DadCentric

Let's Break Up This Sausage Party

Understanding that this website is called Dadcentric, the following video--featuring a girl (cooties!)-- is crazy relevant to anyone who is attempting to parent and/or work in the modern world. It's a presentation given by Sheryl Sandberg, COO at Facebook. It's long for a web video, but it's really good, and the last 5 minutes especially are aimed right at us SAHDs, WAHDs, HAHDs(Hobbyist at home dad), DAHPTDs(Divorced at home part time telecommuting dad), AHOTRDs (At home on the range Dad) etc. But really, the whole thing is worth while if you've ever had any contact with someone who happens to have a vagina. 

Happy Viewing.   

I don't heart Valentine's Day

On the long list of holidays I don't give a rat's ass about, Valentine's Day is up near the top. 

It's hard to imagine anything more preposterous than designating one particular day on which we're all supposed to get smoochy and romantical with our current life-partners.  I mean, does anyone really feel special when they're treated to chocolates and erotic foot massages just because the calendar told their hapless boyfriend/girlfriend that today was the day they had to join the rest of the Western World in spontaneous gestures of romantic love?

Don't get me wrong.  I'm not against romance in general, or even celebrating it based on what day it is.  That's what anniversaries are for: your special day with your main squeeze.  It just seems to me that the day when a dozen roses and a nice dinner mean the least is the day when societal pressure dictates the purchase/preparation/presentation of those items by anyone who is in a relationship.

The 2010 DadCentric Last Minute Christmas Gift Guide For Dads

Once again, it's the day before the night before Christmas. History shows that Dad usually gets the short end of the Yule Log: ties, slippers, a subscription to The Jelly Of The Month Club. Dad works his ass off all year for you and the kiddies, so just because Christmas is a scant few hours away doesn't mean you have to skimp on a nice present. If you still haven't gotten anything for that special dad in your life, you suck here's some nifty ideas from some of the DadCentric gang, guarantee to make Dad's spirits bright. Since we've got a few things to share, we need to direct you past The Jump. And if nothing in this post jumps out at you, remember that Dad always loves his annual visit from Samichlaus. So, on with the gifts:

DadCentric Asks: "What Do You Want For Mother's Day?"

Sunday is Mother's Day (right?), so we thought it would be fun to ask some of our favorite moms what they hope to find under the Mother's Day Tree. What? There's no such thing as a Mother's Day Tree? Ok. Well, here's what they hope the Mother's Day Bunny brings.

Tanis, the Redneck Mommy: "I want my kids to sit by my feet and pluck my toe hairs one by one while singing "The Bitch Is Back" by Elton John. Short of that, I will accept handmade cards, cereal in bed, and for them not to roll their eyes when I ask them to clean their rooms. I'm fairly easy."

Erin Kotecki Vest (Queen of Spain): "I want the same thing I want every day...TO RULE THE WORLD...oh, wait...I mean...um...diamonds and a puppy, and to sleep in."

Jett Superior: "This year my fondest wish for Mother's Day is a month of amnesty from a common practice in our home: It is the one where I, exhausted, remove my bra at the end of an asschewer of a day, rub my tired and somewhat achy boobs and my husband becomes all lecherous and involved like I'm giving him a private show or something. Are you reading this, Maxim? What I want for birthing and not doing away with our children is one month of rubbing end-of-day boobs (much, much different than Saturday night party boobs) without drool and clever remarks."

Kristen Chase (The Mominatrix) "Time. (No bottle necessary - unless it's Dom P). There's just nothing like the gift of a few quiet hours without any appointments to wait for, soccer games to drive to, or children singing their 400th rendition of Wheels on the Bus. So grant that special mother in your life some peace and quiet this Mother's Day. Ship her out the door with a credit card in her hand or a spa gift certificate tucked into her purse (with a pre-scheduled appointment, of course) and consider your work done. And if your George Constanza wallet has gone on a diet this year, just take the kids somewhere and let her enjoy the peace and quiet of her own home. Just make her promise that she won't lift a finger, except to call for take out."

Megan (Undomestic Diva): "For Mother's Day, please skip the kitchen appliance aisle at Target and forget the mani/pedi gift certificate from the local salon. Instead, I'm longing for something hand-crafted and sloppily painted, preferrably made of dyed, uncooked pasta shells and yarn in pretty pastels and on construction paper that has been unevenly cut by chubby fingers and good intentions, wrapped clumsily in tissue paper and secured by an entire roll of Scotch tape addressed "To Mom" via a wide Ticonderoga pencil, the contents of which I'll know far before I get it open thanks to an overzealous kid who is so! excited! to give me his gift."

Sugar Jones: "Tulips in a vase. Crepes drizzled with chocolate sauce. A morning in the sun with my kids. All very lovely. But what I really want for Mother's Day is one more afternoon with Rico Suave."

Kristine (Wait In The Van): "I'd love to tell you that I am not the type of woman that hopes for jewelry, spa-treatment, or a gift card to the plastic surgeon. But that would mean that I don't have two *lovely* boys that like to build weapons of mass destruction in the backyard. So this Mother's Day, remember that a journey of a thousand miles is better when there are shiny things to distract you from all. that. love."

Marsha Takeda-Morrison (Sweatpants Mom): "What do I want for Mother's Day? I know I should say something profound like, "The unconditional and everlasting love of my children," but I've got that already. What I really want is a big, shiny, new Breville 800 espresso machine. That big hunk of stainless steel would make me really happy, and with a strong shot of espresso in my hand you can bet I'd appreciate that unconditional, everlasting love even more."

Tricia Honea (DadCentrician Whit's wife and the mother of his children): "I would love to have breakfast with the family and then the rest of the day to myself. No laundry to fold, no dishes to wash and no demands on my time."

Beth Avant (DadCentrician Jason's wife and the mother of his children): "One day - just one - of not having to deal with the crying, the whining, the pouting, the moaning, the refusing to eat veggies, and the tantrums. That's just from my husband; if the kids would do this, hey, bonus."

Jenny, the Bloggess: "I prefer homemade gifts. Like a two-hour musical based on my life. Something simple."

New Study: Helpful Dads Can Hurt Mom's Self-Esteem

 From The "Perhaps We're Doing Too Many Studies" Department: a new study indicates that helping the wife out with childraising may be bad and so you should put that crying kid down, grab a beer, hit the couch, stick your hand in your waistband, and watch some professional wrestling on the TV.

Researcher Takayuki Sasaki of the Osaka University of Commerce in Japan, an institution which I'm sure is not at all swayed by decades of that country's slavish cultural adherence to the Japanese concept of the "salaryman", notes that societal expectations of the role of the female in being the primary caregiver may lead to pressure on moms to do just that, and when Dad steps in to help, mothers may feel pressured "to do more care-giving to ensure the survival of their feelings of self-confidence". 

I decided to explore this hypothesis. As a work-from-home dad, I share the duties of taking care of the kiddies with my wife, who is a work-from-home mom. In the interest of Science, I informed Beth that I would be turning any and all childcare duties over to her. To further boost her self-esteem, I would be engaging in activities (sleeping until noon, spending the day at the golf course, taking weekend trips to Vegas and leaving her with the kids) that would further magnify her traditional spousal role. She would then be free to feed, dress, bath, and clean up after our two children while simultaneously devoting 8+ hours a day to her paying profession. Thus her feelings of self-confidence would survive.

Here are the results of my experiment. 

Say What?

 It was a quick visit from my parents this weekend but they always seem to leave me with something.

My mom has been a bookkeeper at local parochial high school for over twenty years. She told me over brunch of quiche lorraine and eggs benedict that she was going to retire at the end of the school year.

I asked her what she was going to do with herself after she retired and my father answered, “Bug me.”

She laughed and then said she didn’t know. I told her she might need a hobby. My mom’s Scottish decent does not allow her to sit idle for very long. A busy body who is best satiated when either on the move or in the midst of something.

My dad’s vocation takes him around the world so I’m sure many travels await them. I say vocation because from my understanding my father does not draw a salary for his position, yet most of what he does is expensible. He, for all intents and purposes, is basically retired and has been so for years. He whittles away his free time on crossword puzzles and watching Phillies games during baseball season.

And then sometime goes to places like Korea, Lithuania or Australia.

My mother said maybe she’ll be like my father, who meets with a group once a week at Panera Bread for conversation.

“We’re Romeos,” he informed me.

“Say What?” I said.

“Retired Old Men Who Eat Out,” he said.

And once again the old adage rings true: you learn something new everyday.

Bad Holiday Gifts to Give Dads (or Any Adult for that Matter)

You know what sucks more than getting stiffed by your loved ones on Christmas?

Getting crappy gifts from them.

Screw that "it's the thought that counts." If they actual put some thought into it, then they wouldn't have gotten you something so crappy. Like these items:

What Does A Controversial Article in Working Mother Magazine Have In Common With Katy Perry?

Earlier this week, an article entitled "Custody Lost" appeared on the Working Mother website. The article, which you can read here in its entirety, bemoans the trend of stay-at-home-dads winning an increasing number of custody battles. Our friend Greg over at Daddy Types does a pretty good job dismantling the piece. (To be fair, Working Mother did give a few, no doubt heavily edited paragraphs to Philip Lerman. No, he didn't get six pages, as the links at the bottom of his piece would lead you to believe. Those kick you right back into Sally Abrahms' original man-hating bordering on yellow journalism diatribe story.)

 Bottom line: the piece is ridiculous. How ridiculous? As ridiculous as a Ukrainian folk band covering a Katy Perry song. (Well...no, actually it's more ridiculous than Los Colorados. Sorry, tovarishchi. Didn't mean to insult you.)

A Mother's Arms are Made of Tenderness and Children Sleep Soundly in Them

Heat, as an extreme, exists only in a relative sense.  It is the hottest thing they have ever known and therefore it is the hottest thing ever known.  I tell them that it is not, that my coffee is actually hotter, but that doesn't soothe them, it only makes them question my sanity as they slowly dare a second sip of their lukewarm chocolate.

********

My back hurts.  I've been carrying too much for too long.  For six weeks I've been living as a single father - a single work-at-home-dad.  It has been incredibly hard and surprisingly easy.  I am better for it and I am tired and I am badly beaten. 

My work has suffered.  My 70 hour work week has been cut to less than forty - compiled from a series of minutes torn apart from hours and tucked between goodnight kisses and the taste of warm whiskey across my lips.  The clock moves always forward.

Chores once shared have become mine alone.  All nights are long and lonely.  All mornings are early and full of songs and frustration.

I do not believe that I have achieved anything worthy of praise or pity, only reflection.  Others face obstacles greater than mine on a daily basis.  They make the most.  They do their best.  They are stronger than I ever thought I was and when I sip from my glass the toast is to them.

But this is not their life, it is mine and while I was prepared and up to the challenge, it was unexpected in both timing and time.  From the frying pan to the fire is not a lateral move.  The heat is extreme and it is all relative.

Tomorrow my wife comes home after six weeks sitting at the bedside of her ailing father.  Six weeks of tears and whispers and shouts in the night.  Six weeks of walking in the shoes of a girl much younger.  Bedside seats are lessons in love and fear and the art of turning fond old memories that weren't. That is a chapter not yet closed.  Those wounds are still open.  He will still have a beside in need of sitting and she will carry her thoughts accordingly.  Her back will hurt.

********

They do not expect her.  They have grown accustomed to the missing of their mother.  Six weeks is a long time gone and a father doing the best he can is still just one kiss goodnight no matter how much laughter fills the day or how much work is left to the forgotten.

Tomorrow will seem but another day to them, the routine of living with some parts missing.  They will be safe and loved and slightly lost.  She will be on a plane six weeks delayed and her dreams will be of little boy kisses grown wet with salt and the slightest linger of lukewarm chocolate.

____________________________________

The title of this post is a quote from Victor Hugo.

Love Thy Neighbor Peeping Tom

Since it's DadCentric's Fourth Anniversary Month, we are paying tribute to those without whom it would be somewhat difficult for men to become Dads. We're starting a regular feature - MomCentric! - in which Kool (with a kapital K) Moms will guest post. Our first MomCentrician: Kristine, who is at the helm of a very funny blog entitled Wait In The Van. The Tina Fey of Mommybloggers? We think so.

I try not to talk about my neighbors too much because it turns me into that judgey-mom type (which--let's face it--I totally am, but like to repress...it keeps me healthy). But there's also the fact that we live in a (military) development. And I'm not sure it's ever been cool to talk trash about the military (whatever VIETNAM, you hippies). 

And really, why would I shit where I, um, let my kids play? Heh.  

Well, because.  The answer is BECAUSE.  Because, in my development, women are CATTY and IDENTIFIED BY their HUSBANDS.   Which kind of sucks because it's totally perpetuating a really harsh and judgmental stereotype.  But they're so vain and gossipy that they don't even stop to consider these things.

BITCHES.