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Chris Loprete, daddysden, Dads
by Chris Loprete
The “turning 40” clouds are darkening on the horizon. By the time you read this the skies will have opened up and I’ll be soaking wet. I was fully prepared to suffer hourly panic attacks and sink into a deep depression once the storm hit. I’m definitely susceptible to a major mid-life crisis, but I think I can stave it off for a few more years. So stay tuned because as readers of this blog, you’ll get to witness my descent into madness. That’ll be fun for you.
I actually feel pretty good about turning 40. I’ve always been one for new beginnings. Every major calendar event is an excuse to start over. January 1st? THIS year’s gonna be different! Birthday? THIS is gonna be my year! Arbor Day? THIS is my chance to be more outdoorsy. But I really mean it this time. They say life begins at 40 and I don’t think you can fully understand that phrase until you’ve reached that milestone. My twenties were fun but they don’t count. I was a kid. I was running all over the country (literally) and working in small theatres for no money, with no idea of what to do with my life or where to do it. Then came my 30s and it took the full ten years to grow up. Married at 31, homeowner at 32, father at 35, father again at 38. And now the start of my 40s. I feel like it’s time to start living the life I’ve worked so hard to build for the last ten years. It creeps me out that I vividly remember my parents turning 40. One should never feel like they’re catching up to their parents, ya know? At the same time though I remember wondering where I’d be when I reached their age. Would I have found the love of my life? Check. I woke up next to her this morning. Would I be a father? Check. I have the two cutest and sweetest boys in the world. Yes, I’m the one. Would I love my job? Check. Would I be an Emmy or Oscar winner? Okay…let’s stick a pin in that one for now. Look, I don’t own my dream home. I don’t sleep on a pile of money at night. And as a friend once said “life is hard and expensive.” But looking back at my past (as I’m notorious for doing) I’ve done okay. And I’m ready to start living. Another expression is that 40 is the new 20. If that’s true that would also be great. Buy that math, 60 would be the new 40 so life would begin then too.
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Chris Loprete, daddysden, Dads
I’m a sucker for the holidays. I LOVE this time of year even though I live in Southern California and I ache for that winter crispness of the East Coast and the country Christmases I enjoyed so much as a kid…and despite the fact that I start to panic every time I look at an anemic bank account that has to endure another gutting for gifts… and except for the crowded stores and credit card debt and shopping for that PERFECT gift for my wife when I have NO IDEA WHAT THAT IS! Oh man, am I stressed. Anyway I really do love the holidays. And since I became a father, another element has been introduced which truly makes this the most wonderful time of the year. What’s that you say? Seeing my kids’ faces light up with the magic and joy of the season? Uh…okay, sure. Whatever. Two things then.
My wife is very big on behavioral therapy when it comes to our kids. In fact she devoted one of her This Little Parent Stayed Home radio shows to it (insert link here). I am teaching her a very special behavioral therapy that only comes around this time of year. It’s a method that’s been passed down from generation to generation. That of “Santa Behavioral Therapy” Allow me to demonstrate…”Clean up your toys! Santa’s watching!”, “Don’t talk back to me! Santa probably heard that, you know!”, “Go to bed now! You hear that sound? That’s the sound of Santa erasing your name off one list and writing it on the other!” Works like a charm. Yes, Virginia there IS a Santa Claus. And he’s a parent’s best friend. In fact I’ve begun using this form of discipline year round. Like in March. “Hey! Santa’s back from vacation and cranking up the workshop so you better check that attitude!” I go even farther. I turn on the Lord Of The Rings trilogy and point to the evil eye of Sauron and say,”Hey that’s kind of like Santa. He has a giant eye that can see EVERYTHING YOU DO.” And then I chuckle quietly. Oh, man. Sit back and watch them eat their vegetables. You’re welcome…and happy holidays!
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Chris Loprete, daddysden, Dads
by Chris Loprete
In one of his brilliant albums that I endlessly listened to growing up, Mel Brooks said “We mock the things we are to be.” My father and I always loved that line, but he obviously understood it more than I did at the time. Now I get it. Mel was talking about kids. And parents who used to be kids. And their kids… and their kids. It’s an endless cycle. “We mock the things we are to be”. It’s inevitable no matter how we try to stave it off or deny it. There should be a drinking game. Every time a kid says” I’ll never be like my parents” everyone has to drink. And then everyone has to take another drink when the parents says, ”Uh…yeah you will so just accept it.” At first, young parents look at it as a bad thing. Hell, even older parents cringe at the thought of it. Don’t believe me? Try telling your wife ‘You’re beginning to sound just like your mother.’ Just make sure you have a pillow and blankets when she makes you sleep in the car.
Here’s just one example. My father and I are very close, but he tended to be a little tough on me when it came to little league sports whether it was baseball or soccer. I have many rough memories of him sitting in the bleachers screaming instructions to me or chastising me for swinging at a ball in the dirt or kicking at a soccer ball that’s still about 10 feet away (to be fair, the poor man got saddled with a son with the hand/eye coordination of a T-Rex) . It’s the main reason why I now sit on the safe confines of my couch watching sports as opposed to playing them. I’m not talking out of school here. My father admits that he got a little intense. Actually he doesn’t remember being THAT bad, but it’s always tougher on the small ears hearing it rather than the big mouth yelling it (love you, Dad). He also lets me know that he has the same memories of his father growing up. I promised myself “I will never subject my boy to that torture. Some people are born athletes. I am not one of them and I will go easy on my boy in case he is not one either.” So maybe you can explain to me why it is that every Saturday
morning for the last two months I have been running up and down the sidelines of a soccer field at my neighborhood park yelling, “BRADEN,CHARGE THE BALL! GET IN THERE! DON’T BE AFRAID OF IT! FOCUS! BE SOCCER READY!” It’s almost like I black out or have an out of body experience. One part of me knows it’s wrong. The other part of me doesn’t care because DARN IT! THE BOY’S GOT TO EXCEL AS AN ATHLETE! I mean GEEZ! He’s ALREADY 4 ½ YEARS OLD! Down in Naples, Florida my father is laughing his ass off. And so is Mel Brooks.
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.
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Chris Loprete, daddysden, Dads
My wife and I are either crazy or stupid or so self loathing that we feel we deserve to be punished. It must be that, right? How else would you explain it? Why on Earth but for any of the above reasons would anybody want to go through this again and so soon after the first time? Oh by the way, my wife and I are expecting our 2nd child. Thank you. Yes, it is very exciting. We’re thrilled.
Sure. Whatever.
It is said that the body and mind are able to block out memories of pain and misery. That must be true. If it weren’t, all families would only have one child. We would be a “single child” society. Maybe the Chinese are on to something after all. My wife is in the last weeks of her 1st trimester. She’s miserable, fatigued, nauseous, hormonal, oh and trying to raise a toddler on top of all that. It only gets better from here on out. Soon will come the heartburn, the restless nights, and the various physical ailments that accompany a pregnancy.
My wife will go through some of these symptoms too.
Then it will all culminate in that “wonderful day” that I described in a blog a few months ago. Oh, but wait. There’s more. Just when we trained our first child to sleep through the night, here comes baby # 2 to carry the sleep deprivation torch. It’s time to get spit up on again and time to look forward to another 2 years of changing diapers. Now once the baby comes, our little boy will be 3 years old so I’m sure he’ll be able to take care of himself by then, yes? No, you say? In fact he’ll require even MORE attention so as not to incite any sibling jealousies? Oh great. So I have THAT to look forward to as well.
We’ll be finding out the sex. I’m not sure I understand the “we want to be surprised” philosophy. There are enough surprises on the day your baby is born anyway so why not knock as many of them out as you can before hand? My wife and I want a girl. We would be happy with a healthy baby no matter what the sex … but come on. Neither of us can handle another boy running around this house. We’re just barely able to keep this one from burning down the neighborhood, why would we want to unleash another Y chromosome onto the world?
Our little boy sees the potential though. The toddler Sith Lord needs his apprentice and knows that together they can rule the galaxy. He has stated very plainly that he wants a little brother. He has also made it clear that he wants us to name the baby “Braden”. We have assured him that while it is a beautiful name, it is also
his name and things could get confusing around the house if we duplicated it. So, while we would love a little boy just as much, my wife and I are hoping for a girl. And then we’re hoping she’ll magically turn into a boy when she reaches high school. At least I am.
So why do it? It’s not like it was forced on me. My wife didn’t suddenly leap across the bed and ambush me as I innocently read a book. (Believe me I would have loved it…) No, we actually tried to conceive another child on purpose and succeeded. In fact I am very proud to say that THIS time, we didn’t need any help from the medical industry.
Nope.
All me, baby.
A solo slam dunk with no time left on the clock.
Thank you.
So why go through all of this again? The answer is simple. Why the hell not? I can’t go out anymore anyway, so I might as well raise another kid and get them all out of the house at the same time so I can go back to enjoying my life.
Okay that’s only part of it.
The truth is our little boy needs a sibling. He has friends, but he needs to be a big brother. He’s only two, but we can almost feel his loneliness. On a recent trip to the park he slid down the slide, looked around and shouted “Hello?!” to an otherwise empty playground. It was if he was saying, “this is only fun if I can share it with someone.” It’s heartbreaking to me when he wants to play with his toys and doesn’t have a playmate. Oh, shut up, I play with him plenty, okay? I just don’t have the energy of a 2 year old. I have the energy of a 37 year old that’s raising a 2 year old which amounts to… not a lot of energy. There are selfish reasons for having another child too. I got a little teary-eyed when I took his crib down and put him in his “big boy” bed for the first time this past month. It’s only been two years but I get very nostalgic when I look at pictures of my boy as an infant and how small he looked in my arms. I had been warned about how fast they grow up and while my son isn’t exactly borrowing the car or moving out of the house, I do feel like those early stages of life are past him. I’d like to experience them just once more. I’ll savor them a little longer this time.
I promise.
Then we’re done. Seriously. I don’t care how fast this one grows up. I’m not doing this any more.
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daddysden, Dads
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.
daddysden, Family, Uncategorized
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 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.
by Chris Loprete
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