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About The Daddy Complex

Confessions of bad parenting, accidental victories and abject panic from David Vienna, a work-at-home father of twin boys.

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Sure, why not?. Repost any content you find at The Daddy Complex, but credit David Vienna. And link the site. And don't make any money off it, you freeloader. That's why it's called "copyright." Sheesh.
Sep 2, 2010 at 1:01 pm

Working Blue

  • Wife: Oh, shit.
  • Me: What?
  • Wife: I dropped my bread.
  • Wyatt: "Shit."
  • Me: Uh-oh.
  • Wife: He said "sip."
  • Me: He quite clearly did not.
  • Wife: He's probably thirsty. Wyatt, do you want some water?
  • Wyatt: "No."
  • Wife: Maybe he said "sit." Like he wants to sit in his chair... He didn't say "sit" at all, did he?
  • Me: Nice going, Eddie Murphy.
  • Wife: Shit.
Sep 1, 2010 at 3:00 pm

Reblogged: kaeporagaebora

Sep 1, 2010 at 12:26 pm

A Fertile Topic

Okay, I’ve wanted to write about this for a long time, but I didn’t really know how. I recently realized, however, that a handful of readers might find this useful/encouraging/whatever. So, here goes…

Boone and Wyatt came into our lives because of fertility treatments. My wife and I used fertility treatments because we had trouble conceiving. And when I say trouble, I mean trouble — three specialists on two coasts over seven years, multiple failed attempts, five recorded miscarriages, plus at least two more that didn’t even make it to the stage where it could be considered a miscarriage. But believe me, they were miscarriages.

The extremely frustrating thing about it was nobody could tell us what was wrong. We baffled all the doctors to whom we were paying shitloads of money. I checked out okay, my wife checked out okay. We had no trouble getting pregnant, we had trouble staying pregnant.

Aside from essentially mourning a death or two each year, coping with infertility was — and is — a lonely, lonely place. Even if you’re fortunate enough to see the glimmers of humor in the terrible situation, you can’t share them with anybody because if they haven’t gone through it, they simply don’t understand the depth of the depression you have to fight out of every day and, if they have been through it, they don’t want to hear other people bitching about it, too. Sword, thou art double-edged.

In fact, if you have a friend or family member dealing with fertility issues, here’s a handy list of things you should never, ever say to them:

  • “You guys just need to relax.”
  • “You guys just need to go on a vacation.”
  • “You guys just need to get drunk and fuck.”
  • “My sister had trouble getting pregnant, now she has two beautiful kids.”
  • “Have you thought about adopting?”

For the record, that last one shouldn’t be mentioned because adoption is not a solution to infertility. It is a solution to wanting to be a parent. While one does affect the other, they are not the same. Also for the record, my wife and I did look into adoption, but not as a replacement for a child we couldn’t have. All the other items in the above list shouldn’t be mentioned because they are non-medical solutions to a medical problem. You wouldn’t tell a person with cancer that they just need to go on vacation. Don’t be an idiot.

All that said, stress is certainly a factor. Stress affects the body and can make it hard to get or stay pregnant. Of course, if you have trouble getting or staying pregnant, that’s stressful. Hello again, sword.

I joke about it with my wife, but it does bother me a bit that neither one of us was even in the room when my guys were technically conceived. So, when I’m feeling frisky and people tell me God blessed me with two beautiful boys, I correct them by saying, “Well, God, our checkbook and Dr. Rosen blessed us with these boys.”

I know some of you readers are going through this now. I just wanted to tell you you’re not alone. There are people all around you who deal with this in silence, just like you. It sucks, but you’ll be okay. Stay strong. Have hope.

Sep 1, 2010 at 8:30 am

Anonymous asked: Have you ever seen the movie Vagina Dentata, a movie about a girl with a cannibalistic vagina? If not, you should check it out. If so, what did you think?

I have not seen Vagina Dentata. If you meant the movie Teeth, which is about a woman with vagina dentata, however, my answer is still no. I haven’t seen it (or either) because I assume it will have a similar effect on me that Jaws did. Man, I miss swimming.

Aug 31, 2010 at 10:13 am

Once Bitten

  • Wyatt: OW!
  • Me: What happened?
  • Wyatt: Boone bit me.
  • Me: Okay. Let me see your hand... Holy crap, Boone.
  • Boone: What?
  • Me: Look at that bite mark.
  • Boone: He told you I bit him. Why are you acting all surprised?
  • Wyatt: Yeah, dude.
  • Me: You can't bite people.
  • Boone: I think I just proved I can.
  • Wyatt: Really, Pop. Did you see my hand?
  • Me: Why did you bite him?
  • Boone: He was trying to take my puzzle piece.
  • Me: That's not a good reason for biting someone.
  • Wyatt: What is a good reason then?
  • Me: Maybe if your plane crashed in the Andes and you had to survive.
  • Wyatt: These teeth marks aren't going away.
  • Boone: You tried to steal my puzzle piece!
  • Me: You don't even know what piece that is.
  • Boone: Sure, I do. It's a cow.
  • Me: It's a police car.
  • Boone: Doesn't matter. It's the principle.
  • Me: Biting is not the answer. Neither is hitting, scratching, pinching—
  • Boone: I never do that stuff.
  • Me: Dude.
  • Wyatt: Seriously.
  • Boone: Okay. I do that stuff, but I'm learning how to assert myself while still using a limited arsenal of effective communication skills. Besides, this is basic toddler conflict resolution. We strike out because we don't know what else we can do.
  • Wyatt: Yeah, dude. It's your job to teach us how to manage these situations.
  • Me: That's what I'm trying to do.
  • Wyatt: So?
  • Me: Um... Don't bite.
  • Boone: Wow. Genius.
  • Wyatt: Thanks, Stephen Hawking.
  • Boone: Well, I'm taking my cow to the hallway.
  • Me: It's a police car.
  • Boone: Doesn't matter.
All original content Copyright 2009-2010, David Vienna. Themed by Hunson. Originally by Josh
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