The Daddy Complex

Rude Awakening

Tue, 09 Mar 2010 12:02:09 -0800

Wyatt: DUDE! HEY, OLD DUDE!
Me: Shhhh. It’s 4 a.m. What is it?
Wyatt: This ain’t working.
Me: What?
Wyatt: This. Tonight.
Me: You were sleeping just fine.
Wyatt: Well, now I’m pissed.
Me: Is it your diaper?
Wyatt: I don’t know. That’s your job. I could have a load in my shorts, I could be hungry, I could’ve had a nightmare. All I know is I’m awake, I’m tired and you’re getting all Sherlock Holmes when you should be "CSI: Miami." I HATE THIS! FIGURE IT OUT!
Me: Keep it down. You’re going to wake your brother.
Boone: Too late.
Me: Damn it.
Wyatt: You’ve got your hands full now.
Me: No chance you’re going to drift peacefully back to sleep?
Boone: About as much chance that I might also poop rainbows.
Wyatt: Here’s the deal, Pop. You’ve got an incredibly small window to figure out what’s wrong before I ramp up and blow a return to slumberland.
Boone: Ditto that.
Me: You guys are stacking the deck here. Not only will the process of trying to figure out what’s wrong wake you up more, but I have to do it twice.
Boone: Don’t care, dude.
Wyatt: Not our problem... You know how, when I get really angry, I do that high-pitched shriek?
Me: Yeah.
Wyatt: Here it comes.
Boone: That’s nothing. Even if you finally get him back to sleep, I’m planning on staying up until just before our normal wake-up time. Got anything good on the DVR?
Me: I think I have some episodes of “Chuck.”
Boone: That’ll work.

Boone thinking about lyrics for the third verse.

Tue, 09 Mar 2010 08:01:00 -0800

Boone thinking about lyrics for the third verse.

Wyatt doing his best Jimi Hendrix.

Tue, 09 Mar 2010 08:00:00 -0800

Wyatt doing his best Jimi Hendrix.

Old Yeller

Mon, 08 Mar 2010 11:49:00 -0800

I believe one of the reasons my wife first fell in love with me was my Steve McQueen-like driving skill. There was one event in particular when, with her sitting shotgun, I deftly raced around a wildly spinning truck on the 101 freeway. I calmly and coolly sped up rather than slamming on the brakes, which I’d rapidly calculated would have placed us right into the path of the rogue vehicle as it slammed into a concrete barrier. If you’re trying to picture my maneuver, I’ll just tell you, yes, it was totally badass.

As that illustrates, emergency situations don’t faze me. What does faze me, however, is loud noises. Not like loud music. No, I mean random blasts of sound — a book falling off a table, a door slamming and, unfortunately, a baby screaming. I know, I know. Someone who reacts badly to loud noises deciding to have a kid is like a man with no fingers deciding to become a gunslinger. And I have two… babies, that is, not fingers.

I had no delusions about how often babies scream/cry/wail. For you future parents, babies don’t just scream when they’re upset. If my guys are any gauge, wee ones scream when they’re happy, eating, playing, walking, crawling, getting dressed, opening the toy chest or just because it’s Thursday. I thought that kind of immersion would help cure me of the problem. As you might expect, it just aggravated it. I feel like I’m constantly telling the boys “Keep it down,” “Use your inside voice,” “Quiet now, guys” or “Honey, where’s that bottle of Glenfiddich I just bought?”

But last night, I stumbled upon a rather unorthodox coping method. Wyatt started screaming when I put him on the changing pad, so I started screaming with him. Every time he opened his mouth to let one fly, I did too. He thought it was hysterical and it kept me from stressing out. Perhaps, rather than forcing my boys to act more reserved, I need to act more youthful. I’m going to try shitting my pants next.

I sing this to my boys every night as we put them down. Without...

Sun, 07 Mar 2010 23:07:47 -0800

I sing this to my boys every night as we put them down. Without fail. My wife does the “bom-bom-bom-bom” part. The fact that it comes from Three Amigos and was written by Randy Newman is just a bonus. (Sometimes, I also quietly throw in the “Goodnight, Ned.”)

Hunger Strike

Fri, 05 Mar 2010 13:57:42 -0800

Me: Wyatt, you have to eat something.
Wyatt: I don’t want this—
Me: Don’t throw it on the floor.
Wyatt: And I don’t want this—
Me: Stop it.
Boone: Don’t worry. The dog will eat it.
Me: I didn’t buy that food to feed the dog.
Boone: Sure tastes like dog food to me.
Wyatt: Good one, bro.
Me: Fine. If you’re all done, I’ll just put the rest away.
Wyatt: Yeah, get that stuff out of my face.
Me: You guys don’t realize how good you have it. I give you organic chicken breast and fresh tomatoes and blueberries. You eat better than I do.
Boone: If it’s so great, you eat it.
Me: Maybe I will. This chicken looks good...
Wyatt: Hey, Boone. He’s eating it. He’s really eating it.
Boone: Dude, you’re eating our food.
Me: You didn’t want it.
Boone: Wait. Hold on—
Wyatt: He’s really wolfing that down. Stop him. I’m hungry!
Boone: Okay, old man. We’ll eat it. Hand it over.
Me: Too late. The chicken’s gone. Man, was it awesome.
Wyatt: What’s left?
Me: There’s some broccoli here.
Wyatt: Give it! I’m wasting away!
Me: Not so bad now, is it?
Boone: You think you’re so clever.
Me: Perhaps I do.
Boone: Well, perhaps the dog just threw up all the steamed carrots we fed him.

For the record, I think you're hilarious. Do you think your adorable boys find you as funny as we do?

Fri, 05 Mar 2010 00:26:27 -0800

Thank you very much. No, really. Thank you. I’m here all week. Don’t forget to tip your server and, please, try the veal.

But seriously, for saying this, you are my new favorite person ever.

I hope my boys find me as funny as you do, although I know that’s a sliding scale. Right now, Boone thinks I’m the bee’s knees. I could look at him sideways and he’d react like I just gave him my version of “The Aristocrats.”

Wyatt takes a little more convincing. Sometimes, I even have to resort to my prop routine. I may be competing for my son’s affections with Carrot Top.

Seven-Step Program For Sleep

Thu, 04 Mar 2010 09:56:30 -0800

Last night, Boone would not sleep. And for you non-parents, “not sleeping” rarely involves a supine baby in quiet contemplation. It means crying, thrashing, screaming, shrieking and perhaps side one of Slayer’s Reign In Blood.

Lately, Wyatt’s been protesting his bedtime and we know the drill:

give him a chance to wind down;
if he doesn’t, go into the room after 10 minutes;
smell for poop;
If he’s poop-free, lay him down again;
tell him “We’re here, it’s okay” while placing a comforting hand on his chest;
leave;
open a bottle of Central Coast cabernet and pour yourself a few glasses to ease the jitters.

Usually, that routine works on the first go. But, for a while now Boone’s gone to sleep pretty easily, so we haven’t needed to figure out his specific drill for this situation. We tried everything we knew, but Boone still raged for nearly 90 minutes. What finally did the trick was a second bottle of milk. Then, Wyatt woke up. We were wiped out from handling Boone, so Wyatt got a second bottle, too.

I might have gotten a second bottle as well.

Boone and Wyatt down the hall. Got any similar images of your...

Wed, 03 Mar 2010 15:17:55 -0800

Boone and Wyatt down the hall.

Got any similar images of your rugrats? Go ahead and photo reply.

Planning Spontaneity

Tue, 02 Mar 2010 16:03:41 -0800

Wyatt: What were you doing just now?
Me: Talking to a buddy of mine on the phone.
Boone: Oh, that’s a phone. Okay. We thought you were talking to yourself.
Wyatt: Yeah. I was ready to call the guys with the butterfly nets.
Me: You have to use a phone to do that.
Wyatt: Touché.
Boone: What did your friend want?
Me: He was inviting your mother and me over for dinner.
Boone: Awesome! We got the place to ourselves, Wyatt. Let’s order some pizza.
Wyatt: And we can finally finish watching “Hostel 2.”
Me: We’re not going... Wait. What?
Boone: Why aren’t you going?
Me: Because we can’t just head out at the drop of a hat.
Wyatt: Sure, you can.
Me: Even if we had a regular sitter, I can’t order him or her over without any notice.
Wyatt: We can handle ourselves, old man.
Me: No, you guys need constant supervision. Someone has to have eyes on you at all times.
Boone: Dude, we’re babies, not terrorists.
Me: It’s just frustrating because people without kids don’t realize we have to plan this kind of thing in advance. We can’t be as spontaneous... Why are you rubbing your fingers together?
Wyatt: It’s the world’s smallest violin playing for you. And I’m a baby, so it’s really, really small—
Me: I get it.
Wyatt: Because I have little baby hands.
Me: I know.
Boone: I think the problem is twofold. First, from what we’ve seen, people without kids never really comprehend what it’s like to have them. So, they can’t be faulted for not understanding how challenging even something as simple as dinner out can be.
Me: Right...
Boone: Second, you haven’t set up a support system to help you. No babysitter, no neighbors on which you can call, no friends to come over and give you a break. That is not the fault of your childless friends either.
Wyatt: Preach it, bro.
Boone: So, really, you’re the reason you can’t be spontaneous. You're the reason you can't go out to dinner with your friend tonight.
Me: Well, when you say it like that it sounds so harsh.
Wyatt: The truth hurts, dude. The truth hurts.

Have/had you consider(ed) teaching them baby sign language?

Tue, 02 Mar 2010 10:22:51 -0800

Not only have we considered it, we did it. They still only have a few signs, but it has made things a bit easier and it was way more successful than my attempt to teach them interpretive dance.

What are the biggest similarities and the biggest differences between your boys?

Tue, 02 Mar 2010 10:07:22 -0800

Right now, the biggest similarity between my boys is that they each have a penis. There are, of course, other basic similarities like the fact that they are both stunning to look at and will quite clearly be heartbreakers. Also, each of them is also the smartest baby ever in the history of everything.

But aside from that, they both are very caring. My wife was upset the other day and Boone crawled across the room and gave her a hug, unprompted. Then, he went back to his talking caterpillar or whatever. Wyatt did a similar thing for me this morning. I was feeling a bit blue and he crawled up into my lap and gave me a hug and a smile. Yes, this may have more to do with random synapses that fire in a baby’s brain, but I like to credit it to the fact that my boys are incredibly intuitive and compassionate. And did I mention they’re beautiful?

The differences are… different. Right now, Boone is more hands-on. He has figured out how to switch all the toys on and off and quietly explores each new item thoroughly. Wyatt is more vocal. He’s really trying to learn more sounds and words. Because of this, he seems to get upset easier, frustrated at the current limits of his ability to communicate. Of course, these roles switch every few months, so I’m not yet banking on what kind of traits they’ll have when they’re older. And there’s still no clear sign which one is the evil twin.

What do you think is the most challenging part of fatherhood?

Mon, 01 Mar 2010 18:24:00 -0800

I just went for a walk with the dog… Wait. That is not the answer to your question. Although, finding time to walk the dog is challenging.

No, I was thinking about your question on the walk. The answers that immediately popped into my head were obvious like “lack of sleep” or “baby kicks to the groin.” But, I realized for me the most challenging part of fatherhood is more complex.

The most challenging part of fatherhood is making sure my boys won’t be as fucked up as I am. And it is an ongoing struggle.

When I was young, I always felt like I’d have my baggage dealt with by the time I had kids. I’d be that rock steady pop seen on 1950s television, doling out sage advice to my offspring while smoking a pipe and reading the paper. I didn’t realize once one issue is dealt with, another pops up, usually more problematic than the one vanquished. And I quit smoking about five years ago, so I didn’t even get to do the pipe thing.

I want each of my boys to be a better man than me. To do that, they can’t be saddled with my large issues (I tend toward cynicism, especially in politics, even when unwarranted) or my small issues (I’m so awkward at functions where I don’t know anyone, I’ll probably never meet any of you at a Tumblr Meetup).

Here’s the real bear, though. To make sure I don’t pass these problems on to my boys, I’ll have to get over them myself, as well as any others that pop up. And toot sweet. So, I will have to believe the people rallying behind a dolt like Sarah Palin are not all rich, racist, Christian assholes and I will have to attend a Tumblr Meetup and actually meet people. I will have to be hopeful and believe in goodness and righteousness. Basically, I have to become the person I want my boys to be. And that is very, very hard.

But I will do it. I will try to overcome my issues and become someone who can change the world because I love my boys and I want them to be able to change the world, too. Even if Sarah Palin becomes president.

My husband and I will be having a son, our first child, this summer. We both have mouths like sailors. How do we stop swearing before the baby starts talking? I am willing to give up beer and sushi for 9 months but giving up swearing for years seems impossible. I suppose I could always step outside and let out a string of curses to vent but I don't want the neighbors thinking I've picked a a bad case of tourette's.

Mon, 01 Mar 2010 12:29:00 -0800

Because of my language, my wife used to worry that our boys’ first word would be “fuck.” We discovered, however, that initially children will only be able to get their head around monosyllabic words, so my advice is to stick to multisyllabic cuss words like “sonofabitch,” “motherfucker” and “goddamnedmothefuckingsonofabitchingasshowdy.”

To be honest, I have no real magic bullet for this issue. I, too, curse unabashedly. I love it. A well-worded “fuck” is sometimes the crsipy crust on a crème brulée of anger. I tried to curb it when the boys were born and did so with moderate success. I still accidentally let the occasional one fly, but it’s like a 12-step program — one day at a time.

By the way, my wife who was so worried about my vocabulary affecting the kids accidentally let the big one go in front of someone else’s kids. So, my other advice is to focus on when your partner screws up.

What's at the top of your list for the "Oooops I won't do that again" in regards to parenting and have you considered creating a cartoon strip of this incredibly well done series?

Mon, 01 Mar 2010 12:15:13 -0800

Aside from dangling my infant son upside down, I’d say my biggest “oops” moment was introducing firearms too early.

Actually, there was another moment like the dangling thing of which I’m not proud. When they were still just a few months old, I used to put the boys in a Moses basket and gently swing them. They were properly amazed each time and it worked to calm them.

One day, Boone was freaking out about something. So, I thought “If the swinging works to calm them when they’re fussy, I’ll just swing him higher for this major wailing.” It made sense in my head: If the problem amplifies, amplify the solution. I put Boone in the basket and started swinging him up and down, as high as I could, like a carnival ride. I mean I was creating some serious Gs. When I finally stopped to look at him, he was frozen in a pose of fright and rage like I have never seen before or since. My lesson: Amplifying the solution sometimes further amplifies the problem.

No, I hadn’t really considered a cartoon strip, which is odd because when I was in high school, I wanted to be Berkeley Breathed. I did, however, outline a cartoon version of one of the chats. All I need now is the ability to animate.

Throwing Caution To The Wind

Mon, 01 Mar 2010 11:36:29 -0800

Baby toys are pretty durable. If Toyota made cars as durable as baby toys, there would be no reason to worry that your car might decide to rocket down a side street. You could simply steer it into the nearest brick wall. That’s why, when I’m cleaning up the boys’ play area, I just throw the toys into the toy chest. Sometimes, from across the room. And sometimes, I bank them off the wall. Or the ceiling fan.

My wife doesn’t like it when I do this, however, and now she’s completely justified. This weekend, the boys started throwing their toys around. They thought it was hysterical. A little bear with wheels and a mini fire engine, both meant for rolling along the floor, spent most of Saturday and Sunday airborne amid a chorus of giggles and one “thunk” as the wheeled bear came down on Wyatt’s head. He wasn’t fazed.

I should have expected this. Babies mimic behavior. It’s how they learn. Soon, I’m sure I’ll see Wyatt popping Excedrin for breakfast and Boone grumbling about he doesn’t have time to read the paper anymore.

Hey, Internet. Ask me stuff.

Mon, 01 Mar 2010 10:42:25 -0800

Hey, Internet. Ask me stuff.:

It does not have to be about parenting. I dole out phenomenal life advice, if by “phenomenal” you mean “utterly worthless.”

Last night, our little beach town experienced the worst storm in...

Sat, 27 Feb 2010 20:29:21 -0800

Last night, our little beach town experienced the worst storm in my memory. (Although, admittedly, that memory is a little hazy.) The wind roared, the sky turned to water and the trees shook with fear. The next morning, the sun broke free and we opened the back door so the guys could get some fresh air. There also may have been some wrestling.

Anything But Routine

Fri, 26 Feb 2010 10:31:38 -0800

Me: “Arizona moon keep shining—”
Wyatt: Put a lid on it, old timer.
Me: I sing that song to you every night.
Wyatt: Not in the mood.
Me: At least take some of your bottle.
Wyatt: Shove it. Let me go.
Me: It’s bedtime, pal. You have to drink some of this.
Wyatt: No!
Me: C’mon. Just a little. Otherwise, you won’t sleep through the night.
Wyatt: I’d do it if Mom fed me.
Me: She’s feeding Boone.
Wyatt: I want her to feed me.
Me: What’s the difference? She’d offer you the same bottle, hold you the same way.
Wyatt: I want MOM!
Me: Jesus. Chill out.
Wyatt: Listen, dude. You know me, right?
Me: Sure.
Wyatt: So, you know I haven’t even begun to freak out.
Me: Yeah.
Wyatt: At a time when I should be winding down, you’re winding me up.
Me: I’m not winding you up. This is your trip, buddy.
Wyatt: You’re not considering the outcome. This is going to get bad. Real bad.
Me: Actually, I have considered it. If you freak out for a while, you’ll be so wiped out, you’ll fall asleep right away instead of fussing like you usually do.
Boone: He’s got you there, bro.
Wyatt: Mom wouldn’t do this.
Me: You’re probably right. Now, why don’t you drink some of your bottle.

Who Likes To Rock The Party?

Thu, 25 Feb 2010 08:00:00 -0800

When the boys first arrived in our lives, we bought some great CDs from a series called Rockabye Baby. The company creates lullaby versions of rock music from bands like The Cure, Radiohead, AC/DC and Green Day. Seriously, they are pretty awesome. But, I’m not plugging a product here because I have no idea if they are actually good for kids. We never really tried them out on the boys. Just like my personal hygiene, the seemingly simple logistics of setting up a method for them to hear the music in their nursery proved to too taxing when going on two-hours of sleep a day.

They did (and still do) listen to a lot of music. In fact, when they were still very wee and I needed some additional energy that caffeine could not provide, I discovered they really liked ‘70s glam rock bands like E.L.O. and Sweet. And, seriously, not one of you could argue with the awesomeness that is “Mr. Blue Sky.” Lately, the boys have been enjoying my massive Old School Jazz playlist. It’s heavy on the big guns like Chet Baker and John Coltrane, pretty much all the guys who let heroin destroy their lives… I guess I need to rethink the possible role models I’m setting up.