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I went to the grocery store with an infant and a toddler ALONE…AND I survived.

Family, Uncategorized

I was determined. To heal quickly from my cesarean.
To conquer the idea that I now had TWO kids rather than 1.
To get out of the house.
To prove to myself that although I don’t have family nearby, or neighbors to help out, I was completely capable.
I had been told by several of my friends not to even try it- it couldn’t be done. But I didn’t listen.

A friend of mine suggested that I order the groceries online to be delivered to my home. Another one suggested that I wait until my husband came home from work. I had considered waiting until the toddler had preschool and then take only the infant to the store. All good options, but I had issues with each one: I didn’t want to pay the delivery fee, my husband was working late, and my toddler only had preschool twice a week.
The refrigerator was empty, and so was the pantry.
I had no choice but to attempt this intricate task…today.
It started off fine, believe it or not. As I walked the aisles in the store, I remember thinking, “Hey! This is easy. I can accomplish this!” Of course it was very premature. I was worried that my toddler would take issue with walking NEXT to the grocery basket as opposed to being IN it, since the infant had now taken the prime and ONLY seat available, but actually he seemed to be proud at his new role as the big brother. I was especially grateful that the toddler did not disappear and then attempt to leave the store as he had done several months earlier, at a time when I was pregnant and too handicapped to be able to chase after him.
I confess that I had bribed the toddler with a box of cookies, so he was in fact behaving himself.
The first hitch began when I got to the car and realized that with the double stroller, the diaper bag, and BOTH car seats taking up the entire back seat, I had very little room for groceries.
I made a mental note to bring up the issue of purchasing a bigger vehicle to my husband that evening, which would prove to be a waste of my energy. I would later post my frustration on face book.
Somehow, I managed to squeeze the groceries into the unreasonably small trunk space of the Toyota Rav 4, and slam the door before anything could fall out, knowing full well that opening it again would create a new challenge. I opted not to be concerned for the moment, as I had other tasks to complete. I would cross that bridge soon enough.
Got the kids in their car-seats. First the toddler, then the infant- so as not to have the toddler running in the street and stopping traffic while belting in the infant. Drove home. Okay.
Now HERE is where the real chaos began. By the time I had pulled up to the house, my car at become a chamber of hissy fits, tears and pandemonium.
It was at this point that I realized I had a real dilemma of which action to take first. The infant needed me to nurse him, the toddler wanted his cucumber sandwich with the crusts cut off and a side of apple slices, I hadn’t eaten yet- which was an important task to accomplish before I attempted to nurse, and the groceries were melting in the car.
Plus, I had to pee. Badly. And to those ladies out there who have also been pregnant, you can attest to the fact that it takes several months before one’s bladder is even close to recovering from the trauma.
But this? This was like Sophie’s choice.
What to do first…
Feed the Toddler?
Feed the Infant?
Feed myself?
Save the melting groceries?
Save my bladder?

To be honest, I don’t remember how it went. But the important thing is that it all worked out… because, well, here we are.
As I write this, my well-fed boys are napping (another miracle in itself!), my bladder has been emptied, and the groceries have been put away. Somehow I survived, and I am now able to chalk this up to another lesson learned about how I need not over-extend myself and to know my limitations as a mother.
From now on, I shop when the toddler is at preschool, or my husband is home from work. If I get desperate, I will sit down at the computer and type my grocery list into the virtual shopping cart. If I get REALLY desperate, I will take the boys out to eat.
Now, onto the next task: How to convince my husband that we need a minivan.

My Son, The Comedian

My Son, The Comedian

Chris Loprete, daddysden, Dads, Family

Written by Chris Loprete

My 3 year old is hysterical. Seriously. I’m not talking about the little “oh isn’t that cute” type of laughs that an infant elicits. Nor am I talking about the courtesy laughs you give to a joke told at a cocktail party or by the elderly…or your in-laws. No, I mean every day my 3 year old son says or does something that brings a genuine belly laugh out of me. I always thought I was a big shot because I wrote and performed a one man show a few years back. That’s nothing! My kid performs a one man show every night whether it’s on our living room floor or in the bathtub. And it’s all improv. You should see what he can do with a few finger puppets and plastic dolphins. He’s named every one of his toys and not your every day run of the mill names either. He calls his rubber shark, “Rusty”. Who names a shark Rusty? Brilliant! I’m dying over here! He’s tells funnier stories than Bill Cosby, he’s a better prop comic than Carrot Top and can make a bigger mess than Gallagher. He also works blue at times. His bathroom humor would make Howard Stern blush. I’m not all that fond of his potty mouth, but I understand that he has to work in front of all kinds of audiences. I don’t know, I guess some kids at day care go for that sort of stuff. And unlike every comedian who is just starting out, he never bombs. He goes out there and kills every night.

Is he funnier than your kid? Of course he is. To me. You wouldn’t find him funny though. Just like your kid is hilarious to you, but I probably wouldn’t get it. His or her musings and observations would be lost on me while you would be rolling on the floor laughing. Why? It’s all in the material. You’ve heard the question, “Where do they get this stuff?” The answer? Us, of course. Our kids are little Dictaphones. They just spew back to us what they hear. Good and bad. Their brilliance is spewing it back to us when we least expect it. Last weekend my toddler came in to our bedroom at 7AM looked at me in bed and said with extreme disgust and contempt, “Daddy, are you asleep? Oh, I don’t believe it” Not funny right? WRONG! It’s comedy gold. Tonight he looked at me and the trash bag in my hand and innocently said, “Oh! What have you got there?” SEE? That’s funny! It’s not just what he says, but the commitment behind it. I have no idea when I, my wife, or anyone else said those words, but we must have at some point. The fact that he chose these random moments to say them back to us just shows his penchant for comic timing. And he’s not the only funny preschooler in the family. My 4 year old niece makes me howl too. And the two of them together? Abbott and Costello only WISH they were that funny. I’m also excited because my 2 month old just learned to smile. I’m sure he’s starting to mentally jot some notes down that will soon turn into some real A material.

I’m writing this down here in this forum because it’s the kind of thing that only parents can understand. We are all dying to brag or joke about every single thing our kids say and do. We have to show some restraint though. Our friends who are single and married without kids would give us a smile or a courtesy laugh (see above), but they just don’t get it. Our friends with kids would genuinely laugh, but they would be thinking, “My kid said something much more cute and funny the other day”. Don’t believe me? When you update your Facebook status with an anecdote about your child, the only comments you get are from parents who will say. “That’s funny. It reminds me of the time my little Brittney said…”

Now if you’re like me and you have a toddler, enjoy these comedy sets because they will not last. As my kid grows he will always be funny, but he’ll be a different kind of funny. The innocence and complete lack of insecurity is what makes this stage of life so magical and uproarious. So do yourself a favor before it’s too late. Turn off the TV and take time to watch the show that your kid is performing right in front of you. I guarantee it’s better than any reality show or sitcom (except for the fine programming on ABC). And at times they’ll need a straight man so make sure you can keep up.

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.

Best Worst Mother

Best Worst Mother

Family, Member Contributions

Written by Molly Beck Ferguson

I’ll admit it. Parenthood has flat-out humbled me. I’m sure it has for many other parents out there as well – it has to have. No one REALLY gets it until you are in the throws of it. I only too-late realized how many ignorant and inadvertent judgmental thoughts I had when I didn’t have a child of my own. “I’ll never do this when I have a baby!” “Why is she always doing that with her kid?” I apologize to you all. I had no idea what I was talking about.

But that being said, there are still a few beliefs and ideas of child-rearing that I had in my former life that I am really trying to stick to now. Even though I now know I don’t know very much, I’m honestly trying to be the Best Mother I can be by trying to make the best choices I can.

To let you in on one of our little “secrets” – my husband and I have never really been a big fan of Disney – particularly the ubiquitous Disney Princesses that we feel infect our consumer culture. My husband is afraid that after one princess-themed birthday party, before you know it we’ll be shelling out money for the costumes, the dolls, Cinderella backpacks, Ariel Band-Aids, and Snow White multi-vitamins. I gotta say, I’m not really crazy about it either. It seems, I don’t know – lazy. Easy. Like I should be more creative with my parenting than that. I owe it to her to open up her mind to broader views outside these unrealistic ideas of a handsome prince swooping in and making her dreams come true.

My 2 year old daughter and I were recently invited as a free guest of a friend who has a Silver Pass to Disneyland. Seriously – this is the way to do it. All the fun of Disneyland without the added pressure of feeling like you need to have an AMAZING time, because you’ve just paid the equivalent of a luxury car payment to get in. If we had the choice, it’s a place we probably wouldn’t pick to spend the day on our own, but we very excitedly and graciously accepted the invitation.

I know my daughter had a wonderful day at Disneyland, but I gotta tell you, I had the time of my life! Secretly. I don’t know if I could have admitted to some friends or maybe even my husband what a happy crazy person I became being there. I became the Best Worst Mother ever. I coerced my toddler into eating a lollipop for lunch – which she all too eagerly agreed was a great idea. And didn’t she need a Kermit doll too? Of course she did, the poor deprived child! Even though we have so many stuffed animals at home I consider launching some of them out into space just to get them off my living room floor? But we don’t have a Kermit the Frog doll! Oh, wait! She needed a Mickey Mouse balloon! The same balloons that we found out our cats like to nibble on the string and vomit for days, you ask? Yup. Did that give me pause for a moment? Nope. “One $7 balloon, please.”

What happened to me? I’m a rational, logical, frugal person who barely recognized myself that day. I was quickly becoming that enabling, lazy mother I was just thinking judgmental thoughts about a few paragraphs ago!

As we stood in line for the merry-go-round, I told my gracious friend with the Disney Silver pass how much fun I was having at the aptly-named Happiest Place on Earth. He said – “Yeah, I’ve invited other people to Disneyland before, but they never want to come. I think they don’t even want to expose their kids to it for fear that it will just create princess-loving Disney consumers out of them.” Uhh…who would think THAT, I sheepishly thought, not making direct eye contact. But it hit me in the wake of hearing about another person’s similar judgmental thought – we weren’t taking our kids to a firing range, or an opium den, or any other grossly inappropriate place for them. We are taking them to Disneyland! Where a kid can be a kid, as I believe the old commercial sang. And all of us were having fun. A LOT of fun. What was so bad about that, that people purposely avoided it?

I don’t think that keeping your kid away from a consumerism-heavy theme park is necessarily being the Best Mother – because they are missing out on a truly magical, fun experience. I also don’t think that exposing them to it makes you the Worst Mother either – because that certainly doesn’t mean I have to buy every toy, t-shirt, or fruit snack with princesses on them. Can’t I find a middle-ground and just be the Best Worst Mother I can possibly be? Isn’t THAT what it’s all about?

Letting her watch ONE MORE episode of Dora The Explorer – not only because I have to get one of a million things done in those 23 minutes, but because she loves it. Picking up a Happy Meal for dinner one night – because I can’t deal with cooking, and frankly, she loves French Fries! Buying her a “Belle” gold lame’ princess ball gown to play dress-up – because she loves looking at herself in the mirror with it on, it makes her feel special, and it puts a smile on that luminous little face. These are things that society makes us believe we are bad, lazy parents if we give in to them. I cannot believe that’s true.

I told my friend while in line waiting for the merry-go-round at Disneyland, “You know, if you only feed a kid carob, they are going to find chocolate somewhere eventually.” And it’s true – we are responsible for our children, but ultimately, as they grow up, we can’t control what they love, what they do, or even what they eat. I was a changed woman and a changed parent that day, humbled once again. I had a great time at Disneyland, and officially took one step closer to becoming the Best Worst Mother I really hope to be. And I’m positive my daughter will be better off for it.

On a final note, the next morning, still basking in the glow of our trip to Disneyland, my daughter refused to eat her breakfast. I did sink to a new manipulative parental low by actually hiding behind the giant Mickey Mouse balloon and asking her in a falsetto voice to “Please eat your yogurt!” It worked like a charm. Best Worst $7 I ever spent…

Two Comedians and a Baby Running an Internet Company in the Garage.

Two Comedians and a Baby Running an Internet Company in the Garage.

daddysden, Dads, Family


Writtem by Guest Blogger Chris Mancini

The title is not an exaggeration. Last year, comedian Graham Elwood and I started comedyfilmnerds.com since we were so tired of trying to get work with web companies or any other company for that matter. So we thought we should just become competitors. Of course we were doing it all ourselves and on less than a shoestring. So everything took longer and the credit card balances went up for both of us.
Our goals were ambitious. We wanted to feature movie reviews and columns written by professional comedians, interviews and comedy CDs, DVDs and books available for sale along with movie downloads. We’re a mix of Filmthreat, Amazon and ITunes. So our site was cobbled together with duct tape and off we went. And then it crashed and didn’t work. Many times. That has mostly been corrected.
Audge was on maternity leave while we started everything. We were so excited. We moved my office into the garage and that was going to be the baby’s bedroom. At first I was disappointed but if anyone with children knows, to have a room detached from the rest of the house is much more awesome than either parent will let on to the other.
So every Tuesday Graham comes over and we play “internet moguls” in the garage. We have a blast. We laugh, work, and strategize. And then we try to slowly learn how to get people to come to our website.
But my wife’s maternity leave ended and she soon went back to work and I was suddenly a stay at home dad/comedian/author/filmmaker/web guy. It’s been tough, but we’re getting through it. We’re both working double shifts as we switch off from work and childcare duties and try and get a few hours of sleep in the process. Between working on the website, finishing the book and doing an occasional show there wasn’t been much time left.
So Graham and I shifted our website schedule to later in the day and my son Griffin was now part of the mix. He would be present at the reading of the minutes and have voting rights during board meetings.
So now Griffin is almost a year old, and it’s been about a year since we launched the site. But now Griffin is crawling and he won’t stay in the “bouncy chair” whileF Graham and I struggle and take an hour to try and add a jpeg image of a T-shirt to our online shopping cart.
There are times when Graham holds the baby as I look up a purchase order or find out who Doug Benson is supposed to make a CD out to. The first time I asked him I just flat out said, “Is that weird, that I’m asking you to hold the baby?” He laughed and said no, he has many nieces and nephews and much practice. So I gave Griffin to Graham and he instantly took to him and tried to rip his necklace off. I think it was made of shark teeth or something because Graham’s a surfer and they… all fight sharks, right?
Now you expect comedians to make you laugh, get drunk, hit on waitresses and pass out in a back alley of a club somewhere. OK, we’ve all done it. But it’s a weird picture to see two comedians taking care of a baby. It’s an especially weird picture for the actual comedians.
But here’s the thing: I’ve never been happier. I’m doing my own thing. Taking care of my baby, running a business and there is no one to answer to. If I’m going to learn how to use a website content management system and learn how to use Microsoft Accounting (and I’m still learning, very slowly), I’m going to do it for me, and not anyone else.
I’m sure our company would be making millions of dollars right now if we had things like a staff and a marketing budget. And maybe a new computer. But it is making a little money, thanks to the support of comedy and film fans, comedians, filmmakers, advertisers and other people supporting us along with one intern who is trying to figure out a nice way of telling us she’s too busy to help us anymore. And of course the support from OMM during my book release (PACIFY ME: A HANDBOOK FOR THE FREAKED OUT NEW DAD) has been amazing.
We’re in the middle of rebuilding comedyfilmnerds.com (we originally called it comedyfilmnerdsdotcom.com but it was screwing up navigation and links) and my son is getting bigger. I can see the growth in every part of my life right now, and it feels good. Having children changes your perspective for the better. WAY better. And starting my own business has changed it even more. I’m not “industry obsessed” or constantly “waiting for someone to call me back” anymore. And even if I’m having a bad day, Griffin smiles at me and then it simply doesn’t matter anymore. Now about that million dollars…

Chris Mancini is a comedian and author. His first book “Pacify Me: A Handbook for the Freaked-Out New Dad” is now available for purchase. Enter to win the book for FREE!

My Son, The Comedian

Father’s Day Tribute

Ally Loprete, Dads, Family


Written By Ally Loprete

Here’s to the Fathers who have been there for the good and the bad.
To the Father who wasn’t sure that he even wanted to become a father, but when he did, embraced it in a way that surprised everyone including himself.
To the Father who gets up early to go to work every day to a job that he may not like, working for people he may not like, battling traffic to get home to his family in time for dinner, only to have a screaming toddler shoved in his face accompanied with the words, “Here, YOU take him.”
To the Father, who despite how exhausted he may be, still finds the energy to read to his kids at night with incredible commitment to voice each character in the book.
To the Father who changes the dirty diaper of a colicky baby at 3 in the morning and still goes to work the next day.
To the Father who builds massive forts with his kids out of couch cushions, throw blankets and boxes- and then cleans it up before mommy goes ballistic.
To the Father who handles his wife’s emotions like a champ, and never complains of the mascara stains left on his shirt from the black tears.
To the Father who works overtime so that he can buy a prom dress for his daughter, or a new scooter for his son.
To the Father who takes off work early to watch his son play soccer and score the winning goal, or watch his daughter star in her school play.
To the Father who longs for their children to succeed and nods proudly when they do the right thing.
To the Father who gives up watching the world series to help his son or daughter study for a test.
To the Father who supports his wife when she decides she wants to stay home with the kids, even though it means losing half of the family income.
To the Father who boldly defends his home in the face of danger and arms himself with a Fungo baseball bat when “strange noises” are coming from downstairs.
To the Father who stays in his 3 year old’s room and waits until he falls asleep because he’s afraid of the dark – every night.
To the Father who prepares his children for life’s unexpected difficulties by teaching how to change a flat tire, repair a leaky pipe or clean up after an earthquake.
To the Father who teaches his family to laugh at themselves, and keep laughing when life gets complicated.
To the Father who teaches his daughter to ride a bike, and picks her up when she falls down and cries, and holds her for as long as she needs, before getting back up and trying again.
To the Father who surprises his children on Christmas morning by dressing up as Santa Claus and delivering all the toys they asked for personally.
To the Father who carries his son or daughter proudly on his shoulders so that they can have a good view of the parade.
To the Father whose children love him, and only want to grow up to be just like him so that one day they can make him a proud grandfather.
To the Grandfather who has finally earned the right to hold out his beautiful young grandchild to his son or daughter, and say, “Here, change this.”

To Fathers everywhere: We know it’s not the easiest job in the world, but we know you do it with every ounce of love that you have, and your children are shining examples of what you have given to them. Thank you.

An Open Letter To People Without Children from People with Children, Part 1

An Open Letter To People Without Children from People with Children, Part 1

daddysden, Dads, Family

Written by guest blogger, James C. Ferguson

I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot; I don’t want to draw a line in sand separating the people with children from the people without children. I am in no way attempting to say that either group is any way better than the other. Neither am I attempting to ostracize those who have chosen to not have children (or perhaps are unable to). I don’t want to be part of a clique; nor do I want want to judge. But I do feel that there are a few things that I need to share/point out/mention/underscore.

What follows is an informal, disorganized list of points to consider when dealing with either children or people with children. Berate these points, ignore them, embrace them – I don’t care. But here they are:

A.) Toddlers are not pets.

I’ve owned cats. Cats are wonderful. Feed ‘em twice a day, make sure their water bowl is always full, give them an overpriced plastic box to pee in and some furniture to shed on and they’ll be your best friend. But even if they don’t, you can have them put down without going to jail.

I’ve also owned dogs. They entail a little more responsibility than cats – principally due to the fact that for some unknown reason having a big plastic box in your house for your dog to pee in is considered “uncouth.” (The temptation to make a joke here about FOX News is almost overpowering.) Dogs need to be walked. And that requires some scheduling. Depending on the size of the dog’s bladder, maybe it’s a couple of times a day. Maybe it’s a few times a day. Whatever it is, it’s considerably easier than the constant twenty-four hour responsibility of taking care of a toddler.

“Twenty four hours?” you say, maybe just a wee bit snidely. “Don’t they sleep?”

Sure. When they’re not waking up at three A.M. to vomit on you. And themselves. And the floor. And that pile of overpriced toys manufactured in China.

So if you’re trying to make plans with somebody who has a toddler it’s likely they’re going to say something like this:

“We’d be happy to meet you for dinner but we can only from 5 to 6 because I need to have [insert toddler’s name here] home by 6:30 for his bath so that I have time to get him into his pajamas, read to him and have him in bed by 8 because I need to be in bed by 8:30 because he’s gonna be up at 5.”

Don’t react as if they’ve just told you they collect teeth. Don’t judge. Just roll with it, savoring the fact that you’re probably not going to find food in the laundry.

Toddlers live and breathe by their schedules like the state of California lives and breathes by its taxes. (And beaches. But mostly taxes.) To make plans with somebody who has a toddler is to completely and freely give oneself up to their toddler’s schedule. If this idea bothers you and you need to pretend you’re in control of your life, I’m going to suggest waiting until [insert toddler’s name here] is in college before attempting to spend any time with [insert toddler’s name here]’s parents. The good news is that by that time, the parents of [insert toddler’s name here] will be so worn down from raising him or her that they’ll be completely beaten down (translation: malleable); thus, subjugating them to your iron will should be a snap.

To be continued …
(More letters to come … )


James C. Ferguson lives in Los Angeles with his wife, daughter and two cats. James’ novel, Context Clues, is available on Amazon.com. And his film, Happy Holidays, is available at iTunes, Indiepix, Cinemanow, Caachi and Eyesoda. Additional information can be found on the Happy Holidays MySpace and Facebook web sites.

Here’s To The Moms

Here’s To The Moms

Chris Loprete, Family


Written by Chris Loprete

It’s a scenario that’s happened countless times in the last 3 years and will no doubt happen countless times more. I get home from a tiring day of work only to have my wife shove my toddler son into my arms with a heavy sigh saying, “Thank God! Here. you take him for awhile.” and suddenly my work day has been extended for a few more hours. This has caused some very intense…uh…discussions between my wife and I. I thought why the heck should I have to pull double duty? I’m exhausted too. Can I sit and enjoy some mindless television entertainment for a few hours before I have to go out into the cold, cruel, working world again? It’s not that we don’t love our little boy or that he’s some kind of problem child. He’s my best friend and very well behaved (most of the time). It’s just that I didn’t get why my wife’s day was sooo much more exhausting than mine. I was the one getting up early, sitting in traffic and dealing with bosses, deadlines and the pressures of providing for my family. What’s so tough about occupation: homemaker?

Before all the ladies up and through this place start hatin’ on me, let me make my point which is this: Ooooooooh. I get it. See I’ve been a stay at home dad, Mr. Mom, “manny”, or whatever you want to call it for the last 2 weeks. My wife just gave birth to our 2nd little boy. Thank you. He’s the most beautiful baby that’s ever been born in the history of time. You heard me. My job has essentially been to cook, clean, chauffer, entertain and otherwise occupy our 3 year old son while my wife takes care of our newborn. So I’ve had a glimpse of what my better half does during the day for very little thanks and essentially no pay. Wow. There’s a reason why society dictates that the men go off to work every day. If it were up to us to raise the kids, they’d all be wearing pajamas, eating cheese sandwiches and watching Sportscenter all day. They should make a movie about a dad staying at home with his kids. Maybe get Michael Keaton to star in it. What? Really? When? Oh, I‘ll have to check it out.

Actually if I do say so myself, I’ve done an excellent job these past two weeks. But by 8:30 at night, I am 10 times more tired than I am after a normal day at the office. For instance I promise never to scoff when my wife tells me about her disastrous shopping trip to Costco with our son. Last week I treated the other shoppers to the wacky physical comedy of trying to maneuver a shopping cart filled with bulk groceries while chasing a 3 year old sprinting towards the hot dog booth. Trying to turn that cart quickly is like steering an ocean liner. No wonder the Titanic hit that iceberg. Yesterday I took my kid to Disneyland. By myself. Some friends from work said, “Geez. Aren’t you having the time of your life while we’re slaving away back here at work?” I say to them, “Think so? Wanna trade places for a day?” I do believe my wife has said the exact same thing to me during those intense discussions I was talking about before.

So raise a glass to the moms, guys. Out of the whole year they get ONE day set aside for them and it’s coming up. Make sure it’s a good one. They’ve earned it. Here’s to your mom, my mom, and the mothers of our children. And the next time your wife says, “I need a break.” believe me…she does.

And just because I can’t leave well enough alone, a note to the dads: Take heart. Our day is coming next month and we’ve earned it too.

My Son, The Comedian

Bridge of Exhaustion

Chris Loprete, daddysden, Family

Written by Chris Loprete

Every summer during my childhood my family would drive 7 hours south to North Carolina from Pennsylvania. On the way we would have to cross over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, a 17 mile long bridge that spans the picturesque Chesapeake Bay, in Virginia. There are 2 places along the span where the bridge goes under water and turns into a tunnel. It always looks so foreboding from the northern side. You can’t see the end of it and the bridge just disappears into water in 2 places. When we were halfway across, I always thought, “If this thing goes, we’re in real trouble.” and, “How do they get traffic through if there’s an accident? We could be here for hours.” Then when we got to terra firma on the other side, I always realized that I had just experienced the most thrilling part of the 7 hour trip and actually looked forward to that part of the drive every summer. Well, lately I’ve been feeling like I’m halfway across another bridge. This bridge is a “transitional” bridge with the young adult starting a family on one side and the middle aged family man on the other. Like the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, its long, I can’t see the other side and I may even go under water a couple of times. But I know that I really should relax, enjoy the ride and be confident that a sandy beach waits for me up ahead. To tell you truth though, I’m just plain exhausted.

I quote the late, great Madelaine Khan from Blazing Saddles, ”I’mmm soooo tired.” (cue the chorus of German soldiers). Now if you’re reading this blog, most likely you’re a mommy or daddy which means you’re saying, “Yeah. Cry me a river, dude. We’re all tired.” I KNOW! I’m not telling you anything you don’t know. I’m just telling you my own experiences. That’s why these blogs are so brilliant and relatable. I truly am a magnificent talent. Anywho…

I’m the happiest I’ve been in a year. I don’t want you to mistake my exhaustion for depression. And I’m not even THAT tired currently…although I was literally up all night nursing my wife through the granddaddy of all migraines so I guess I AM exhausted at this exact moment. Generally speaking though, I am not really that worn out. Still last Monday morning I woke up looking at another work week and I almost collapsed in the shower for some reason. I just started to anticipate the coming months and years and how draining it was going to be. We’re 6 weeks from giving birth to our 2nd child…a boy… who has a 3 year old brother…who has boundless energy. I’m truly excited for the arrival of the newest member of our club and am not half as scared I was when we had our first son, BUT I’m also anticipating the work that accompanies another infant and toddler. In addition we just put our house on the market which means it’s very possible that someone could make an offer soon. That would mean we would have about 4 weeks to find another place, pack up and move….and I told you about the baby coming in 6 weeks right? Well, it’s probably more like 4. So while I’m driving my wife to the hospital, I can say to her, “Okay hon, but let me stop and drop a couple of boxes off at the new home first.” To top it all off I have a creative job that I LOVE and while it is far from digging a ditch or working on the freeway, it is constantly busy and mentally draining. And of course I’m hoping that I will keep working my way up the ladder which means more responsibilities and harder deadlines.

Am I really writing a blog about being tired? Geez. Tune in next month for my compelling blog entitled, I’m Hungry!
I guess my point is this. When does it start to get easier? Or does it? Growing up, I never saw my parents sweat. Everything just seemed to be settled and pretty easy. A nice home, vacations, clothes on our back and food on our table. Were they just protecting us kids from their tough times and stressful worries? It’s very likely. I guess that’s one of the many perks of being a kid. So I guess my situation isn’t any different than normal families. It’s just that I want so badly to give my kids everything I had and never make them feel guilty or even let them see me work hard for it. I don’t think there’s a time in the foreseeable future when that will happen. I’m tired of struggling. I’m tired of working at settling down. I want to BE settled. When Braden was first born I had a difficult time crossing the bridge to fatherhood, but now that I’m on the other side, I love it and I’m ready to live that life fully. When can we start saving money instead of living paycheck to paycheck? When can we take a family vacation? When do my wife and I start getting invited to those fun suburban key parties like the ones they had in the 70’s?
(KIDDING!!!! Please don’t hate me for that last one. It was time for a joke.)
When do I join the middle class for real? I can’t blame it on the recession either. My wife and I have always worked in the entertainment industry. We’ve been in a recession since the day after our college graduation. I am so incredibly fortunate that I’m married to my best friend, have the greatest little boy in the world (better than yours. sorry), have a roof over my head and a job (to say nothing of the fact that I’m in the rare situation of having a job that I enjoy!) So don’t get me wrong. I count my blessings every day. I’m just….ready to get to the other side of the bridge. And really tired.

Please Forgive the Pregnancy Brain

Please Forgive the Pregnancy Brain

Family, Uncategorized

Written by Ally Loprete

I don’t know how many more times I will be able to get away with the excuse that I am pregnant every time I have a brain fart. Seriously, my brain seems to be functioning less and less the larger the baby in my belly grows. Does the bloat travel upward to our heads as well? I am a bit of ditz, anyway- as my closest friends will tell you. And it’s not for lack of trying, or lack of caring. In fact, I used to be quite sensitive to the blond hair on my head until I met my husband and he helped me learn to laugh at my malapropisms and idiosyncrasies. There. A perfect example of how I mix metaphors and folk lore.
It’s times like these that I notice the difference in the patience level among my friends who parents like me, and those that are not. Not that I blame them, as I know I had less patience before I became a parent. It’s not that I was an insensitive person, but looking back, I see how easy it was to be judgmental. If we witnessed children acting up in a restaurant, for example, my husband and I would whisper to each other that when we have kids, we would make sure that they would behave much better that that. We’d nit-pick at the parents who were obviously are not giving their children the correct attention or discipline. Looking back at that time and that old me, I want to reach back into the past and smack my face. How dare I? The truth is, I barely recognize the person that I was before I had children and perhaps those unsympathetic notions are punishing me today with a very active toddler, often difficult to control in public places.
I used to be embarrassed by loud childhood behavior and public temper tantrums- especially the ones where my son would lay down in a high traffic area out of protest for not wanting me to hold his hand and force him to go in MY direction rather than his own. After nearly a year of this, I stopped apologizing to the disapproving strangers while they stepped over the obviously “poor parented” child on the ground, and stopped caring altogether what they must think of me.
But back to me and the air in my brain.
It’s gotten significantly worse upon becoming a parent, beginning with my first pregnancy. The term is called Pregnancy Brain: a lapse in awareness because of the fatigue that comes with creating a child and the big belly that causes a disruption in balance resulting in complete and total clumbsiness. Once the baby is born, the brain then transforms to Mommy Brain: a lapse in awareness resulting from sleepless nights and lack of adult interaction during the work week.
Of course, just as my toddler began sleeping through the night and I began to meet other numbed brained parents with whom I might commiserate did I rediscover all that lost energy returning. Of course, I became pregnant again soon after. Hello, pregnancy brain, can’t say that I missed you, but welcome back.
It’s no easier the second time around, either. The only difference is that I have stopped apologizing for it, and I’ve accepted it as part of the 9 month cycle. This is not to say that I don’t use the Pregnancy Brain explanation on a daily basis. The thing that I’ve noticed is that I don’t even need to give the explanation to my parent friends. They just nod in empathy when I’ve forgotten something obviously simple, like …oh…my own son’s name, or the year we are living in, or how to write a proper sentence. They get it…because they’ve either been there, or they are there with me now and didn’t even notice.
Yet, for all my non-parent friends, who I love as much as I ever did, for whom I find myself envying now and again for the motor in their minds that is still operating at full functionality- I forgive you for not quite understanding, but appreciate your acceptance, nonetheless. It would appear that parenthood kills more brain cells than the occasional kegger.
How I Knew Not to Take My Four Year Old to see Coraline.

How I Knew Not to Take My Four Year Old to see Coraline.

daddysden, Dads, Family

Written by Guest Blogger, Chris Mancini
I read the book a few years ago. I knew what it was about. I knew the director Henry Selick has a dark streak and directed Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas. To be honest, I couldn’t wait for this movie to come out. When my four year old daughter Bella saw the trailer she wanted to see the movie. I told her no, it would be too scary.
Now, you would have no idea of that from the trailer. It shows happy scenes and a little bit of danger. Standard kid fare, right? Not even close. Coraline is an animated gothic horror nightmare for children. In 3D. And it’s well, great. But I’m not going to let my daughter see it for at least a few more years. But at the time of the trailer I hadn’t even seen it myself yet, so how did I know? Because I knew the source material and I knew who the people involved were who made the movie, and I noticed the PG rating, although after seeing it, it was really a borderline PG-13.
The book was terrifying. Especially if you’re a parent. It’s about a little girl who disappears through a small door in their new home and meets her “other” mother and father who are much nicer to her, at first. The problem is they have dead black buttons for eyes. The creepiness is lightened slightly for the movie, but not much, that’s for sure. And to be truly effective, it shouldn’t have been. I was very impressed. But as a parent, it doesn’t help you how good a movie is if it’s inappropriate for your children. Your kid may like video games and enjoy Mario Kart but you don’t want them going to Vegas and playing video poker, do you? Technically, still a video game.
As usual, trailer editors and marketing departments have no idea what the content is that they’re trying to sell. So it’s up to us parents to not only filter content but to now also adjust for big studio incompetence as well. As if we didn’t have enough to do.
So know your books, know your shows and know your movies. And look, if you get stuck or miss something, just as me or any other parent who always seems to be talking about Aqua Teen Hunger Force or Battlestar Galactica. Trust me, we’ll know.
Coraline is an absolutely fantastic movie and I can’t recommend it enough. It will soon be a classic up there with the Nightmare Before Christmas. See it in 3D for the full effect. Just don’t take your little kids. Seriously. Don’t. Get a babysitter and leave them home with Wall-E.
Chris Mancini is a comedian and author. His first book “Pacify Me: A Handbook for the Freaked-Out New Dad” will be out June 2, just in time for Father’s day.http://www.daddyneedssomealonetime.blogspot.com/