Someone Should Make a Reality TV Show About SAHDs...Oh...Wait...What? They Already Did?

*picture credit: http://www.aetv.com/modern-dads/about/

From the same people who brought you Intervention, Duck Dynasty and Storage Wars, A&E premiered it's first of it's kind, stay at home dads reality show last night called Modern Dads.  The show follows four dads in Austin, Texas: Nathan the 37-year old new dad of 1 year old Cormac, Rick the vet with a 10, 7 and two 1 year olds, Sean the stepdad to two girls Arwen, 8 and Joopsy, 5 and Stone the single dad to 5 year old Danica. Here is A&Es write up of the show, but the shortened version is it's a bunch of guys, not unlike the guys I spend a good bit of time with, who are the primary care givers and just raising their kids as best they can.

I have to be honest, I wanted to hate this show. I wanted to watch one episode and blow it off as complete horseshit. I was convinced it was going to be a completely inaccurate portrayal of what it is we do as stay at homes dads. That it was going to either be a little tight around the neck or completely falling off the waist with regards to the "reality" of being a man and being a primary care giver.

Over the past two years, the dad groups I have been a part of have been contacted by reality TV show casting executives and I have done nothing but duck, dodge and avoid all correspondence. But I am a little jaded. I have a good friend who is involved in reality TV. After the shows she's worked on seasons had ended, I always looked forward to sitting down over a couple of drinks and talking about how it all came together, how the cast is behind the scenes, how the producers create content and just about anything else you could think about or want to know about reality TV show as a business. What she had to say was always entertaining, but it was like slap stick comedy; it's always funnier when it's somebody else getting hit in the face with humble pie. So when some of the other dads and networks I am part of asked what I thought about a reality TV show for dads and potentially being a part of it, I told them to knock themselves out, but that I wanted no part of it. My days are tough enough without adding cameras and a national audience to the mix.

It's not that I take this gig too seriously, it's quite the opposite. I get a kick out of the dads that are instantly bruised anytime the media portrays them as bumbling or incapable of performing the tasks of a care giver. If you are confident in your parenting skills, as a mom or a dad, then who cares what the outside world thinks (okay...maybe I do a little bit). I'm admittedly a bumbler from time to time. Not to mention that this whole SAHD concept is new to society. There are people who don't get it, who don't believe it, who think we're completely crazy for wanting to do what we do and others who are unaware of us altogether. I run into these people on a daily basis. I don't want these people getting to tune into my routine and I don't need their judgement. I already have an internal battle on what I screw up on a daily basis, no magnifying glass needed here thank you very much.

However, there is a difference between going on morning shows to talk about the SAHD life and then being cast in a reality TV show. Look at Jon and Kate Plus 8, now nobody wants twins (or an Ed Hardy t-shirt for that matter). Like every pre-pubescent teenager, I wanted to be different and misunderstood. I'm stupid like that. Nice to meet you.

But the show is great. It's really, really great!

From the first minute into the show, there are some great bits. Stone's daughter is in the bathroom and she yells out that she needs to be wiped. He tells her that she wipes herself at her mom's house, to which she says that she still wants him to wipe her. He does. Nathan has a crazy fear of stopping his car when his son is sleeping, because he believes Cormac will wake up. So when he picks up Sean, he has to swing the car door open for Sean to jump into the moving car (spoiler alert: Cormac wakes up anyway). Rick is tasked with planning his 1-year old twin daughter's birthday party, which you can see his wife does not think he is capable of handling. Yet he pulls off a great renaissance party with the help of the other dads.

I was disappointed when the episode was over, thinking it should have been an hour long and not a measly half-hour. I now want to move to Austin and hang out with these guys. I don't want to be on the show, don't misunderstand me, I just want to throw back a few beers and have a few laughs. One thing that people ask me is, what is this whole stay at home life like? And I always have these sarcastic, curve ball and sometimes drab responses (depending on the day you ask me and the mood that I am in). But this show sort of nails it. These are the interactions that I have with my kids, with my friends and with my wife. Planning birthday parties and serving dinner is all fine and well, but that's only half of the job. The skeptic in me is looking forward to seeing how they handle the hard stuff like disciplining, bad moods, unexpected schedules and how marriages work after kids. For now though, kudos to A&E. Granted this is only the first episode, but I'm hooked and the series recording on the DVR is set.

Simply put, if you are a stay at home (mom or dad), you'll appreciate this. If you are the working parent, you'll find this entertaining. And if you are neither, you can learn a little something.

Modern Dads is on the A&E network every Wednesday at 10:30pm/9:30 central. Check it out!

Breaking Bad: Nap Time Edition

Yikes! It's been near two months since my last post? To tell the truth, I have become a little consumed with Instagram and editing each picture. I've also spent a ton of time working on my photography site (www.craftedfocus.com), as well as second shooting my first wedding. Now that I write it out, it doesn't sound like a lot. But I assure you it felt like a million things at once.

I felt that life was getting too crazy. I had stopped running. I was getting more and more grouchy. I was less inclined to go out and do things with the kids. I was looking forward to the Mrs being home more and more, but since she was working 100 hour weeks (nope, not kidding...think long and hard before becoming a lawyer kiddos) we never saw her.

So two weeks ago, I decided to kick myself in the ass and get up, get out and do something. I started running again. We got back out for play dates. I was cooking healthy meals again. But I was still feeling tied up. That's when I realized that maybe I was trying to control too many aspects of the boys lives. Too much of "don't do that", "don't touch that", "don't climb up there", "stop fussing", "stop jumping off the ottoman", "don't throw your toys", "no splashing", "go to sleep"...my blood pressure is rising just writing it out! Instead of walking quietly and carrying a big stick, I was stomping around and screaming through a bullhorn. So I decided to stop.

The first situation I have chosen to tackle is nap time.

Nap time (and bed time for that matter), while albeit I cherish, has been a thorn in my side. Our routine has been to go to the bathroom, change diaper, read 2 books and off to dream land. The first three went off without a hitch. The last one? Not so much. Taz would be screaming, Little Man would be banging, books would be thrown, beds would be destroyed and occasional crying would ensue. I would tromp up there 3-5 times every afternoon for nap and every night for bedtime, aggressively open the door, demand silence, then slam the door and return to folding clothes, finishing my dinner or just trying to relax. Eventually they would stop and sleep, but not before I was worn out and feeling completely frazzled.

So yesterday, I decided that I would no longer scream. I would no longer creep up the stairs like a ninja so as to surprise them and put the fear of Dad in them. I would no longer react.

It's 4:27 PM now and the boys have been upstairs for 3 hours. Nap time ends in 3 minutes. All three hours have been filled with screams, cries, crashes and thuds on repeat. I have said nothing. I have done nothing besides fold laundry, make a few phone calls and watch Judge Judy drop the hammer on some unsuspecting derelicts. I have nearly reacted. I have fought the urge to react. My calves and quads have twitched, like spurs in a horses side, just prepping for me to make a quick move. I have been grinding my teeth at every noise. But I have stood (or actually sat) firm.

I warned the boys that there would be no treats, no TV and no toys if they chose to cause a ruckus. I am hopeful that after a few days of essentially no fun that the lesson will be learned and quiet times will return. However, with every fiber of my being going through the ringer right now, I don't know if I can make it another day. The boys just came downstairs and got the bad news. I explained that we have rules, and nap time and bed time are quiet times not crazy times. And in this house if you follow the rules, you win. If you break the rules, you lose.

The boys finding out that no fun will be had tonight.

Needless to say the Little Man is not happy. At four, he can mostly wrap his head around the concept that not getting to play with his toys, not getting to have a treat and no TV is a crappy deal. At 2, Taz doesn't get it at all. My hope is that while in their room, the Little Man will show his little brother that it needs to be quiet or otherwise they lose everything that is fun. Since I don't have to plan activities, head to a playground or entertain them in any way, this gives me time to catch up on the ol'blog.

Silver lining, found.



 

The Slow & Inevitable Death of Cool

I recently posted a picture to Facebook of my car with my newly purchased Yakima Skybox on the roof. A friend from college, who had just had his first child, commented that this was the slow and inevitable death of cool (thanks for an entry title, Brendan). It wasn't a remark on what others think of you, but more what your younger self might think of you or at least that's how I took it. He was right, in that once you have kids there is a certain youth and freedom that is lost, there is simply no escaping it. It got me thinking back to what my life was like before the Mrs and I had kids. Not just the usual stuff, such as never having to diaper anyone, the ins and outs of creating schedules you can live with and your child(ren) can sleep during or finding the right time and place to get frisky with your spouse that can last more than three minutes and without fear for being walked in on. No, I was thinking about some of the other specifics and some of the intangibles.

Tally: 100 cool points.

Before kids, I drove a manual Nissan Xterra. I loved that car. I remember when I was deciding whether to buy that car or to buy a Subaru Outback, a not so sage friend offered me some advice. He said that you're only going to be young once, so why get the glorified mom mobile? We scratched out crotches, chest bumped, grunted and then spit into a spittoon. Not really, but maybe we should have. The Xterra took us on some great adventures. It was even the car we drove our first son, the Little Man, home in. 

It was then that my thoughts on cars started shifting. I started to think that maybe an SUV wasn't the safest vehicle for kids. Then we got into an accident (with the Little Man in the car) and totaled the Xterra. We were all fine. She held up well in the accident and kept us safe. Suddenly, I needed a new car. Ironically (or maybe not so much), I bought a Subaru Outback...the glorified mom mobile...automatic...with two car seats...and the above mentioned Skybox. It's like I never even saw it coming. 

- 5 points for the car, - 4 points for the Skybox and - 1 point for the kids toys and books mess that is my backseat. 

Current tally: 90 cool points. 

In my BC life (before children), I used to go out, and not just on the weekends. Wednesday was just as good as Friday. Weekends were almost entirely spent at my friend's house on the boardwalk of South Mission Beach, San Diego: people watching, enjoying cheap beer, partaking in the ganja (marijuana, to you non-initiated), throwing horseshoes and jumping into the ocean just to bring my core temperature back down to comfortable. I rode my bike most of the time and carried some cash and my ID, that's it. Fundays weren't just for Sundays back then and they started at 10/11 AM and ended around 2/3 AM the next day, but not before a breakfast burrito was gobbled up before passing out falling asleep. If it was a weekday and you showed up to work with a little hangover, chances were that you weren't the only one, and if you were, you could just close your door. 

Now I get out for runs by 6:30/7 AM most mornings and I'm in bed by 10 PM. I stopped going to the beach, just too many issues: parking, drunks, nap times and now we live hours from any beach at all. If I was to smoke pot today, I'd probably just fall asleep, eat all the kid's Fig Newtons or have an anxiety attack...and perhaps all three. I haven't been to a party without kids, or not for kids, in almost three years (the Mrs and I went to one wedding and good times were had by all, but we paid for it dearly the next day). And my wallet is chock full of crap like kids shoes store/haircutters/frozen yogurt frequent buyer cards, all of our insurance cards and kids museum memberships. I look like I am carrying a brick in my front pocket. 

- 10 points for early mornings, + 5 points for healthier living, - 5 points for an overstuffed wallet.        

Current tally: 75 cool points.

I used to watch a lot of sports and the usual mix of major network sitcoms and dramas. I didn't watch a ton of TV though, mainly because I was usually out of the house. Now I am just as happy to watch House Hunters, Property Brothers, Ellen, This Old House or Chopped as I am to watch The Daily Show, Modern Family or Happy Endings all usually while folding laundry or cleaning up the living room. I might watch one game a week, but I usually have to DVR it, avoid Facebook for spoilers and watch it after the kids go to bed. Either that or I am reading a book, updating the blog or spending far too much time admiring friends on Facebook who are traveling abroad or just having a delicious meal in a not-so-kid-friendly establishment. I now find it weird not to see a crayon in pictures of dinner tables. Yep. I'm there.

TV is kind of a big thing these days. I know that TV is this big taboo in the parenting world. Some parents wear the merit badge of not owning a TV, some own TVs but don't allow their kids to watch any of it, some folks use the TV as a babysitter all the time and then there are those like me who let their kids watch some TV but not too much. I know every episode of Curious George, I know the secret words to open the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and I am starting to memorize lines from Wreck-It-Ralph. This past week at bed time, the Little Man exclaimed that he didn't like sleeping in his room anymore and that he didn't like his bed. So I stuck him in our guest room and shut the door. He wasn't happier with this situation either (the desired effect), and proceeded to try to sneak back to his room on several occasions. I warned him not to leave the room again, of course he did and so TV was banned for a week. It was awful for all of us. 

- 5 points for expansive knowledge of children's programming, -10 points for my love affair with HGTV/The Cooking Channel/The Food Network/Travel Channel, -3 points for watching DVR'd sports, -10 points for having to ban TV, + 10 points for limiting my kids TV time.

Current Tally: 62 points.

Travel used to be fun too. When we went to New Zealand in 2008, we took a sleeping pill and eight hours of the flight were gone *poof* just like that. A few cocktails, a light snack and the fourteen hour flight was over. When we planned travel it was where we really wanted to go. There was no thought of noise level, how large the rental car would be, was the furniture in the rental house white because we'll stain it, or had we checked out the list of "things to do with your kids in ______". You picked a place and you went. Voila! Even if you were a little under the weather, you took some cold meds, sucked it up, downed a drink and you had fun; rallying (i.e. if you're down, get your ass back up) was a term I took seriously and a skill I had honed over the years. You made a few playlists, read a book, did a crossword puzzle and maybe watched a movie on your computer to get through the flight. The things you didn't have were a lack of appreciation for the size of the bathroom on the plane (I never even noticed that there changing tables in the bathrooms, and now that I do, they are nearly useless as you can do the same thing on your lap) or a care for how clean or filthy the rest stop bathroom was just outside Anytown, USA on your way to Joeschmovington, USA.

Travel these days is a hassle. We have to schlep two car seats, up to four bags of luggage, a stroller, a  diaper bag, a pak'n'play, two blankies, a stuffed animal, snacks for the drive/flight, both iPads, a camera, bag of childrens medicines, Little Mans light up alarm clock and a random selection of small toys and books. Before we travel, the first thing I do is to load the iPad up with new content and usually a few full length films. If you haven't traveled with kids, the key is keeping them distracted. Obviously, the longer the better. And if something goes wrong with the iPad, then your iPhone better be the back up or some really great coloring books, toys, or snacks. Even then you are not guaranteed a peaceful adventure. 

When I flew back east in August with the boys by myself, the Little Man was taken care of as long as I could feed him and the iPad battery lasted on the flight. However, the Taz would not be so easily appeased. I was that guy on that flight. You know the one. I had the kid who would not stop screaming or crying except for occasional moments when he would take a bottle, eat a snack or if I let him crawl around on the floor (though having to be watchful as he kept trying to eat old food droppings). Otherwise it was pure hell. Of course it couldn't have been a nonstop flight, nope. We had to layover in Atlanta, thanks for nothing Delta, before getting on our final leg. Thankfully the people around me had a collective heart and literally gave me a round of applause when we reached the gate. And the kids aren't to blame. They're kids. I hate being confined to my seat, but at least I fully understand why and I can also order alcohol to get me through it. I dread travel these days. It's a love/hate relationship, but more to the latter than the prior, because even when you reach your destination, there is no sanctuary. Sure, the Mrs and I are planning a trip by ourselves, but that's for our 10 year wedding anniversary which is in three years. For now it's playgrounds, day trips, kids museums, high chairs and making sure we pencil in some nap time...that's how we travel these days.

- 15 points for the shear amount of luggage needed to travel, -10 points for our first sans kids adventure to be set almost six and a half year out from our last trip, +10 points for our tantrum diversionary pre planning, -5 points for getting applause for making it through a flight.

I'll be 35 this year. It's not old by any means, but it's old enough. I like to daydream sometimes that I would be out and about doing this and that if we didn't have kids, but the reality is that's just crazy talk. I'd be working full time, probably hating my job, saving for the day I would eventually have kids and probably getting caught up in the minutia. At this point in my life, I just wish that the bubble pod technology seen in the Jetsons was available today or that all cars came with an optional limo screen. I wouldn't use them that much. But alas, no technology or standard car option like that does exist. The slow and inevitable death of cool is upon me and so it goes. I listen to a lot of Paul Simon, particularly the older stuff. There is a great chorus in "That Was Your Mother" from the 1986 album, Graceland that sums it all up nicely:

"Well, that was your mother

And that was your father

Before you were born, dude,

When life was great.

You are the burden of my generation,

I sure do love you,

Let's get that straight"

Final Tally...who cares? I was never that cool anyways.

Monday Morning Quarterback: Parenting Edition

I just passed my three year anniversary of becoming a stay at home dad. There was no ticker tape parade. There were no high-fives or any smacks on the ass. The mail got delivered today, the Little Man's preschool was open and there are no known Burl Ives' songs released about this day. I also forgot all about it. It was just any other day.

Until yesterday.

Over the last three years, I have learned a thing or two. We're talking about practical, useful information, the kind of insight that people would kill for if it was political or religious. Then again, maybe you like to read parenting books or have more than a platonic relationship with your Kindle Paperwhite. Then feel free to move along.

The thing with parenting handbooks (aside from baby and toddler 411, those two were gems for us), aside from there being too many to list, is that they are all useless. They all have the same mundane and you're-a-moron-if-you-don't-know-this general knowledge chapter list. If you have seen Knocked Up, you are prepared, or at least as prepared as the books can get you and whatever questions they answer. I'm not saying that they don't serve a purpose. For the Mrs, I think it was more mentally soothing to her to read about what would be happening or what to expect even though it all went out the window as soon as we arrived home with The Little Man for the first time.

Here are a few practical, useful things you should know that no one or at least not may people will tell you before you become a parent. These are things I wish I had known beforehand. Things they never mentioned in the all day birthing class - instead we watched the birthing video (awful thing to make people watch), we learned what the size of a baby's stomach is at one and two months (that turned out to be oh-so useful at 3 AM when The Taz couldn't be soothed; that's not even useful as a fun fact) and lastly how to put on a diaper (let's just get this out right now, if you can't diaper your child without professional instruction then maybe parenting isn't for you). No. This will cover none of those topics. And for that you're welcome.

1. Diapers leak.
They sure do. A lot. And we're not just talking about pee. Try as you may, but if your child has bowel issues, the elastic only holds so much. You'll try to size down in diapers. Then maybe size up. You'll switch brands. All to no avail. Infant poop is not like your poop. It's...well...it's different. The intestines are all getting worked in. Perhaps new foods introduced either physically or maybe through mom's milk. It's going to happen. Hopefully you'll be lucky and the explosion (they're not always as simple as a leak...think more of pipes bursting...yeah you got it now) will happen at home, but it can happen anywhere and you will undoubtedly will not be prepared. At least you are now forewarned.

2. Like your Doctor.
The interview process is fine and dandy and even recommendations from friends can be helpful, but in the end it's you in there with the Doctor and your kid(s). Your personality may not jive with theirs and if it doesn't, then switch doctors. You don't need to have the "it not me, it's you" conversation, just call the office and ask to switch doctors (and FYI, it's always them and it is never you). Assuming you are planning to stay where you are, it's important to like and feel comfortable with your child's pediatrician. Some of them are there because they love what they do, and some are there because they are doctors. It's easy to tell the difference, just trust your gut and move along.

3. Kids get sick. A lot.
This has been the hardest lesson to learn and more so to accept. But this is an unfailing truth. Your kids are like sponges for two things, curse words and viruses, and after three years of staying home with the boys I'd rather them cuss me out than have to administer another dose of Children's Tylenol. However, I suspect, that I'll get that wish in about 12-13 years if I play my cards right. And if you have two kids, it's generally even worse as they volley the virus back and forth until they knock it out or off to you. What's even worse is that there is often little you can do to help them. When you get to your third or fourth sick visit to the doctor's office in as many months, you start wishing for stupid things like infections. Infections have cures. Viruses take time. We have dealt with RSV (respiratory scyntial virus) for the past two years. Hearing your kids cough like 80-year olds with emphysema is not pleasant and the doctor's comment that "just think of it as each cough is one cough closer to health" doesn't make it better. The good news: year over year the infections get less and less dramatic. The bad news: they continue to happen year over year.

4. Rectal temps are the only temps.
I had a hard time with this one. I wanted to use every other device out there from temporal thermometers to underarm readings. They are useless. I don't know what it is, but popping a thermometer up your kids poop chute is going to give you valuable and accurate information, as much as it may pain you to do so. It is better to know this going into things than vice versa. It will save you money and time. And as much as you think your four month old may hold this against you later in life, you are wrong. Just lube it up, put it in and move on.

5. Having two kids is twice the work.
I am an only child. I don't know what it's like to have siblings. But I had one son before I had two. I naively thought that I had this whole infant thing down pat. Diaper, feed, rock, repeat. Even on basic levels, my boys could not be anymore different. The Little Man was relatively easy as an infant. Taz, not so much so. The Little Man was a vegetable hoarder. The Taz...what are vegetables? The Little Man has always been a cautious little guy. The Taz just wants to be let out of the cage. Aside from the fact that I have diapered and fed both boys, nothing about them is the same. What one likes, the other may not. Unless the thing liked is a toy, then they both want it because the other one has it; this is one of the few eternal truths of siblings. What works for one boy, may not work for the other. One may require no child proofing of your home, while the other may require a SWAT team level of security. Don't assume. Don't ever assume. When you assume, you end up like me.

6. You. Will. Never. Sleep. Again.
I used to judge good sleep by a solid, uninterrupted night of 8-10 hours. I now find myself thinking that 5-6 will get the job done and that 3-4 is good too. Even when I have the opportunity to (which I can count on two hands over the past almost four years), I still don't sleep soundly or late. I wake up naturally, albeit groggy around 6 every day and either get out for a run or scour the internet on my phone for an hour or so until the kids are allowed to get up. This is not the result of a few early wake ups as much as it is years of Pavlovian experiences when my kids wake up screaming at odd hours. I used to go into their room to check on them, but have learned that 99% of the time that they just have bad dreams sometimes and then quickly get themselves back to sleep or into a better dream. Give them 5-10 minutes to sort it out and then if they don't get back to sleep then check on them, if you don't hear anything then try and get yourself back to sleep. Try is the key word. Now my dog scratching himself at 3 AM, the Mrs tugging on the sheets or the AC/heat kicking on wakes me up and keeps me up for about 30-45 minutes at a time. The stupid thing is I still set an alarm.

7. Development charts are not the end all, be all.
A lot of pediatricians live and die by the developmental charts. They are these sometimes overly generalized and absurdly specific lists of what your child should be doing by what age. Some doctors use this chart as an accurate measure of developmental success and failure, while others realize that kids all have their own time tables. The Little Man did not start talking until about 16-18 months. Taz is 19 months and doesn't say much besides his grunts for "yes" and "no", "dada" is an all encompassing term, "cat","dat" for when he points at something and supposedly he said "dragon" the other day for the Mrs (I am sure that is going to be a useful word going forward). Both of the boys have had tremendous comprehension from an early age, it's just their speech that has been slower to come around. We've never been terribly concerned. We have The Little Man in speech therapy now and he is doing fine. Our sole goal is simply to do as best we can to see that he is starting on the same playing field as his classmates when he enters kindergarten. Maybe we will have to do the same with Taz. Who knows? But don't put too much weight in or lose sleep over the chart. If your child is healthy, happy and active, then you're doing a great job. Everything else will fall into place as it should.

Hope that some of this helps you out. I think this sort of information would have been useful to me earlier on. But then again, maybe I would have forgotten it all as soon as we got home from the hospital that first time.    

 

    

Boys Gone Wild

I love the outdoors.  Sunshine or snow (not that we get snow near downtown San Diego) it's always great to be out and about.  I love running in the rain, and though a torrential downpour can be disheartening at first, once you are soaked to the bone it's actually not that bad.  All of the sights and sounds (as long as you can get far enough away from the sounds of traffic passing) can really take you away.  That being said we rarely get out into the great outdoors, at least not in the grander sense.  Sure, we make it to playgrounds, we take walks around the neighborhood, we go to the beach and sure those are all outdoors but I wouldn't label any of them "great".

Luckily in San Diego we have a few national and state park areas that are close enough to reach in under 45 minutes but still placed just far enough or are just deep enough to escape the urban reality.

Yesterday, the boys and I as well as a fellow SAHD and his two boys headed out to Torrey Pines State Park.  Hands down it is one of the best spots to go in San Diego county.  If you love the beach, it's there.  If you love trails, they're there.  If you want history, you can find it there.  And if you want to experience a section of the great La Jolla Half Marathon known only as "the hill" (a one mile long ultra-steep grade switch back paved road leading from the beach to the trail heads), you'll find it here.

The trails are always in great condition and even with the overcast and marine layer you still have the beautiful and aptly named Torrey Pines.  The trails offer a little bit of everything from steep stairs, to smooth dirt trails, to rocky tops (not like West Virginia) and steep switch back descents.  Just get yourself a map and pick a route.

We chose an almost 2-mile loop and the older boys (almost 3 and 4), were able to handle the whole loop with little to no fussing.  We took our time as both Dads were strapped with an extra 15-20 lbs of sub-1 year olds, and the older boys wanted to stick sword fight, dig in the dirt and generally horse around.  We had a great time, and though I can't speak for the Big Guy's friend, I can say that the Big Guy crashed for 2.5 hours as soon as we came home.  Even the Little Man was washed out by the time we got home...or as you'll see below...he was done when we reached the car.

The only downside is that I was shooting with my D80 and left the ISO at 500...the D80 doesn't shoot much without grain over 400 so the pics weren't blow up keepers, but they'll do for the ol'blog.

We Are Still Our Father's Sons

Before I get started, I want to be clear that there was nothing scientific (not even a little shred) about this post.  I didn't confer with any of my fellow SAHDs.  I didn't do any internet research.  I didn't check out books on the topic either (does anyone use the library anymore?  My local post office closed but yet the library is open and there is always a line out there at 8 AM on Saturdays).  This is simply my view of things, no more and no less (okay...maybe a little less).  Now that I have finished my little disclaimer I feel that I can hear you eagerly chattering "what's this all about?  Tell us!  Tell us!  Tell us!"  Since you asked so nicely, I will oblige you.  Today's topic is...drumroll please...seriously, drumroll...thank you...SAHD Groups and more specifically why they are the red headed step child to their counterpart, SAHM Groups (I think you're smart enough to figure that acronym out).

Two years ago, when the Mrs and I decided that having me stay at home with the Big Guy was the way to go, I knew that I had to find some sort of group.  Some fellow parents to share stories, tips and simply some adult time.  I began my internet search and not surprisingly I found tons of SAHM groups.  They were meeting for lunch, meeting for play groups, meeting for movie night and of course the juggernaut of them all, they were meeting for exercise (the infamous Stroller Striders, like the Navy Seals of the SAHM hierarchy).  However, I didn't want to join a SAHM group.  In case you haven't read my quick bio, I'm a guy and I like guy stuff.  I realize that SAHM groups are not all frilly lace and tea parties, so keep the sexist card in your pocket.

I wanted to hang out with other dads.  I wanted to feel the camaraderie that only men can offer: the kick in your pants honesty when you're whining too much, the below the belt jokes that roll off the tongue just as easily as they roll off your back, the sports chatter and of course the banter about what a pain in the ass our wives and kids can be.  However, the wonderful inter web left little to be desired.  I found a couple of groups, sent in emails and heard nothing back.  I assumed that I must have come off as a miscreant and was not to be allowed into the SAHD pride (as in herd, not the gay variety - though I'm cool with the gay pride too, just don't approach me about it when I am leaving Target with a full cart and my two kids).  So I sort of gave up.  A year later, I would become part of a SAHD group by way of a random chat I had with another SAHD at a local eatery.

I was ecstatic, to say the least, to be a part of a group now...my own wolf pack if you will.  And while we met up a few times and the guys I met up with were good guys, I noticed that the email list was about 30 names long and only about five or so of the same guys ever showed up.  At my first meet up, I was told that these guys were the "core", but I just assumed that they had started the group or something to that affect.  Nope, "core" meant the only guys who ever show up or ever respond.  And since then, emails for meet ups have been sparse and the number of core members has been cut in half.  I think the main reason is that a couple of the guys had side jobs which have since graduated into near full time gigs, but they're gone nonetheless.

One of the common issues for the lack of communication was that invites were sent out and there were either no responses or all of the responses were saying they had other things going on.  So the emails stopped, yet I would run into some of these guys while I was out and about with the boys.  Some of the guys were out by themselves and some were actually out with moms.  What was everyone up to?  And I don't dismiss myself from the problem.  There were certainly plenty of times that the meet ups just didn't work with my schedule, I simply didn't want to take the boys to that place or maybe I had been there the day before.  But it was clear to me that there were really only one or two people tossing in meet up suggestions and even if you got a response that people were coming, the chance that they actually showed were slim to none.  And believe me, I get that kids can eff up your day and cause things to not happen or cause things to change.  What I didn't get was why did I never hear about this with the mom groups?  Maybe it was just numbers.  You have a hundred moms on the email list and about ten show up every time.  Or maybe there was some sort of sense of community in the moms groups and the need for that interaction that kept the women religiously coming back.  I'm betting on the latter.  As for the dads, maybe we are too "tough" or dismissive to bond like that.  If we meet up, we meet up.  If we don't, we don't.

The SAHD group is something that is wrapped in bacon (everything is better wrapped in bacon...problems, prawns, bourbon...you get the idea) and a bit shrouded in mystery.  Anytime I tell people that I am a SAHD and am part of a SAHD group, people look amazed.  They ask me "Is there really such a thing as a stay-at-home dad group?"  To which I obviously say "Yes.  Yes there is".  But there still remains that look of disbelief on their faces and always the question; "So what? do you guys just sit around and drink beer and talk about your kids?"  To which I say again "Yes.  Yes, we do.  Well except for the one guy who doesn't like beer so he drinks booze or wine."  People just don't know about us.  We aren't out in packs.  We don't take over Groupon deals at Gymboree.  And we don't careen down paths at the park in large groups screaming "ON YOUR LEFT!" shooting by with our B.O.B strollers.  We are a little more civilized and a lot less social.

We are men.  We are supposed to be rugged and tough and built to withstand shitstorms.  We grow beards.  We drink beer (or wine).  We have customary terms like "breaking balls" and "busting chops".  When other dads don't have time, like the Honey Badger, we don't give a fuck!  Why?  Because we are men and we can hold our own.  We are, alas, a bit primitive.  There I said it.

I won't lie.  I like the SAHD group time.  It is therapeutic for me when I meet up with these guys.  I wish we did it more.  We have taken on what, until very recently, has been seen as solely the woman's role:  to cook dinner, do the laundry, buy the groceries, clean the house, research the school systems, go to the doctors, pay the bills, raise the kids etc.  So I think we are still defining what and who we are.  A lot of us find solace on the internet by reading each others blogs and finding community there, and I love that aspect and that instant realization that you are not alone in your quest to not be the worst parent ever.  Go ahead and call me old fashioned, but I also like that personal interaction (no matter how much I sweat at that first meeting).  I welcome and relish the opportunity to not talk about playgrounds, Elmo or try to answer the question "why" for the 100th time that day.

Mom's have had this stuff figured out for a long time now, but they've been doing it longer than we have.  They had their mothers to talk to about these things first, and then they got their groups.  My father could sell a pacemaker to an olympic athlete, but he wouldn't understand the first thing about diaper rash cures, tantrum diversion tactics or age appropriate activities (I grew up watching baseball or open heart surgery and I couldn't tell you how many bars I fell asleep under as a kid - I just know that if you curl up just right, that foot bar is mighty cozy).  And I guess, in a nutshell, that's still the issue: we are our father's sons.  We are capable imbeciles.  I look forward to seeing what role my boys take on when they are old enough to have kids (with any luck, that'll be at least 25 years from now), but they'll probably have an app for that by then.