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

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.

The Difficulty in Men Truly Being Honest

June 26, 2011 at 8:47 pm , by 

Seven months.

blue eyes baby

The main way to be honest is to refrain from lying.  The other way is to refrain from hiding your true thoughts and feelings.  The latter is so much harder than the former.

Something I’ve never been good at, nor cared to improve, is the ability to use the #1 traditional American greeting: “Hi, how are you doing?”

Because even as a young kid, I have questioned the practicality and sincerity of that extremely personal question which acquaintances use to greet each other with.  I remember when I started pre-school (in 1985), asking my parents how I was supposed to answer that question. They  told me to say, “Just fine.  How are you doing?”

So that’s how I would respond to being asked how I was doing.  By the time I got to Middle School, I got so lazy at it that I just began simply answering with a mumbled “Doing good, doing good.”  Conveniently for me, I learned that people were so used to having the questioned returned on them, that they assumed I was saying, “Doing good, and you?”

And at age 30, that’s still what happens to me on a daily basis.

I just can’t take something seriously if I find it to be anything less than sincere. Sure, I’m definitely over-analyzing our traditional American greeting.  But to me, I feel that most of the time, we’re not actually asking the other person how they are doing.  Why?

Because I’ve observed that so much of the time when people ask me how I’m doing, they don’t even look me in the eyes, and they just keeping walking past me as they say it.

For me to honestly answer that question, the person asking it A) has to be someone I know well and be able to be vulnerable enough to tell them how I am really feeling and B) has to show me with their body language that they actually care about the answer.

Am I being too honest by admitting that when I ask someone how they are doing, after they have just asked me the same question, that nine times out of ten I’m not really concerned with their answer?  The exception is if the other person was being so open with me that their answer was anything different than perfectly positive:  If the other person is admitting they are having a tough day or that something interesting (good or bad) was going on in their lives, I would jump on the chance to explore what’s going on in their lives.

Why?  Because when it comes to relating to people, I am action-based, not emotion-based.

I understood this concept much more clearly when I spent the summer of 2003 (and 2004) in Thailand teaching at a Christian school.  As I was immersed in Thai culture, it didn’t take me long to realize that I was hardly ever asked by the Thai people how I was doing.  Instead, they asked me what I was doing, what I did earlier that day, or what I would be doing later that day.  If I was holding a bag of snacks I had just bought from the store, they would reach for my bag, asking about my recent purchases.  For that reason alone, I felt so at home and so connected with the Thai people.  It felt so natural and real.

My belief and history with starting conversations is that if I start talking to someone by asking a personal question that intrudes on their emotions, unless they really know me, they will put up their guard and give me a generic answer.

So instead, whenever I greet a person, it is never with an emotional question.  I always ask a question based on that person’s daily activities or make a positive observation based on their appearance.

Or if I can’t think of something to say, I’ll propose this one: “What was the most unique thing that has happened to you so far today?”  I love to engage people in thought.  I can’t handle talking about the weather.

I want real human connections with the people in my life.

It’s important to me to be as honest as I can be to people, without being inappropriately revealing.  It’s a fact that as a man, I would be foolish to “wear my heart on my sleeve.”  I learned very quickly after entering the work force not to reveal my insecurities and emotions to my coworkers.  Because I observed that the men I respected in the work place kept their personal life private.  I also noticed that women in the office who acted more like men, who suppressed emotional urges, were more likely to be successful.

So what does all this have to do with parenting and being a husband?  After all, that is what this blog is all about.

Here’s how.  Men are often known for hiding the way they really feel.  They are known for holding in their emotions. Why do they do that?

The vulnerable answer is that we men are expected to be strong and in control. Expression of emotions and admittance of feelings compromises that image.  And the truth is, the perception that we are in control is just as important as being in control, a lot of the time.  That’s undeniably important for men to live by in the work place.

But not at home.  Men must be able to separate the two versions of themselves: the work version vs. the home version.

While I may spend most of my day time hours turning off my emotions in the office, when I get home, it’s important for me to express how I feel to my wife.  I must remind myself to flip the switch back to “home life” from “work life.”  I know that it’s important for her to know what’s going on inside of my head.   Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s bad, sometimes there’s just nothing really floating around in my head- just a blank screen.

I only get vulnerable about my emotions and insecurities with those who I am really close to.  The rest get random conversation starters from me.  But it’s those random conversation starters that can help build actual relationships.  And that’s the reason I don’t ask people how they are doing.  Instead, as they tiredly hold a warm mug, they unexpectedly hear from me, “What flavor coffee creamer did you go with today?”  I’d rather start in the middle of a conversation than a stage prop beginning.

The Millionaire Mindset of Generation X/Y Parents

June 25, 2011 at 9:10 pm , by 

Seven months.

My wife and I have a catch phrase in our house: “millionaire mindset.” Whether we are discussing an unnecessary purchase or are patting ourselves on the back for money we cleverly saved somehow, we speak our code word to each other.

It’s our way of reminding ourselves that in order to be successful with what we have been given and blessed with, we have to think with the mindset of a frugal millionaire who worked hard for his fortune.  It’s not that we are trying to become millionaires, but it sure won’t hurt if we are wise in our spending; and more importantly in our savings.

So we are not ashamed to use store brand products, to buy used stuff for our son off of Amazon.com or Ebay, and to make our own baby food for him.  We keep in mind that while name brand products tend to impress people, they are counter-productive when it comes to financially prospering in the long run. Having a child makes you reconsider your spending habits as well as your saving habits. After all, our son starts college in less than 18 years from now!

There was a time when bigger and flashier was better, when it seemed most people refused to buy store brand products; right down to their hand soap and kitchen table condiments (like it matters that your bottle of mustard says “Kroger” instead of “Hunt’s”.)

I think it’s safe to say that the modern cultural movement is now towards simplicity.  We, as a nation, are learning the meaning of “living within our means” and not consuming more than we actually need; that credit cards are the devil and that frequenting all-you-can-eat buffets are an invitation to onset Diabetes.

We get it now that money isn’t everything- and more importantly, that it in theory it’s a waste of time to spend our entire lives chasing more money, only to find that by the time we retire there may be nothing left for our own social security.  Money is simply a necessary evil, as far as I’m concerned.

My wife has said several times since we’ve been married, “I could never be a millionaire because I wouldn’t know what to do with the money- I would end up giving it all away.” Exactly. Because no one person can legitimately spend anywhere near a million dollars within a reasonable amount of time, without giving a good portion of it away.  Sure, it can be invested, but ultimately, it’s a matter of asking what the end goal is in investing that money.  I personally just don’t see much of a point in investing in a bigger lifestyle only to encounter more overhead.

Who knows, though?  Maybe all it would take is a million dollars to prove me wrong.  I doubt it though.  I prefer a laid-back, low maintenance lifestyle.  I don’t like extra noise even if I’m wearing the most expensive ear plugs.

I’m sure part of the reason my wife and I have this generational mindset is because we were both born in 1981; the crossroads between Generation X and Generation Y.  We were told our whole lives that money isn’t everything, but being happy is.  So we believed it.  And I guess we always will.

Free buzz cut courtesy of my wife… priceless.

buzz cut