03 Feb

Dad and Buried Posted in Movies 702 comments

Forget the Titans

The first Super Bowl I remember seeing was the Redskins/Raiders in 1983. My parents sent me to bed before the game was over but I snuck onto the stairs and listened as best I could from around the corner. I didn’t miss much. The Raiders won 38-9.

That Raiders blowout was sandwiched between a Dolphins loss I don’t remember (the year before, to the Redskins) and a Dolphins loss I do remember (the following year, to the 49ers). Man, it’s been a long time since they’ve been in that game. Like Marino himself, I expected a lot more than just that one.

Hopefully my son will get luckier than me.

Separation Insanity

On Monday, we dropped our kid off at his first daycare session. There was a fair amount of screaming, quite a bit of crying and a desperate need for some hand-holding.

And that was just my wife. Rimshot!

Feign Delay

I am not a “joiner.” I don’t really “participate.” I can’t feign enthusiasm so if I’m not feeling it, you’re not seeing any. Unless I’m drunk.

When I’m sober, you may be able to make me do something (depending on your level of authority) but you can’t make me pretend I want to do it. I’m looking at you, North Carolina State Trooper Jurgenson.

Such rebellion can be fun and empowering, and might even occasionally bear a whiff of integrity. But as a father, it can seem more like vanity, and it has the potential to create issues with your kids. Because when you’re a parent you’re going to be forced to do things you don’t necessarily want to do, and faking it won’t work. You can’t fool children, no matter how big a fake smile you wear, and the last thing I ever want is for my son to think I would rather be doing anything else but spend time with him.

Which is how I recently found myself making animal noises and pretending to be a horse and shaking maracas and singing like a frog. All with a big, genuine smile on my face.

Judgment Nay

Recently, I read a great post on Baltimore Magazine’s “Learning to Crawl” parenting blog. It was essentially a confession from a fellow father that he is a terrible parent.

The post is largely facetious, but only because it was written by a man who has been a parent for five years now. Had it been written prior to his son’s birth, I imagine it would have been a lot more serious. Because before he’d actually had the kid, the guy didn’t know what he was talking about.

His piece is really about the futility of parenting decisions that are made in a vacuum, and I agree with a lot of what he says. Kids aren’t lab rats; in fact, it doesn’t take long for us new parents to realize that we’re the lab rats. We’re the ones being tested. And, as the post enumerates, we’re the ones that are constantly failing.

At least according to all the self-appointed parenting judges out there.

The Dawn of the Daycare

I have a confession to make: my wife is a stay-at-home mom.

She has been home with our son since the day he was born. It was a choice we made together, for a few reasons, not least of which were the facts that a) in our neck of the woods, the cost of daycare pretty much negates that second paycheck and b) we don’t trust other people. From the start we’d made the decision to forego a nanny, which are popular extravagance here in Park Slope, as we weren’t ready to hand over daily care of our son to a stranger. So we figured we’d go the first year or two on just my income, especially since it was important to us that we were home with the kid ourselves.

At this point my wife has been at home with her son every day for almost a year and a half. And we’re happy with that decision.

However…

Dad and Buried

Forget the Titans

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Separation Insanity

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Feign Delay

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Judgment Nay

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The Dawn of the Daycare

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