Manly men, doing manly things

If you haven't yet, take a peek at my "Links to look at", to the right.  You'll find "The Art of Manliness".  My first reaction was to not give it too much thought or consideration, mostly due to the site title.  I presumed it would be one of those sort of sites that makes sure the men of today stay as manly as possible, while also helping to assure that there are manly men for years to come.  A site full of links to fantasy football, ESPN, ESPN2, UnderArmor, NIKE, AXE, Play Boy, etc. you get the idea.    

I'll admit, I was dead wrong in my presumption, ending up finding a site I enjoy visiting and have been following on social media.  The tag line says it all: "Reviving the Lost Art of Manliness".  The site drips of "manly things", with a spattering of "hipster-ness".  The articles are put into categories pertaining to wide variety of topics such as:  "Dress and Grooming" and "A Man's Life".  

I really enjoy the combination of hearkening back to "the good old days" with "being a man today".  As you know, I'm a history dork, so the fact that there is a series of articles just on "How to Shave Like Your Grandpa", yeah, that was enough to pull me in!  

But to look at what truly "reviving" this art of being a man means, many articles urge us to simply stop trying to reinvent the wheels that the men of the past built, experimented with and rode on.  Avoid falling into certain modern trends or abandon them entirely in order to make yourself happier, look better, cook better, etc.  A great example, is in the aforementioned article on shaving:  how using a double-edge razor can save you money while giving you a great shave.  It's plain and simple "how-to" and even "where-to" get supplies you'll need.  

I'm curious, as Ben gets older, what he'll perceive "being a man" and manly, is about, how to achieve it and ultimately how to project it.  Of course, my goal is to direct him all the way, as best I can, without smothering him in "do this, this way, all the time".  He will have to be his own man, in the end.  

My next post will go into the life's incidents, experiences and people who influenced my perception of what being a man is as I grew up and what I'd like to get across to my son.  I think it will be a good exercise for me and might be a good read for you!   

Some nights

The other night my folks, grammy and papa, came to whisk Ben away to their house to stay the night (ended up being two nights).  As they loaded him into their car I found myself getting a little anxious, a little paranoid.  I know that neither my dad nor mom drive like maniacs.  I know that he'll have a great time with them.  I guess it's more of that mental void created, sure and physical void as well, that only a toddler can fill.  Time was suddenly freed-up that would typically be occupied by: "let's play this", "don't touch that", "time for a bath".  We didn't need to convince a squirming 25lb+ little body that it was dinner time or to get his diaper changed.     

My wife and I found ourselves bouncing between busy and "what now?".  My wife was more busy, I was more "let-me-see-if-can-figure-this-Roku-thing-out".  Still, we had been away so there was plenty to do around the house, as much as I would have preferred to be able to jump in the car and have a day-out.  OK, that's a lie.  I didn't get dressed in "real clothes" until 1:00; by the time my parents showed up, around 5:00, I was together.

Yesterday evening my wife said, "let's go out to dinner".  So we did, on an old gift card that we weren't sure when we'd use.  There was definitely that strange, persisting feeling that we were forgetting something; one of us didn't have their arms full of Ben and one of us didn't have a diaper bag hanging off their shoulder.  After dinner we had a romantic trip to the grocery store.  Kicking myself for the 11:30 bedtime though; Roku is the devil.  

We'll reunite with Ben this afternoon, sharing New Years with family and close friends.  Right now, I only have one resolution:  to be even happier.  I know, it sounds cold, as if I wasn't happy in 2013.  I was and am, but I could stand a larger dose.  I think I'll find more of it in old and new friends whom I haven't shared time with in a while or at all.  I hope to find it in activities I haven't had or made time for in 2013, as I had hoped, mainly due to laziness.

Don't forget to hug your little one a lot - it's like hugging yourself and your significant other all in one!  Until they let out a high pitched squeal in your ear because they want to go play.  Really, I'm still talking about the kid making that sound, not your significant other. 

Bang bang

We're only a few days away from welcoming in the new year.  The family and I made it safely to and from my wife's hometown.  

Two facts from the holidays:
1)  The little guy made out like a bandit
2)  I thin I put on 5+ pounds 

We played a game of "Russian Roulette" a few nights before Christmas, the bullet being a stomach bug.  I can't think of any other way to put it.  That night we had dinner with one of my wife's cousins and her family.  There we all sat around the table enjoying each other's company, with my wife's cousin's husband having just taken a shot of queasiness earlier that day.  Later we played with the kids and then back to the in-laws for our night's rest, not knowing who would be struck with a pale face and weak stomach next. 

I know, I know, keep a positive attitude.  But come on, how could I not picture, and fear, my family of three stopping every 5 miles down the PA turnpike on our way home to bring Christmas dinners back up.  Alas, over the course of the next few days we had two casualties:   my brother-in-law and my wife's cousin.  Close one.  Still sucked to see both of them down and out during the holidays.  Thanks for taking the hits dear family!

Here we are, home.  The tree is dry, standing there, right next to me as I type, stripped of ornaments, waiting for me to drag it to the back yard.  The living room is littered with the shrapnel of happiness and joy, in the form of plastic train rails, a tee pee, a tunnel and multitudes of other topnotch Chinese products.  What I foretold has come to light my readers.  

Season's Greetings n such

Happy Holidays!  I hope all of my readers have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!  

So, I wont make a huge deal over what to say during this time of the year, IE "what's right".  I grew up celebrating Christmas; makes sense considering I grew up a practicing Catholic and went to Catholic school.  I never knew there was anything but Christmas or saying "Merry Christmas".  My wife grew up Presbyterian and with Christmas as well.  So, Ben celebrates Christmas.  He doesn't know it, but he does.   

Even though this is the case, I, luckily, grew to have the utmost respect for whatever it is others choose to celebrate and really hope Ben grows up having that same respect.  I was fortunate enough to have been exposed to other religions growing up, through school, Judaism in particular.

Anyway, I've said my peace mainly for the purpose of letting you all know I guess.  Safe travels if you're doing so; 5 minutes or 500 miles. 

Fear itself

A comedian, I think it was Louis CK, once said in his act something like, "Taking care of a toddler is like trying to prevent someone from committing suicide over and over again." 

When you are alone with a high-energy toddler in a house, the air pulsates with the fear that if you were to turn your back for one second they would be putting something easily choked on in their mouths, climbing on top of the coffee table and getting tangled in their own legs, promptly dropping to the floor and/or bopping their head on the corner of something on the way down. Let me rephrase it: Whether you turn your back or not, there a good chance these things will happen.

And there you will be to yank the "chokeable" items out of the mouth and dive across any obstacle (or cat) to catch our precious babes as they nose-dive off ottomans.  There will also be those times when you think they put something in their mouths.  "Spit it out!  spit it out!" you'll mutter, over and over while attempting to pry open a tiny mouth full of tiny teeth.  Then you spot the marble on the floor, sigh a relief, pat the kid on the bum and send him on his way.  Another one saved!         

This parental fear of the worse-case-scenario spills over into every aspect of our lives: 

Driving with the kid in the car - Everyone out to sideswipe you, every else is driving too fast, no one follows the correct protocol for 4 way stops.  Imagine me driving Ben to the hospital the other night in the snow. Yeeeeep.  

Sleeping, yes sleeping -  Are they breathing?!  The first night the kid actually sleeps through the night especially.  God I hope "Snuggles the bear" doesn't fall on top of his face! 

Eating - You watch eat morsel go in, get chewed and swallowed.  This one actually holds water.  Ben can cram way too much in his mouth and make a muffled request of "more!" when there is no room for more, but he'd try if we gave it to him.  Oh and: did he get enough to eat?!  

Our words and actions- I know I've said this one before in terms of setting a bad example.  Did . . . did he hear me say that?  One slip up could mean he says it at daycare and gets kicked out!  Nooo!       

I believe I mentioned in previous post that "blind ignorance" that little kids have.  What we're all born with and which we loose as we learn and grow (but some hold onto for a looooong time).  Ben flat out did not know rolling around on the sofa might not be a great idea until he fell off of it.  How could he know? He's never done it before.  When I'm laying on the floor and he flops onto my stomach, promptly rolling up onto my head, he doesn't know that the glasses on my face are something I need to see.  He's having fun with dad damn it!

Ok this does sound like a bash at the paranoia that comes with being a good parent; because any good parent would be caring and mindful of their child's needs and potential hazards.  But is there a limit?  Ya know, going too far? 

Consider this:  A sharp contrast to how we modern-day American parents attend to our children is a tribe, I think in Africa,(I hate siting something and not having a link to the original article, I'll find it!) in which most individuals have scars from having been burned at a young age.  No, not self-inflicted or the victims of abuse.  When they were very young they walked into the fire or touched hot coals.  Why did their parents not stop them?  The answer:  How else would they know that fire is hot and can burn you?  How else would they know what "burn" truly means?  Learning by doing.  

Again, a sharp contrast, an extreme opposite to how we look at parenting and the normal limits we set as they discover their world and themselves.  It's a question I know my wife and I ask ourselves no matter what it might be; how much TV to watch, when to let Ben eat sweets and how much, etc. etc.     

We parents also have an ignorance that comes about as soon as the newborn comes into our world.  Sure we have books, classes and websites to help stave it off to help ease us into this new chapter of our lives.  As with many things in life, it's not until you've been surrounded by it and experienced it that you not only better understand it but can relish in it.  

Toy (bleeping!) land

Of course with the Christmas season at full speed, my thoughts turn to, of course all the crap my kid will hull in.  What toy will litter my living room, jab me in the foot, be eaten by the cat and/or Ben?  What toy will I find in my basement 5 years after he's moved out and be bugging him, as my mom and dad have my siblings and I, to PLEASE take it with him to HIS house the next time he visits? 

I've accepted the fact that I can't stop the gifts from coming.  I've accepted that there are parts of my house I won't see for years, buried beneath Birthday, Christmas's and "Just Because"s of the past; corners of rooms becoming archaeological dig sites by the time he's 18.  

I accept it because, yep, my parents did and are still asking me to take things with me I had long forgotten about.  So it's obligatory anyway.  I accept it because if he is happy, and getting him things makes whomever it might be happy, then who am I to deny happiness? 

Toys strewn across every inch of carpeting, could also be a teaching point, such as:  "Clean up your toys before daddy accidentally steps on them and breaks them!"  My dad stepped on things and broke them. I never saw the genius in that until now.  Mom probably helped in the stepping.  The thought of a destroyed toy, at any age, is enough motivation for most.  Unless you have a spoiled brat who say, "Go ahead, grandma will buy me another!" gaaaaaah! 

There are all sorts of positive thoughts to keep me sane, like:  "Well, when Ben buys us that new house, we can get the movers to box it all up." and "At least Ben got his third doctorate, paid off his college debt on his own and makes 6 digits."  oh, and "Ben did help us retire at 60 a few toys in the basement don't matter much."

Or, in another scenario, when no one else is in the room and Thomas the Tank Engine (and Friends) is stepped on for the 5th time that day, it might fly like a majestic reindeer down our decked halls.  

One of my favorite memories with my dad was taking him the toys where assembly was required.  We'd sit and put together, what looked to me, like a complicated mass of plastic parts which would eventually become a G.I. Joe jet or Heman's castle.  LEGOS were a great past-time for my dad and I, and eventually, my brother and I; we'd sit and create something using the directions or our imaginations as our guide.  Then dad or mom would step on one . . .     

Just accept it, Dad's are Superheroes!

This and other images by Milan, Italy's Giulia Pex of dad's showing their superhero sides can be found at

"Dad, you are my favorite superhero"

Not sharing this on my blog would just be a mistake. :D