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10 Ways Not to Dress Like a Soccer Dad

October 20, 2011 at 9:36 pm , by 

Eleven months.

Alternate title: “How Not to Look Like a Man in Your 40′s When You’re Really in Your 20′s or 30′s.”

In “Does Becoming a Parent Make You Less Cool?,” I proclaimed that I didn’t want to end up looking like a “bland soccer dad.” What does that even mean?

Let me take you back to my senior year of college. I was working an afternoon shift at Liberty University’s brand-new student center with my culturally aware, straight-talking friend, Anna.

“You totally look like a soccer dad right now,” she said.

At the time, I didn’t realize that was a bad thing, with my faded polo shirt tucked into my khaki cargo pants, paired with tennis shoes and a flat hairstyle that resembled Mike Brady on the first season of The Brady Bunch.

Over time, especially since getting married, I have learned how to dress as a culturally relevant man, not Nick Burns, your company’s computer guy.

So for any dads out there who are wanting to step up their game, I’m here to sincerely help. The truth is, Nick Burns (a Saturday Night Live character played by Jimmy Fallon) is a good place to start; regarding who not to look like. 

1. If you are a white man under the age of 40, nix the mustache. It makes you look a pervert. No one takes a young mustached Caucasian man seriously- hence the term, “ironic mustache.”

2. Lose the cell phone belt clip. Just place your phone in your pocket and leave it on vibrate. That way, no one has to hear “Sweet Home Alabama” every time someone calls you.

3. No white socks. Unless you’re playing sports or you’re Michael Jackson in 1985, white socks are nerdy.

4. Give away your pleated pants. Pleats went out with Sears catalogs and Zack Morris cell phones.

5. When it comes to your hairstyle, the key is not to look like a weatherman, who I feel are notorious for having a definite “side part” like the previously mentioned Season One Mike Brady. The truth is, the clean-cut, yet semi-messy “Ryan Seacrest” is the safest way to go right now.

6. Go black, or go brown; but don’t go both. If you are wearing a brown belt, don’t wear black pants or black shoes too; and vice versa.

7. When it comes to jeans, light and baggy says “Hey man, Creed’s coming into town and I’ve got front row tickets!”. Also, do not purchase jean shorts. Like the white man’s mustache, they have become a fashion joke, now referred to as “jorts.”

8. Unless you’re actively on duty in the military, there is no reason for your pants to have cargo pockets. Cargo pants equal “sloppy” except they are part of your required uniform.

9. When wearing a neck tie, which you sporadically should, only wear it with a long-sleeved, collared shirt. I’m sure you don’t want to look like Dwight Schrute.

10. Fact: There is a reason no one ever asks anymore; “boxers or briefs?” That’s because it goes without saying. Boxers.

Passing the Mic:

Can you think of anything to add to my list? Maybe you’ll give me enough material here to write “10 More Ways Not to Look Like a Soccer Dad.”

 

 

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9 Year-Old Girl is Dad’s Designated Driver

October 20, 2011 at 7:36 pm , by 

Eleven months.

That pretty much sums it up. An intoxicated  dad recruits his 9 year-old daughter to drive him home. Fortunately, his altered state of awareness caused him to brag his crime to a gas station cashier, as well as, the security camera.

So the predictable blog comment here should go something like this:

“Can you believe this guy? It’s people like this that should be locked up. What a horrible father! He endangered an innocent child, as well as, everyone else on the road!”

I agree. The man obviously shouldn’t have A) exposed his daughter to his drunkenness B) especially not in a place where he would have to eventually leave from in a vehicle, not to mention, C) force her to illegally drive a car D) because on top of everything else wrong with this scenario, he is setting an unimaginably horrible example for his daughter and E) who knows, maybe he is giving ideas to other outrageously inept parents out there.

Seriously, let’s hang a millstone around this guy’s neck and shove him off a plank, then stone him with radioactive moon rocks; only right after we stick a badge on his chest reading “World’s Worst Dad.” Just for good measure, give him an enema of baby barracudas swimming in Tabasco sauce. Right?

The question is, can we give “World’s Worst Dad” a microscopic shred of credit? Just for one thing: After all, he himself didn’t drive his daughter. Granted, he should have never done what he did. But was his decision to hand the keys to his 9 year-old daughter at least better than him driving drunk?

Passing the Mic:

Which is the greater evil- giving the keys to his daughter or him getting behind the wheel (with his daughter in the van)?

 

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Why This Dad Approves of the Brat Ban

October 20, 2011 at 7:00 pm , by 

Eleven months.

Back in July, a restaurant in Monroeville, Pennsylvania started banning children under the age of 6 from entering its restaurant. Evidently, this event sparked a trend called the Brat Ban– a ban in which a certain demographic of adults want to keep kids out of their favorite public places (at least during certain hours). In addition to restaurants, this also includes swimming pools, theaters, planes, and grocery stores. This trend has evidently fired up a debate with parents.

As a dad, I’m evidently supposed to be offended. I’m supposed to go on about how the Brat Banners are selfish, whiny, bratty people themselves who just don’t understand the reality and necessity of having to take kids into public places. I should also defend us parents by saying we can’t always completely control our children in public.

Here’s the thing: I say if a business can afford to ban kids, let ‘em.

In this economy, if a restaurant or store or entertainment venue finds more monetary value solely in adults as opposed to families, then let them capitalize on that. Honestly, if I showed up at a grocery store where they ban children during the hours I shopped, I would simply take my money and my kid elsewhere. That’s simply it- no drama from me.

Something I particularly like about the Brat Ban is that it raises social awareness of two extremes: A) the parents out there who let their undisciplined kids run around unattended in public and B) the adults who generally see children as a rude nuisance. I represent neither; instead, I am one of the normal people not taken into consideration in these scenarios.

I think that the more people talk about socially extreme situations like these, the more it creates a snowball effect where many of the extremists begin to conform to the expected social norm. These days, if a semi-celebrity publicly makes an allegedly racist, sexist, or anti-gay comment, all Twitter will break loose over it. But there’s a pretty good chance that 50 years ago the same statement would have barely raised an eyebrow.

So I say let businesses ignore the civil rights of children. Let that action speak for the company itself and what they value. I say let irresponsible parents keep doing their thing and let those who are annoyed by all children keep running their mouths.

Meanwhile, I’ll sit here watching from the bleachers with my well-behaved kid.

Passing the Mic:

What do you other normal parents think about the Brat Ban?

Do you agree with my take on it? If not, why? 

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Distraction is the Cure for Clinginess

October 13, 2011 at 12:19 am , by 

Ten months.

In my son’s eyes, I am the coolest person in the room; except for when my wife is there too. All she has to do is pick him up and he’ll be happy. If I pick him up, he cries for her.

It’s totally a double standard. My son is putting me in a difficult and unfair situation. Doesn’t he realize he isn’t being logical?

After many frustrating weeks of me trying to appease my son while my wife would be trying to cook dinner, I finally got it: Get out!

Get out of the room with him and distract him his toy bucket upstairs. Or take a walk outside and watch him get fascinated by every car that whooshes by.

I wanted to believe that I could make him just as happy as my wife could just by my presence. What was I thinking? I don’t have that ability- I have too much testosterone seeping out of my pores to subconsciously comfort my son the way my wife can.

Instead, I simply must engage him with some good ole distraction techniques. One of my favorite methods is to sit him down on the carpet and play with one of his favorite toys in front of him. He can’t make it longer than two seconds before he just has to play with that exact toy at that exact moment.

Another thing I do is to crawl away from him and hide behind the other side of the couch. Then I pop out every couple of seconds. He thinks it’s funny every time I surprise him. Next, I start crawling directly towards him and he does the same, like a jousting match without the horses or swords.

When we meet, I put my arms around him and squeeze him, while growling into his stomach and chest. It’s hilarious how he knows I’m going to “win” every time, but he always charges me with the same smile on his face.

It’s then that dinner is ready and the courageous crusaders must wash up for supper.

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A Year After the Anxiously Expecting Stage

October 11, 2011 at 11:29 pm , by 

Ten months.

Last week on Facebook I kept seeing daily updates from an expecting first-time mom who mentioned how excited she was to finally meet her son.

It took me back to a year ago here on The Dadabase (I’ve been daddy blogging since April 2010, six months before he was born) when I was the one anxiously wondering what my son would end up looking like and acting like.

Like popping a quarter into the machine of Made in China toys and waiting for a fun surprise, so I waited for who I thought would be a little dark complected boy.

Now here I am a year later, with a blonde son who is experimenting with the idea of standing and walking on his own, literally applauding himself every time he makes it a few steps.

We live in a world where surprises are often hard to come by. If I want to know the population of Chandler, Arizona, it takes less than 7 seconds to find out on Wikipedia. No anticipation. Instead, instant gratification.

But having a kid is an exception to that rule. Parenting is a moving target and kids are constantly growing up and changing. Therefore, my son is a daily surprise to me. I never know what new thing he may do to catch me off guard- and I mean that mainly in good ways.

Will he finally begin walking today?

Will he discover a new body part today? (Yes, that is how I mean it.)

Will he fight back the boy who hit him by elbowing him nice and hard? (He did last week. I’m so proud of my boy for sticking up for himself.)

How will he make me laugh today? What random household item will become his newest toy?

I’ve been a lot of things since my son arrived, but one thing I’ve yet to be is bored.