Ah, October. The best month of the year in my opinion. The smell and feel of autumn is in the air. The leaves are exploding in vibrant colors turning the world into a dazzling, Disney-esque enchanted land. (Unless you live where I do. Thanks a lot, Southern California. Your only Disney-eque enchanted land…is Disney). Anticipation grows for Halloween, Thanksgiving and the joy of the Holidays to come. And it is the single greatest month if you’re a sports fan. College football Saturdays, pro football Sundays…and my personal favorite OCTOBER BASEBALL!
This may be a good time to inquire about my reader demographic. I call this blog the Daddy’s Den, but I honestly don’t know if it’s being read by more daddies or mommies? I try to write about topics that both parents can relate to. The subject of sports may be polarizing. I know it is in our house. I’m a sports fan. Not an athlete mind you, but a sports fan. I love the entertainment value. The excitement. The drama. The triumphs and yes even the heartbreak. There’s no better reality TV. I even wrote and performed a one man show about my obsession with sports (Philadelphia sports in particular). So I confess I’m a sportsaholic. My wife not so much. And something tells me that’s the case in a lot of homes. That’s not to generalize and say all husbands are sports freaks and all wives are not. I know men who couldn’t care less and women who are HUGE sports fans. I grew up with a bunch of them: My mom, my sister. Hell, my grandmother just turned 97 and you can bet that the TV at the assisted living center better be turned to the Phillies game this weekend or some poor attendant is gonna get a cane up their arse. For the most part though, it’s the guy who’s into it and the girl who has to put up with it. If you created a pie graph and labeled it “Reasons For Fights Between Couples”, I bet sports would have a large piece of that pie. So what’s the solution to this? Is there a common ground in a household where one partner is obsessed with sports and the other indifferent? Truthfully? No
Sorry. Because here’s the thing. You can’t tell a sports fanatic to stop being a sports fanatic. Professional sports aren’t going away any time soon and if a person has a favorite team, chances are they’re not gonna just stop rooting for them no matter how bad or good they are. So unfortunately the only solution in my opinion (and I realize I’m biased because I’m one of the aforementioned fanatics) is for the non sports people to get on board however they can.
I’m not asking you to turn on a game and instantly become a knowledgeable fan. But I think it’s important to try and understand the addiction. Especially since we can’t get down to the bar with the guys as much so we need somebody to talk about this stuff. My poor wife has had to endure 13 years of my endless droning about a subject she cares nothing about. Here’s a perfect example. The final day of the 2011 baseball season was arguably the greatest single day in the history of baseball if not all sports in general. No exaggeration. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, don’t worry. I won’t try to explain it here. It was nothing short of miraculous. So much so that I HAD to explain it to my wife. I tried to lay the whole thing out in a way she could understand. Bless her heart she hung in there, but I don’t think she truly grasped the unbelievable events that took place. But she tried and I appreciated it. So ladies do your best to understand your man’s obsession. And men do your best to understand that there are those who just don’t care and never will in which case you can do what I do. Pass on your fanaticism to your kids. I have two boys. My oldest son is starting to really get into watching these games with me. His favorite is basketball. I don’t have the heart to tell him there may not be a season this year. How do you explain the word “lockout” to a 5 year old? The 2 year old said the word ”baseball” the other day (actually it was more like “day dah” but I know what he meant.) So I’m slowly getting my “guys at the bar” back. Soon we’ll be trading stats over beers and juice boxes. Which is good news and bad news for my wife. She’ll be off the hook as far as caring about it …but the cheers and screaming at the television is about to increase by two.
We bought a minivan last week. Yup. I am now “that” guy. And proud of it. A few months ago I wrote a blog about turning 40. This is sort of a companion piece. I’m doing exactly what I should be doing at this age. I thought I was going to be old, fat, and miserable, but I’m actually only two of those things. The gray hairs realizing there is strength in numbers have become an organized fighting force and are now rebelling against the once proud monarchy of brown hair on my head. Luckily I’m half Italian so it looks somewhat distinguished for now. I’m actually thinner than I’ve been in years. That being said, I continue to be a fat bastard like I have been my entire life. No matter how hard I try to be depressed about being middle aged though (and I usually don’t have to try hard to get depressed), I’m really enjoying it.
So we bought a minivan. Now granted we really didn’t plan on it. I woke up last Wednesday and drove my son to summer camp in my old yet reliable car and then headed down the freeway to work. (deep breath) Then I got in an accident, totaled my car, rented another one, told my wife maybe it was time to buy a bigger family car, she was halfway to the dealer by the time I said the word “buy”, she bought a minivan, drove it off the lot, drove to get something to eat, hit a parked car and dented the front fender, drove it back to the lot, got it repaired, added a few hundred to the down payment check, picked up the car, took the rental car back and here we are. And then Thursday came around. Okay that’s a little white lie. This whole thing happened over a couple of days but it felt that fast. Then came the inevitable buyer’s remorse panic attack but other than that I feel pretty good about it. It seems like the next logical step in our lives. My wife is home with the kids all day and has been begging for a bigger car. Her 9 year old RAV4 just wasn’t cutting it. We never took the leap so I guess the Universe got tired of waiting for us and decided to intervene. That’s right, folks. The Universe caused me to rear end that car on the freeway. It’s a notoriously bad driver. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Yes, the final nail in my “young man’s” coffin has been nailed in the form of a tricked out Toyota Sienna minivan. My wife and kids love it. I have now inherited the RAV (or “the SUV for lesbians” as my coworker calls it. I have no idea what that means, but it’s funny.) Because of our minivan purchase I have been subject to some incessant teasing at work, but then again I work in the entertainment industry in Hollywood which means my colleagues are mostly young, hipster, cynical singles without kids. I love them and I don’t blame them, but that’s no longer my world. It was once and I enjoyed it, but moving to the suburbs and raising a family will do a lot to break you out of that phase. You’re only as old as you feel anyway. And believe me there are several parts of me that are no more mature than my 5 year old. How do I know? Because I still find fart jokes really amusing.
Okay, we can all agree that we love our kids, they’re the best thing that ever happened to us, they light up our lives blah blah blah. But to quote a friend’s response to a particular angry Facebook post of mine about my five year old, “We alway love ’em, but we don’t always have to like ’em” That made me feel so much better. So I’m here to let you all know. It’s okay. Everybody wants to kill their kids at one time or another. Those that say “How can you say that?!” don’t have kids. Those that have kids and say “Not me. My little angels are always good as gold” are either lying, in denial, or are suffering empty nest syndrome because their kids have moved away.
Our parents are loving this by the way. Montezuma could only wish he had this kind of revenge. I remembered telling my father how ungrateful my kid was after all of the gifts, trips to Disneyland, the zoo and so forth. With a sarcastic and unsympathetic tone he said, “Tell you what. I’ll send him the piles of thank you letters I got from you when you were his age. That’ll show him.” Touché and point taken.
I think we have it tougher than our parents did though. Seriously. With so much more media available to our kids like the Internet, video games, Smart phones, etc., there seems to be more of a sense of entitlement. Which brings more of an attitude. And at a much younger age too. I keep saying to my kindergardener, “I’m gonna have to put up with you when you’re a teenager, I shouldn’t have to put up with that mouth now!” To which he stares blankly at me and then asks if he can play with my iPad. So I know they’re too young to get it and on my end I’m probably making HUGE gaffes in discipline and parenting which may be partly responsible for his behavior, but it’s nice to know that parents for generations have gone through the same thing. It’s just taboo to talk about it for fear of being labeled a parent who doesn’t love their child with every fiber of their being. Yes, we do…as soon as they wipe that damn smirk off their face!
Author’s note- I never apologize for my blogs, but this one seems more grumpy than usual. I sound like angry old man Loprete who lives in the run down house next door. So I’ll write something happy next month. Now if you’ll excuse me, there are some damn kids playing in my yard!
I know that doesn’t seem like a very provocative title or interesting subject of a blog so let me raise the stakes a little. My wife is reading this for the first time too. When my wife and I have some domestic dust up, I’ve always been pretty good at turning it into a humorous story or blog. Even she gets a kick out of it. Well, I’m taking a chance this time and flipping the scenario. I’m confessing something publicly and hoping she laughs it off BEFORE we fight about it. Will the gamble pay off? Well if it doesn’t…on the bright side I may already have next month’s blog.
So I’ve been ridiculously busy at my job this last month. Lots of late nights and weekends. My department is always busy this time of year because of a big annual presentation the president of our company gives to advertisers and media buyers in New York. Once the presentation is over, we can all breathe a sigh of relief on a job well done. Well, the presentation was given on a Tuesday morning and it’s tradition for our team to take the rest of the day off. Now my wife had an important meeting with her literary agent that night. She was going to take the kids to the supervised play at their preschool and I was going to pick them up. No problem. So I thought…”What would be the harm if I just went to a quick matinee? I haven’t seen a movie in so long. I don’t know when I’ll get to one. I’ve worked very hard at work as well as at home with the kids on the weekend (including giving my wife Mother’s Day weekend off)…why not just go to a movie and I’ll be home to take care of the kids tonight?” Now I’m pretty sure my wife would have preferred that I come home even earlier and help her with the kids. So why didn’t I call my wife and let her know that I was heading to the movies? Um…please save all questions until the end.
I drive to a movie theatre about 5 minutes away from our house. That way I can pick the kids up faster than if I went to a theatre near work. In fact I’ll still get them earlier than I would have if I worked the whole day. Am I a great Dad or what? I pay my ticket, grab my 3D glasses and head in. The movie begins and I’m usually vigilant about turning off my phone because I can’t stand when people talk or text during a film, but this time I kept it on vibrate…just in case. Good thing too. Sure enough because the Universe loves to screw with me, at about the half way point of the movie my phone begins to vibrate in my lap. It’s her. I started to perspire as I did something I would never dream of doing before. Pushed the “ignore” button. If it’s important I’m sure she’ll leave a voice mail and I’ll duck out of the theatre in a minute to check it. BZZZ. BZZZ. She’s calling back. Ooookay she’s looking for me. Duck out the theatre NOW. I scamper out of my seat. Luckily the theatre was mostly empty because most people were working or home with their families. I’m starting to hate myself as I write this. I hurry out to the lobby so she won’t hear the obscenely loud sounds of Thor saving the planet. “Hello?” “Hi” Oh God. She’s been crying. “Is everything okay?” “I’m sorry to bother you” she says. “You’re not bothering me at all” I say. (TELL HER!)”What’s up?” (YOU FOOL!) She then goes on to tell me about what a miserable day she’s been having and she’s thinking of calling off the meeting with her agent. I ask her if she wants me to come home. For the record I meant it. I would have left the theatre right then and hurried home.
Of course it would have confused my wife because I would have been home about 40 minutes before I usually get home from work. “No”, she said. “I just need a pep talk.” Now I’m REALLY good at breaking my wife out of her funks so I go into my best spiel. Please believe me when I say that I wasn’t b.s-ing her just to get back into the theatre. I really meant everything I was saying and I was telling her everything she needed to hear. I was even ignoring the curious glances from the people in the lobby. I’m sure they were impressed by this man who must be a motivational speaker. Not so much. Turns out they were looking at a lunatic having a very animated conversation on his cell phone…who had forgotten to take off his 3D glasses. I can imagine how many dinner conversations that night that started with “I saw the strangest thing in the lobby of the movie theatre today…” It worked though. My wife stopped crying, she said she felt better and she thanked me. I hung up walked back into the theatre glad that I had cheered her up, but feeling like pond scum. I watched and enjoyed the rest of the movie but I was obviously distracted. You gotta understand. My wife and I don’t lie to each other. We don’t know how. On the few occasions we have been deceptive it tears away at both of us like Poe’s Tell Tale Heart. In my case the heart beat under the floor boards was as loud as Thor’s hammer.
May I just interject here and say that last month Arnold Schwarzenegger confessed to fathering a child over a decade ago with his maid. I went to the movies. Just putting it in perspective. Okay back to the story. The movie ended, I picked up the kids, fed them, bathed them, and put them to bed. My wife got home from the meeting and told me it went well and she was glad she didn’t call it off. I considered telling her right then, but it seemed a little soon. No. Best to do the most cowardly thing imaginable and wait two weeks to tell her in a blog. So there it is.
This is my warped way of apologizing. I’m sure a therapist would have a field day. They say the truth will set you free. I am about to seriously put that theory to the test. You may not even be reading this. I have to send it to my editor first…who is also my wife.
So if you are reading this, one of two things has happened. Either I’m right and she is laughing this whole thing off…or I’m dead and she has posted this posthumously as a warning to other husbands out there. We shall see…
As I write this, I am sitting poolside in Vegas with a Tequila and Tonic in my hand talking to five of my closest buddies about what to do with the money I just won from a bet on an NBA game. Okay that last sentence is not entirely true. I’m writing this 2 weeks after that scenario.
To be honest sometimes writing these blogs is work and the last thing I want to do when I’m on vacation is anything that resembles work. And two weeks ago I took a much needed vacation. I won’t go into the details of the trip (what happens in Vegas blah blah blah), and if I did it would probably bore you anyway. Let’s just say I’m getting very old.
The point and this month’s Daddy’s Den lesson is how important it is to take a break. Whether it’s an evening with the guys, a movie by yourself, or a longer vacation even just overnight, recharging your battery is essential to a healthy family life. Believe me, your wife and kids will thank you for it. Not only do you come home happy, rested, and ready to take over the domestic chores and parental duties for awhile, but you’re also so grateful to your wife for letting you go that you’re taking care of the kids and “honey do” list two weeks before you even leave.
And ladies, don’t think I’m forgetting about you. You need a break as much as the Dads. More so if you’re a stay at home mom. But I’ve found that men and women are wired differently in that regard. Whenever my wife has girl’s night out or a weekend without the kids, she always ends up coming home early because she misses us. On Mother’s Day y’know what she likes to do? Spend it with her family! What’s up with that? I don’t know whether to hug her or get mad at her for making me feel guilty for wanting to get away once in a while. I mean am I a bad father for wanting to do everything on Father’s Day BUT be a father? I’m outta there! I have learned one thing though. Getting away is important. But since becoming a husband and father, I’m no longer sad when it’s time to come home.
I’ve noticed one new thing about myself that I’m attributing to being a father. I make a lot more noise when I stand up. Okay, wait. Two things. I cry at the drop of a freakin’ hat now! Growing up I was always a sentimental guy (to a fault), but short of excruciating pain or a death in the family it would take a lot to actually start the water works. Three big exceptions: the movies Terms of Endearment and Glory and for some reason the Happy Days episode when Fonzie goes blind. Buckets.
Now it takes very little to get me verklempt. I’m not talking about sobbing or rending of garments or anything. But the least little tug at the heartstrings will get me welling up. Movies, TV shows, even commercials. The wireless provider ad (I’m not protecting anybody’s name. I seriously forget who the ad was for) where the guy is on a business trip and miserable and is sitting at the airport and then his daughter appears next to him smiles and says “Hi Daddy” and he starts asking her how her day was and you find out he’s on his cell phone talking to her with a big smile on his face? I was a mess.
THERE! See? Even now I just felt my tear ducts start to work. Or there’s a scene in the brilliant mini-series Band of Brothers when the American Army liberates a Belgian town from the Nazis. A GI approaches a young Belgian boy and gives him a chocolate bar. The boy’s father says “He’s never had chocolate before.” The boy takes a bite, looks at the soldier and smiles. Forget it. I was done. Even family sitcoms like The Middle or Modern Family will have a sweet moment each week that will get me going.
So add one more thing to the long lists of Things They Don’t Tell You about being a Dad. You are destined to turn into one big wuss. I guess it’s a good thing though. Looking at the examples above, one common denominator is that any situation eliciting an emotional response from me always involves children. So it’s no wonder these reactions have started since I became a father. It just tells me that I’m so in love with my kids and being a Dad that any sentimental situation on TV, film or even books involving children succeeds in triggering such a stirring of emotion in me for my kids that I…excuse me I have something in my eye.
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