Over at ManOfTheHouse.com, they’re running an interesting elimination bracket.  Giants are facing off against each other to see who is the best of their group.  No, I’m not talking about sports teams going head to head.  I’m talking about such giants as Keaton, Seaver, Winslow, Micelli, Huxtable, and Foreman.  Yes, they have pit 32 TV dads in head to head competition.

You can head on over to the “World’s Greatest TV Dad” contest and vote for your favorite in each of the two dad matchups.  Each week, one dad will triumph over the other and half of the competitors will be eliminated.  The remaining dads will face each other again and again until only one is left.

Already some dads have been eliminated, including one of my favorites.  Before this contest, if you asked me who was the best TV dad to use as a role model, I’d have said Cliff Huxtable.  It’s clear that Cliff, for all the goofy things he says and sarcasm he tosses out about his ever-growing household, loves his kids.  He works hard to provide the best for them and wants to see them be the best they can possibly be.

However, for all of Cliff’s benefits, there’s another TV dad that I might hold in higher esteem.  This dad was very ahead of the curve when it comes to dad trends.  Of course, I’m talking of Tony Micelli from “Who’s The Boss.”  Tony was a single dad of modest means.  He took a job as a live-in housekeeper to give his daughter a better environment to grow and learn.  His job entailed cooking and cleaning; jobs that were not widely considered “things dads do” in the early 80’s.

To me, Micelli’s dedication to provide the best possible life for his daughter, coupled with his bending of cultural and gender stereotypes makes him a great TV dad role model in my book.

Disclaimer: I wrote this review while participating in a blog tour campaign by Dad Central Consulting on behalf of P&G and received promotional items to thank me for taking the time to participate.

Yesterday, the rain held off.  It was the perfect time to catch up on some yard work that needed to be done.  I mowed the lawn, put down some grass seed (our lawn still hasn’t recovered from the burst water pipe last year), trimmed some hedges, and potted some plants we had purchased the previous day.

While I was doing this, the boys were inside with B.  They could have come out, but they don’t like the noise that the lawn mower puts out.  JSL, who came out for a little bit, freaked out that every small flying bug was a bee coming after him.  Besides, I had set up NHL on my computer and he was having a blast playing Angry Birds, Gravity Duck and other games online.

So I had the time to myself.  It was nice.  I had peace and quiet and could think while I lugged heavy bags of dirt or pushed our mower up and down the yard.  I began to enjoy my “Dad’s Day Out” until it hit me.  This *was* the closest thing to a dad’s day out that I’ve had in awhile and I was doing yard work.  Some day out.

I began to think about how I’d rather spend a day out by myself.  Suppose B came up to me and told me that, this coming Sunday, she would take the boys and I could do whatever I wanted.  What would I do?

I don’t have any family or friends here and it often feels like I switch between “Worker Mode” (where I’m in an office all day with little to no social interaction beyond “we need you to do this for us”) straight to “Dad Mode” (where I try to cook meals, take care of my wife and kids, clean up, etc).  If I’m not in “Worker Mode” or “Dad Mode”, who am I?  Who is TechyDad when he’s not coding web sites or being a dad?  I’m not sure I have an answer for that question and it scares me.  I love being a web developer and I love being a dad, I don’t think it is too much to ask to be able to be “just me” from time to time. 

The dream I had last night isn’t helping my mood, either.  I was with B and my parents visiting my grandparents’ grave site.  Only, I didn’t know exactly where it was.  Somehow, I got separated from everyone.  As I tried to find them and the gravesite, they visited the grave and then prepared to leave.  I tried to explain to them (via cell phone) that I still needed to visit the grave, but they told me they’d leave without me if I didn’t get to the car.  Then, B came by to bring me back to the car over my objections.  I was almost in tears over being denied the opportunity to visit my grandparents’ grave when I woke up.

I’m not sure if the dream is somehow related to the “Who am I” feelings from the previous day, but this wouldn’t be the first time that I dreamt about something bothering me.  Between yesterday’s identity crisis and this morning’s bad dream, you’ll excuse me if I’m feeling emotionally on edge today.

Today, over on TheAngelForever.com, B is recounting the story of her mom field trip with Christina from CutestKidEver to see Rene Syler (aka Good Enough Mother).  But what of the flip side?  What did the boys and I do while B went on her road trip?  Well, the boys and I had our own fun times.

As you may remember, I was undecided on whether or not I should go to Free Comic Day.  After B left, I made my decision: We were going.  I armed the kids with their Green Lantern rings from our Green Lantern party, got them into the car and headed over to Zombie Planet.

I had heard that the 501st, a group of Star Wars fans who dress up like Stormtroopers, would be there.  NHL was excited to see “costumes.”  Ever since Disney, he’s gone costume-crazy.  He must meet (and get his photo with) any costumed character who is anywhere near him.  He was not disappointed.

We got out of the car and there, in front of the store, was a single Stormtrooper.  He was joined by a Tusken Raider.

The Tusken Raider would occasionally make a growling sound (like the one that the movie Tusken Raider made as he stood over Luke Skywalker).  This scared NHL off from getting his photo taken with the Tusken Raider.  So we went indoors and proceeded upstairs to the free comics section.

Unlike last year, when it was “take as many as you like”, there was a 5 comic per person limit.  I had gone online the previous days to Free Comic Book Day’s website to see which comics would be available.  This meant that I knew just which comics were the best for my boys and which should be skipped.  The only complaints from the boys came when NHL looked out the window and spied Spider-Man.  He insisted that we *HAD* to go outside right now to meet the web slinger.

I explained to NHL that we needed to check out (even we had nothing that we were being charged for).  Besides, I had brought some Phineas and Ferb action figures that needed peg stands.  I hoped that the comic shop would be able to help.  (Sadly, they didn’t have what I needed.)

Finally, we left the comic shop and NHL immediately approached Spider-Man for a photo.

Then, I made a Geeky Daddy decision.  NHL was wearing a Green Lantern ring.  Green Lanterns Hal Jordon was supposedly “born without fear.”  So I couldn’t very well let him leave afraid of the Tusken Raider, could I?  I’d have been deducted 30 Geek Points!

I spoke with him about it and he finally agreed to get his photo taken.

After that, we headed home for lunch and some comic book reading.

Once the boys were fed, I decided that it was too nice of a day to be couped up indoors.  So we grabbed some of our colossal cannons and headed out to play.

Eventually, NHL had a bright idea.  His great-grandmother had given them some butterfly nets, but NHL thought they’d make great colossal cannon disc catching nets.  And they did!

Our next door neighbor’s daughter, N, also came over and played with the boys for quite awhile.  Eventually, they tired of chasing after green discs and wanted to play with bubbles.  Cue the Winnie the Pooh bubble blower!

They also wanted to play with chalk and I eventually relented.

I noticed the skies were getting dark and warned the boys that we might have to go inside soon.  Besides, B’s return time was getting closer and closer.

As B pulled up, I hurredly gathered the chalk and got the boys (and N) off our driveway.  The boys said goodbye to N and hello to B.  Then, as we walked in, the heavens opened up.  Perfect timing!

The boys and I had a fun day together and B had a nice Mommy Road Trip.  I’d call that a win all around!

Yesterday, I chronicled our journey through the body.  Along the way, I highlighted some pretty gross photographs that I took.  Becoming a parent has changed my life in many ones.  One of the biggest surprises was how my idea of what constitutes “gross” has shifted.

Back before we knew that B was pregnant for the first time, we did the “test the pee, see if you’re pregnant” test.  This particular test required B to pee in a cup and then hold the stick in the pee for a minute.  Since B had the job of actually peeing in the cup, it became my assigned task to hold the stick in the pee-cup.

Standing there, with a cup of urine in my hands, I felt wave after wave of nausea hit me.  The smell, sight and just plain idea of holding someone else’s pee make my stomach (and a few other internal organs) turn.  Luckily, I didn’t succumb to the nausea.  Even better, the test came out positive.

Fast forward a few years.  Did the idea of someone else’s pee in my hands disgust me?  Not at all.  In fact, I was quite comfortable relaying stories of the Day of the Seven Diaper Diaper Change (where NHL filled up diaper after diaper as quickly as we could change them) or of the Great Projective Pooping Incident (where his poop shot out 4 feet and then covered a span of rug stretching another 4 feet, timed right when we needed to head out to see a house).  I could even discuss these subjects in the middle of lunch (and be amused at the reactions of the non-parents within earshot).

My Aloha Friday question for today is: Has being a parent changed your definition of what “gross” is?

Thanks to Kailani at An Island Life for starting this fun for Friday. Please be sure to head over to her blog to say hello and sign the McLinky there if you are participating.

Aloha #82

JSL adores his older brother.  He looks up to and emulates him whenever possible.  Lately, however, this has become a problem.  You see, JSL has been picking up on things that get his brother in trouble and mimicking them.  This is nothing new, mind you, he’s been doing this for as long as he was able to parrot his brother’s actions.  However, in the past, he wasn’t really punished for them.  How do you send a 1 year old to time out for doing something his brother does?

Now that JSL’s nearing 4, he’s getting a good lesson in the meaning of the word “consequences.”  Saying you don’t want to eat what’s been served (after I went out of my way to make you what you asked for)?  Don’t expect to get dessert and don’t expect me to make a second dish.

JSL will see his brother declare that he doesn’t want to eat what’s served and then turn around and demand dessert.  As if having dessert is a right all kids have guaranteed by the Constitution: “We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide M&M Cookies to all kids…”

Even though this tactic doesn’t work for NHL (“I’m full.” “Ok, then leave the table.” “I want dessert!” “Ok, then you must be hungry enough to eat your food.”), JSL still sees his brother using the tactic.  And since JSL not only must copy his brother, but out-do him, he turns into Mister Uber-Picky Eater.  Foods that he will scarf down multiple servings of one day will get a reaction as if they were yuckiest dish imaginable the next day.

JSL sees NHL eat his pizza by peeling off the cheese.  So JSL peels off the cheese on his pizza.  However, while NHL eats his cheese after finishing off the crust/sauce section, JSL turns his nose up on the cheese.  The same cheese that he devoured when I gave him a few slices before baking the pizza.

JSL also picks up on noises and phrases NHL uses.  NHL, from time to time, will make an annoying “nyah nyah” sound.  Mainly to JSL, he knows better than to make it to us.  JSL, though, has no such fear apparently.  He “nyahs” at us over and over until he winds up in his bed crying.

You might remember last Friday when I blogged about NHL’s fear of dying.  Since that day, nearly every night as the boys go to sleep.  I’ve had to confront “I’m afraid I’m going to die.”  Not from NHL, mind you, but from JSL.  It’s clear that JSL has no concept of what “dying” is.  Unlike NHL, he’s never known someone close to him who passed away.  All JSL saw is that NHL said “I’m afraid of dying” and Mommy and Daddy consoled him and he got to stay up a little later.  He’s clearly trying to stay awake just awhile longer.  (This isn’t a cry for attention because the “afraid of dying” will come along with repeated drink requests, declarations that he isn’t tired, repeated questions on semi-random topics, and various other delaying tactics.)

JSL can be the sweetest kid in the world.  I love that he insists on being my helper (even when we don’t need help) and I love his “kiss attacks”, but there are times when it seems like “Intentionally Annoying JSL” is out an about too much and taking too many notes from his older brother.

By now, you’ve probably heard about Amy Chua.  She’s the woman who wrote Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior and the book “Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother.”  I’ve already written about Amy Chua’s parenting style over at DadRevolution.com.  So why would I write about her again?  Well, for two reasons.

The first reason is that I’ve learned some new information about the “Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior” article.  Apparently, Amy’s editors took the excerpt that she had prepared and changed it around without consulting her.  In Mother, Superior? over at SFGate.com, Amy says

"The Journal basically strung together the most controversial sections of the book. And I had no idea they’d put that kind of a title on it. But the worst thing was, they didn’t even hint that the book is about a journey, and that the person at beginning of the book is different from the person at the end — that I get my comeuppance and retreat from this very strict Chinese parenting model."

To me, this is huge.  This turns her narrative from one of “I was extremely strict with my kids and you’re weak for not doing it too!” to one of “I was extremely strict with my kids and realized this was a mistake.”  Even if she didn’t completely abandon “the Chinese parenting model” (as she calls it), it is always a huge step for a parent to admit to making a mistake.

Every parent is guilty of not being perfect.  (And the one or two that are perfect are guilty of annoying the rest of us with their perfection.)  However, we as parents need to learn from our mistakes and the mistakes of our parents.  When I first read Amy’s article, I thought “Wow, I have problems with my father but nothing like this.”  Now, I’m thinking that the better comparison is my mother’s mother.

Granny (as she insisted on being called as I called her that once when I was young), was quite… opinionated.  She had her view and was right about it.  Even if she said the sky was red and you said it was blue, you were wrong and she was right.  She also made no attempt to hide that my mother’s sister was her favorite child.  (Even after my aunt ran away from home and was disowned she was still the favorite.)

She also had this way of not raising her voice and yet shredding your self-esteem to pieces until you felt like you were two inches high.  When my father’s dad passed away, my father – following Jewish tradition – didn’t shave for awhile.  My mother’s parents came to visit and, seeing my father in a beard for the first time, said “You look ugly in that!”  My father, in a display of temper-checking that would have impressed Ghandi, said “Hello to you too.”

At one point, my mother decided she had had enough.  She sat her parents down and told them.  She spilled her guts out about all the hurt they had caused and all of the pain she felt from their words and actions.  What did my Granny do?  She laughed.  Apparently, she thought it was funny that my mother felt so hurt.

Some people assume it is inevitable that we become our parents, but my mother taught me differently.  I saw how my Granny acted and I saw my mother actively strive to NOT be her mother.  She learned from the mistakes her parents made and changed.  She did an exceptional job and I’m so happy for this.

When my Granny passed away, my mother was distraught.  Not just over her mother’s passing but because she was expected to speak at the funeral.  For the life of her, my mother couldn’t think of one nice thing to say about her own mother.  Thanks to my mother learning from her parents’ mistakes, I know that I’ll have plenty of nice things to say.  (Still, I hope to not have to say them in that particular setting for a long, long, LOOOOONG time!)

My parents were far from perfect, but they did the best job they could.  I’m not perfect either, but I’ll do the best I can do as well.  I’ll correct the mistakes my parents made, but will also know that I’ll make my own mistakes.  If I see them in time, I’ll correct these.  Otherwise, I hope that NHL and JSL correct them when it is time for them to raise their own children.  Amy’s daughter will hopefully do the same as well.

There are moments during parenting when you stop and think “Nothing anyone ever told me could prepare me for this moment.” We had one of those moments tonight. After NHL’s 7th birthday party (more on that in another post), NHL was laying on the floor watching TV. JSL decided to lay on top of his brother to give him a hug. Then, he moved so he was using his brother as a bench. Finally, he decided to change his seat… right to NHL’s face! Yes, JSL was trying to sit his rear end on his brother’s face.

I told JSL not to sit on there as B, looking up as the sight, asked “Did he fart on his brother’s face?”

Apparently, NHL took this question as a suggestion because he said, “JSL, fart on my face!”

B and I couldn’t stop laughing. I ask you, how could you possibly be prepared for an unexpected requested head fart?

Long ago, I learned the fine art of presenting a solid exterior to the world.  I was bullied relentlessly and any emotions I showed regarding this only brought more bullying upon me.  So I clammed up.  I hid my pain and anger from the world (except for my closest friend) and pretended as if I were a brick wall.  No matter how much I felt like my entire world was crashing down around me, I made it look like I was the most solid person in the room.  Or, at least, I tried my best to make it seem that way.

In college, all I wanted was to be "normal."  Everyone around me was dating so I wanted to date.  I had no idea how to go about this so I clumsily made my way through those four years with a solid exterior/crumbling within.  Every person holding hands, every quick kiss in the hallway, every conversation about significant others chipped away at me inside.  I had a few breakdowns, a few times when I let my crumbling exterior show, but I would erect a new "solid exterior" the first chance I got.

Fast forward to the present day.  As I posted on DadRevolution.com, NHL has been diagnosed with some behavioral issues.  We strongly believe that I share these issues.  In other words, he inherited them from me.  Add this to the growing list of "Ways I’ve Screwed Up My Son’s Life Through Genetics."  Intellectually, I know this isn’t my fault.  It’s not like I said "Hey, here’s this bad gene, let’s send that on to the baby.  Here’s a good gene, we’ll hold that back."  Still, I find myself blaming myself for all of this.

Going back to the bullying.  I always figured that it was a quirk of circumstance.  Kids bullied me and so I became an introvert and so kids bullied me more.  But what if it was the other way around?  What if I was introverted because of these behavioral issues and *THEN* kids picked up on it and bullied me?  It might seem like a small technicality, but it is huge to me.

If it was the first one, a quirk of circumstances, then NHL stands a fighting chance of not being bullied like I was.  Of not going through the living hell that I went through day after day after day.  If, instead, it is all traceable to behavioral issues, which NHL has inherited from me, I may have genetically doomed him to the same torture I encountered.  I still feel pain thinking about high school, even though I graduated 17 years ago.  How can I not feel some pain at dooming him to this same fate?

And yet, even now, I put up that solid exterior.  I’m a brick wall, able to take anything thrown at me, at least that’s how I like the world to see me… until I come crumbling down.

I was recently alerted to an article that Momlogic had posted titled “10 Reasons Why Father Doesn’t Know Best.” Going in, I knew it was going to contain stereotypes that paint all men as ignorant slobs who don’t do any real parenting. I was quite surprised at the list, though, especially because it was posted to coincide with Father’s Day last year. I felt the need to make a rebuttal. Not a point-by-point, mind you as some don’t apply to me (don’t have a daughter) but more to the general point of the article that dads are idiots who probably shouldn’t be allowed within 5 miles of any kid.

Dresses the kids in flip-flops and shorts on a 45-degree day. (When the thermometer hits 100, he sends them out in fleece.)

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not a fashion expert. I’ve been known to wear (or let my kids wear) clothing that clashes horribly. There’s a reason my dress clothes are divided into “Matches with Black” and “Matches with Brown.” Still, I understand basic temperature issues. I wouldn’t knowingly send my kids out in clothing inappropriate for the outside temperatures. That said, B dresses the kids most days because I know my limits. I stink at matching clothes so she dresses them. Of course, I pick up the slack elsewhere (as you’ll see later on). Parenting is about being a team. Each person on the team will have strengths and weaknesses and you need to cover each other on the weaknesses so the team stays strong.

Thinks “quality time” with his kid means watching “Jackass: The Movie” with his six-year-old son.

I’ll admit that I love spending quality time with my sons watching TV. I’ve gotten NHL hooked on Ben 10 and he loves when the DVDs arrive from Netflix because it means that we’ll sit on the couch together and see more of Ben’s adventures. I do other things with him (like making a board game, more on that in another post), but this is something I can do with him during the often hectic workdays when I only get free time long after he’s in bed. Of course, I know the limits of watching TV with my boys. Most times, it’s a kids show and I love watching that. When they venture into my shows, I’d make sure it’s a good show and I try to work in morals. For example, if we’re watching Batman, I point out how Batman is trying to solve problems with his brains and not just with his fists. I definitely wouldn’t let them watch something like “Jackass: The Movie.” (Putting aside, for now, the fact that I’d never watch “Jackass: The Movie” even if the little ones weren’t there.)

When left alone with the kids to make dinner, serves cinnamon rolls on paper towels as the main course.

Dinner at my house is nearly always prepared by me. This isn’t to say that B can’t cook, but I actually enjoy it. Remember that whole strengths and weaknesses thing before? Well, cooking’s my strength so that is one area where I pick up slack from my weaknesses areas. The only way I’d be serving cinnamon rolls on paper towels would be if I just cooked them myself and even then not for dinner. (Dessert, maybe.) You can look through some of my Cooking With TechyDad posts to see some of the dinners I’ve made. Yes, MomLogic, some dads cook!

Nearly gets in a head-on collision with another shopping cart when playing “race car with your toddler in the driver’s seat.”

I’ve been known to get carried away while playing with my kids. Sue me for enjoying playing with them. Of course, I know the limits and wouldn’t put them in dangerous situations, but still she seems to be decrying all dads for what was likely a momentary lapse in judgement. (I guess perfect moms like MomLogic never have lapses in judgement while all us dads are idiots.)

Insists on wearing his “World’s Best Dad” T-shirt, even when it’s filthy.

Was the “World’s Best Dad” shirt given to him by his kids? Perhaps there’s a sentimental reason behind his desire to wear it that is overriding the dirty nature of the shirt. Yes, dads have emotions beyond “want to watch sports”, “want more beer” and “want sex.”

Instead of giving the kids a bath, he hoses them down in the backyard.

As with cooking, giving baths is “my job.” They behave for me during their tubs. Yes, MomLogic, I use the tub. I also use soap, shampoo and washclothes. I get behind the ears and dry them when they’re done. The only time I’d consider a hose down in the backyard would be if they were somehow so filthy that they would track too much dirt in the house. Even then, the backyard-hose-down would be a temporary measure. Its sole purpose would be to get the kids clean enough to enter the house where they would proceed directly to the tub. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.

Actually believes “father knows best.”

I don’t believe that “father knows best” all the time but neither do I believe that mother knows best always. More like mothers and fathers are a team and should work together to raise the kids. If you are actively undermining the father (or vice versa – if a father actively undermines the mother), then there’s something seriously wrong. First of all, it puts more strain on mom. Mom won’t trust dad to do anything and will try to do everything herself. She’ll constantly see the relationship as her and her kids plus that useless guy who just gets in her way. That’s not a recipe for a successful partnership.

It’s going to filter down to the kids as well. Kids pick up on these kinds of things and they’ll start wondering why they should listen to dad when he says not to do something. After all, he’s just an idiot, right? Mom says so all the time. So why listen to him at all.

In the end, if MomLogic’s husband epitomizes her top 10 list, perhaps he’s an idiot. There are idiot men and idiot women. They’re idiots because they’re idiots, not because of a certain chromosome. By all means, rail against him. I’ll back her up and tell him to man up and be a real partner in their team. But to condemn all dads as idiots who don’t know the first thing about parenting is to condemn 50% of the parents out there based on one guy’s actions.

I urge MomLogic to rethink her article. Imagine the hoopla that would ensue if I penned a similar post titled “10 Reasons Why Mother Doesn’t Know Best” which painted all mothers as idiots who don’t know how to be parents. I’d (rightfully) be strung up over it. Why is it acceptable because it’s about dads and not moms?

UPDATE: Thanks to Rob for pointing out that they’ve reposted this again. This isn’t just something they did last year. Apparently, they thought it was so hilarious, they would share it again. Here’s this year’s version (same as last year’s but with a brand, spankin’ new URL).

Before I begin, I must warn you that I’m testing out the new Euphamism-inator Turbo 3000.  This post will contain references to some pretty dirty activities but, these references will be masked with something a little more palatable.  I think I’ll set it to "Star Trek."  While it warms up, let me set the scene.

On Sunday, I decided to spend time with the boys and give B some time off.  First, I needed some supplies for an upcoming Cooking With TechyDad series.  While B went with her parents to shop for dresses (for BlogHer and an upcoming wedding), I took my shopping buddies to Price Chopper. We had a great time getting everything on our list (and a few things not on the list).

At one point, we smelled a heavenly smell and followed our noses to the Price Chopper bakery.  There we saw some wonderful looking breads.  As we examined which ones we might like, one of the bakers came over and handed the boys a slice of bread each.  As they devoured their slices, we picked out a loaf of Tuscan bread, finished our shopping and headed home to put the refrigerated and frozen foods away.

After putting the food away, I noticed that… wait a second, it looks like the Euphamism-inator Turbo 3000 is warmed up.  Perfect timing.  I’ll switch it on now. Read more of this article »