10 Feb

Dad and Buried Posted in Fear No comments

Watching the Detective

There’s this intersection where I grew up, not far from my parents’ house, which gives me pause every time I drive through it.

Years ago, right after I got my license, I got into a car accident at that intersection. As I was turning left under the light, I somehow missed one car that hadn’t yet cleared the way. I walked away dazed but unscathed, my mother’s beloved Maxima crumpled up behind me.

When I visit my hometown, I inevitably find myself back at the scene of the crime. It’s impossible to go anywhere worthwhile (i.e., the package store, the bar, the restaurant with all the beer) without crossing that intersection. And every time I drive past it, I recall – if not relive – that accident. And I wonder what I could have done differently. Which isn’t entirely healthy.

It reminds me of being a parent.
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27 Jan

Dad and Buried Posted in discipline One comment

Friday Night Yikes

A few years ago, I wrote a post in which I declared that my son would never play organized football due to the health risks. When it ran on The Huffington Post this past fall, I got some angry comments.

So I was a little surprised when the people at the Esquire Network (check your local listings!) reached out and asked if I’d be interested in writing about the second season of their TV show about youth football in Texas, “Friday Night Tykes.”

I agreed, and have since viewed the first two episodes of the season (the third airs tonight at 9PM EST on Esquire Network). Has my opinion changed?

The short answer? Not one bit.

The Imitation Game

Last weekend, we skipped an appointment that we’d made for Detective Munch. And we won’t be rescheduling it any time soon.

Don’t worry. He’s all caught up on his vaccinations. He was supposed to take a test that would determine whether he’s “gifted and talented”. We opted out, for a variety of reasons.

For example, right now he’s sucking on a comb.

Performance Anxiety

Before I became a parent, I didn’t know if I could handle it.

I had never even held a child, let alone changed a diaper, and I honestly wasn’t sure if I had what it takes. Was there a switch that would flip when I saw his face for the first time? Was the ability to care for a child something hard-coded in my biology that would suddenly materialize when my son was born?

Yes and no. I was lucky to love Detective Munch right from the start (though I can totally understand the adjustment period some new parents weather; there’s not much there there at the beginning!), but Morpheus wasn’t around to instantly upload the Parenting program into my skull. I just took it one day at a time – I still do – and slowly but surely adapted to my new role, and my new reality.

There are still plenty of aspects of parenting that I’m insecure about, plenty of situations I have yet to experience, and I have no real idea how I’ll react when confronted with them.

Consider the Toddler

When we moved back to Brooklyn, our already-complicated apartment search was complicated further by Detective Munch’s upcoming entry into preschool. In New York – if you believe the hype – even the preschool your kid attends can influence his future.

We ultimately had to choose between two schools: one that had some potential drawbacks but was in a much more convenient location, and one that had a better reputation, but would be a hassle to get to. Life was so much easier when there were fewer people to worry about. Now I have to consider the toddler?

We chose the better, less convenient school. Because parenting.

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Dad and Buried

Category: Future

Watching the Detective

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Friday Night Yikes

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The Imitation Game

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Performance Anxiety

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Consider the Toddler

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