False Advertising

I have a growing problem. Fortunately I don’t need Viagara to help it.

I also have an on-going growing problem. But I don’t take Avodart for it.

It’s funny how much advertising is directed at men these days. And it is interesting how creative advertisers have become in my lifetime.

Thirty years ago when a woman was considering bra options the only advertising on TV was a bra on a mannequin. Now they show them on hot babes. Yes sir they do. And this comment will probably get me in trouble with the Princess, but what else is new. I am a man and I have to routinely insert my foot in my mouth. At least I am being honest, the women are hot.

As for the other female necessities, they still advertise them, too. They are a little more creative about it, but men immediately start talking about something else when these ads come on the TV during the obligatory chick show that we now willingly watch because some hot TV hostess ran a segment with a less than hot doctor whose analysis suggested men and women would get along better if men were more understanding of the female mentality.

So we watch Desperate Housewives. Really eager dudes will even watch the Lifetime Channel and their myriad of real life tear jerking dramas with actresses who used to be hot and had a hot career 20 plus years ago.

Honestly, do they think we want to know about how active a woman can still be one week out of the month if they use their product? No. Quite frankly I have observed women during these ads and they don’t seem too interested either.

Then there are all of the new advertisements for men’s ailments. If your manhood is experiencing difficulty and is currently less than useful, there are at least three different pills that can help it rise to the occasion. If the same manhood is requiring too much use in the powder room during that beer infested football game, there is a pill to help with that too. Funny they are both “growing problems” and one gets you going, one stops you from going.

My problem is a little different. I currently belong to a segment that is at least 200,000 strong, if you count Sahds the way the US Census does. Meaning stay at home dads who don’t earn anything. Since I earn about half a buck a day writing, I no longer count. However, if you count dads who earn a little out of the house, then it rises to an estimated 2 million and I count. If you also count single dads who do work, then we are into another 5 million plus. None of the ads on tv caters to us when it comes to kids.

Back to school? Those ads have moms. Raising the kids. Ditto. Sick kids? Yep. You get the picture.

None of the ads considers that it could be the dad doing it. Whatever happened to equality? Now I know that they are just advertising to the majority, but if we are going to have equality then we need to have it in at least a few ads. I am not the only dad who complains about this. On the dad websites, they talk about this all the time.

Well I don’t work for an ad agency, but I did sell advertising for a year. And because I did, I accept that I am not going to change this. Why? Because national advertising is sold on a cost per point, or impression. And media buyers aren’t impressed with our numbers.

So even though we are growing, we won’t see a change in this anytime soon. And they don’t have a pill to fix it. However, you can help me with my other growing problem.

I need to increase my readership. I always email and Twitter and Facebook when I publish something new because Examiner.com tells me I should. It does work, but the only true way to get it growing more is if you, my reader, forward this or one of my other pieces on. I hear from many of you that you find these funny, so if you do, please forward to some of your friends. If they like it, they can ask to be included in my email listing.

Help me with my “growing problem” so I can fund my pill problem. Yep, I have to take cholesterol pills and the Purple Pill. Apparently they can damage my liver more than the yellow stuff carried by Clydesdales and sold by talking frogs who are tail gate tested and tail gate approved already have. But that’s another story.

Reflections

Connecting with old friends is a lot easier today than it used to be. We have Facebook, Linkedin and Twitter to thank for that.

Seeing pictures of old friends from 30 years ago has me doing a lot of reflecting. We used to call that a mid-life crisis followed by a girlfriend and a Porsche. Since the Princess won't allow me either of those, I am content to simply reflect.

The other day I told her about reconnecting with a guy I first met in the fourth grade. I mentioned that the last time I recalled seeing him was when we both skipped school and he schooled me in a game of darts in his basement.

Being the overachiever that we have all come to love, she immediately asked me how I became such a bad guy and how do we prevent Carson from the sins of the father. Naturally I was more interested in reminiscing about the dart game.

I didn't answer her. Partially because I didn't think it warranted an immediate answer (read: I disagreed on my badness)and I needed to think.

As a digression ladies, men really do need time to think about their answers. When we open our mouths we get in trouble. Thinking like a lawyer for a few minutes serves us well, even if it means we aren't as "sharing emotionally" as you would prefer.

As I said in my last blog, we get what we need. Some folks would say we only get what we can handle.

I believe that talking with your kid often and early can prevent a lot of ills. I just read (albeit in a Baldacci novel) that children form most of their psychological makeup by age 6. I don't know if that is true, and I don't care. What I do care about is happiness, love and kindness.

The old saying, people don't care how much you know until they know how much you care, applies in my world. And I want Carson to know how much I care.

As he grows up, I focus on keeping him safe physically and emotionally. And I teach him how to be considerate and think for himself. I don't want him to be an actor, a ballplayer, a lawyer or anything. I want him to find his own way.

When I was allowed to read Playboy (yes, some of us do like the articles), there used to be an advertisement on the back that I related to. It was a picture of a sax player with an open instrument case for donations. The caption read, "Do what you love. The rest comes."

As I reflected yesterday, I wonder how many of my classmates are doing what they love. Probably very few. Most people get caught up with money, debt, mortgages etc.

Of course, money makes the world go round and your kids do need financial/physical security. However, most people I have met always want their kids to be happy. They don't care whether they become financially rich, they want them to be emotionally rich.

This is in my opinion, a good departure from the past.

When I was recruiting, I noted how today's graduates from accounting schools have a more rounded background. I was in the Honors Business Program at UT. It was only offered to about a hundred or so students of over 10,000. When I met some of the kids in the program today, I found them to be smarter than we were. They also volunteered more. Had a more fuller life. Drinking and drugs may be a small part of their life, but not the focus.

The other thing I noted was they don't want to work the long hours of their parent's generation. Not because they weren't overachievers. Rather they had witnessed divorce, lost jobs and a home with parents working more than they were home. No longer did working massive hours mean success.

Now I happen to believe that the correct ground is somewhere in the middle. But if a person hedges toward time with their child instead of the corner office, how can you disagree with that?

So that is how I answer the question. Fill him with ideas, love and hope. Let the rest come.

Whatever will happen for Carson, only God and time knows. But that's Carson's story.

You can't always get what you want

I did not attend my 30th high school reunion. Not because I didn't want to. The Princess had to work that weekend and finding a sitter for Carson on an overnight is not that easy, or cheap.

I just looked at some photos from the event and I see that our valedictorian attended. Along with 45 others out of about 350 or so. Not the greatest attendance, but not bad either.

It has only been recently that my parents attend their reunions and those are from over 50 years ago, so our class has time.

I wonder out of all those people, how many ended up where they wanted to or at least where they thought they would.

When I was a senior, I took a psych class where the teacher asked us to fill out an index card with our goals and he would mail them 5, perhaps more, years later. I was surprised that mine found me, since we had moved away only a year after that. For the five year mark, I was surprisingly on target.

Clearly from my blogs, I am not on the track anymore.

The funny thing is, most people who are financially successful didn't set out to be. I have a friend who was a lawyer and now has a 25 year success story as a recruiter. My wife who does incredibly well wanted to be a mom.

I guess the one thing I always wanted was to be happily married. It only took me three times to get that right.

A current song by those of you who listen to the radio is the Miley Cyrus song, "The Climb." Regardless of what you think about her or the song, the lyrics are really true, the climb is what life is all about. It isn't whether you get there or how well off you are when you do.

I have known some very wealthy people and they aren't always very happy. I know that having money helps eliminate one issue, but it can and does create others.

I think that too many people today get so focused on making money, they forget to enjoy the climb. And those that do make a lot of money, in most cases, spend way too much time on the job instead of enjoying the people around them. And that is why there are so many divorces: not focusing on each other. Failing to remember why you said "I do."

The same goes for kids. People quit remembering why they said "I do" to wanting a kid and fail to give them the one thing they need, "time." It is truly the one thing that money can't buy. And it is a great equalizer in the end. Because when you spend so much effort toward one, you lose sight of the other.

Don't get me wrong. I wish I had a ton of money (the Princess wishes that I did too). But all I ever really wanted, I now have. The Princess and Carson.

And thus, you get what you need.

R-Rated

When we lived in St. Croix, we lived in the Hess Camp Compound. They had a club with pool and ping pong tables and tennis courts. Once a month they showed first run movies.

In 1970, they were showing the new R-rated Sam Peckinpah movie, "The Ballad of Cable Hogue." It was admittedly a controversial departure from Disney and Davey Crocket. Many of the kids were not allowed by their parents to go in and see it.

We were. Obviously, or I wouldn't write about it.

The movie was a western that took place towards the end of the wild west, as there was an automobile in it, which was ironically Cable's (Jason Robards) undoing (it ran over him). The movie had very little gunslinging, a little cursing and no skin was shown. It did have the obligatory saloon "gals" and poker. Today it wouldn't rate a PG-13 (I looked up the scale) and today's pre-teen boys wouldn't watch it even if it was R. Transformers PG-13 delivers better babes and blood.

The Princess wasn't allowed to see an R movie until she was in college.

Carson has seen a couple. (However, the Princess has decided he won’t be seeing any more anytime soon, which means I won’t either; unless, I watch them after 9 am chores completion and before she comes home. After she reads this, my chores list will undoubtedly be increasing.)

His favorite is (was) "40 Year Old Virgin" uncut and unrated. It would have been rated an X back in my day. Does this make us bad parents? I don't think so. The Princess might.

This country is so obsessed with sex and its entire spectrum. We have the horrified prudes and "the eh so what." I fall towards the latter, as most of you knew, or just figured out. So does most of Europe. And Asia. And so forth.

My brother and I watched Cable Hogue and neither of us are gun slinging, whore-loving deviants. Although, the Princess does tend to take exception to my rather liberal use of four letter words. I might point out that I didn’t learn them in movies.

The interesting thing about today's sex scenes in films, which the Princess has decided Carson shouldn't see, yet laughs at when he does, is he isn't interested in them. Every time that portion of the movie comes on, he is never paying attention. It is the other parts that he finds funny, and doesn't understand either. His favorite scene is when the boys get together to play poker (that's my boy) and talk about the size of various women's "poopahs," as Carson likes to refer to them.

He still believes that babies are placed in a mommy's tummy through her head, so we are not too concerned about him having sex anytime soon. Or ending up a deviant.

Two nights ago, while the Princess was away, Carson and I cheated on the movies. We watched Notting Hill. Yep, a chick flick. The cheating was that we watched a chick flick. It is rated PG-13 for sexual content and brief strong language. If you count the fact that Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts are naked in bed (no nudity shown), then I guess that counts. As for language it is British cursing mostly about bugger off and wanker.

In the movie, Julia is shown pregnant in the last scene. For the first time Carson asked why? Gratefully, not how. Although if he had been interested he might have figured it out from 40 Year Old Virgin’s sister film Knocked Up. Which we started to watch with him, and quickly decided not to, thus ending his run on Judd Apatow films.

Quite frankly, we get more concerned when he watches The Incredibles, a cartoon. Because there is violence in it (you didn't think it had a sex scene did you?). But, since it is rated PG acceptable for him, we let him watch it, and it doesn't seem to give him nightmares.

As I reflect, if movies do influence young children, I suppose we may have to worry about Carson playing strip poker dressed as Mr. Incredible.

We don't allow any movies with extreme PG-13 violence, because those do scare him, and they scare the Princess. So I have to watch them by myself. Love that blood and violence, especially when combined with poker, a la Sopranos.

Don't worry, I don't own a gun.

And yeah, there is a strange twist. The X rated/unrated movies, we watch(ed) as a family. The R-rated gratuitous violence flicks, I have to watch by myself. Quite the opposite of when I was younger.

But that’s, ahem, another story....

Music to My Ears

It's funny what we remember.

I just recently reconnected with an old friend from the 4th grade. Thanks to Facebook. I mentioned that he was the first person I met in my new school. We had just moved to NJ from St. Croix. It was fairly cold, but no snow or rain that day. We were living in a Holiday Inn while our house was being built. So we didn't ride the bus yet and we were too far away to walk. But my Mom made me wear my snow boots! I complained, but was "overruled." I arrived to class late and was taking off my boots and a kid nicknamed Tweety leaned over and whispered, "Do you play kickball?" I had no idea what that was, but I replied yes anyway and joined the group for my first game during lunch. Today he goes by the name, "Tweed," and he is a kickball/PE teacher to autistic kids. And he plays in a band.

Music has always been important to me. One of my earliest memories of living in Peru (before St. Croix), was of my parents playing Guantanamera on the record player. To this day, I love to hear that song. As many of you know, it is always a request in any Gringo Mexican restaurant. Apparently we only know that song, Feliz Navidad and La Cucaracha.

Carson loves that song. He and the Princess always sing, One Ton Tomato, da da da, One Ton Tomato.

Another memory I have is my Mom driving us around St. Croix playing the radio and we would always hear Simon and Garfunkel playing one of their hits from The Graduate.

It's funny, I don't remember anything my dad listened to when we were young. We always complained about country, so he put on news radio.

I like all genre's, except most rap I can do without. And Carson really is learning to appreciate all kinds as well. The Princess used to only listen to country. I may have lived in Texas and Louisiana for 30 years, but the only country I ever heard came from Urban Cowboy. My Dad used to love country, even listened to it in New Jersey. Today you can't find a country station in Connecticut. Which I find amazing considering how popular it is overall. Carrie Underwood, Taylor Swift, Brad Paisley and others are burning up the charts.

So Carson loves country. And he loves music that I like. Pink Floyd was one of his first favorites since he could giggle. The sound of the chimes from Time and the cash register from Money always made him laugh. Once he began talking, he always asked for those. In addition, he loves the Eagles, Pink, the American Idols (which was his first concert), and of course, Bruce. One day I will introduce him to Yes and Genesis. He already knows all about the Pussy Cat Dolls. Don't Cha. When I was his age I liked Josie and the Pussycats. I have to admit, I like his choice a little better. Don't you?

One day, he will pass on to his kids a love of music. I am sure One ton tomato, the chiming bells and the Boss will be in the mix. And some music that his generation creates that we aren't ready for.

I doubt he will pass on a gift of playing an instrument. I tried the guitar, but the 70 Percenter that I am, just hated to practice. So air guitar and banging on bongos like a chimpanzee will have to do. Funny, I only found out 3 months ago my Dad played drums in a band long ago. But that's another story.

Gig 'em

Before I started writing this blog and my column for Examiner.com, I really could be done with my “chores” by 9 am and opening the first beer of the day. Not that I ever have, I just liked knowing that I could. Sort of like the 2nd amendment guys who like to know they can own lots of guns. Come to think of it, they do.

Well, I don’t pop the brew at 9. I am too old. My knees pop more than the cans do. And my hands have arthritis, so I need a cheater to really open a lot of cans. And then I just have to go to the can, so I am finding it better to just lay off till 5 pm.

Besides now I have a 9 to 5 job. Yep. It takes me all day to write my column and blog. On a good day, I make $2 for the column and zip for the blog. On a bad day, I make 50C for the column. Still zip for the blog.

Before I stayed home, I made a lot more than the average worker in the US. Even in a bad year. The Princess is probably scratching her head about that and pulling out my old W-2’s. Okay, it has been awhile since I had a good year.

I never thought I would end up doing this. Except for the occasional poem and sweet card (and one rant to our local representatives), I haven’t really written a whole lot. I am sure our congressman is grateful for that. In fact, he probably celebrated we moved out of his district.

Anyway, my teachers in High School wanted me to do this. They thought I would be good at it and I would enjoy it. Aside from getting high (it was the 70’s), I figured that was a dead end route that didn’t pay anything. Turns out we were both right.

I do love it. And it doesn’t pay anything. Except an occasional reply from one of you that you enjoyed that day’s blog. And that gives me more satisfaction than I ever imagined.
Plus, I can no longer be included in the US Census as a Sahd, because I have a paying gig. That ought to make my Dad happy. Perhaps not my father-in law.

But as the Texas A&M Aggies say, Gig ‘em if they can’t take a joke.

Don’t get excited Aggies, I still don’t like you on Thanksgiving Day. And Carson can still go anywhere but there and Oklahoma. Some things never change. But that’s another story.

Legacy Pt. 2

A great friend of mine wrote me last week how he loves my blog, but wished I cared more about trees. I wrote back, I am an environmentalist, and have been since I was very young living in New Jersey.

While I was in elementary school, they ran a contest about recycling. I received a blue ribbon for my submission. Not because I could draw, you know I can’t, rather I could rhyme. “Dig this scene, help keep Bridgewater clean.” I used a real canvas, stencils (can’t write), a ruler (truly can’t draw) and paint. I painted a man only slightly more refined than a stick figure, taking his recyclable items to the center. I never got it back, because they kept the best ones. So I can’t prove it to you. Maybe my Mom can find the blue ribbon. This isn’t to brag. Rather to make a point.

Our grandfathers drilled for oil, created plastics, cars, electric generation plants, warships, rockets, etc. Our dads improved them.

The first generation didn’t know that plastics could be carcinogenic. Neither did our dads. Just like they didn’t know that cigarettes kill.

Our generation has no excuse.

Yes, I smoked. Quit. Started again. Quit again. Started again. Quit for good. I am not a hypocrite. I knew smoking was bad.

Today, we all know that all of the things our grandparents created were awesome inventions, with one serious drawback. They are serious polluters.

I didn’t vote for Gore. I only recently saw his movie “An Inconvenient Truth.” When he won the Oscar for it, I just figured it was an award given to a Democrat by Democrats.

I am not anti-business. In fact I believe in business. Responsible business.

As you know, I write for Examiner.com. They don’t editorialize our submissions, which is why my grammar and punctuation stinks. And it is why some articles get through that, in my opinion, shouldn’t. Yesterday, an older writer submitted that a physicist had predicted the cold snap in the mid-west three months ago. In fact, he nailed it within a couple of days. The prediction was based on sun activity. He further wrote that the weather patterns are not affected by greenhouse gasses or anything Man has done in the past or is doing now. He blamed Gore and others for trying to pass legislation not to protect us, rather only to create more business for “green” companies. That was the first time I ever read a negative article about Gore because he was pro-business. Bush beat him on the idea he wasn’t. Go figure.

Some people I have spoken to don’t believe Gore either. And, they say, even if he is right, they won’t be here when all of these bad things happen.

What kind of legacy is that? Don’t Carson’s grandkids deserve clean air? Do we really want a world like we see in Wall.E filled with trash?

Even if Gore is wrong and the old man is right, creating jobs isn’t such a bad thing. And if he is right? I hope that our generation does enough to ensure our children’s future. Like recycling paper, or going paperless when possible.

I recycle everything I can. I get sick about it when I don’t. So does the Princess. And we are teaching Carson. Why? Because we know better.

All the money in Bill Gates’ bank account won’t help Carson with his future, if we leave the world worse than we were given it.

I do wish I had all that money, though. But that’s another story.

Legacy

Yesterday, I wrote about the hanging myself out to dry over hanging pictures with the Princess. An old friend of mine wrote me that he wondered “What was that all about? You left out some details and it was probably a good thing.”

It made me think about arguments she and I have had and then I got to thinking about the world and all of the arguments between religions, conservatives/liberals and countries.
Some of the arguments she and I have had were unfortunately in front of Carson. He is 4 ½ now and has been speaking for over two years. A couple of years ago he witnessed one of our “debates” which became heated and he moderated it by stepping in front of us and said “Daddy don’t talk to mommy, talk to me.” Oh that it were that simple, right?

But today I was thinking, maybe it is. The debates and fights people, countries and factions have are ridiculous when you break them down. For instance, liberals hate the death penalty and guns, but believe in abortion rights. Conservatives hate abortions, but love guns and the death penalty. In the end, nobody who is relatively sane really wants to kill anyone or anything. They just want the right to do it. And if you look at religion in the Middle East, there is much commonality if you look for it.

Yesterday the Princess and I got into it, when all we really wanted to do was hang pictures. Instead of handling it from a point of commonality, we handled it poorly. She will say it was all me, but you can’t argue with yourself. Perhaps if more people looked for commonality first, they wouldn’t argue. Maybe they’d stay married. Countries would stop fighting.

What does this have to do with Carson? I don’t want him to fight over stupid things. I need to teach him to fight for what’s important. Preferably he will learn when to fight, when to walk away and find the wisdom and strength to know the difference.

I grew up with a family that argued a lot over things that in the end really don’t matter. I love them and I am pretty sure they love me. But that is one family trait I want to stop with me and not pass on to Carson.

Will it happen? Knowing me….nah. But I hope. If I do, will it change the world? Probably not. But I hope that Carson does something good in the world and leaves a lasting legacy. Even if all that means is that he is a better Dad and husband than I am. But I really hope he and all of his generation change the world. And I have all the arguments as to why they will. But that’s another story.

Hung

Hung is an interesting word. What was the first thing that came to your mind?

For some of you men out there, perhaps it is the word you use to describe your manhood to your buddies, but failing to deliver in reality to your partner.

For you less vain, perhaps you think of a jury equally failing to deliver. Or a man swinging from a rope, when the jury did deliver.

For you fun loving drinkers, perhaps the proverbial, “Man, I am hung-over” came to mind.

As for me, I am thinking about the pictures still remaining to be hung on the walls. One of those chores I wrote about in a previous column.

In this case, I hung myself last night when I told the Princess her ideas about hanging the pictures were all wrong. As I have said before, I am still a man; I just operate in a woman’s world.

I am not sure why I can’t just keep my mouth shut. It would after all be far more expedient. Women, when they get together to discuss hanging things, or anything for that matter, share their ideas and feelings. And they nod in approval when ideas are submitted, then share their opposing ideas. In doing so, they rarely create an argument. Although, they do sometimes tell their male partners later how wacked their friend’s ideas really were.

Guys on the other hand, we just can’t help ourselves. Telling a friend how stupid they are and how smart we are is just part of the process. Do we piss each other off? Of course. We grew up doing it from the time we were young. But then we go out and get “pissed,” as the British love to say, with the same buddies at the bar. We may hold a grudge for awhile, but a few brews solve the problem. Because after the drinks it is either, “I love you man,” or “I am gonna kick your butt,” either way problem solved.

This same strategy carries over with guys vs. dolls. We are programmed to prove our worthiness to our partner. Shania Twain’s song “That Don’t Impress Me Much,” is not that far off. We do want to impress you being “an original regular know it all.” Particularly, if we don’t have “a car” or look like “Brad Pitt.”

When you ladies ask our opinion, we do share it with you, and we expect you to share our point of view. And if you don’t, we can point out how brilliant we are and, conversely, how less brilliant you are. Those more skilled in arguing can point it out without actually saying it.

Which brings me back to hung. Yep, last night I hung myself. Woke up dreaming about being “hung” out to pasture by the Princess, who found someone else to share with. Realizing the errors of my ways cost me a backrub this morning. And it cost me a chance to prove how “hung” I was last night, instead hanging out with my friends, the couch pillows. One of these days I guess I should assign them names, so I can share my brilliance with them. Better yet, I may just learn to stop sharing and start caring. But that’s another story.

Daycare shopping- Connecticut

By the time we arrived in our new home state, we were sold on putting Carson back into daycare. Three days of driving a car loaded with the Princess’ clothes and Carson asking “why” for 1600 miles will do that to you. Fortunately, we had just purchased a new car with a TV and headphones, so at least he was receiving some education, if you call Grease education. As you know from my previous blog on TV vs. Daycare, I do. And the Princess doesn’t.

So upon arriving I quickly scoured the area in Stamford and came up with a great option. Which is to say, the Princess asked around at the office and made a list for me to call. As you now know, the Princess likes lists. And I like to sleep in bed instead of the couch.

The office has a Bright Horizons daycare center on site so we looked at it very closely since it met the Princess criteria of convenience. And as it so happened, we looked at two other Bright Horizons centers.

The center at the office was full at the time so we chose the center at Long Ridge. We liked the center and the teachers we met. I liked the playground. As you know from previous posts, this is important to Carson (and me).

Well it worked out because Carson is thriving. He is already learning to read, which is 2 years sooner than I did. And he can count to a hundred. Like his dad, he can’t draw, but he tries. And he has learned to sing and dance with his teachers.

More importantly, he has many girlfriends, thus proving my theory that TV also works, since he learned that secret from Grease. Fortunately, none of them wear leather and spandex. But that’s another story.

Chef Sahd

I am a great cook. If you count grilling and microwaving. If you don’t, then I am only a slightly better option than McDonald’s.

If you asked Carson, McDonald’s is better. Burger King is best. Because they have better playgrounds in Stamford (see I taught the kid well when it comes to playgrounds).

Why am I not a great cook? Well, as you know, I am not an ambitious man. Okay, I am a Seventy Percenter. What that means is, I am the lord of the grill and chill. Not so good with much else. I mean I can cook veggies. Steamed, boiled or sautéed (and of course microwaved). I do baked potatoes (who can’t). And I do brownies (strictly legal ones). And that is about it, unless you count store bought cakes and ice cream. Which Carson does. The Princess doesn’t.

Not because the Princess isn’t appreciative. It is just that she isn’t a Seventy Percenter. She is the 100 Percenter (yep, I am even too lazy to type “hundred”). She is an awesome cook and can do everything better in the kitchen.

Except the chill. She is a little too wound up for that. As you would expect a 100 Percenter to be. I have the art of chilling down to a science. All those years of “thirst” groomed me to be a 100 Percenter in that category.

So if you want to know about cooking in kitchen, rely on the food network. If you want to know about scotch, beer and fine wine, ask me. I am “loaded” with experience. But that’s another story.

Perfect Princess, Imperfect Me

It has taken me awhile to strike up the courage to write this one, because I will never live it down once I do. At least that is what I have told myself. The real truth may be that no man really wants to admit he is wrong. If you want to learn more about this particular “truth” read Men are from Mars Women are from Venus.

The world has changed a lot since I was born. Even though there are only officially 160,000 stay at home dads, there are millions more single dads. A lot of the dads who work from home and watch the kids while their wife goes into the office are not included in the sahd numbers. So in fact there are many more than you think.

Furthermore, it is now the norm that the household has two earners. We do, if you count the fifty cents I earn a day writing for this blog and the Examiners.com webpage. Yet I am not sure that we are better off (I guess you wouldn’t either with 50 cents). Fifteen years ago, Money magazine ran an article comparing a couple who were both lawyers to one of the lawyer’s parents. Her parents only had dad working as a principal in an elementary school. The article said that the 2 earners with well over $200k in earnings actually were worse off financially, than her parents had been due to taxes and general cost of living.

What does this have to do with this blog? Not sure, but it came to mind. Are we better off if I worked, or not? I would have to say we would be, but my imperfect resume lends itself to recruiting, and right now those jobs are scarce, so I am patiently looking for the right opportunity.

What is it like being married to perfection? Difficult. Leads me to drink. But she doesn’t drink and remembers everything the next day, so I can’t drink too much. And that just leaves me thirsty.

Okay, not true about the thirsty part. Those of you, who know me, know I am rarely thirsty.

The Princess was a star in high school with cheerleading and all that rah rah stuff. She was a bigger star at Trinity University, including homecoming queen, big wig in her sorority and the Pan-Hellenic which oversees all of the sororities. When she graduated she made manager at Arthur Andersen in 3 ½ years when the norm was 5 to 6 years. I didn’t quite do as well in any of the aforementioned categories.

I was content to get an A. The Princess had to get an A plus to be happy. Hell, even her brother, who is now a surgeon, was happy with just an A.

But 90 percent is not the grade for the Princess. Which is why she is so successful and I can make fifty cents a day and we can still get by. The problem in all of this, or I prefer the word “issue,” is that I am never right.

I am a man. I like to be right. Read Men are from Mars….

How imperfect am I? Well, when Carson was first born the Princess wanted me to keep track of the times of all his feedings and how much he consumed. Why you ask? Well that is what I asked too. If you have read any of my other blogs, you know that was the wrong question. So after a night on the couch, I decided to keep track.

I can’t speak for other wives, even though I have had two others, but my Princess likes to keep track of things. I can’t even keep track of where I am going with this blog. She makes a lot of lists. I am not fond of lists. If I go to the store and pick up 70% of what I was supposed to I think that is okay. I guess that is why the perfect Princess calls me a Seventy Percenter. But that’s another story

Daycare Shopping-Houston

I am used to interviewing. Both for candidates for job openings I am looking to fill and for jobs I was looking at for myself. If you bothered to look at my resume, and most employers won’t, you would know that I am used to it. But I am not used to interviewing baby sitters and daycare centers.

And although I am a man living in a woman’s world (aren’t we all?), I am not happy to just go shopping. Now I know that finding the right daycare is important, but it still isn’t easy or comfortable for me. Especially because no matter how thorough I am, I am not as thorough as the Princess. It doesn’t matter what the subject is, if it is important to the Princess, she will be thorough. Even though I do most of the home chores and errands, it isn’t as thorough as necessary.

When I first began looking for daycares, I looked for ones close to us. Naturally this makes sense, especially in Houston which is just about as big as the entire state of Connecticut. When I showed the Princess my impressive list of daycare centers within a few miles, she asked me had I researched their teaching methods. No.

After I researched their methods, I re-presented my prospective list. She asked me if I had reviewed their credentials. No.

After I researched their credentials, I resubmitted my list. She asked if I had researched their teachers. No.

After further reconsideration, I resubmitted my list. She asked if I had determined if they were certified by state and federal agencies. No.

After satisfactorily completing my revised list, I placed it on her vanity in the morning hoping to avoid any more consideration of all the things I hadn’t considered. However, she asked me if I had considered if it was convenient for her to get to these schools for teacher meetings and child activities. No.

So after much further consideration, I narrowed it down to the one of the Montessori schools, Children’s Courtyard and Crème de la Crème.

I always assumed you just picked a school and registered your child. No. You have to interview them. And as I found out on my first visit, they interview you.

I first chose to go to the Montessori school. We had heard much about their philosophy which you can find out at www.montessori.edu if you have questions. Many of Laura’s coworkers and friends had tried one. Some loved it and some hated it. The biggest complaint about them was they were not organized and they let their students do whatever they wanted. Being a renegade and avid follower of my newfound TV philosophy (refer to TV vs. Daycare blog), this sounded good to me. Well the class we sat in on was anything but. Those were the most well behaved 3 year olds I had ever seen. If Carson acted like that for an hour and I acted like it occasionally, the Princess would be smiling indeed.
Unfortunately, that was not the end of the process because I was sold! Turns out that Carson did okay in the interview, but I must have pissed the Administrator off because she certainly wasn’t kind to me. Now I know you all are thinking, “Yep he certainly can do that.” And lord knows I have pissed a few of you off. Anyway, after that I realized I needed to wear a nicer shirt and pair of pants instead of ratty shorts. And I wisely took the Princess with me after that. Partly because she dresses better, she interviews better, and just generally presents us better. But mainly because I had another interview that night with the Princess to review my interview and I realized I had asked only three of the 30 or so right questions. Like I said before, I don’t need to be taught three times.

We loved Crème de la Crème (www.cremedelacreme.com). Carson’s cousins attended their school in Dallas and it is phenomenal. It is school in Disney Land all the time. They have fabulous facilities and teachers. They were the most expensive option and not everyone can afford them. And they were the most convenient to the Princess’s office. This was very important, even though it was 20 miles and one hour out of my way. Because I like making the Princess happy. And that keeps me off the couch. However, they were booked a year in advance. Another one of those learning experiences for a SAHD. If you want your kid in the right schools, you need to book early. Like before they are born.

After a few more visits, with at least what seemed like 10, but was probably like five schools, the Princess and I agreed to go with the Children’s Courtyard (www.childrenscourtyard.com). Okay, I agreed to go with the Princess who had decided to go with Children’s Courtyard. I had seen them in one of my other school drivebys. What immediately attracted me to them was they had an awesome playground that I wanted to swing at…with Carson. What attracted the Princess was their facilities, which in my opinion included the playground, and their administrators and teachers. They have a philosophy that children learn through playing that is constructively focused by their teachers.

Carson’s first teacher was Miss Sue. She changed Carson’s life and diapers. And she changed mine. Just my life, I don’t wear diapers, for now. But that’s another story.