Resume Anxiety

By Nathan Bright

We’re a one-income family. I haven’t worked for two point five years. My wife’s employment is based on a federal grant. The government is amputating limbs to save green. You see where this is going.

Spring 2011… that’s when Uncle Sam turns off our financial faucet. Worry. Fear. Anxiety. And those are just the feelings our dog has shared with us.

Many families are facing tough times. I will say it’s harder when the only bread winner takes a hit. If we both did the daily grind it would merely be matters of tightening our belt, cutting back and sacrificing. We’ve already juggled those three to get where we’re at, so now what?

All is not doom and gloom. There is a slight possibility my wife can make a lateral move, but I stress the phrase “slight possibility.” Nothing is carved into stone. The light is now cast on me.

High School Counselor: “So, Nathan, what do you want to do?”
Me: “I don’t know.”
High School Counselor: “What do you like to do?”
Me: “I don’t know.”
High School Counselor: “If you could do anything, regardless of money, what would it be?”
Me: “Get massages from super models while playing video games and drinking beer from one of those helmets that have the tubes running down from two beers. And there’d be chocolate cake.”
High School Counselor: “That’s illogical.”
Me: “Don’t ask stupid questions. Now I’m craving beer.”

I’ve polished up my résumé, but I find myself in an eerily similar situation as in high school. I’m an excellent worker - smart, innovative, don’t gossip, buy thoughtful holiday presents for under $10 – but what employer would hire someone like me when they can choose from barrels of specialized talent floating in the recession pool?

Another question – do I act now or wait? We’re under a cloud of uncertainty, but me securing a job now would alleviate that stress. But then what? Throw the kids into daycare just to find out in seven months we didn’t have to? Uhgg.

Fortunately we have time to make decisions. My resume is also getting a much-needed sand blasting. I can say with confidence we don’t regret a single moment of providing the kids with a stay-at-home parent. They’ve benefitted greatly from this experience, and we’re optimistic about the next phase of our lives.

As for me, I’m brushing up my skills in order to land my dream job: I’m giving the dog a massage while she eats cake… she looks pretty stressed. I’ll drink the beer.

Nathan Bright is a 30-something stay-at-home dad who resides near St. Louis, MO. He is a husband to an amazing woman and father to a doubly amazing 2 year old little girl. His blessed home is scheduled to be even more blessed in March, as Nathan and his wife will welcome a second daughter to their family. When Nathan is not blogging for OurMilkMoney.com's The Daddy's Den, he writes and illustrates his own children's books. Available for purchase immediately is Maddi Patti and her Stay-at-Home-Daddy.

Morning Shows and Pole Dancing

by Nathan Bright

Stripper poles should not be a part of a home. If you own one and I’ve offended you I apologize (sorry mom), but I personally can’t imagine explaining it to my daughters. This new exercise fad serves as a reminder of all the stuff I’ve pushed aside as a responsible parent.

If I didn’t have kids I’d listen to more obscene radio morning show DJ’s with names like Crap Boy & Charlie (oh Crap Boy, you’re so funny and relatable). I’d pee with the door open. I could once again pick my nose anywhere in the house without a little voice nagging, “Put it in a Kleenex dad!” My computer’s music library wouldn’t have all the bad-titled songs “X’ed” out. And I would have a stripper pole. Twelve of them. Less for exercise and more for structural integrity… but yeah.

Come to think of it I’ve been style-shedding for quite some time. Getting married was the first blow. Suddenly my framed Aerosmith poster wasn’t good enough for the living room. Or the basement. Or the frame itself (Dear S. Tyler: I’m sorry*). Gone were the shot glasses above the TV. Everything I gave up was replaced in equal proportion by either a candle or another pillow.

*In a wildly unrelated side story that just crossed my mind: When I was 22 I loved Aerosmith. Borderline unhealthy admiration. Anyway, I was at a dance club trying my damndest to talk to/dance with/touch the shoulder of any girl who’d allow it. One took an interest and danced several songs with me until the DJ played a Run DMC Walk This Way remix. She yelled, “That’s awesome, I love Aerosmith.” My heart leapt. I reached into my wallet and pulled out a plastic embossed card with the wings logo on it and yelled back, “Me too, I’m in the fan club!” The remainder of the night I danced alone.

The change keeps coming in waves. My shower used to simply house soap, shampoo and a razor. Those items all multiplied and had smelly little babies that exfoliate, scrub, and silken. My shower has evolved into its current form… an explosion of rubber ducks, foam alphabet letters and Nick Jr. paraphernalia.

Everywhere I look I see things I’ve either given up or altered for the sake of my wife and kids. Why do we do it… as men, that is? Why we change for our spouses is easy – sex. A high percentage of living room Aerosmith posters directly correlate to a low percentage of boobies.

But why change for our children? They don’t care how badly we decorate. They don’t see the radio morning shows’ raunchy content as negative. They just soak it all up and shape their lives around it. Therein lays the answer.

We dads modify our behavior in hope of being better men, thus creating a better environment for our kids to be shaped. We give up or suppress the ugly in order to grow more beauty. Sure, some of the vices we enjoy as adults are fun and tough to give up, but one look at those innocent, inquisitive eyes and you’d sacrifice anything for them.

I’m a little winded by all this sappiness. I could stand to exercise. You got a pole at your place I can use? I’ll bring my own Aerosmith mix tape.

Nathan Bright is a 30-something stay-at-home dad who resides near St. Louis, MO. He is a husband to an amazing woman and father to a doubly amazing 2 year old little girl. His blessed home is scheduled to be even more blessed in March, as Nathan and his wife will welcome a second daughter to their family. When Nathan is not blogging for OurMilkMoney.com's The Daddy's Den, he writes and illustrates his own children's books. Available for purchase immediately is Maddi Patti and her Stay-at-Home-Daddy.

The Candy Bar Sermon

By Nathan Bright

I buried the Snickers on a mountain overlooking a pristine lake. The other hikers in my group ate theirs days prior...like animals, but not me. A candy bar was given to us halfway through our 150 mile hike in the Cascade Mountains back in 2003. Food being scarce, a saved treat such as a Snickers had more worth on a mountain than Lindsay Lohan driving a Marlboro truck into cell block eight. And I buried it.

Why? Sacrifice. Now I'm not so pious that I came out of those mountains with tablets, but I did feel a sacrifice of that magnitude would help scrub my soul (if it got muddy during my early 20s). History is now repeating itself.

Fast forward to present day. I'm poor. Poor is a bad descriptive word because in the grand scheme I'm a zillion times more fortunate than most of the world's population. Let's just say I'm justifiably frugal. I'm also socially extinct. Few visitors to the house, no outside associates, and maybe one RedBox rental a month keep me pretty contained. What's the reason? *Snickers* Not the candy bar, I mean that I just snickered as I was getting ready to write this: Because I'm a stay-at-home parent. Yet again, I'm sacrificing.

My wife and I have chosen to sacrifice a ton to make this happen. It's not very apparent just how much we've given up until we talk to other people. As I listen to them speak I hear my thoughts saying, "What do you mean you went out twice this week...I get to eat out once every 60 days!" But it's worth it. We believe in what we're doing so strongly that we're willing to sacrifice a lot to do it.

Antenna television - yes. Willing to be the crazy coupon person in the check-out line- yes. Toilet paper square limit three - yes (modifications to this rule arise from time to time).

Again, it's worth it. I truly believe my kids and family benefit as a whole immensely from having an at-home parent. I also feel the sacrifices in my life, such as the Snickers and self-imposed fiscal-chop, have made me stronger. When viewed in a certain light those things we give up don't really seem to big. In fact, the intrinsic gain is so great it's as if nothing has been given up at all.

Now if only I could find that Snickers coupon.

Nathan Bright is a 30-something stay-at-home dad who resides near St. Louis, MO. He is a husband to an amazing woman and father to a doubly amazing 2 year old little girl. His blessed home is scheduled to be even more blessed in March, as Nathan and his wife will welcome a second daughter to their family. When Nathan is not blogging for OurMilkMoney.com's The Daddy's Den, he writes and illustrates his own children's books. Available for purchase immediately is Maddi Patti and her Stay-at-Home-Daddy.

At-Home Dad: Mediocre Man

by Nathan Bright

During the course of this blog I’ve established I’m a stay-at-home parent. Although at-home parenting isn’t a new concept it is difficult for some people to imagine a man doing. I’m not complaining – I have a hard time erasing the conventional from my own brain (Johnny Carson is on at bed time, right?).

While trying to come up with a topic for this blog it hit me… I’m not that different. At all. From a woman, that is.

People want to get my perspective on being an at-home dad. They genuinely want to believe I make blow torch grilled cheese and mop the floor with my daughter’s pj’s while she’s inside.

The reality is far from glamorous. I, like any stay-at-home parent, wake blearily to a schedule full of diapers, cooking, cleaning, planning, playing, instructing, yelling (from me) and crying (me again). I don’t see how it’d be possible for someone to do it any differently. Who would have time to build an erector set sweeping machine when boogers are stuck in their kids’ hair (and the dog’s, although I don’t know how exactly). It takes every second of the day to accomplish stuff… in a standard, non-sensational way.

What I’m saying is that when asked for my perspective I can’t imagine it being too far off from what my female colleagues would say. If there are things to cook… I cook. Things to clean… I clean. I can say I’m rather quirky, so I do put a little flavor on my day to make it interesting. Next time you have your children for the day try communicating mostly with movie quotes. Here are a few to get you started:

Forrest Gump “Lieutenant Dan. Ice cream!” Used when giving child ice cream. Or asparagus – it just sounds better to call it ice cream. Kids love being fooled like that.

Taxi Driver “You talkin’ to me?” Use this phrase when child demands something of you without saying please. Or just recite random lines from “Taxi Driver” to telemarketers. It does wonders for your morale.

Fight Club Tyler Durden: “Did you know if you mixed equal parts of gasoline and frozen orange juice concentrate you can make napalm?” There is no need to quote this other than to watch your two-year-old’s face try to figure out what the hell you just said.

Pulp Fiction Marsellus: “In the fifth, your ass goes down. Say it.”
Butch: “In the fifth, my ass goes down.” When appropriately modified to reflect time, this quote can work wonders for naps.

But I digress. Hey look, a job’s a job and you do what ya gotta do to make it all come together, whether male or female. Unfortunately, the only alluring side to what I do comes from my quirkiness, not my manliness.

Now it’s time to welcome my wife home from work with another movie quote I’m sure she’ll love. “Frankly my dear…”

Nathan Bright is a 30-something stay-at-home dad who resides near St. Louis, MO. He is a husband to an amazing woman and father to a doubly amazing 2 year old little girl. His blessed home is scheduled to be even more blessed in March, as Nathan and his wife will welcome a second daughter to their family. When Nathan is not blogging for OurMilkMoney.com's The Daddy's Den, he writes and illustrates his own children's books. Available for purchase immediately is Maddi Patti and her Stay-at-Home-Daddy.

There's a Monster in My House

by Nathan Bright

No there’s not. Monsters don’t exist. What does exist are newborn babies. The five-week old variety in my home, to be precise. The similarities between her and a monster are staggering.

For one, she’s scary. My two-year old is freaked out by the primal screams echoing through the house at any given time. I’m scared of what she’s capable of, seeing how she already inflicted bloody pain on my wife during birth. It took a team of nurses to clean up the mess. Just horrible.

Her eating habits mirror that of a monster. My wife, bless her soul, is breastfeeding. Although I’ve never actually seen a real monster eat, I’m pretty sure it would be similar (that is, if while ingesting food parasite-style, a monster tends to fart a lot).

She was born with a lot of hair. Monsters have hair.

My baby/monster eats other things, too. She transgresses the boundaries of physical space and can actually devour my time. It literally took me 3 hours one day just to pee. This is a basic function I previously enjoyed with much frivolity. NO MORE! The monster has taken my time to pee. Just horrible. Monsters are gross. Babies are grosser. By analyzing these two statements one can conclude, with philosophically sound logic, that I have a super monster. Liquids, solids and gases of all color have made their way out of her. It’s not enough to simply change a dirty diaper, but she will literally spray venom at you like that little dinosaur from Jurassic Park. Now don’t tell anyone I told you this, but last week *I can’t believe I’m going to share this* she almost pooped in my mouth a little. I won’t offer all the details, but let’s just say I was inspecting a diaper rash with slack-jawed curiosity when the worst nearly happened. If that doesn’t convince you she’s a monster, I don’t know what will. Just horrible.

She can’t talk. Some monsters have speech problems as well.

Have you ever seen the X-Men Wolverine movie where Hugh Jackman’s love interest can persuade people to do things just by touching them? My baby/monster has that power. Now she’s here and our family is complete my wife and I have been talking about surgical options for birth control. Surgical. Options. Prior to this the closest a knife would’ve come to my “area” was, well… never. Ever. Never ever. To summarize, my baby is an X-Men mutant who has influenced us to harm ourselves.

Weak neck. The blob had no neck.

The saving grace here is the Gremlins. Gizmo was a monster. My baby doesn’t like bright light. She isn’t fond of getting wet. But she is exceptionally cute and sweet, much like that loveable mogwai. She doesn’t get carried around in a backpack the way Gizmo did, but another contraption – the Bjorn – is arguably identical. Even though she terrorizes us we love her anyway. Oh, and one last thing. Never feed her after… wait, we ALWAYS feed her after midnight. Ahh, so that’s where the ugly monster comes from!

In conclusion, if you have a cute monster at your house you need only follow one rule: don’t feed them after midnight. That, and don’t look too closely at diaper rash with your mouth open. Just horrible.

Nathan Bright is a 30-something stay-at-home dad who resides near St. Louis, MO. He is a husband to an amazing woman and father to a doubly amazing 2 year old little girl. His blessed home is scheduled to be even more blessed in March, as Nathan and his wife will welcome a second daughter to their family. When Nathan is not blogging for OurMilkMoney.com's The Daddy's Den, he writes and illustrates his own children's books. Available for purchase immediately is Maddi Patti and her Stay-at-Home-Daddy.

The 21st Century Guide To The Good Wife

By Chris Loprete

A 1955 edition of Housekeeper’s Monthly released a Good Wife’s Guide. Please look it up and read it. It’s priceless. Here are some examples on how to be a good wife when your husband comes home.

• Prepare yourself. Put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh looking
• Remember he is the master of the house. Don’t question him
• Try to encourage the children to be quiet
• Don’t greet him with complaints and problems
• Listen to him. His topics of conversation are more important than yours
• Try to understand his world of strain and pressure and his real need to be at home and relax
• A good wife always knows her place

And that barely scratches the surface. Now I know what you’re thinking. “Why oh why wasn’t I a husband in the 50’s?” No? Oh. That’s just me then. But even a Neanderthal like me sees how these “rules” simply don’t apply today. First of all, who says the “wife” is the one at home? I know several “House Husbands” and none of them put a ribbon in their hair before their wife comes home from work. They usually wait until the weekend. Also “his real need to be at home and relax” somehow indicates that the stay at home parent has been relaxing all day. A very reliable source has assured me that that is not the case. So with all of this in mind, I have composed a counter guide. I call it:

The Guide to the One Who Works Outside the Home

• Prepare yourself. You may be home from work, but you’re not done working yet
• Master of the House? You haven’t been home for 8 hours with whiny kids while trying to run a home based business. You’re not the master of anything
• Try to encourage the kids to be quiet (okay this is sound advice even in the 50’s. I think we can all agree on that)
• You’ve both got complaints and problems. Vent to each other and don’t play the “My day is tougher than your day” game. You’re both right. And wrong. Either way nobody wins
• Listen to each other. I’m sure you both have good topics of conversation. You may want to include the kids too. Check that. If you’re trying to talk to your spouse, the kids will include themselves…very…very loudly
• You both have a world of strain and pressure and a real need to relax. The sooner you help each other, the sooner you can both do just that
• A good wife does always know her place. So does a good husband. It happens to be the same place. Home. Be a team.

Inclusion Delusion

By Nathan Bright

The first egg goes in beautifully. No trace of shell in the mixture at all. With my speed being matched only by artistry, I blister through the kitchen confident of a timely meal that will lead into clean-up, followed by coats, then a punctual appearance to a friend's house.

"I help," says my two year old.

Her words resonate like a movie moment demonstrating fear and confusion. "Of course you will sweetie," I say. the Dad in me knows to include her in anything I can. It builds skill, confidence, and a bond between parent and child. However, the Me in me obsesses on the clock. She'll slow me down. Dinner will be late. We'll rush out the door and be tardy, again, to our function. Again.

I let her help. Eggs explode, raw meat almost in mouth, hair stuck to counter, falls off stool, cries, help stir, help wipe floor, help stir more, wipe floor more and dear-heaven-has-the-oven-been-preheating-for-an-hour-how-much-is-the-gas-bill-going-to-be?

This scenario plays out quite often. Patience in letting them help is par for the course. By letting them help we know it'll be more work for us, but they need the experience anyway. But how does this translate into other areas?

I'm a stay-at-home-dad (by choice). Our numbers are growing. Just like any non-traditional movement there's a stigma over which we'd like to hop. The "Mr. Mom" syndrome, if you will, such as the bumbling man guy who fashions duct tape into cereal bowls. As amazing as duct tape cereal bowls would be (and completely doable!) us stay-at-home-dads don't want to be pigeon-holed into being thought of as bumbling.

I know I'm great at cooking, cleaning, kid activities, multitasking, etc., but what do others think of me? My fear is I'm viewed as the two-year old and my wife is the adult. It's thought that she lets me help only to secretly clean up my mess afterward. These situations demonstrate what would come out of a child's mouth and what folks would presume comes out of the stay-at-home-dad's mouth:

Situation: Sweeping the Floor
Adult Figure and/or Wife Asks: "want to help?"
Two Year Old says: "let me walk through this pile of dirt first."
Bumbling Dad says: "I'll get the leaf blower."

Situation: Laundry
Adult Figure and/or Wife Asks: "want to help?"
Two Year Old says: "I can fit 4 bras on my head."
Bumbling Dad says: "I can fit 6 bras on my head."

Situation: Grocery Shopping
Adult Figure and/or Wife asks: "want to help?"
Two Year Old says: "take me to the toys or I'll cry."
Bumbling Dad says: "take me to the beer or I'll cry. Did you know I can fit 6 bras on my head?"

Point being - I'm not bumbling. I'm not merely included...I'm autonomous, much the way my two-year-old soon will be. I run an excellent home for the benefit of my family. My wife trust me to be productive and make good decisions. Now if you'll excuse me I need to look into that duct tape thing. And maybe fold bras.

Nathan Bright is a 30-something stay-at-home dad who resides near St. Louis, MO. He is a husband to an amazing woman and father to a doubly amazing 2 year old little girl. His blessed home is scheduled to be even more blessed in March, as Nathan and his wife will welcome a second daughter to their family. When Nathan is not blogging for OurMilkMoney.com's The Daddy's Den, he writes and illustrates his own children's books. Available for purchase immediately is Maddi Patti and her Stay-at-Home-Daddy.

OMM '10

Happy New Year! I haven't spoken to you since the calendar reset so I can still say that. Don't you hate when people are still saying Happy New Year in March though? It's like come on, dude. We're 1/3 in already. Anyway I hope your year has gotten off to a successful start. You gotta love January. Not so much for the weather but more for the fact that everybody heads into the year with the best intentions. On 1/1 everyone gets a chance for a new beginning and a fresh start. Well let me tell you about a new beginning that we can all get excited about.

Our Milk Money is heading into its 3rd year and I've never been more excited about the future of this site. I have watched OMM grow from a germ of an idea in November of '07 to the full launch in March of '08 and the movement it's helped to create since then. And from being on the inside, I can honestly say that there are things in the works that will make OMM members thrilled and make non OMM members join up. Amongst these things are an updated site, a staff of volunteers, and more publicity for your business. Don't believe me? the site is getting its own Internet radio show for God's sake. Seriously. Stay tuned for details but it's coming in February and you'll probably all be on it at some point as a guest plugging your business. By the way, just cause I was there doesn't mean I did any work. I didn't. For those that pay attention you may have noticed that my last name is the same as the owner and founder of this site. Or rather her last name is the same as mine. That's no coincidence. I am lucky enough to have been married to Ally for the last 7 1/2 years. She on the other hand is probably ready to chew her leg off and get out of this trap, but she grits her teeth and endures the pain. I do not exaggerate one iota when I say I have never seen anyone put as much passion and hard work into a project as I've seen Ally put into OMM. Blood, sweat, and tear 24/7 for the last three years. It has not always been easy. In fact let me amend that. It has NEVER been easy. This thing drove her crazy at times. Un...yeeeaaaah. I mean that literally by the way. Ask here where she spent the first weekend of June '08. She has never strayed from her original vision or purpose and is constantly looking for ways to improve and grow this site as well as your business. She is also a fantastic mother to 2 extremely demanding little boys and a wonderful wife to a grumpy third child. So believe me when I say that you are in good hands and can trust that Ally is determined to grow not only your business, but the stay at home business network until it is its own little community with a working, breathing economy. She talks about it much better than I do by the way. I just write stupid stories about Jedi shows. Anyway this year resolve to do two things. First turn to your spouse and thank them for all the hard work they do whether it's head to an office for a job or stay at home and raise a family while growing a home business. The 2nd thing? Get excited about OMM 2010. Jump on board and enjoy the ride!

Chronicles of a Stay at Home Dad

Written by Nathan Bright

My wife and I have been married five years. We were both career-oriented individuals on a good track. In the year 2006 we had life figured out; I received my master's, my wife had just gotten her foot in the door in an unusually high position at a local community college, we purchased a first home, got a dog, and I turned 30. I also got a job at a Community Center as the Director of Marketing and Recreational Programming.

Things chugged along smoothly.

We also planned on "not trying" to prevent a baby from coming. Lo and behold the stick said "pregnant" at the end of December. We were ecstatic.

 Our daughter entered the world in August 2007. That's when we discovered what life was all about (figuratively and literally).

 My wife took a full 12 weeks maternity leave and I took 2 of vacation. At the end of October our little girl was finally ready for daycare.

To sum it up - it sucked. We woke early, bustled without paying attention to much else outside the routine, said goodbye to our 3 month old for 10 hours, picked her up in the dark, bustled for a cruddy meal, bath, bed, nighttime waking, do it again. Weekends were spent trying to catch up. Little one-on-one time with baby and zero for each other.

It only took two months to realize we couldn't function as a real family. My wife and I were hardly talking (not because of anger, but just lack of time) and our daughter felt our radiating stress. We inhaled unhealthy meals and did nothing for ourselves.



I made the realization on my own to stay home. My wife's paycheck was higher than mine, plus my current pay scale had a definite ceiling. We crunched numbers till we were blue and finally decided to go for it. We saw we'd go in debt a little each month - up to about $700 for the entire year - just to make bare ends meet. In the end we decide that the sanity and health it would provide for our daughter would be well worth the money. We factored in gas for me to drive to work, daycare, and all the incidentals such as Xmas gifts for my staff, meals eaten out, etc. Operation “Career Killer” was given a green light.

 I've been at home for two years now.

People we initially told all had the same response; "Oh really, wow, that's so great for you guys," while their faces said "That's weird". While introducing me to someone, I once caught my dad saying I worked from home. Women, particularly older, would have the most empathy. Although it sounded weird to them they appreciated the toughness of the task I had before me and realized the sacrifice and value it added to our family.

 The value is enormous. I try not to judge others, but it's tough not to. I see so many other couples who have a paper family (my interpretation of those who are technically in a family but don't come close to the dynamic complexity involved - this, I feel, can only be accomplished only by spending sheer time with each other).

My wife and I have no problem with being pigeon-holed into “roles”. She works long days for the money. I do house stuff. I feel that if she’s out working hard she should come home to little to no home stresses. As such, I clean, cook, pay bills, maintain house & yard, and everything else associated with home. When she comes home we all have a sit-down healthy meal and enjoy each other’s company.

I’m a catch, I know. For dramatic effect I should say I rub her feet till she falls asleep but that’d be a fib.

Tune in next week when Nathan gives us the pros and cons of being a stay-at-home dad.

Nathan Bright is a 30-something stay-at-home dad who resides near St. Louis, MO. He is a husband to an amazing woman and father to a doubly amazing 2 year old little girl. His blessed home is scheduled to be even more blessed in March, as Nathan and his wife will welcome a second daughter to their family. When Nathan is not blogging for OurMilkMoney.com's The Daddy's Den, Nathan writes and illustrates his own children's books. Available for purchase immediately is Maddi Patti and her Stay-at-Home-Daddy.

The Housedad Interrogation

Written by Guest Blogger, Edmund Farrow

"So, are you on holiday then?"

It's the question I fear most. I never know exactly how to answer and it usually comes at an awkward moment, such as when I'm trying to break up a fight between my kids or I’m having my haircut. If I’m really unlucky, I get asked it when I'm trying to break up a fight between my kids while I'm having a haircut. This is obviously worse - difficult explanations are made so much harder when having to hiss threats at a nine-year-old as someone waves scissors around my ears. Normally, though, the question is just well-meaning small talk at the supermarket from an acquaintance or a stranger, designed to make me feel better as I extract a small child from an disastrous encounter with a cereal display.

"Actually, this is me at work," I mutter, tipping Cheerios out of my daughter's pockets. "I'm a housedad."

"Oh!?" The amiable grin on my inquisitor's face dissolves and they take an involuntary step backwards. Surprise, disbelief, pity and fear fight for control of their wildly-jiggling eyebrows as they realise they've blundered into a whole different conversation from the one they were expecting. Then they pull themselves together and remember that it's rude to stare. They try to think of something encouraging to say.

They usually fail and resort to asking, "Do you enjoy that then?"

I mean, where to begin? I get to watch my kids grow and learn. I have opportunities to play with them, teach them and delight in them that most dads can barely dream of. Do I enjoy being a housedad? Of course I do.

Then again, it can be tough going sometimes. I’ve had to watch Finding Nemo 537 times, for instance. Being a housedad is a daily parenting adventure but it's also a job.

Back in the day, when I had three children under the age of five, I was constantly busy. There wasn't time for anything much beyond looking after the kids and trying to stay sane. I regularly had to choose between sleep and time to myself. Getting enough of both was a perpetual juggling act.

The last couple of years have seen a steady improvement. Aside from the occasional nightmare, they all sleep through the night. They all know how to get dressed without assistance. Very rarely, they can even all entertain themselves at the same time and leave me in peace. It's a crazy new world of wonder I've entered. Better than that, my youngest started school this year and I have several hours to myself every day.

Unfortunately, when well-meaning acquaintances learn this, they immediately ask, "Are you thinking of going back to work then?"

Er... Did I say every day? I meant every weekday when school is on and none of my kids are sick. That's something quite different. At best, I have twenty-seven hours a week with which to pursue another vocation and that's if I leave shopping and cleaning until the weekend, don't stop for lunch and ignore any travel time. Most weeks it's more like twenty hours. Many weeks it's none.

This limits my career options.

Explaining is more trouble than it's worth, though. Everyone assumes that, as a man, I must be leaping at the chance to get out of the house and win some bread. It's only natural, after all. Personally, however, I'd rather have a lie down. I'm due several years’ worth of lunch hours as it is...

I counter by mentioning that I run a parenting website but, sadly, by this point, I'm already irredeemably marked out as 'slightly odd'.

My interrogator’s eyes narrow. "Does that make any money?"

"That's not really the point. I get to pass on what I've learnt, encourage other parents, build my self-esteem and share a few laughs."

"So, that would be a 'no' then."

"I do get free computer games."

"Really?!"

For some reason, this always impresses people enough to cover my escape. I make my excuses and leave, mumbling something about having to find my children. Then I set off in the direction of the bickering, following a trail of little old ladies who've been barged into freezer units, their rubber-soled shoes waggling out from amongst the packets of frozen peas.

Sigh...

I wonder if mums who 'only' stay home and look after their kids face the same kind of thing?

Having all three at school has brought new possibilities. That said, they still need me around an awful lot for the time being. The website (DadsDinner.com) has been going well and is hopefully the beginning of a self-employed writing career but I'm not holding my breath. I’ve got plenty to keep myself occupied – not least with ten years of chores to catch up on. Realistically, my main task for this first year of freedom is to figure out what I’m doing in the second.

Got to start back into the world of paid employment somewhere, I suppose…

Running a successful business with children around is an impressive feat. Hats off to all of you who're giving it a go.

Located in the UK, Edmund Farrow has been a housedad for nearly ten years and has three children, aged 9, 7 and 5. He vaguely remembers that he was once able to program computers. In 2007, however, he finally got fed up of being told how common housedads are these days by everyone he spoke to, despite the fact he was normally the only one they'd ever met. He decided to set up a website, DadsDinner.com, to share what being a primary carer with only one X chromosome is really like. Dadsdinner offers advice, encouragement and humour to parents, prospective parents and especially stay-at-home dads. It includes guidance on everything from potty training to surviving a zombie invasion, along with reviews of such housedad essentials as home delivery services and films with explosions. Don't tell anyone, but mums enjoy DadsDinner, too. Sometimes it gives them scary ideas about getting their men more involved in childcare. (Well, scary for the men in question, anyway...)

Hangovers, Weekends and Daylight Savings

Written by Chris Loprete

I hope you and your loved ones had a wonderful Thanksgiving and are gearing up for a safe and happy holiday season. We parents really are very lucky because seeing the joy and excitement in our children at this time of year makes us feel like kids again. It’s so much fun to be a part of isn’t it? There is one little warning I’d like to give to all of the new parents out there however. While you’re dolling yourself up to head to the office holiday party or the gift and cookie exchange party down the block or the New Year’s Eve extravaganza you’ve been waiting for all year; while you’re leaving instructions for the sitter and kissing your kids goodnight and saying, “Be good for (insert sitter’s name here), go to bed when she tells you and we’ll see you in the morning”; while you’re doing all of that remember one thing: KIDS DON’T KNOW WHAT A HANGOVER IS.
Date nights and adult gatherings are a rarity now for us ‘rents aren’t they? When one comes around and we actually envision an evening of adult conversation that doesn’t involve our child’s bathroom habits we jump at the chance faster than lions jump on a gazelle that tweaks a hamstring. Even though babysitter quotes have become outrageous (what are they, unionizing?) we’re willing to spare the extra sheckels to get an evening away. We may even have a drink or two. Even for those parents who don’t drink, that doesn’t stop you from taking full advantage of the night off and staying out a little longer than usual, right? And then after “making rather merry” we come home in the early morning hours, stumble into bed and sleep the sleep of the dead knowing that the hours we lost in the beginning of the night, we’ll make up for by sleeping all morning. And then (seemingly 5 minutes later) at 7 AM we feel a tap on our forehead and a small voice pierces our throbbing skulls saying, ”I want cereal and cartoons!” What the…? Now? Why? Don’t they know that mommy and daddy had several spirits last night and have only been asleep for 5 hours? Don’t they feel those jackhammers pounding into our cerebral cortex? Answer: no they don’t. And if they did…they probably wouldn’t care. And if you think you can just croak, “later” and turn and go back to sleep, I got news for you. Those jackhammers will increase by one. And it will get louder and louder and more and more powerful. And this one doesn’t have an off switch.
It’s not just hangovers either. You could be sober as a judge and go to bed Friday night thinking the weekend has started which means sleeping in for the next two days. And you’d be right…if “sleeping in” means getting up even earlier than your alarm usually goes off. My alarm clock is smarter than my 3 year old son. It realizes that Saturday and Sunday are non working days for me so it automatically shuts off and lets me sleep. My son saves the day though and makes sure I’m up at the EXACT time my alarm usually goes off during the week. My alarm almost shrugs and says, “Sorry, guy. I tried” My 3 year old knows the days of the week.: ”Monday, Toosday, Wenday, Fursday,…”,and he knows Daddy doesn’t work on “Satday” and “Sunday”…but hasn’t quite learned the concept of “sleeping in”. Or else he has and chooses to ignore it.

Another concept they don’t get is the two times a year when most of the country changes their clock forward or back an hour. For those in Arizona and parts of Indiana you can stop reading because you don’t change your clocks and therefore don’t have to deal with this phenomenon (freaks). The rest of the country just recently “fell back”. Now that gives us cause to rejoice because it’s an extra hour of sleep, right? Right…if you don’t have small children. Our little ones have not fallen back one minute and continue their clockwork ritual of waking us up bright and early. The difference? Instead of 7 AM it’s now 6 AM! Somehow they get themselves on track eventually, but just know that ”fall back” now refers to sleep time as in “Tonight we fall back on an hour of sleep.”

So take heed new parents. Enjoy the holidays as much as you can. Go out, see friends, and party like the old days. Just know that there will be a price to pay. Eat, drink and be merry…for tomorrow you’re up early.

More for the Dads...

We've been connecting with some great organizations that support stay-at-home dads exclusively.

We say BRAVO to these sites! Please support them with your visits:

DadsDinner.com

Daddyshome, Inc.

AtHomeDad.org

Stage Moms: The Dark Side of the Force

Written by Chris Loprete, Daddy's Den Blogger

Every parent secretly knows that their kid is the most talented in the whole world. Most of us keep that fact to ourselves. Every now and then however you see a parent that wants to make sure the whole world knows just how special their kid is. In the entertainment industry, these parents are known as stage moms. That’s not to say that dads aren’t just as bad. But we’re too busy sitting in the bleachers demanding that the Little League coach put our kid in the game because he’s a much better pitcher than the 10 year old bum currently on the mound. No, the job of dragging their reluctant or even unwilling child all around town from photo shoots to auditions usually falls to the Mom. They’re the ones telling their sons to stand up straight and say the lines correctly, chastising their daughters for rubbing their make up off or ripping her Little Miss beauty pageant sash, or yelling at casting agents because the child actress who won the part is clearly inferior to their little talented angel. My wife and I have always tried to avoid the pitfalls of the stage parent when it comes to our children. Don’t get me wrong. We’re very eager for our little bundles of talent to book a couple of national commercials and start earning their college tuition. However we assured ourselves that we would never become those parents. We wouldn’t push anything on our kids and wouldn’t push our kids on anybody. And then…
The family was headed to Disneyland on a beautiful Saturday in September. This was to be a special day. My three year old was going to be a Jedi. Disneyland has a fun live show called The Jedi Academy or something like that. A bunch of actors trained in stage combat dress up like Jedi Knights from Star Wars, bring a bunch of kids up on stage from the audience and teach them a simple sword fight with toy lightsabers. Then two actors dressed as Darth Vader and Darth Maul appear and one by one the little Jedis in training fight them off with the skills they’ve learned. It’s a fun show and the kids go crazy. My son had seen the show many times but was never eager to be a volunteer. His geeky father fixed that with a couple of viewings of Star Wars IV: A New Hope (still the best of the bunch in my nerd opinion). Now he was ready to battle the dark side and restore peace and justice to the galaxy. I must admit that there was a method to my madness in dressing him that morning. You see the Jedi select their trainees from the audience, but they can’t take everybody so you have to make sure your kid stands out. I put my boy in his Lighting McQueen shirt that flashes red and his Mickey ears with the Mickey Fantasia wizard cap on top. They couldn’t miss him.
After getting to the park the whole family quickly headed to Tomorrowland and the Jedi stage. We got there in plenty of time and sat down front row center (a primo spot to be seen). Good Lord, it was like we were camping out for concert tickets. I went to get us some lunch while my wife stayed with our three year old giving him tips for standing out in the crowd. When I returned with a large tray of food, my wife took her burger and headed to the back of the audience with our 5 month old to get him out of the way of what was about to become a circus of flailing arms and flashing swords.
The show started! The Jedi master asked for volunteers from the audience and right on cue all of the kids stood up and began jumping up and down screaming at the top of their little lungs. My boy was giving it everything he had. I was so proud. Oh sure, I egged him on a little but for the most part he was doing just fine on his own. The kid to the right of him was chosen. The kid to the left of him was chosen. The kid two down from him was chosen. Then another. Then another . Uh-oh. I started to see which way the wind was blowing. Soon my little guy was the only one screaming in his section. It’s not like Obi-Wan Disney Cast Member didn’t see him. There must have been a reason why he wasn’t being picked. Maybe he looked too young. I began to feel bad because I knew it was inevitable that he would be watching from the sidelines. And that’s when I heard it…
A high pitched yelling was piercing through the screaming and hollering of the kids and their parents. Probably no one else noticed it, but I would know that voice anywhere. That shrill scream had been directed at me many times over the last 11 years. I did a slow burn towards the back of the audience. There she was. My beautiful, sweet wife was red in the face, holding my 5 month old in one arm while pointing to my 3 year old with the other all the while screaming at the stage. “Right there! Pick him! He’s right there! What’s the matter with you?!!” (that line was my favorite). I couldn’t believe it. She was yelling louder than my kid. Hell, she was yelling louder than any kid. “Come on! Pick him! He’s one of the only kids standing there!” “Calm down!” I yelled back at her, “Are you crazy?” All of a sudden, my wife and I were having a domestic dispute over about 5 rows of people. She looked at me and then turned back to the people dining at the café behind the audience and yelled to no one in particular, “Why aren’t they choosing him?! They’re choosing everyone BUT him!” as if they had the answer as to why her precious Jedi was not wielding a light saber on stage at this very moment. Some were nodding in agreement with her (most likely out of fear), some suddenly became very interested in their fries, and some looked on in stunned silence. I turned back to my son who was still soldiering on to be one of the final kids picked. Time was running out. Then I heard that voice again. This time it was closer. I looked to my right and saw my wife halfway up the aisle now pointing to my son and still yelling, “HIM! HIM! RIGHT THERE! COME ON!” She obviously didn’t think the Jedi master heard her way in the back. Believe me…he did. “GET BACK THERE! “ I screamed. We were both putting on a truly pathetic display. Like we were in a production of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolf? Mercifully the head Jedi said, “We’ve got everyone we need. Thank you very much” My son sat down in my lap exhausted and my wife (also exhausted) slinked back to her place behind the audience. My son looked a little sad sat down on my lap and asked, “Daddy, why didn’t they choose me?” “Because you didn’t want it enough,” I snapped. No, of course I didn’t. I said, “Oh they probably didn’t see you this time. We’ll get them next time.” The little (storm) trooper shrugged, picked up a chicken nugget and started munching away happily enjoying the show. I, however, watched stoically with steam coming out of my ears wondering how I was going to punish Joan Crawford back there.
When the show ended, my son gave the other lucky Jedi trainees a standing ovation and we walked back to find my wife and 5 month old. She stood there looking at me with those soulful puppy dog eyes like she knew she was about to be hit with a rolled up newspaper. “How is he?” She asked referring to my 3 year old. “He’s fine,” I said, “I, on the other hand, am mortified” She was very apologetic and assured me that she was also horrified at her behavior. It was like she blacked out. Like the townspeople from the HBO show True Blood . She promised that it would never happen again. Even still she had to put up with my relentless teasing for the rest of the day. At one point she asked, “Do you think they didn’t pick him because of me?” “Probably” I joked. We both laughed and began to update our Facebook statuses. I remembered a big part of why I fell in love with her. She is always the first to admit when she’s done wrong and can laugh at herself about it. She has a tendency to be a Manic Mama…but she recognizes it and even embraces it at times. So I guess there’s a stage mom in all of us no matter how hard we try to avoid it. So if your kid is a Jedi in your eyes that’s good enough. Just try to keep it to yourself.

*Author’s note: A lot of stories are embellished to make the tale more interesting. Just about every writer has done it including me. That is not the case here.

My Son, The Comedian

Written by Chris Loprete

My 3 year old is hysterical. Seriously. I’m not talking about the little “oh isn’t that cute” type of laughs that an infant elicits. Nor am I talking about the courtesy laughs you give to a joke told at a cocktail party or by the elderly…or your in-laws. No, I mean every day my 3 year old son says or does something that brings a genuine belly laugh out of me. I always thought I was a big shot because I wrote and performed a one man show a few years back. That’s nothing! My kid performs a one man show every night whether it’s on our living room floor or in the bathtub. And it’s all improv. You should see what he can do with a few finger puppets and plastic dolphins. He’s named every one of his toys and not your every day run of the mill names either. He calls his rubber shark, “Rusty”. Who names a shark Rusty? Brilliant! I’m dying over here! He’s tells funnier stories than Bill Cosby, he’s a better prop comic than Carrot Top and can make a bigger mess than Gallagher. He also works blue at times. His bathroom humor would make Howard Stern blush. I’m not all that fond of his potty mouth, but I understand that he has to work in front of all kinds of audiences. I don’t know, I guess some kids at day care go for that sort of stuff. And unlike every comedian who is just starting out, he never bombs. He goes out there and kills every night.

Is he funnier than your kid? Of course he is. To me. You wouldn’t find him funny though. Just like your kid is hilarious to you, but I probably wouldn’t get it. His or her musings and observations would be lost on me while you would be rolling on the floor laughing. Why? It’s all in the material. You’ve heard the question, “Where do they get this stuff?” The answer? Us, of course. Our kids are little Dictaphones. They just spew back to us what they hear. Good and bad. Their brilliance is spewing it back to us when we least expect it. Last weekend my toddler came in to our bedroom at 7AM looked at me in bed and said with extreme disgust and contempt, “Daddy, are you asleep? Oh, I don’t believe it” Not funny right? WRONG! It’s comedy gold. Tonight he looked at me and the trash bag in my hand and innocently said, “Oh! What have you got there?” SEE? That’s funny! It’s not just what he says, but the commitment behind it. I have no idea when I, my wife, or anyone else said those words, but we must have at some point. The fact that he chose these random moments to say them back to us just shows his penchant for comic timing. And he’s not the only funny preschooler in the family. My 4 year old niece makes me howl too. And the two of them together? Abbott and Costello only WISH they were that funny. I’m also excited because my 2 month old just learned to smile. I’m sure he’s starting to mentally jot some notes down that will soon turn into some real A material.

I’m writing this down here in this forum because it’s the kind of thing that only parents can understand. We are all dying to brag or joke about every single thing our kids say and do. We have to show some restraint though. Our friends who are single and married without kids would give us a smile or a courtesy laugh (see above), but they just don’t get it. Our friends with kids would genuinely laugh, but they would be thinking, “My kid said something much more cute and funny the other day”. Don’t believe me? When you update your Facebook status with an anecdote about your child, the only comments you get are from parents who will say. “That’s funny. It reminds me of the time my little Brittney said…”

Now if you’re like me and you have a toddler, enjoy these comedy sets because they will not last. As my kid grows he will always be funny, but he’ll be a different kind of funny. The innocence and complete lack of insecurity is what makes this stage of life so magical and uproarious. So do yourself a favor before it’s too late. Turn off the TV and take time to watch the show that your kid is performing right in front of you. I guarantee it’s better than any reality show or sitcom (except for the fine programming on ABC). And at times they’ll need a straight man so make sure you can keep up.

Chris is an actor/writer living in Los Angeles. He’s performed in movies, TV and on stage with the Groundlings Improvisation troupe, and the award winning Circle X Theatre Company. He recently performed his self penned critically acclaimed one man show “You’re From Philly, Charlie Brown” in several cities across the US. Chris currently works as an Associate Writer/Producer for ABC On-Air Promos for Reality and Comedy. He lives north of Los Angeles, in Santa Clarita, with his wife and two children.

Two Comedians and a Baby Running an Internet Company in the Garage.

Writtem by Guest Blogger Chris Mancini


The title is not an exaggeration. Last year, comedian Graham Elwood and I started comedyfilmnerds.com since we were so tired of trying to get work with web companies or any other company for that matter. So we thought we should just become competitors. Of course we were doing it all ourselves and on less than a shoestring. So everything took longer and the credit card balances went up for both of us.
Our goals were ambitious. We wanted to feature movie reviews and columns written by professional comedians, interviews and comedy CDs, DVDs and books available for sale along with movie downloads. We’re a mix of Filmthreat, Amazon and ITunes. So our site was cobbled together with duct tape and off we went. And then it crashed and didn’t work. Many times. That has mostly been corrected.
Audge was on maternity leave while we started everything. We were so excited. We moved my office into the garage and that was going to be the baby’s bedroom. At first I was disappointed but if anyone with children knows, to have a room detached from the rest of the house is much more awesome than either parent will let on to the other.
So every Tuesday Graham comes over and we play “internet moguls” in the garage. We have a blast. We laugh, work, and strategize. And then we try to slowly learn how to get people to come to our website.
But my wife’s maternity leave ended and she soon went back to work and I was suddenly a stay at home dad/comedian/author/filmmaker/web guy. It’s been tough, but we’re getting through it. We’re both working double shifts as we switch off from work and childcare duties and try and get a few hours of sleep in the process. Between working on the website, finishing the book and doing an occasional show there wasn’t been much time left.
So Graham and I shifted our website schedule to later in the day and my son Griffin was now part of the mix. He would be present at the reading of the minutes and have voting rights during board meetings.
So now Griffin is almost a year old, and it’s been about a year since we launched the site. But now Griffin is crawling and he won’t stay in the “bouncy chair” whileF Graham and I struggle and take an hour to try and add a jpeg image of a T-shirt to our online shopping cart.
There are times when Graham holds the baby as I look up a purchase order or find out who Doug Benson is supposed to make a CD out to. The first time I asked him I just flat out said, “Is that weird, that I’m asking you to hold the baby?” He laughed and said no, he has many nieces and nephews and much practice. So I gave Griffin to Graham and he instantly took to him and tried to rip his necklace off. I think it was made of shark teeth or something because Graham’s a surfer and they… all fight sharks, right?
Now you expect comedians to make you laugh, get drunk, hit on waitresses and pass out in a back alley of a club somewhere. OK, we’ve all done it. But it’s a weird picture to see two comedians taking care of a baby. It’s an especially weird picture for the actual comedians.
But here’s the thing: I’ve never been happier. I’m doing my own thing. Taking care of my baby, running a business and there is no one to answer to. If I’m going to learn how to use a website content management system and learn how to use Microsoft Accounting (and I’m still learning, very slowly), I’m going to do it for me, and not anyone else.
I’m sure our company would be making millions of dollars right now if we had things like a staff and a marketing budget. And maybe a new computer. But it is making a little money, thanks to the support of comedy and film fans, comedians, filmmakers, advertisers and other people supporting us along with one intern who is trying to figure out a nice way of telling us she’s too busy to help us anymore. And of course the support from OMM during my book release (PACIFY ME: A HANDBOOK FOR THE FREAKED OUT NEW DAD) has been amazing.
We’re in the middle of rebuilding comedyfilmnerds.com (we originally called it comedyfilmnerdsdotcom.com but it was screwing up navigation and links) and my son is getting bigger. I can see the growth in every part of my life right now, and it feels good. Having children changes your perspective for the better. WAY better. And starting my own business has changed it even more. I’m not “industry obsessed” or constantly “waiting for someone to call me back” anymore. And even if I’m having a bad day, Griffin smiles at me and then it simply doesn’t matter anymore. Now about that million dollars…

Chris Mancini is a comedian and author. His first book “Pacify Me: A Handbook for the Freaked-Out New Dad” is now available for purchase. Enter to win the book for FREE!

An Open Letter To People Without Children from People with Children, Part 1

Written by guest blogger, James C. Ferguson

I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot; I don’t want to draw a line in sand separating the people with children from the people without children. I am in no way attempting to say that either group is any way better than the other. Neither am I attempting to ostracize those who have chosen to not have children (or perhaps are unable to). I don’t want to be part of a clique; nor do I want want to judge. But I do feel that there are a few things that I need to share/point out/mention/underscore.

What follows is an informal, disorganized list of points to consider when dealing with either children or people with children. Berate these points, ignore them, embrace them – I don’t care. But here they are:

A.) Toddlers are not pets.

I’ve owned cats. Cats are wonderful. Feed ‘em twice a day, make sure their water bowl is always full, give them an overpriced plastic box to pee in and some furniture to shed on and they’ll be your best friend. But even if they don’t, you can have them put down without going to jail.

I’ve also owned dogs. They entail a little more responsibility than cats – principally due to the fact that for some unknown reason having a big plastic box in your house for your dog to pee in is considered “uncouth.” (The temptation to make a joke here about FOX News is almost overpowering.) Dogs need to be walked. And that requires some scheduling. Depending on the size of the dog’s bladder, maybe it’s a couple of times a day. Maybe it’s a few times a day. Whatever it is, it’s considerably easier than the constant twenty-four hour responsibility of taking care of a toddler.

“Twenty four hours?” you say, maybe just a wee bit snidely. “Don’t they sleep?”

Sure. When they’re not waking up at three A.M. to vomit on you. And themselves. And the floor. And that pile of overpriced toys manufactured in China.

So if you’re trying to make plans with somebody who has a toddler it’s likely they’re going to say something like this:

“We’d be happy to meet you for dinner but we can only from 5 to 6 because I need to have [insert toddler’s name here] home by 6:30 for his bath so that I have time to get him into his pajamas, read to him and have him in bed by 8 because I need to be in bed by 8:30 because he’s gonna be up at 5.”

Don’t react as if they’ve just told you they collect teeth. Don’t judge. Just roll with it, savoring the fact that you’re probably not going to find food in the laundry.

Toddlers live and breathe by their schedules like the state of California lives and breathes by its taxes. (And beaches. But mostly taxes.) To make plans with somebody who has a toddler is to completely and freely give oneself up to their toddler’s schedule. If this idea bothers you and you need to pretend you’re in control of your life, I’m going to suggest waiting until [insert toddler’s name here] is in college before attempting to spend any time with [insert toddler’s name here]’s parents. The good news is that by that time, the parents of [insert toddler’s name here] will be so worn down from raising him or her that they’ll be completely beaten down (translation: malleable); thus, subjugating them to your iron will should be a snap.

To be continued …
(More letters to come … )


James C. Ferguson lives in Los Angeles with his wife, daughter and two cats. James’ novel, Context Clues, is available on Amazon.com. And his film, Happy Holidays, is available at iTunes, Indiepix, Cinemanow, Caachi and Eyesoda. Additional information can be found on the Happy Holidays MySpace and Facebook web sites.

Here’s To The Moms

Written by Chris Loprete


It’s a scenario that’s happened countless times in the last 3 years and will no doubt happen countless times more. I get home from a tiring day of work only to have my wife shove my toddler son into my arms with a heavy sigh saying, “Thank God! Here. you take him for awhile.” and suddenly my work day has been extended for a few more hours. This has caused some very intense…uh…discussions between my wife and I. I thought why the heck should I have to pull double duty? I’m exhausted too. Can I sit and enjoy some mindless television entertainment for a few hours before I have to go out into the cold, cruel, working world again? It’s not that we don’t love our little boy or that he’s some kind of problem child. He’s my best friend and very well behaved (most of the time). It’s just that I didn’t get why my wife’s day was sooo much more exhausting than mine. I was the one getting up early, sitting in traffic and dealing with bosses, deadlines and the pressures of providing for my family. What’s so tough about occupation: homemaker?

Before all the ladies up and through this place start hatin’ on me, let me make my point which is this: Ooooooooh. I get it. See I’ve been a stay at home dad, Mr. Mom, “manny”, or whatever you want to call it for the last 2 weeks. My wife just gave birth to our 2nd little boy. Thank you. He’s the most beautiful baby that’s ever been born in the history of time. You heard me. My job has essentially been to cook, clean, chauffer, entertain and otherwise occupy our 3 year old son while my wife takes care of our newborn. So I’ve had a glimpse of what my better half does during the day for very little thanks and essentially no pay. Wow. There’s a reason why society dictates that the men go off to work every day. If it were up to us to raise the kids, they’d all be wearing pajamas, eating cheese sandwiches and watching Sportscenter all day. They should make a movie about a dad staying at home with his kids. Maybe get Michael Keaton to star in it. What? Really? When? Oh, I‘ll have to check it out.

Actually if I do say so myself, I’ve done an excellent job these past two weeks. But by 8:30 at night, I am 10 times more tired than I am after a normal day at the office. For instance I promise never to scoff when my wife tells me about her disastrous shopping trip to Costco with our son. Last week I treated the other shoppers to the wacky physical comedy of trying to maneuver a shopping cart filled with bulk groceries while chasing a 3 year old sprinting towards the hot dog booth. Trying to turn that cart quickly is like steering an ocean liner. No wonder the Titanic hit that iceberg. Yesterday I took my kid to Disneyland. By myself. Some friends from work said, “Geez. Aren’t you having the time of your life while we’re slaving away back here at work?” I say to them, “Think so? Wanna trade places for a day?” I do believe my wife has said the exact same thing to me during those intense discussions I was talking about before.

So raise a glass to the moms, guys. Out of the whole year they get ONE day set aside for them and it’s coming up. Make sure it’s a good one. They’ve earned it. Here’s to your mom, my mom, and the mothers of our children. And the next time your wife says, “I need a break.” believe me…she does.

And just because I can’t leave well enough alone, a note to the dads: Take heart. Our day is coming next month and we’ve earned it too.

Bridge of Exhaustion

Written by Chris Loprete

Every summer during my childhood my family would drive 7 hours south to North Carolina from Pennsylvania. On the way we would have to cross over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, a 17 mile long bridge that spans the picturesque Chesapeake Bay, in Virginia. There are 2 places along the span where the bridge goes under water and turns into a tunnel. It always looks so foreboding from the northern side. You can’t see the end of it and the bridge just disappears into water in 2 places. When we were halfway across, I always thought, “If this thing goes, we’re in real trouble.” and, “How do they get traffic through if there’s an accident? We could be here for hours.” Then when we got to terra firma on the other side, I always realized that I had just experienced the most thrilling part of the 7 hour trip and actually looked forward to that part of the drive every summer. Well, lately I’ve been feeling like I’m halfway across another bridge. This bridge is a “transitional” bridge with the young adult starting a family on one side and the middle aged family man on the other. Like the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, its long, I can’t see the other side and I may even go under water a couple of times. But I know that I really should relax, enjoy the ride and be confident that a sandy beach waits for me up ahead. To tell you truth though, I’m just plain exhausted.

I quote the late, great Madelaine Khan from Blazing Saddles, ”I’mmm soooo tired.” (cue the chorus of German soldiers). Now if you’re reading this blog, most likely you’re a mommy or daddy which means you’re saying, “Yeah. Cry me a river, dude. We’re all tired.” I KNOW! I’m not telling you anything you don’t know. I’m just telling you my own experiences. That’s why these blogs are so brilliant and relatable. I truly am a magnificent talent. Anywho…

I’m the happiest I’ve been in a year. I don’t want you to mistake my exhaustion for depression. And I’m not even THAT tired currently…although I was literally up all night nursing my wife through the granddaddy of all migraines so I guess I AM exhausted at this exact moment. Generally speaking though, I am not really that worn out. Still last Monday morning I woke up looking at another work week and I almost collapsed in the shower for some reason. I just started to anticipate the coming months and years and how draining it was going to be. We’re 6 weeks from giving birth to our 2nd child…a boy... who has a 3 year old brother…who has boundless energy. I’m truly excited for the arrival of the newest member of our club and am not half as scared I was when we had our first son, BUT I’m also anticipating the work that accompanies another infant and toddler. In addition we just put our house on the market which means it’s very possible that someone could make an offer soon. That would mean we would have about 4 weeks to find another place, pack up and move….and I told you about the baby coming in 6 weeks right? Well, it’s probably more like 4. So while I’m driving my wife to the hospital, I can say to her, “Okay hon, but let me stop and drop a couple of boxes off at the new home first.” To top it all off I have a creative job that I LOVE and while it is far from digging a ditch or working on the freeway, it is constantly busy and mentally draining. And of course I’m hoping that I will keep working my way up the ladder which means more responsibilities and harder deadlines.

Am I really writing a blog about being tired? Geez. Tune in next month for my compelling blog entitled, I’m Hungry!
I guess my point is this. When does it start to get easier? Or does it? Growing up, I never saw my parents sweat. Everything just seemed to be settled and pretty easy. A nice home, vacations, clothes on our back and food on our table. Were they just protecting us kids from their tough times and stressful worries? It’s very likely. I guess that’s one of the many perks of being a kid. So I guess my situation isn’t any different than normal families. It’s just that I want so badly to give my kids everything I had and never make them feel guilty or even let them see me work hard for it. I don’t think there’s a time in the foreseeable future when that will happen. I’m tired of struggling. I’m tired of working at settling down. I want to BE settled. When Braden was first born I had a difficult time crossing the bridge to fatherhood, but now that I’m on the other side, I love it and I’m ready to live that life fully. When can we start saving money instead of living paycheck to paycheck? When can we take a family vacation? When do my wife and I start getting invited to those fun suburban key parties like the ones they had in the 70’s?
(KIDDING!!!! Please don’t hate me for that last one. It was time for a joke.)
When do I join the middle class for real? I can’t blame it on the recession either. My wife and I have always worked in the entertainment industry. We’ve been in a recession since the day after our college graduation. I am so incredibly fortunate that I’m married to my best friend, have the greatest little boy in the world (better than yours. sorry), have a roof over my head and a job (to say nothing of the fact that I’m in the rare situation of having a job that I enjoy!) So don’t get me wrong. I count my blessings every day. I’m just….ready to get to the other side of the bridge. And really tired.

How I Knew Not to Take My Four Year Old to see Coraline.

Written by Guest Blogger, Chris Mancini

I read the book a few years ago. I knew what it was about. I knew the director Henry Selick has a dark streak and directed Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas. To be honest, I couldn’t wait for this movie to come out. When my four year old daughter Bella saw the trailer she wanted to see the movie. I told her no, it would be too scary.
Now, you would have no idea of that from the trailer. It shows happy scenes and a little bit of danger. Standard kid fare, right? Not even close. Coraline is an animated gothic horror nightmare for children. In 3D. And it’s well, great. But I’m not going to let my daughter see it for at least a few more years. But at the time of the trailer I hadn’t even seen it myself yet, so how did I know? Because I knew the source material and I knew who the people involved were who made the movie, and I noticed the PG rating, although after seeing it, it was really a borderline PG-13.
The book was terrifying. Especially if you’re a parent. It’s about a little girl who disappears through a small door in their new home and meets her “other” mother and father who are much nicer to her, at first. The problem is they have dead black buttons for eyes. The creepiness is lightened slightly for the movie, but not much, that’s for sure. And to be truly effective, it shouldn’t have been. I was very impressed. But as a parent, it doesn’t help you how good a movie is if it’s inappropriate for your children. Your kid may like video games and enjoy Mario Kart but you don’t want them going to Vegas and playing video poker, do you? Technically, still a video game.
As usual, trailer editors and marketing departments have no idea what the content is that they’re trying to sell. So it’s up to us parents to not only filter content but to now also adjust for big studio incompetence as well. As if we didn’t have enough to do.
So know your books, know your shows and know your movies. And look, if you get stuck or miss something, just as me or any other parent who always seems to be talking about Aqua Teen Hunger Force or Battlestar Galactica. Trust me, we’ll know.
Coraline is an absolutely fantastic movie and I can’t recommend it enough. It will soon be a classic up there with the Nightmare Before Christmas. See it in 3D for the full effect. Just don’t take your little kids. Seriously. Don’t. Get a babysitter and leave them home with Wall-E.

Chris Mancini is a comedian and author. His first book “Pacify Me: A Handbook for the Freaked-Out New Dad” will be out June 2, just in time for Father’s day.http://www.daddyneedssomealonetime.blogspot.com/

Thanks. I got it.

Written By Chris Loprete

Why is it that when women see a father alone with a baby, they immediately assume we don’t know what the hell we’re doing? Now I don’t want to generalize here. I’m not talking about single women. In fact the single women tend to gravitate towards the daddies at the park or in other public places. Chicks LOOOOVE guys with babies. Babies and dogs. They say, “I want that.” Now of course we men are kidding ourselves because ‘that” is not specifically us, but rather a stable man who’s a good father, and the fantasy is fun. Anyway I’m probably already in trouble with my editor who happens to be my wife (and the two are very rarely mutually exclusive) so I’ll go on. No, I’m talking about the annoying mother who wants to give all kinds of unsolicited advice on how to raise your child. And rightly so. OBVIOUSLY I MUST need this unsolicited advice because my child’s mother is nowhere in sight. I therefore MUST be doing something wrong. And then, I imagine this “guardian angel” will go along her merry way and later at the dinner table tell her family how she saved a child’s life today.

Take this little encounter for example. It was a summer Saturday afternoon about two years ago. I was in my townhouse downstairs and my wife was upstairs with our infant son. I was watching a baseball game and cleaning. The cleaning part is not important to the story but I specifically remember doing it and I always like to remind my wife/blog editor that it does happen on rare occurrences. Anyway I could hear my son crying upstairs pretty loudly. He was probably getting his diaper changed which to him has always been the baby equivalent to a root canal. There was a knock at the door. When I answered it I saw a woman who was walking her dog in front of our door. She asked, “Do you have a baby?”
“Why yes” I said waiting for the inevitable compliment. Something along the lines of, I see you walking him. You have a lovely family. or Well, he’s obviously going to grow up to be a very good looking man. Why else would she take the time out of her dog walking to knock on our door?
This is why: She looked at me and said, “He’s crying upstairs.”
I paused to make sure I had heard her right. Then I said, “Yeah, my wife’s upstairs with him.”
She replied, “Oh, I heard the game on pretty loudly so I wasn’t sure you if could hear him”
Yyyeeeeahhh. Handled, honey but thanks. I’m sure the children of our housing complex are a lot safer with you roaming the sidewalks knocking on doors. Hey hero, I think I hear a baby coughing a couple of houses down. Do you want to call child services or should I?
Or how ‘bout the woman on the beach later on that same summer? I was walking on the beach, my son safely strapped into the front loader on my chest. I felt good. First of all the Baby Bjorn completely covered my huge gut so I wasn’t nearly as self conscious as usual. And secondly, it was a beautiful day and I was walking with my new son at the place I’m always the happiest: the beach. So when I saw a woman walking toward me and eyeing both of us, I started to feel even better. I was sure she could sense the good energy coming off of me and like I said the baby was covering up my huge white shirtless girth so I thought Hey, I think she’s checking me out.
So when she passed by and asked, “Does he have sunscreen on?” I was a bit nonplussed. First of all I had practically bathed him in SPF 560 or whatever the strongest baby sun goop is nowadays. This kid could have crawled across the surface of the sun and come away with nothing but a nice base.
So I told her, “Uh….yeah…plenty.”
She replied, “Oh. Cause his legs look a little red.” and passed by me never breaking her stride.
I immediately turned and shouted after her, “Yeah? Well they call his chubby legs and butt baby fat. They call yours cellulite!” ZING! That got her. Of course I didn’t actually say that but ooooh I wish I had.

And these brilliant pieces of parenting wisdom are not confined to just me when I’m alone. My wife has had to endure some slings and arrows of her own. It’s like divide and conquer. Once my wife and I are divided, they love to conquer. I don’t ever want to hear a sentence that starts with, “Y’know what WE do…” I don’t even like hearing it from our parents, but that I understand and tolerate because “parental interference” is in the grandparent’s code book. It’s a God given right. To tell you the truth as my wife and I get ready for baby #2, we’ve learned to tolerate buttinskys a little more. In fact I’m amazed how laid back we are about having another child and we’re only 3 months out. I guess we think of ourselves as old pros now. In fact it probably won’t be long before we’re handing out some advice of our own to other parents who obviously don’t have a clue what they’re doing. I’m sure they’ll thank us for it.