Tag: mom

DADMOM???

theycallmebetty3 Comments

So watching television today I came across a commercial that really “chapped” my hide.  It was a commercial for laundry detergent, now if you have read any of my postings or the bio portion of my blog, you know that; one I am fireman therefore I have the ability to be home to take part in the raising of my children along with my equal share of the housework and two; I have a particular sore spot for advertising being completly sexist and some may even say downright ignorant when it comes to selling household products.  (in gutteral caveman tone)Tools for men and dishwashing soap for women! Hey look theres mom fixing the banged up knee with no daddy in sight! Now throw in a couple commercials that show dad being berated as a moron by his wife with all the kids laughing in agreement while he passivly smiles and you can see how disheartening it can become.

Where was I?  Oh yes the commercial today.  It was as I stated a laundry commercial, where our actor is happily doing laundry and with a smile on his face proclaims himself as a “DADMOM” !  A dadmom are you freaking kidding me!!  Hey buddy not only is there no such thing!  You just disrespected every mother in America by proclaiming yourself as a mom!  By being a DADMOM are you trying to throw some masculenity in to the job?  No wait I know you are superior because you are a man therfore by declaring yourself as a DAMOM you strip away any importance the title MOM gives your wife!  Heres an idea why not just state the simple fact, you are a DAD!  Oh yeah thats right a DAD, come on you can say it D*A*D* daaaaaaaaaddddddd!    You know the other half of the parental equation?  The it takes two to make a baby, but no where does it say that only a MOM has to raise the child!  Why not show that you are a real man (a DAD) and own up to your responsibilities around the house?  MOM is not the sole provider, MOM is not the only one that should be cleaning up the house! MOM is not the only one who should know how to do laundry!  OH OH here is my favorite double standard!  You know that really fancy mini van that YOU just had to have?  You had no intentions on driving it, noooooo you have your super cool dad mobile, no you bought it for mom right?  Do you think she doesnt deserve a nice car as well?  Heres a thought MOM isnt the only one who has to drive it!  That fancy mini van with all the bells and whistles will get you sorry ass down to the school to pick up or drop off your children just a well with you behind the wheel!!!!

DADMOM oh yeah thats great!  I so want someone to call me that the next time I am dropping the kids off for swim, or when I have all four of them at the playground.  Yep a DADMOM the epitome of disrespect to parenting and child raising. 

I wonder, as a society did I miss something?  my mom raised me to take care of myself.  To do my own laundry, to clean my own dishes, to wipe my own butt!  Where have we gone so horribly wrong that those needs are not being met anymore.  A woman shouldnt need a man to survive in this world and a man shouldnt need a woman to make sure his kids are raised and his laundry is done.  But what I do know is this, with the exception of single parents, who are struggling with shattered relationships along with handling every component of life by themselves.  If you are in a committed realtionship, taking care of your children, taking care of your house, even at times taking care of the finances is a 50-50 proposition.  I dont care who stays home to raise kids, but someone needs to be there, I dont care who the breadwinner is, someone needs to be there, I dont care if you both work, one of you needs to be there for your kids!  Its what society is lacking in the raising of our future! 

So advertising idiots, and men (I use that term loosley) who think watching their own children is called “babysitting” your missing the boat and one day I hope you both realize it!  And to all the parents out their who are proud of the roles they have in their relationships and thier lives.  I beg of you, put an end to this campaign of destructive advertising! Be proud of your titles and what you do in your home, know that the ends justifys the means.  You will grow as a person, your children will grow to be respectful, self reliant adults.  Some day they may even thank you!  But one things for certain, none of them will come home for the holidays and great you at the door with a smile and a “hello DADMOM”.

 

The Morning After

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The morning after Christmas has found me standing in the living room looking down upon my children as they stare off into the distance. Minds blanked out and traveling to places unknown. Some are wide eyed and lost in the unreal, reality world of television while others are still mezmorized by the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. I wander in and ask each one individually whats happening, only to get the obligatory “nothing”. Followed with a heavy sigh and them returning to the “lost boys” stare. What is this delema they are in mentally, why have they completely tuned out and are on another planet? I mean come on, this is the day after Christmas, arent there toys to be played with, games to be won, new clothes to wear, friends to deliberate with over their new found fortunes?
I sit down and travel back in time to when I was there ages. The days before Christmas always felt like an eternity. We were constantly staring at the calender, counting down the days until the “big guy” was due to arrive. To make matters worse my mother was always fond of putting the tree up as soon as possible to help instil the “Christmas Spirit” in us all. We loved the tree a true symbol of Christmas staring at us in all its luminous glory, every morning when we awoke and every evening as we went to bed. I can remember getting up several times a night to stare in wonder at all its colors, blinking,twinkling and shining throughout the house. It was speaking to me, echoing in my head that I needed to be patient, Christmas day would come soon enough.

My sister and I on the other hand had a different plan. We treated Christmas day like an upcoming battle. We were warriors, soldiers on the western front, we had work to do, only 18 days left and a battle plan had yet to be formed. Everyday we would go out and count the number of presents under the tree, this helped to gauge the excrutiating amount of time we had left till “D” day. 18 days, 4 presents, 15 days, 8 presents, 9 days 15 presents and so on. The more presents we had under the tree, the closer we were to battle. Our battle plan revolved around my parents inability to tell time. You see the rules were very simple, no one could get out of bed until 8 am or as my father put it “there will be no Christmas”! Yet my mother would follow that up with a stern, “no getting up until 8 when the sun comes up” wether this was a slip of the tongue or done on purpose we didnt care. We were shrewd enough to know that was the loophole we were looking for! The faintest crack of dawn and the presents were ours. We divided the room accordingly, I would come in from the north, she from the south. I would handle quieting the noisey birds, she would sooth the dog. Then like Navy Seals we would descend upon our prey and make haste with the civility. Treasure was ours!!

My parents would join us eventually and we would get the obligatory butt chewing from father for not following the rules. But it was worth it, by 7:15 we had our first round of candy devoured, by 8 presents were demolished and more candy was fueling our rage! By 9 breakfast was just the foundation for more sugary bliss! By 11 we are headed to our relatives house where our wild eyed obsessions (candy and more gifts) would be fulfilled. Most kids would crumble under the pressure, but we were strong, we knew the stakes and we had trained for battle. We would prevail.

By 10 at night the carnage was complete, the candy was gone (my parents feeble attempt to keep the candy in moderation was always a failure) food had been devoured, and all gifts had been opened, played with and reboxed for transport. Sure a few good men perished on the battle field that day (our cousins who couldnt handle the pressure) but we were still alive. We would sleep like a rock that night, like angels, the campaign finished, its warriors triumphant.

So as I look upon my own brood I realize that they are suffering from a condition. A condition that we never recognized in the old days. Post Traumatic Christmas Syndrome. As adults we forget how much work Getting to Christmas day really was for us. We have forgotten about staring into the belly of the beast and winning the battle. We forget about the ones lost on the battlefield of elves, Santa and reindeer. Why because we are adults. We have sadly turned that part of brain off for the trappings of the real world.

So let them stay in their vegatative state. Recognize the battle hardend thousand mile stare, and have sympathy, for after a couple days of re-hab they will be back. And they will start planning again, for next year the battle will always be bigger and better in their little minds. And you will be left once again staring at them on “The Morning After”.

Christmas Cookies

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I love Christmas cookies!  Love them!  So much I think I would cross a street of broken glass barefoot to get too them!  I like chocolate ones, I like shortbread ones, I like almond ones, I like peanut butter ones, heck I even like coconut ones!  I love Christmas cookies!

Today I took it upon myself to make some Christmas cookies from scratch to give to a few friends for the holidays!  I went to the store and bought the ingrediants I didnt already have in the kitchen.  I patiently took all the hardware out I needed.  I even put on a Christmas movie so there would be a little ambiance in the background. 

I set the temp on the oven.

greased up the tins.

spread out the chocolate.

fired up the double boiler.

I then spent the next two hours mixing, dropping (a term for putting the dough on the cookie sheet) and baking.  It was heaven!  Just me and some of the best ingriediants known to the baking world.  Making some of the most deliscious cookies ever! 

But something was missing….  You see I was doing all of this fun stuff at work.  (I am a firefighter).  There were no little kids helping me lick the bowls, no one to sneak chocolate chips while I was folding the butter.  No one to help melt white chocolate in the double boiler for the icing.  Yep it was all perfect untill I realized it was too perfect.  Perfectly quiet. 

I needed a little person there to impart my cooking wisdom upon.  Years my father spent in the bakery of his restruant with me as a teenager/young adult acting like I didnt care because it wasnt cool to cook.  But in reality I was watching listening and learning from a man who got up every morning at 3am to make sure bread was baked for the days meals.  I want my children to know that REAL men cook.  REAL men bake and provide for their families in a multitude of ways!  REAL men take great pride in giving the gift of baked goods at Christmas.  Because to me nothing comes “more from the heart” than when I take the time to bake (I mean bake, not prepackaged crap, but from scratch)something sweet for you, my friend.  So there I was alone…..  Or so I thought.

Looking over my shoulder was one of our new guys.  He is young, in his early twenties, a good kid full of heart.  I was going to ask what he needed but a light came on in my head instead.  I leaned over and said; Lets make some cookies, you get some eggs and Ill start mixing the flour.  He smiled and jumped right to it!  Within seconds one of the other new guys also jumped in and the three of us were chuckling and dropping dough. 

After the first round came out and we all had a taster, the vote was unanimous.  Make some more!  And more we did!  I slowly backed away leaving the young guys to do it on their own.  They had watched carefully, studied the methods used and applied them perfectly.  They are both now filled with Christmas spirit as am I.  As I write this the two of them are carefully working on the next batch. 

I had a great Pre Christmas day! Filled with good laughs, good food and yes I can say it.  In a way I had my “kids” with me as I baked for people I care about. 

Did I mention “I love cookies”….

The Christmas I was 8

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Today I found myself daydreaming about the past.  I was 8 years old and Christmas was only a few days away.  I had searched the house high and low for any presents that may be in hiding from my prying eyes to no avail.  I had taken the time some two months earlier to carefully craft my Christmas list and although there appeared to be a few presents under the tree with my name on them I still was having trouble locating a box that fit the size or shape of the main present that I had requested. 

How could this be? I mean I was pretty clear about my wishes, I know I hadnt always been good during the year, but I surely hadnt warranted the number one gift to be crossed from the list.  Had I?  My parents were shrewd, crafty, some may even say sinister in the ability to hide presents during the holidays.  But at 8 I knew I was smarter than them, I always found my dads stash of chocolate chip cookies, I knew where my mom hid her candy, and there wasnt a day that went by I didnt know the exact moment when anything that had been hidden was moved.  I was stealthy and crafty and honing my skills.  So how, how could it be, that it seemed as though no one had even thought to obtain the number one gift I had so desired?  It was mind boggling!

My family never had much money and for me to be so self centered as to believe that what ever gift I wished for I would recieve was also ludicris.  But in the mind of an 8 year old only two things can happen at Christmastime.  Either mom and dad purchased the item or Santa Claus was in on the action.  Now being of sound mind I had eventually come to the conclusion that ole St. Nick was my main man!  I knew for sure he had my six.  On Christmas morning there it would be, glowing like the northern star from the heavens above.  But wait! Had I blown my chance with all my stealthy snooping?  I mean the cat is good but can he really see all of us when we are “naughty”?  I remember thinking about this in depth, so much so I didnt even take the time to ridicule my sister that evening even once, which of course brought unwanted attention to me from my mother.  But I played it cool, helped with dishes, pondered some more, picked up clothes and pondered some more, went and laid on my bed, wondering if Santa could see me now?  What was he thinking?  Why was I being tortured this way?  My day would have, no should have gone so much better, if only I had found my present!  But there lays the contridiction it all….  If I found it I was definetly on the naughty list, because I looked for it and didnt find it or any presents I may have been in a “grey” area.  What to do, What to do? 

It was definetly a long two days.  Kissing parental ass, being extra nice to my sister, like an employee who knows hes about to get fired and is trying extra hard to save his already lost job.  But in the end it was one of the best Christmasses ever.  I awoke that morning, it was still dark outside, I went to wake my sister, but then I thought no, I want this moment all to myself.  I carefull strolled the outskirts of the tree, wringing my hands and licking my lips.  There was so much stuff and all of it gleamed like a new penny.  As I was ready to give up, with shoulders slouched and head hung low, I looked towards the angel on top of the tree to ask why.  There it was, in a box, stuck in the tree.  What I had waited for all year, the item I had lost sleep over tossing and turning wondering, had I made the grade.  Well I had!  The big man in red came through! I knew he would! Knew it all along! Yep!

The Christmas I turned 8 was the year I got my first G.I. Joe!  It was the year I became a soldier, a man!  It was the year of many adventure between me and Joe! we conquered all foes, foriegn and domestic.  We slept many night is the bush under the stars, listening for the sounds of approaching enimies.  We killed many soldiers and showed them a soldiers respect upon thier demise! No video games only Joe and I and our imaginations!

One more thing, it was also the year I quit looking for presents in hidden places.  The risks, the loss of sleep and being nice to my sister were just more than I could bear in the year that I was 8.

Christmas Caroling

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I love Christmas caroling! The hot chocolate, the camaraderie, seeing the shocked and happy faces of the unknowing victims that happen to be home. I especially like the smiles we put on the faces of the elderly! As we are singing you can see them travel back to a day when they were younger and surrounded by family.
My kids run from house to house with their friends arguing (playfully) over who is going to ring the doorbell, who is going to knock the loudest, who is going to start the singing. They love this time of year and I love giving them this gift. A gift they don’t even know is being given them because they wont have the ability to unwrap it until they too are parents.
We arrive at our last house and as we had done so many times before we encroached upon a lawn, knocked upon a door, huddled together and with our absolute best voices sang three glorious songs. The look upon this elderly mans face as he gazed down upon me from his front porch gave me chills. He wasn’t dreaming of days gone by as some would do at such a moment, no he was wishing for just one moment he could throw away his walker, push his in home care nurse aside, stand up straight and trade places with me. With me? I think he was seeing me as a 45 year old version of himself. He gazed as though he longed to be young, surrounded by his kids, sharing the joys of heartwarming song given so freely this time of year.
After we finished we smiled, said Merry Christmas, and we all headed to the street where our cars were parked. We gathered one last time saying our thank you’s and good nights! The kids piled in the car and laughed all the way home. Another year of caroling in the books, another year of memories they won’t forget, another year till the tradition is passed on to their kids, and another year till I am that old man wishing for a moment that I too could trade places with the 45 year old dad singing to me on my front porch right before Christmas…

Wine for the whine!

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Ringing in my ears. What is that ringing in my ears? I sit quietly in my office chair, feet up staring blankly at the computer screen. The kids are in bed, the arguing and sniveling has ceased. I caress my glass of wine and sip it’s golden nectar. Peace, quiet it should be mine! Yet there it is….. Ringing in my ears. It’s not loud mind you and it really isn’t terribly annoying. It’s slow and steady and it drones on like a snail making its way across the walkway. Hhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Rrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnngggggggggg
What have I done to deserve this meaningless torture. Who did I step on today? Is this karma? Was I hit in the head or should I have been and this is Gods cruel little hoax? I am pretty sure after today I deserve these few moments of piece and quiet without this droning going on in my head! Maybe if I focus on it I can force it from my ears.
Nope, it’s no good I am stuck with it! Could it be the lost whining tones of my own childhood coming back to haunt me? Retribution for all the whining pain my father endured? He handled
It the same way I do, a shot, a beer and a glass of wine. There is some form of poetic justice in the choice of wine to help make the whine go away. But alas I sit here pondering my evenings future and thinking somehow there is something terribly wrong with this world when after a long day of child rearing a man can’t have drink without something still whining at him..

Fishing

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One of the many joys of fatherhood is the time honored tradition of taking your child fishing.
Now fishing isn’t just about putting a pole in the water and catching a fish: oh no! It’s about the prep work, loading the boat, buying bait, actually getting onto the water, and yes hopefully catching a fish or two.
Now before we get to far into this let me just mention that the very (and I mean VERY) first thing you must do before you ever take your child out fishing is teach them the definition of fishing. Now I know we could sit here and quibble over the Webster version but to me the definition of fishing actually comes in a short little saying. “it’s called fishing not catching” the sooner you can get your child to understand that, the more pleasant your trip will be for both of you. There are some adults I know who have still not fully grasped that concept. As your child gets older and determines they enjoy fishing, make sure and let them know you can catch just as many fish from a twenty year old boat that has paid for itself 10 times over, as you can from that fancy $70,000 job you both drooled over at the sport and boat show.
So back to the beginning. The prep work; very important when it comes to teaching your child about the responsibilities associated with going fishing.
Getting the poles out- answering twenty questions about what each pole does and why you use it.
Putting the life vests in, answering twenty questions about why we need them and reinstating that yes you will be wearing one and no I don’t care if they are uncomfortable you’re not going to be taking it off.
Packing a lunch- peanut butter and jelly is the best fishing sandwich. (personal opinion) Never take them to McDonalds first! I can’t stress that last point enough! One of two things is going to happen. One: they will expect it every time, and that means when they brings friends! Nothing can drag the trip down more, financially than that! Two:someone’s puking up a big Mac! I don’t know about you but my experience has taught me if one kids puking someone else is gonna start puking and who do ya think has to clean that up?
Yuck!!!
Buying bait is always fun, the kids get to play with the minnows or mud suckers, they squeal with joy as the fish jump about. Slimy stinky fish, a kids dream come true!!
(Important fishing rule)
Please make sure no one names them. We have a steadfast rule of no naming the bait on my boat! Once they get a name its hard to explain why I’m putting a hook in its back or better yet, why daddy just cut the head of little Nemo! All to the now psychologically damaged screams of my 6 year old! Frozen bait works well too. It’s not as much fun but it’s great watching the kids revel in how bad their hands smell when they get home.
Getting on the water is the highlight of any fishing morning. The cool crisp breeze, the light spray in your face, ducks off in the distance and river otters on the banking. Watching a sturgeon come up and belly roll out in the middle of the river. Listening to your child (who by the way is so bundled up he/she looks like the kid from “a Christmas Story”) whining about how cold they are, but with a smile on their face because they are “fishing with dad”!
Its inevitable that once you get to your favorite fishing spot you will find two other boats already camped out on top of it and one guy is reeling in a fish. You give the obligatory thumbs up with a smile on your face all while mumbling under your breath that it’s your spot and that’s your fish!
That’s ok you have a back up spot and no one is there (which explains why it’s the backup spot) so you set anchor and with a smile on your face you bait the first hook! You grin with pleasure at this fantastic moment! You and your kid, amigos, compadres, side by side, fishing like men! Ahhhh yes this is how it’s done, dad of the year! Thats me!!
Time to drop my line in the water and have a cup of Jo, pat myself on the back awhile and enjoy the scenery.
But before I do, I’m just gonna need to bait the kids hook one more time, there we go and what? Why haven’t we caught a fish yet? I explained that point quite well before we left, or so I thought. What’s that, you need more bait? No prob swing that over here, hey now watch the hook, ok quit playing with daddy’s line, no we still haven’t caught a fish, yes that sound coming from the fish finder means there are fish down there, no I don’t know why they don’t just jump in the boat, yes you can have a soda, I’m mean no you can’t have a soda it’s not even lunch yet, what you need more bait, I don’t know if you can catch a seal with an anchovy, what, NO you can’t name the bait fish Thelma and Louise! What do you mean to late! Hey put my pole down why don’t you have your pole? It fell in the water! Why didn’t you say something? Oh because you dropped the scale in and tried to get it with the pole? Can you have my pole? Ahhh no! Don’t cry, daddy didn’t mean to yell! come on little buddy fishermen don’t cry, ok you can have my pole! Just let me know when you need bait, oh that’s now, ok.
And so the day goes, we never caught any fish and I lost quite a bit of tackle and we continued a time honored tradition, carried out by numerous dads instilling the joy of fishing not catching with their children…..

Grocery store

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Grocery shopping is never fun for me, I always end up being hungrier than I thought I was about the time I hit the second isle. Then the “binge” shopping takes over and my cart starts filling up with items that are both not in my budget or heart healthy. Now throw in a couple of children that wanted to come along for the ride and you can see how a simple trip to the store can slowly become a nightmare.
Dad can I have this? Mom can I have that? Why does he get that and I don’t? I’m hungry! I’m thirsty! Is this gonna take forever? Daaaad he’s touching things on the shelf! Did you know with enough effort and technique you can actually drone out the whining and pretend they are someone else’s kids! But in the end they are your kids, so sometimes it’s just nice to have them with you. You can make it a fun experience, turning all that energy into a positive by having one child find items in the isle your shopping and have the other push the cart. Have them look at various items that are similar figure out which item costs less. When it’s all done everyone has ownership of the food that crosses their table. You whip out the debit card and behold, there is no more whining, well at least from the kids.

Bliss

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Some days life just falls into place like a perfect puzzle. Every piece you pick up locks into the next. That was today. We started the day with places to go And things to do. But by the end of the day it had all fallen into a perfect symphony of music, everyone’s needs were met and all of my children had fun and appreciated the time they had spent with their family.
I am in a perfect bliss right now. Going to bed before I wake up and realize it was all a dream….