the load at home, the doofus dad—an increasingly extinct figure in the culture—nonetheless has remained a fixture in some ad campaigns.”

Like many Generation Y dads, I don’t make as much money as my wife; not to mention she has a Master’s Degree and I don’t.

So if I can’t be the main bread winner or the most educated, I at least want to know I can get one thing right these days: being a good dad.

Therefore, it’s never funny or cute for anyone (whether in my private life or on a TV commercial) to portray me as anything less than competent as a husband and father.

No, I don’t have to be drawn up like I’m Superdad. But just as I wouldn’t want my wife to be portrayed in a condescending manner in pop culture as a mom, I don’t want to be an outdated stereotype either.

It’s not just being represented as a Doofus Dad that annoys me. I also loathe being lumped into the categories of Dead-Beat Dad, Absentee Dad, or at best, Would-Rather-Watch-Sports-Than-Spend-Time-With-My-Kid Dad.

Two years ago, fellow Nashville blogger Jon Acuff brought to my attention a sadly familiar tradition in churches with his blog post, “The Wild Difference Between A Mother’s Day Sermon And A Father’s Day Sermon.” And I quote:

“One feels like a Lifetime movie, the other an episode of ‘Scared Straight,’ where high school students are forced to listen to convicts yell at them about their lives.”

So this is why I have created the Non-Doofus Dad Awareness Ribbon. Because I am proud to be a good dad. Iam not a doofus.

Sure, I’ve got my dorky side, but I’m a darn good dad; just like every dad out there reading this today.

Hey, it’s pretty much a given that if you read Parents magazine and The Dadabase, you’re automatically one of the good dads; representing the majority, not the stereotyped minority.

So like a kid on the playground trying to get his frenemy in trouble for cussing, I will make better effort to “out” the companies and organizations still doing those stupid dad-bashing ads.

At the risk of being considered a doofus, I am proudly displaying my Non-Doofus Dad Awareness Ribbon on myPinterest and Facebook.

You’re welcome to join me; all you fellow dads who are equally annoyed by these insulting concepts of husbands forgetting their wife’s birthday and being all grossed out over changing a dirty diaper.