Mother’s Day Double Duty and the “Maternal Industrial Complex”

by Naumi on May 13, 2012 · 0 comments

in In the News,Op Ed,Wives & Girlfriends

So it’s Mother’s Day in North America and much of the World.  Today we celebrate all the unsung accomplishments of moms. For dudes, it’s likely a time to call your mom, buy her some flowers, or take her out for dinner.  For many of us dads, we’re on double duty.  It may seem obvious, but to me it was a bit of a revelation that Mother’s Day is as important to your baby momma as it is to your own mom. It will be a while before my kids are old enough to perform Mother’s Day duties independently, so until then, its all up to me to shower my wife with appreciation and affection.

The first Mother’s Day after your first child is born will be a big deal.  It’s your first opportunity to use overt displays of consumerism and premeditated acts of kindness to show your appreciation for all the sacrifices your partner has made for your child.  If it’s your partners first May as a mom, don’t mess this up.  Being a mom is hard work, so she definitely deserves it.  At the same time, it kind of bothers me that moms would need a dedicated day for positive reinforcement and affirmation of our love.  Don’t the know that they’re awesome?

Being a parent is a lifestyle choice I made and I kind of take for granted both the work involved in being a dad and the love my family has for me.  But, I don’t know a single mother that doesn’t feel at last somewhat underappreciated.  Not a single one.  That’s kind of messed up when you think about it, isn’t it?  Now, maybe this is different in Europe or Asia or Africa, but as far as I can tell, there is a deep disappointment among mothers with respect to the amount of special treatment and consideration given to them.  That has to mean one of two things: Either all fathers and children are horrible assholes, or all mothers have expectations that are unrealisticaly high.

Last week, I cam across a very timely article in the Washington Post that talks about the Maternal Industrial Complex.  I’ve never heard the term used before, but it’s as good a description as any for the institutionalized commercial and societal pressures that raise mothers’ expectations in a way that sets them up for disappointment and a system that uses Mother’s Day as a way to materialize concepts like ‘love’ and ‘appreciation.’  It’s a system that both creates guilt and sells the solution to it.  It’s genius.  Pure, evil genius.

The Post article talks about our “unhealthy obsession with our mothers,” but what about the effects of all this attention on the moms out there?  If modern day tabloids have taught me anything it’s that when you obsess about about people and create celebrities out of them it does something to them.  It messes up the way they think of themsleves and the expectations they have of others.  Lindsay Lohan, Charlie Sheen, Naomi Campbell - I think we want better for our mothers.

Having said all that, we as dudes and dads probably don’t emote as much as our mothers and partners would like.  I don’t know that we should go out and buy cards and gifts to fuel the Maternal Industrial Complex, but I do support flowers in the springtime, hugs, and heartfelt “thank yous.”

My own mom has always said we take her for granted – “I’m just one woman in a house full of boys and you guys don’t appreciate me!” Well, we do. we’re just men and so we don’t show it.  My mom didn’t have junk food in the house when we were little because she wanted us to grow up healthy; she used to arm wrestle me when I was a kid and let me win so I could feel tough; she gave me black crayons to scribble with when I was mad and needed to let off some steam; she supported our adoption of pets even though she knew she would end up taking care of them; when I was a teenager, she didn’t tell my dad when I stole the car and crashed it; when I was in university, she’d always try and send me away with home cooked food; and now as a grandma, she’s always on hand to babysit and help out with the kids when we need her.  Mom, for all that and everything else – thanks!

Similarly, my wife recently told me that I don’t appreciate what she does around the house.  It’s true, she’s a rock star – she stays at home with two kids, educates them on important life lessons, cleans, cooks dinner, does laundtry, and generally keeps our domestic affairs in order.  Do I appreaciate all the hard work?  For sure.  Do I always show my appreciation, probably not.  Babe, thanks for everything you do for us!

On a parting note, for all those celebrating Mother’s Day today, here’s one of my favourite tributes to mothers, courtesy of Sizzla:

{ 0 comments }

The Dude’s Guide to Breastfeeding

by Naumi on April 29, 2012 · 0 comments

in Dad Resources,Wives & Girlfriends

It’s been a while since we last posted – sorry about that.  March was madness and April was a wash.  I’m just gonna jump back in.

Let’s talk teats.  One of the many things most dudes will inevitably encounter when they become dads is breastfeeding.  While breastfeeding is generally thought of as an intimate exchange between mother and child, it’s also a biologically cool phenomenon that’s sure to change the relationship you have with your wife/partner’s breasts.  It’s not really something you think about when you don’t have kids, but then all of a sudden, your wife/partner is sitting in front of you with suction cups on her breasts carrying on a conversation over the sound of a pump going, whooom… whooom… whooom… whooom.  For soon-to-be dads and curious dudes, here’s The Dude’s Guide to Breastfeeding.

First things first – as a new dad, it’s incumbent upon you to show some restraint.  Fight temptation.  As one new dad friend put it, “my wife looks like she’s had a boob job, they’re always super-round and super-hard when she hasn’t pumped for a while.” But, for the next few months at least, your baby momma’s breasts belong to the baby.  Boobs, although engorged and attractive, are off limits to you for several reasons, including a) they are too sore for you to have any fun with, b) they’re leaky, and c) your libido is the last thing on a new mother’s mind.  Not convinced?  Consider the following description from a fellow parent blogger of what it means to be a newly-minted mom:

“My physical state is doing nothing to ease my emotional and hormonal impairment.  I haven’t slept in three days. (And by “sleep” I am referring to that fitful, hip-aching semi-slumber of late pregnancy.) One of those days was spent passing a large wriggling being through my lady parts. I feel like I’ve been riding a horse across the surface of the moon . . . for months.  My nipples are raw (RAW!) because in an effort to be the Best Breastfeeding Mother Ever, I allowed my newborn daughter to nurse for the ENTIRE night in the hospital. They are skinless and throbbing.  I have stitches in my crotch. My asshole hurts. I am wearing diapers.”

Now, believe me when I say it will take a good long while before your wife/partner will want you doing anything with her breasts – even longer until she gets back to that enthusiastic sex kitten you remember from the days of making a baby.  Don’t worry, you’ll both pull through.

If all this talk of breastfeeding is already making you uncomfortable, just wait until you’re living with the real deal.  As an accessory to a breastfeeding mom you’re bound to be subjected to boob talk for several months, and not in the College Humor way you might hope.  You will be privy to your better half walking around with her tits out all day to “air them out”; you may be sitting next to her at Second Cup when she exposes herself in a crowded coffee shop to feed your child; and you will almost certainly be accidentally sprayed with breast milk at some point in your baby’s infancy.  Also, if your wife partner decides not to breastfeed, or decides to stop after a few weeks/month, or is having difficulty initially breastfeeding, you will also be called upon to be a breastfeeding councilor – for most women, deciding to give up breastfeeding is a very emotional decision and they’ll need all the support that you can provide.

Quick facts:

Best practice suggests that mothers try and breastfeed their infants for at least the first six month (until the baby can eat solids) and ideally for another year afterwards.  The outer bounds of what tends to be socially acceptable is up to two years.  I don’t judge, but personally, I think if the kid is walking up and asking for “a little bitty for his cereal,” it’s probably time to move on.

In Canada, about 87% of mothers breastfeed at birth, with 54% still breastfeeding after 6 months, and 16% still breastfeeding after a year.  In the U.S., the numbers are slightly lower (70%, 36%,a nd 17% respectively) for a variety of reasons, but I imagine the main one is that U.S. mothers get pretty shitty maternity leave benefits.

[click to continue…]

{ 0 comments }

Cold War Kids or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Cheer for the USSR

by Sam on March 22, 2012 · 1 comment

in Cultural Diversions,Op Ed

Ethnic identity is a tough orange to peel for our multicultural society.

I grew up during the Cold War. But unlike my classmates who were “British,” “Irish”, or even “Italian,” I didn’t know who to cheer for. I was “Russian.” That was a bad thing in the 80s. If Cold War propaganda could be believed, Russians were drunken, godless, heartless murderers who wanted to take over the world by cheating at sports. The nightly news, Olympic Games coverage and Sylvester Stallone’s body of work reinforced this fact daily. It freaked me out.

The truth is I wasn’t Russian. I was born in Kitchener-Waterloo, Ontario. As were my parents. My dad’s family are of German ancestry. My grandparents on my mother’s side escaped to Canada from Ukraine (not even Russia) after WWII. They had brought with them the accents, aesthetics, and borscht recipes of their homeland. From what I could tell, they, and by extension I, were Soviets! We were the enemy.

Please remember I was 8. As a child growing up during the Cold War I didn’t have the nuanced historical and political perspective to process heavy information. I couldn’t know the difference between Ukraine and Russia and I had no idea what Marxism was. All I knew was that In Rocky IV, Ivan Drago’s sinister consort Ludmilla had the same accent as my grandmother. And she didn’t sound anything like the Anglo-Saxon William O’Somethings, and Jenny McWhatevers who populate life in Southern Ontario.

Europeans scoff at the American obsession with old world heritage. “Vhy do zees peeple sink zay are German venn zay haf nevah been zher?” The answer is simple, it gives us something to talk about, and a mechanism to project our faults and achievements.

“Oh… sorry I got drunk and punched your face. That’s just the Irish in me.”

“What can I say? I am Italian… that’s why I cheated on you.”

However, plucking random characteristics from the Jenga tower of heritage can lead to a wobbly sense of self-identity — especially for an impressionable child.

Sometime around 1986 an elderly teacher named Madame Ketko gave my grade four class the assignment of bringing in our family crest to show off to the class. I had no idea what a family crest was, and was shocked later that week when a significant number of students not only had family crests, but could translate the hieroglyphic menagerie of unicorns, lions, birds of prey, tartans and Latin phrases into a centuries-old Anglo-Saxon heritage of courage and achievement and whatever.

Those of us without family crests were given crayons and paper and encouraged to create and present our own crests to represent our heritage and personal identity.

Later that afternoon the teacher strolled through the rows of desks offering gentle praise and encouragement to her students. When she got to my desk she fell silent. My crest featured a ‘space-cougar’ with sunglasses and a laser cannon strapped to his back. Behind it was a menacing giant red hammer and sickle. Please understand, I was super into cougars and Star Wars back then, and the hammer and sickle was pretty much the only symbol of my heritage I could reasonably draw with a crayon.

I was not asked to present mine to the class.

[click to continue…]

{ 1 comment }

Mommy Sites – You Suck! (in defense of Moms)

by Naumi on February 29, 2012 · 3 comments

in Dad Resources,Op Ed,Wives & Girlfriends

Being a mom is hard work.  If the lack of sleep, screaming kids, breastfeeding pressures, hormonal changes, self-image issues, financial stress, and constant cleaning up after little people weren’t enough, mothers today face the added scrutiny of millions of anonymous and opinionated super-moms and parenting pundits on the internet.  In fact, being a modern mom on the internet is like being an overweight person in the magazine aisle – there’s not a lot of positive reinforcement. 

Look, here’s my problem with mom blogs, mommy forums, pregnancy sites, etc. – With the exception of a few good ones (check out our friends at They Don’t Tell You), most of these sites simply don’t tell how it really is.  Rather, they portray motherhood with rose tinted glasses, served up with a side of all-natural, organic, low-fat, low-sodium, locally-sourced, vitamin-infused Kool-Aid.  It’s hard enough being a new mom charged with caring for and feeding a new life without constantly being made to feel like you’re a failure – like everyone else is doing it better and you’re somehow the only one having problems.  And yet, if you spend any time on these mommy sites at all, that’s exactly how they make an average mom feel.

Moms, I’m talking to you now.   The motherhood industry does the same damn thing to you moms that fashion magazines and cosmetic advertisements do to teenage girls.  The internet is full of imagery and language that suggests that there is definitely a “right way” to be a mom.  But, you’ve been sold a lie by marketers, perpetuated by your peers, and amplified by the Web.  A lie that says motherhood is bliss; that decrees you must cherish every moment of your bundle of joy or be deemed a bad person, must provide constant affection for your child and be attentive to their every need, must be responsible for your baby’s emotional and social well-being from the moment they they leave the womb, must spend money on gadgets and accessories to enhance every stage of your child’s development, must be selfless and care for your child, and yet you must also accomplish all this with grace and style befitting a modern 21st-century mother. 

Dudes, you face an uphill battle too.  You’re going to be inherently more pragmatic when it comes to the child-rearing process and you won’t be going into it with unrealistic expectation about what to expect (probably because you have no idea what to expect…).  But, while you’re trying to be positive and logical your wife/partner will be facing multiple crisis situations every day, most of which will be exacerbated by Dr. Google and the hundreds of thousands of online “resources” for moms.  Your wives/partners will read things like:

“babies are supposed to…” come off the breast satisfied with a drunk on milk expression, sleep 12-18 hours a day, bond with the mother from birth, take 2-3 poos a day, look at faces by the time they are a month old, be interested in their hands by three months, and roll over by the time they are six months old.  If fact, according the internet, there are literally hundreds of milestones and achievements babies are supposed to meet.  And, if they fail to pass these tests, there is obviously something wrong with the child or the mother.

New moms will also visit forums that will convince them “everyone else’s baby…” sleeps through the night, only cries when she’s hungry, smiles all the time, has no problem breast feeding, and is generally a complete angel.  The really shitty thing about the “everyone else’s baby…” lie is that it’s so pervasive, average moms internalized it and project it back onto other moms.  In an effort to be the best moms they can be, they perpetuate unrealistic expectations, they tell little white lies about how good thier baby is, how much he sleeps, and how how well she eats.  When other moms ask “how’s it going?” they respond with, “Oh it’s tiring, but it’s wonderful!  He’s such a good baby! A gift!  And soo cute… the other day he made the cutest little smile at me.  Oh, it melted my heart.”  We have mom friends, good people – great people – that chronically lie or exaggerate when it comes to their child’s behavior: He or she sleeps through the night, never cries, never vomits, nurses like a champ, sleeps on her back, can recite the periodic table, knows pi to ten decimals, and paints like Picasso with the Pablum on his bib.  It’s not that they are liars by nature, so I can only assume they feel compelled by some outside forces to portray their babies as angelic little sweethearts.

I call bullshit.  Dudes, it’s your duty to combat the harmful effects of “babies are supposed to…” and “everyone else’s baby…” with man logic.  Before I end my rant, here are a few examples:

Internet logic – The baby’s crying, something is wrong, turn to the Web… Google will help you.
Man logic – Babies cry; that’s what babies do.  Crying is the baby’s way of communicating.  In fact, let the baby cry from time-to-time – it’s probably good for their lungs, and it will give you a chance to get other things done.  Heck, it’s not like the baby’s going to remember and hold it against you.

Internet logic – If your baby’s not breastfeeding like it shows on one of the dozens of condescending breastfeeding sites, he/she must be starving.  Also, you must inspect poo; if its not yellow (but not too yellow), soft (but not too soft), and the consistency of peanut butter, something must be wrong.
Man logic (after opening your laptop to half a dozen tabs with pictures of what baby poo is supposed to look like) – If the baby is gaining weight and is peeing and pooing with some regularity, it’s probably fine.  Poo is gross, don’t inspect it, change it quickly and get out of there!

Internet logic – The baby is gassy, it must be a) something the mom ate, b) an incorrect method of feeding, or c) something wrong with the baby, like GERD.
Man logic – Babies are just gassy; they have immature GI tracts, they’ll get over it (or if it’s a boy, they may just always be gassy, that’s just boys).

Dudes – the internet is failing your wives/partners.  Be the positive reinforcement they need. Tell them they’re doing a great job.  Tell them the baby is just fine.  Tell them they don’t have to be perfect.  Good luck!

{ 3 comments }

When Something Is So Wrong… Yet Feels So Right

by Sam on February 17, 2012 · 1 comment

in Uncategorized

Ed. note: This post only has one picture, because there was no way I am going to end up on an Internet watch-list for doing a google search of this subject material.

Last weekend several members of the Dude meets Dad crew (and various spouses and offspring) got together for lunch. It was loads of fun, with homemade pizza, a few beers, an over-excited barfing dog and lots of laughs. One thing I did notice, which you parents are probably desensitized to, is just how much kids do whatever they want. They are truly free!

Unhappy? Slap someone in the face. Hungry? Eat whatever is near-by.

It reminded me of one of the most cringe-worthy parental moments I have ever seen.

While riding a packed Berlin streetcar one hot day a few summers ago I witnessed a father in a tough situation. Actually I noticed his son first. The boy, on the verge of being too old for the stroller, began squirming and grunting uncomfortably in his seat. At first I thought it was the animal-like grunting of a caged creature. Not so. It was actually the kind of male-grunting you hear in the denouement of an adult film.

The boy seemed to be learning the important lesson that if he created certain frictions in specific areas… it felt pretty great. From the look on dad’s face, he either didn’t notice, or didn’t want to. Though other people on the streetcar seemed to realize that his son was on a personal journey of discovery and tried their best to avert their gaze.

The terminus of that journey was inevitable. It took about two stops before the boy remembered he had hands and opposable digits and put them to work on the problem. With one hand he released himself from his jogging pants and with the other he set about his task. Totally blissed-out, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and drool ran down his chin from an open mouth which was now emitting full-blown groans.  As the streetcar riders began to stir uncomfortably, dad snapped out of his daze, kneeled down and calmly, yet certainly told his son to holster his weapon. The son complied, though with a confused look on his face. It was a look of, “I am sorry dad, you must be mistaken. I am doing something good, not bad. These are the same instincts which have been guiding me since the womb. They are screaming at me to get this done.”

The moment dad’s guard was down, the boy was back it. More vigilant this time, dad stopped the display before it got out of hand. Naturally, the boy began to cry. No one is at fault here of course. He was just doing what nature will tell him to do for the rest of his life. The boy was discovering a force so potent that it has launched armies, careers, amber alerts and millions of porn sites. He was horny. I think all you can do in this situation is hope you handle things well enough that your son doesn’t end up a) religious or b) running around parking lots with a raincoat ruining women’s afternoons.

Good luck fighting nature parents.

{ 1 comment }

Rules for Dads with Daughters

by Naumi on January 31, 2012 · 1 comment

in Dad Resources,Parenting

So, many of you may have already seen this, but if not, 50 Rules for Dads of Daughters seems to be making its rounds on Facebook as one of the more popular memes this month.  Here are a few of my favorites: 

 

2. Always be there. Quality time doesn’t happen without quantity time. Hang out together for no other reason than just to be in each other’s presence. Be genuinely interested in the things that interest her.

 

9. Of course you look silly playing peek-a-boo. You should play anyway.

 

12. It’s never too early to start teaching her about money. She will still probably suck you dry as a teenager… and on her wedding day.

 

14. Buy her a pair of Chucks as soon as she starts walking. She won’t always want to wear matching shoes with her old man.

 

17. Learn to say no. She may pitch a fit today, but someday you’ll both be glad you stuck to your guns.

 

19. Teach her to change a flat. A tire without air need not be a major panic inducing event in her life. She’ll still call you crying the first time it happens.

 

20. Take her camping. Immerse her in the great outdoors. Watch her eyes fill with wonder the first time she sees the beauty of wide open spaces. Leave the iPod at home.

 

21. Let her hold the wheel. She will always remember when daddy let her drive.

 

22. She’s as smart as any boy. Make sure she knows that.

 

25. Letting her ride on your shoulders is pure magic. Do it now while you have a strong back and she’s still tiny.

 

32. Let her roll around in the grass. It’s good for her soul. It’s not bad for yours either.

 

41. Take it easy on the presents for her birthday and Christmas. Instead, give her the gift of experiences you can share together.

 

48. Ice cream covers over a multitude of sins. Know her favorite flavor.

 

See here for the complete list.

{ 1 comment }

The Imaginary Super-Daughter: An Ambidextrous, Net-Minding, Drumming, Helicopter Flying Dynamo

by Sam on January 31, 2012 · 0 comments

in Parenting

What do you want your daughter to be when she grows up? Yeah, I know. “As long as she is healthy and happy and self-actualized…” That may be the truth. But sometimes the truth is totally boring. A much more exciting plan is to wish that your daughter become a hockey goalie/drummer/helicopter pilot.
Why?

Hockey Goalie

Girls who play sports generally have higher self-esteem and are less likely to be taken advantage of. If hockey is religion in Canada, you want your daughter to be a high-priestess. Goalies wear the most gear, they are protected by everyone else on their team and they must learn to thrive under pressure. Plus, everyone needs a goalie to play hockey, but nobody wants to play net. A daughter with courage and a decent set of pads will never be picked last.

Drummer

The rationale here is pretty much the same as the hockey goalie. If a girl grows up around musicians I think she will be less likely to fall prey to one in her later years. It’s a bit like letting your kids try booze when they are young. It erodes the taboo. Also, every band needs a drummer. It is an in-demand skill that leads to lots of invites and special treatment. Also, drumming is awesome.

Helicopter Pilot

If my apocalyptic vision of the downfall of civilization plays out like I think it will, we will need more and more helicopter pilots. In the coming years there should be a growing trade in shuttling reality TV contestants to exotic islands to make ‘connections.’

Following that, God will punish us all for our terrible taste in entertainment and thus flying a helicopter will also come in handy when the dead come back to life and feast on the flesh of the living in a nightmarish crescendo of pain and global destruction. I think it behooves us all to train at least one member of our family to shepherd a rag-tag collection of survivors to an abandoned shopping mall to struggle for survival only to realize that they themselves might be the real monsters! And then make a reality TV show out of it.

Besides the fact that that you can’t force a kid to do anything thus making these examples far-fetched… The above “professions” actually have one crucial thing in common. They require expert coordination between the right and left sides of the body. So get your kids cracking on those exercises folks.

What non-boring skills would you teach your daughter?

 

 

{ 0 comments }

Welcome to the World January Babies

by Naumi on January 22, 2012 · 0 comments

in Op Ed

This January the extended Dude Meets Dad family was blessed with two lovely new January babies.  On January 9th, our resident technocrat dude Stu and his lovely wife Brandi welcomed to the world their second child, Meryl Ruth!  We hear that Stu, B, and big brother Ronan are all doing well. 

Coincidentally, on the exact same day, our good friend Craig and his wonderful wife Lesley brought into existance Ava Jean!  This is their first baby, so we wish them luck. 

Huge congrats to both families – we couldn’t be happier for you! 

Having said that, there are some unique challenges to having babies in January.  I say this from experience because our elder son was born in January as well (Happy B-Day V!).  Here’s what I found:

  • January is cold and dark.  As a new parent, having a baby in the dead of a frigid Canadian winter can be a bit challenging, especially if you live in a small space (Craiger – you guys are probably safe in Dallas).  My wife will tell you that she often felt trapped – unable to go anywhere becuase -20 degrees with the wind chill is simply not a hospitable environment for a newborn.  So, you end up sitting on the couch with your baby, you walk from the kitchen to the living room, you perfect multiple different rocking and burping techniques, but you never actually leave the house.  You never experience fresh air, or the sweet escape of parks and grass because your baby is too fragile.  My wife would wait anxiously for me to get home from work just so she could escape to the frozen urban outdoors, even if only for grocery and diaper shopping. 
  • Your holidays get muddled.  Now, as a toddler, our son is more than happy to play in the snow.  But there are other challenges associated with being a January baby.  For one, Christmas blends into birthday in a month-long giftathon that has our three-year-old demanding presents from everyone who comes over to visit.  Many of his sentences this month end in, “…and then we’ll get presents, right?”  It’s not his fault, it’s just that for the past five weeks people have been showering him with gifts and he’s gotten kinda used to it.  Soak it up now buddy – it’s a long 11-month gift-free stretch to next Christmas.
  • Another year of daycare.  As we move closer to school age, having a January baby is definitely a disadvantage as a parent – mostly because school is delayed by a year and you have to cough-up another year of daycare fees.  This is not a trivial cost – if not for one measly month, we could have a new kitchen, or a family trip to Europe, or a motorcycle.  If our son had been born in December he could go to full-day kindergarten September 2013.  Instead, we have to wait until September 2014.

But, as a child with a January birthday, you are blessed.  Since you will be almost a year older than many of your classmates, you will probably be bigger than most and less likely to be bullied.  You will have an advantage in sports, you will be the first to get your driver’s license, and the first to be able to buy your friends’ booze.  You will likely also be more mature than your classmates and possibly more intelligent by virtue of your extra year of accumulated experiences.  Our new father Craig knows all about this since he was the oldest among our group of friends, the most “mature” (er … first to round all the bases with a girl anyways), and the one most adept at driving like a teenage madman. 

So, while having a January baby may be a challenge, being a January babyis the bomb!  To Meryl and Ava, may you both be the most intelligent, most mature, most athletic, and most skilled drivers of your peer groups!

{ 0 comments }

The Dadchelor Party

by Sam on January 20, 2012 · 1 comment

in Dad Resources

Honestly.

I wrote this post yesterday. I thought I had a great idea. A new idea. An original thought. I should have googled my original thought before I wrote the post. If I had, I would have realized that sometime last year, someone else had this same thought and even named that thought the same things as me. So, like whatever man. 

Here is someone else’s idea that I also had…

***

The comedian Louis CK has a great joke. Well… he has lots of great jokes, but this one in particular prompted a bit of a brainwave from this Dude.

Louie: “Here is what happens. When you get married you think, ‘Oh shit. I can’t leave. I wasn’t thinking of leaving, but now I really can’t leave’. Then you have a kid and you think… ‘holy shit. I could have left!’”

This got me thinking. If we have bachelor parties to celebrate the final days of a man’s supposed freedom… why isn’t there a party for the final days of his actual freedom before he becomes a father?

We could call it the Dadchelor Party… or something else. Suggestions are welcome.

Ladies. Let me cut you off at the pass. You already have a baby shower, so you have your party. Also, the Dadchelor party could be a reasonable  time before the due date, thus ensuring you don’t have to make a frantic phone call and your baby’s first exposure to his dad isn’t tainted by the smell of Labbatt Sterling and hotwings.

Thoughts?

{ 1 comment }

My Shattered Pelvis vs. Your Baby’s Feelings — Part 2

by Sam on January 17, 2012 · 0 comments

in Op Ed

It was only after I hit the ‘publish’ button did I realize how clumsy that last post was. It did get some discussion though. So, thanks folks.

Just to follow up, a while ago we did a Q&A with Jowita B from the transcendent motherhood blog They Don’t Tell You. One of the things we discovered was that Jowita, a new mother, does in fact admit to having some sense of entitlement .

As she explained, “ …when I want to move ahead in the line, get on the train faster, etcetera. I will also drop ‘I have a baby at home’ to have people give me special treatment. The thing is, it’s kind of true that you need special treatment when there’s a small human in your universe that totally depends on how well you manage your time and planning.” 

Fair enough.

We also asked Jowita a few more gruesome questions related to our last Dude meets Dad post. She was kind enough to answer a few cringe worthy queries, and for this we are grateful. As you’ll see, these graceless questions are especially tough for her as her son does in fact have a non-life-threatening bone condition, that has led to some tough decision-making on the part of her and her partner.

Here are a few questions and answers about the lengths one would go to to protect their children.

How much pain would you inflict in a stranger to keep your baby safe?

Depends on what you mean by “safe.” Like if someone was kidnapping the kid? I’d be capable of murder, probably. Sorry. Not sorry.

Would you trade one of someone’s fingers to save your baby from, say, a concussion?

But whose fingers? My fingers? God, probably no. How bad of a concussion? Just one? If just one and a mild one, then I probably wouldn’t. How many fingers? This question is making me crazy. Did I just tell the world I’d be okay with my son having a concussion? That’s not what I meant. Maybe like two fingers (since you want plural) of someone like Robert Pickton. Is that okay? Okay.

Would you rather someone lose a leg, than your baby lose a toe?

Again, which toe? If it’s the big toe then maybe. Especially if it was Robert Pickton.

Are the intact ears of your baby worth more than all of someones limbs, sight and my tongue combined? 

[I’m hiding in a little hole in the ground right now eating nuts and refusing to answer. After I finish the nuts, I’ll be happy to sing you this song thou: The itsy-bitsy spider/ Climbed up the water spout/ Down came the rain/ And washed the spider out/ Out came the sun/ And dried up all the rain/ And the itsy-bitsy spider/ Climbed up the spout again]

Is a life worth less than your baby being born with autism?

Of course not. I should give your readers a bit of background thou. When I was 4.5 months preggers we found out that my son was going to be born with a genetic condition that would affect his hands and feet and possibly his spine. We didn’t know how severe it would be. It could turn out to be very severe or very mild. There were people on my side of the family who strongly encouraged I’d get an abortion at this point and I had to cut them off completely (nothing against abortion, everything against stupidity and bad advice). Anyway, this story ends well (my son’s condition is quite mild) but there was no doubt in my mind that his life was worth having and that it was worth everything life should be worth. It’s a tough one. I felt a connection to him from the first ultrasound but I’m just one case. (There’s a great book that in a way answers some of such questions …  The Boy in the Moon by Ian Brown. This is the excerpt.

{ 0 comments }

← Previous Entries