Author: Family Friendly Daddy Blog

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Why We Parents Use Self-Deprecating Humor

January 26, 2012 at 10:41 pm , by 

14 months.

I feel like it’s pretty difficult to be in a conversation with any other parent without one of us making some kind of self-deprecating remark regarding the way we raise our kids.

While parenting is one of the most important jobs on the planet, there is no standard rating systemto know how well we are doing; nor is there an official playbook for raising a kid.

To go around regularly giving unsolicited advice to other parents is often not appreciated because it can easily give the impression of being an arrogant know-it-all.

And since overall, not knowing what we’re doing as parents is the norm, it’s best to recognize and work with this.

So to play it cool and make each other feel comfortable, and not competed against, we splice in quick insults towards ourselves like, “well if I wasn’t such a horrible parent, I would…” or “guess I won’t be winning Mom of the Year for that…”.

Interestingly, we hold ourselves up against the impossible standards of “Supermom” or “Superdad” in which we inspire to be like. On the extreme, however, are “that mom” and “that dad” who dramatically overdo it, perhaps hoping to appear as the real life “Supermoms” and “Superdads” that don’t actually exist outside of black-and-white 1960′s sitcoms and modern day urban legends.

To be so openly judgmental of ourselves makes it unnatural for anyone else to be subconsciously critical of us first. The tension is eased and we allow ourselves to feel normal.

As a fun little game, start noticing this in conversations you have with other parents over the next several days. See how long it takes before the other person says something like, “Half the time I’m lucky to even get the [insert household chore here] done, much less make sure I’m wearing socks that match. But hey, that’s what it’s like when you have these rugrats keeping you busy all the time.”

If you get bored with that game, you could make things more interesting by seeing how quickly you can be the one to insult yourself first by starting the conversation like so:

“I haven’t brushed my teeth today, I gave my kid chocolate syrup and Twizzlers this morning for breakfast, and not to mention, I’m so lame I have the song ‘Don’t Bite Your Friends’ from Yo Gabba Gabba as my cell phone’s ring tone. Seriously, what happen to the cool version of me?”

 

3 Comments Posted on parenting, Spirituality, Storytelling

Surprise! This Christian Dad Struggles With His Own Faith

January 25, 2012 at 8:40 pm , by 

14 months.

During my day job, I work alongside someone I consider a “friendly atheist.” Not the kind who has a passionate agenda of converting me out of Christianity or who is obviously mad at God for not existing. He just simply believes that when we all die… poof! That’s it.

He and I have the kind of mutually respectful relationship where we can curiously ask each other questions about the other’s belief system, without it ever turning volatile or even emotional.

Last Friday I told him, “You simply have more faith than I do; to believe we all just got here by random chance.”

He replied, “You know, Nick; I find it very surprising that you, of all people, believe in Jesus and the Bible and all that stuff. I know you well enough to realize you are a very logical, rational guy. It just doesn’t fit you.”

The truth is, he makes a good point. I have no trouble at all believing in each of the miracles told in the Bible; from God creating Adam from dust, then Eve from his side, to Noah being able to gather two of every kind of animal on the ark, to the virgin birth of Christ, to Him being the Son of God, to Jesus making wine from water, to Him walking on water, to Him dying for the whole world and then raising from the dead. No problem.

Why? Because it’s all miraculous. It’s impossible unless it’s true. That’s logical to me.

Sure, I definitely believe the Bible truly is legitimate and factual.

I’m not the kind of person who only believes the parts of the Bible and God’s teachings that I want to; the ones that are easy to believe and that make me feel good. That’s not me.

Instead, I am a Bible-believing Christian who trusts in Christ alone for eternal life and redemption of all my wickedness, yet with humility I am willing to admit, there are parts of the Bible and its teachings that I struggle with.

Notice I said “struggle with.” I didn’t say I don’t believe or won’t believe. It means there are certain things I have to sort out, by carefully reading the Bible, praying to God to help me understand, reading related commentary books and talking to other Christians about my concerns.

I have this theory that most Bible-believing Christians have at least one particular part of the Bible or Christianity they have always struggled with believing. Mine is the existence of a literal, eternal, fiery hell in which people can never be redeemed.

While I’ve never met a Christian who believes that babies go to hell, it seems to be a popular belief that basically everyone else born in sin who dies not knowing Christ as their savior goes to hell forever.

That includes people in other countries who never heard the Gospel. That includes people who were only exposed to judgmental Christians who condemned them. That includes people who have been abused by their earthly fathers and have a deranged idea of what a loving father actually is.

I simply don’t want to be in a position where I have to decide who goes to Heaven and who doesn’t. But I feel that if hell is the fiery place it’s perceived to be by most Christians and their agreed interpretations of Christ’s teachings, then I sort of am in that position.

This can of worms got opened about a month ago when I read the highly controversial book, Love Wins: A Book About Heaven, Hell, and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived, by Rob Bell.

It’s not that I agreed with every thing he said, but he was willing to shed light on my lifelong concerns about the Church’s traditional interpretation of hell. He goes back to every use of the word “hell” in the Bible and focuses on the original Hebrew and Greek words used.

So should I believe that all unbelievers, except babies, go to hell if they don’t believe in Christ by the time they die?

I’m going to give a very unpopular answer:

I don’t know. I have no idea. Yet.

I know that I’m supposed to believe it as an evangelical Christian. But I can’t lie and say in my heart I believe it at this point in my Christian journey.

But I’m trying to figure it out as I reread the teachings of Christ and the Apostles. I’m also reading the book,Erasing Hell, by Francis Chan; which counters the ideas written in Love Wins.

Just for the record, I graduated from a one year Bible college called Word of Life Bible Institute and earned my English degree from Liberty University; the world’s largest evangelical Christian university.

I know the Bible very well. But I can’t stand the thought of believing heresy, whether it’s some trendy author’s flawed interpretation of the Bible, or even the Church’s flawed understanding of Scripture.

Nothing has ever caused me to read the Bible with such passion. As a believer of Christ, I want to know who He truly is.

This is real faith. It’s not about having all the answers. Nor is it being okay with not trying to find the answers.

So what does this have to do with being a dad? Everything.

I want to be able to teach my son everything I have learned about God. My faith is everything to me. As his dad, it’s my responsibility to be the spiritual leader my dad was to me.

So to not understand a major part of my faith is difficult for me to deal with.

Like my atheist friend said, I am a very logical and rational guy. I don’t just believe something because I’m supposed to. I believe because God helps me to.

So help me God for my lack of understanding.

Top image: Hands Statue from Hell in Wat Rong Khun at Chiang Rai, Thailand, via Shutterstock.

Bottom image: Marshmallow on a stick over the fire, via Shutterstock.

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My Son’s Boy Cave: No Girls Allowed (Except Mommy)

January 24, 2012 at 8:44 pm , by 

14 months.

We painted our son’s bedroom brown. Yeah, it was a risky move. What if it ended up being dark and creepy?

Some risks are worth taking; this was one of them. We had this idea in mind to create a “boy cave” for our son, as opposed to a “man cave.”

And what better color for a cave than brown? (Actually, I bet dark gray is probably the correct answer.)

We did originally plan for his room to be a “robot cave.” My wife found this really cool 3 foot tall decal on Etsy, designed by Tweet Heart. Unfortunately, the raised texture of our walls prevented it from sticking. It was sad that Ralph the Robot couldn’t hang around. We’ll try again when we live in house with walls with normal texture.

So what makes his bedroom a true boy cave?

Action and adventure!

First, there’s his Rockasan chair; which is a rocking papasan. It was originally intended as a rocking chair to rock him to sleep when he was an infant. But by now, he loves to pull himself up on it and let his own body weight cause him to swing back and forth like he’s in one of those pirate ship rides at an amusement park.

Second, my wife’s inflatable exercise ball serves as that giant rock that chases Indiana Jones in Raiders of the Lost Ark. My son Jack loves for me to roll the giant inflatable ball towards him from across the room. He tries to dart past me without getting hit.

It’s kind of like a very unfair version of dodgeball. I always am amazed at the level of intensity the ball can clobber him and he not only still remains standing but continues to keep running: all while hysterically laughing.

Third, he likes to play “full contact” hide-and-seek. The game consists of me running into the closet or the bathroom attached to his bedroom. Then he’ll sneak up and peak around the corner at me. The second he sees my face…

Rharrhhhrrr!!!

He gets attacked by the Yeti. Or whatever kind of monster I am assumed to be as a 5′ 9″ yelling adult man with a deranged look on my face. (To him, I’m still a giant; it helps that he’s only 29 inches tall.)

In a sort of slow motion move, I jump up in the air like Batman landing on the ground with my arms spread out and I pretend to lay on top of him. He just loves being playfully “attacked.”

And that’s my definition of “boy cave.”

We’ll try again in a few years, Ralph the Robot…

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Can A Heterosexual Dad Legitimately Be A Feminist?

January 23, 2012 at 11:14 pm , by 

14 months.

It was a sort of liberating experience a few weeks ago at the Nashville Zoo, to realize A) that in addition to carrying around my son’s diaper bag, sort of like a purse, I was also actually toting my wife’s purse and B) I was strangely okay with that.

If you know me in the least little bit, you know how it’s simply my nature to ask deep, random questions both in real life and on Facebook, like “What is the male equivalent of a feminist?”

The first answer I received confirmed my own preconceived answer: “Wouldn’t that be a male chauvinist?” (It was a female who said that.)

The second response I got confirmed my own understanding of what feminism simply is:

“Good feminism: a movement to eliminate gender-based discrimination against females; promote fairness and equality previously not experienced by females in society; and expand the gender roles of females beyond traditionally accepted roles which previously limited their contributions, productivity, and value to society.”

By the way, it was a guy, Mike Zeigler, who gave that answer. He went on to further explain my frustrations with the kind of feminism that annoys me:

“Bad feminism: a movement to revolt against the male gender and usurp their position of dominance to the extent that women achieve complete dominance and precedence over men, thereby emasculating and feminizing men in the process.”

Meanwhile in the land of Twitter, fellow daddy blogger Zach Rosenberg of 8-Bit Dad gave an answer that caught me by surprise. I never thought of this, but I think he’s on to something:

“A feminist. Men, especially fathers, make the best feminists.”

What if the answer to my question is that simple? The male equivalent of a feminist is a man who himself is a feminist.

Look back to that paragraph defining “good feminism.” That’s what I believe in, support, and depend on. How can I not back feminism like that? I’m married to a woman and we have a son together.

If that’s not the kind of movement I am a fan of, then I am simply irrelevant as a modern dad. Therefore, in all seriousness, I consider myself a feminist.

Let’s back up again, though- all the way to the title. Why was it necessary for me to specify “heterosexual” dad?

The main reason is that as a heterosexual man, I can not relate to the social injustices that women, as well as homosexuals, have encountered throughout history.

To make matters worse, I happen to be middle class and white. Clearly, I do not represent a minority in any traditional sense: not for my gender, race, income level, nor sexual orientation.

Quite possibly, I am demographically the most unpitied stereotype in America. So for me to claim to be a feminist, it’s natural to assume I’m joking or making light of the subject; attempting to be ironic for a canned laugh. But I’m not.

It may not count for much, but for the simple fact that corporately sponsored daddy bloggers are extremely rare and I just happen to be one of them, representing the many dedicated dads out there who truly aren’t male chauvinists, maybe I actually do know a thing or two about being part of a minority.

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Why This Dad (Sometimes) Feels Unproductive As a Parent

January 22, 2012 at 8:32 pm , by 

14 months.

It’s Sunday night and I’m exhausted. My wife is upstairs with our son right now giving him a bath and then she’ll put him to bed for the night.

Finally, I have a good 25 minutes to think about whatever I want to, including “nothing,” without hearing him crying, without trying to keep him from making a mess, or without attempting to invent yet another new way to entertain him.

In other words, I’m spent.

Physically, mentally, and psychologically, I’m done for the weekend. I hate to admit I look forward to going to the office in the morning, but I do.

Why, though?

Because there’s no way to verify my productivity as a dad.

I would love it at the end of the day to receive a “Daddy Report Card.” A while back, I explained that I am the kind of person whothrives on constructive criticism. I’m obsessed with being the best possible version of myself I can be.

Without knowing how to improve and without someone being brave enough to tell me; and without some confirmation of what I’m actually doing right, I tend to get disillusioned, frustrated, and even angry.

Welcome to fatherhood… I know, right?

It doesn’t change the fact that I have good reason to feel this way right now.

At my sales job, the numbers at the end of the month give me a confirmation either way whether or not my dedication paid off.

Here writing for Parents.com, I can know at any moment how well (or unwell) a particular article of mine is doing with readers by viewing something called StatCounter.

Like today, I am pleased to see all my hard work writing about chicken nuggets paid off; people evidently want to know how those things are made. Certain posts like this one take less than 25 minutes and I’m done; just vulnerable streaming of consciousness. But the one about mechanically separated chicken took about 4 days and several people editing it for me to get it just right.

If only a stressful day in Dadland was like that:

“Today, you scored a 99. The only thing to improve on based on today’s role as a dad was that you let him eat a Cheerio off the floor.”

See, that would be cool. I don’t know- blame it on my culture or my generation. I sort of like instant gratification.

Parenthood isn’t that way. Can you really ever know when you’re successful at it? Maybe when they grow up?

(Probably not.)