DadCentric

MomCentric - Kristen Chase, "Fathers, Be Good To Your Daughters"

Hi all - Jason here. Every so often we turn the reins over to one of our favorite moms; today's special Guest Mom is Kristen Chase, the prolific scribe who can be found at Motherhood Uncensored, Cool Mom Picks, Cool Mom Tech, and at fine booksellers everywhere. Here she candidly talks about her father, and the long shadow that he cast over her life.

I've been robbed a couple of times in my life, but none of those compare to what my father took from me.

I go through phases of remembrance, most of it fading into a sad, hurtful past that I thought had been long buried with him.

But six feet wasn't deep enough for these old wounds.

I wrangle with who to blame for my own faults, most of which are a direct result of his abuse and alcoholism and my mom's apathy and ignorance, conquered by my own willpower and ability to scrape by, a good many years in therapy scrubbing off the protective layers one by one. But there is one I am only now fully grasping.

He erased an entire word from my vocabulary. Like it never even existed.

Intimacy.

Part of me wants to believe that I never actually had a fighting chance with that asshole of a father, and I often wish he had taken something, anything else.

My right fucking arm.

I've come to realize that the only true love I've ever known is what I feel for my children. It's like a punch to the gut that's magnificent even as you fall to the ground breathless. The thought of losing them impossible to bear for even a millisecond.

But men? Never.

I did what I thought was love until I was hurt, and then I pushed it aside and moved on to the next. Now I have kids and am less able or willing to do anything.

But I often wonder what might have been. Or could have been.

Before my dad died he told me I'd die a miserable person, and at the time, I laughed at him.

"No, you will" I said. "I have friends and people who love me."

But maybe he knew. Maybe he was right. The slaps on my face during the last moments I ever saw him a stinging reminder that he'd win, with my new life imitating my old life like a chapter in a psychology book.

I am strong. But not strong enough.

"In my next life," I whisper to myself. And then I put on my mascara, fold the laundry, and pray that I'm wrong.

Very very wrong.

DadCentric Interviews Top Chef Richard Blais

Fans of great food and Top Chef know Richard Blais: his creative approach to cooking, incorporating the concepts of molecular gastronomy (using non-traditional equipment and materials like liquid nitrogen and blowtorches - think Wile E. Coyote in the kitchen, but without the explosions), has made him an iconoclast in the culinary world. Blais has appeared on three of the four Top Chef series: Top Chef, Top Chef Masters, and most recently, the inaugural season of Top Chef All-Stars, which he won. He's also a father of two, and if anyone can get his kids to eat their veggies, I'm sure it's him. I got the chance to do a phone/video interview with Richard; he's working with the National Pork Board, promoting the Other White Meat, and we spoke about cooking, being a celebrity chef, and raising kids while he whipped up a terrific looking pork chop. (Apologies for the sound quality: I assure you that the voice is in fact mine, and I do not suffer from emphysema.)

 

30 Days of Dads: Dorky Dad, "Father's Day in Haiku"

In spite of his name (and his Dick Yorkish looks), Dorky Dad is the coolest dad blogger I know. Literally. The man lives in Minnesota. It breaks 45 degrees there only three weeks a year. He's been blogging for a lot longer than he'd like to admit and, with the birth of his second son last year, has recently celebrated the death of his free time. He mostly blogs about his family life, which has sapped him of hope and testosterone. This sometimes makes for inspired PowerPoint flow charts or, in this case, poetry about his one special day of the year.

* * *

This month we celebrated Father's Day, the day we acknowledge the lives of those men lucky enough to have had sex at just the right moment. I like to celebrate such days the only way I know how, by writing a bunch of nonsensical poems in the Haiku style, otherwise known as the blogger's, go-to poetry verse. I, unfortunately, am no exception.

Here goes:

I like Father's Day
It's the day we celebrate
Our sperm production

But it takes much more
To be a good dad than that
It takes much money

And time, I suppose
I'll admit, these kids are fun
Then they turn 13

Over the past year
I fixed toys, played ball, made food
For this I get ties

Fathers should like ties
But all they do is choke me
And look obnoxious

If I am lucky
I'll get to sleep in Sunday
Yeah, that won't happen

I will get some steak
Because that's what I demand
But wife can't touch grill

My dad had dentures
He liked to chatter his teeth
It was real creepy

But unlike my dad
I have brushed and flossed and rinsed
So I have my teeth

I've deprived my kids
Of a dad with creepy teeth
I'm creepy elsewhere

Excited, Boy was
At his father's day present
He worked hard to make

I got it today
You'll never guess what it was
An air freshener

An air freshener
He trying to say something?
Like, “Your van stinks, dad.”

I did get a tie
It was made out of cardboard
And said, “Your the best.”

30 Days of Dads: The Collected Dadku of Brian Braiker, Volume V - The Dadku Strikes Back

Braiker. Slarkpope. Dadku. You know the drill.

***

It doesn't count as
Hide 'n' go seek when you say
Where you're going to hide.

***

Imperceptibly
My shoulders have hunched from miles
Of stroller pushing.

***

Yes, your baby doll
Looks much better covered in
Ball-point prison tatts.

30 Days of Dads: Didactic Pirate, "What My Daughter Learned From BP"

I recently discovered Seth, AKA The Didactic Pirate, via our Comments section. Along with being a fellow SoCal dad, dude's a University Professor, so if you enjoy smart, funny writing, by all means head over to his blog. (After you read this post, of course.) Here he talks about the profound influence that Tony Hayward has had over his daughter.

 I think my eight-year-old daughter has been watching congressional hearings on CNN behind my back.  It’s just this sense I have.   

I came into the living room yesterday afternoon to discover a couch full of crumbs.  Pop Tart crumbs.  Very telling.  We have regulations here in the house, prohibiting the unsupervised consumption of Pop Tarts.  Yes, they are acknowledged by all parties to be hearty and delicious.  They are, however, the crumbliest, messiest food in the mass-produced, toastable pastry milieu.  It's impossible to take a bite of one and not spray bits everywhere.   

For this reason, my wife decided that our daughter can only eat Pop Tarts at the table.  Over a placemat.  With a newspapers spread out on the floor beneath her chair.  (Seriously – I don’t know what the hell my kid does with them.  I don’t even see how any of the frosted goodness ends up in her mouth.  For years, I thought she just enjoyed the feeling of squooshing Pop Tarts between her fingers, and letting the crumbs rain down onto the floor.)  

When I saw the crumb-covered couch, I called my daughter downstairs, for I am the Enforcer.

30 Days of Dads: Paul Ruben, "But It's My Blog"

The dad-blog-o-sphere is stacked with stories of raising young kids. But as more and more dads start telling their stories online, we're getting to hear the voices of those whose "kids" are all grown up. Paul Alan Ruben, a writer and two-time Grammy award-winning producer who lives in New York City, sent us this story of a discussion he recently had with his older son.  

“No.”

“But it’s my blog.” I protested.

"Dad, you can’t put your essays on the blog.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s not a blog’s purpose.”

“It’s my purpose.”

“Dad.”

Uh-oh. His tone, still compassionate, has defaulted to "Right, I am talking to a Luddite" mode.

"Look, you don’t post formally written essays on a blog, unless they’re published. Then you can provide a link to them. One of my old Columbia professors has a blog."

My twenty-five year old son graduated from Columbia University in May with an MA in English Literature. A philosophy guy, he favored literary theory over ‘the novel’. Rather than dissecting a specific novel in order to draw a conclusion based on a particular theme, he preferred delving into how we should read fiction in the first place; like, the philosophy of novel reading.

"Look, I really don’t have to go to your professor’s blog."

"You should."

Now the father who graduated in the middle of his class from Yankton College, S. Dakota, is getting a teeny bit defensive. "Why, because she’s from Columbia?"

"Trust me. It’ll help you blog properly."

Our eyes swerved to the kitchen counter; Brandon swiftly grabbed his vibrating cell phone and, like he always does, pressed it to his ear as if Obama were on the other end. "Yo! Julian, ‘sup…my bad, but I’m down for tonight." Brandon’s voice faded as he left the kitchen. "No, just talkin’ to my Dad..."

There I stood, alone, holding the blog, so to speak.

30 Days of Dads: Special Saturday Edition - Fashion Dad's Last Minute Tie Tips

Tomorrow is Father's Day, of course, and of course some of you waited until the very last minute to get that dad in your life a present. Statistics show that at least 45% of you will end up buying him a tie. (We accept that. You can't help yourselves. It's Society's fault. Damn you, Society, with your outdated stereotypes/marginalization of dads!) So that you don't muck that up, we've enlisted Eric Burgess, aka Fashion Dad, to help you make a good choice. 

Ties have always gotten a bad rap on Father’s Day. As far back as I can remember, Father’s Day and Neckties have gone hand in hand. However, it was always one of those things where your dad probably secretly wished he got another gift instead. It seems though that ties have made a complete comeback as they can be worn so many different ways now. I know the list below isn’t complete – but it’s enough to help you figure out which category your dad or husband belongs in.

 

The Hipster Tie: Hipsters rejoice! With your cardigan sweaters and tight jeans, you too now have a tie to match your style. Prints in this category are completely across the board, but always on the skinny end. Hipsters love ties because they like to accessorize.

The Loose Tie: Casey Affleck is seen here wearing his tie loose. While this tie is more in the ‘How to wear your tie’ category, I thought it was appropriate to point out. Any tie will work in this category (except a tie that reads "WORLD'S GREATEST DAD" - those are never appropriate for anything), though the skinnier the better.

30 Days of Dads: The Collected Dadku of Brian Braiker, Volume IV

Dadku flows from Brian Braiker like bullshit from a BP executive's mouth. Please enjoy this, his latest batch of poems. Like Forrest Gump, they are simple, yet labyrinthine.

***

Mr. Chuck E. Cheese:
I suspect that "E" stands for
E. Coli. BOOYA!

***

Saturday: 9p.
Torn between Netflix and bed.
My younger self weeps.

***

"You want to eat some
Ice cream/candy/string cheese/pie
For breakfast? Ask Mom."

***

I hate to tell you:
That cat never scratched a soul
Until there was you.

***

You've taught me so much.
Like: my LP collection
Doubles as Frisbees.

***

So maybe I laughed
When under your wee nose you
Drew a Hitler 'stache

30 Days of Dads: Homemaker Man, "Liar"

The mysterious New Englander known only as Homemaker Man has one of those resumes that will one day land him his own talk show or in jail. He is a former  dishwasher / short-order cook / baker / deli man/ grant writer / sketch and stand up comic / mailman / partier. Up until recently, he also drove a Zamboni. Now, he describes himself as simply "a devoted and tired family man" who also writes one consistently funny blog about his life called Musings from the Big Pink.

* * *

I heard the Pumpkin Man, my youngest, crying. 

The Peanut was standing over him while he lay on the floor, face down, wailing. There was a favorite toy between them. I peeled him off the floor. 

“Did you push him?” I asked The Peanut, who was then 2.

“Yes,” she replied.

Just like that. “Of course I pushed him,” my girl seemed to be saying, “he was touching my shit.”

“You pushed him?” I’m smooth when I’m surprised.

“Yes,” she repeated. Her tone indicated that, while a very nice man, I’m not the shiniest coin in the fountain.       

After I recovered, I said, “Thank you for telling me, that’s very good. But you don’t push your brother. It’s not nice. OK?”

(Solemn head nod of agreement)

That perfect arrangement of my daughter acting as her own stool pigeon – at one point I convinced her to wear a wire — was rearranged a few weeks later.

“Did you push him?”

“No, he fell,” she’d say, removing her hooded coveralls along with the duct tape she had used to seal the openings around her rubber boots and gloves. She watches a lot of CSI. 

Things snowballed from there.

30 Days of Dads: Laid-Off Dad, "Follow The Bouncing Truncated Icosahedron"

Laid-Off Dad may well be the original* dadblog. The man behind the curtain, Doug French, started it way back in 2003, when people still listened to Linkin Park and Peter Jackson still looked like a hobbit. He's remained remarkably consistent, and continues to put out well-written, insightful and funny posts. You new kids on the scene, you could learn a lot from him. Here, Doug takes a hard look at soccer, a sport beloved by millions of 8-year-olds and Ghanese alike.

*We realize you may have started your dadblog before Doug started his. We don't care. His mastheads are still better than yours.

The other day my boys and I were enjoying some Mancave Time when we had the choice of watching the World Cup or a baseball game. I wanted to show the kids a bit about the global spectacle of Copa Mondial, so I switched it on. And as they were settling in, I thought of the debate that has beset man for decades: Which is more boring: soccer or baseball?

Guys, there is no debate. 

Soccer is just terribly, terribly dull. People argue that soccer’s action never stops, but there’s a difference between “action” and “running back and forth.” When The New York Times tries to live-blog World Cup matches, they manage about a dozen entries in 90 minutes. And that includes … gasp! …substitutions!

I have nothing against goal-based sports. I love hockey and lacrosse, which have action to burn. Soccer, by comparison, is like spinning a bunch of wooden tops on a nok-hockey board. And besides, how exciting can a sport be when 1) you can capture its essence in table format (hello, foosball!), and 2) the table format has more scoring?

Even as I’m typing this, I just saw two last-inning nail-biters as South Carolina and Florida State advanced to the College World Series. Conversely, when Germany went up 2-nil against Australia, half of Sydney figured they might as well start channel-surfing for Home and Away reruns.

I also know that soccer players are amazing athletes, whereas Prince Fielder looks like he’s eaten a few. And the World Cup is far more globe-encompassing than the World Series will ever be. But time is precious, and time with my boys is even more so. If I’m going to commit to quality spectator time with them, I’d at least like to be sure that someone will have won when it’s over.

So come on, soccer nuts. I know you’ve got passion. So bring it. But please keep your voices down, OK? Slovenia-Algeria is on, and the kids are asleep.