Before and After (kids, that is)

Inspired by an older post at Genuineblog – and by the half dozen single male mates I still have (even at 40) - I thought I might compile a list of some of the differences in the ways single males (even married ones with no kids) and married-with-kids-males live and communicate.

• Single or Childless Male: Eats whatever and whenever he wants to … like a friend of mine Michael who would polish off a huge mixing bowl full of Froot Loops for dinner before he was married with kids.
• Married Male with kids:  Eats vegetables and sensible food, at the table, with a knife and fork. (The Froot Loops are hidden in the cupboard for late night snacks.)

• Single or Childless Male: Plays with his toys.
• Married Male with kids: Plays with his kid’s toys (but tries to buy them stuff that he likes)

• Single or Childless Male: Sleeps in on weekends.
• Married Male with kids: Doesn’t.

• Single or Childless Male: Wouldn’t be caught dead watching children’s television programs.
• Married Male with kids: Will still be glued to TMNT, Sesame Street and Kim Possible long after the kids have gotten bored and wandered from the room.

• Single or Childless Male: Listens to good music.
• Married Male with kids: Listens to the Wiggles, Barney and the latest American/Australian/Israeli/British “Idol”.

• Single Male: Three of my single friends  (the self-proclaimed 3 Amigos) shudder in horror when they hear the dreaded “R”-word. They remind me of the Knights Who Say Nih who couldn’t abide hearing the word “it”. Anyway, the R-word? … responsibility… (“Agh, don’t say it! Agh now I’ve said it!” – sorry, too much Monty Python when I was young)
• Married Male with kids: Tries his best to stop belching, picking his toenails with his fork and lighting his farts in front of the kids – at least when The Mrs is home. Embraces responsibility as the eventual consequence of intra-marital sex…

• Single Male: Stays out as long as he wants and thinks nothing of it.
• Married Male with kids: If he’s out with his friends or for business, keeps track of everything he did so he can account for the evening to his wife. [Addendum: In the age of video cell phones, he now checks in at least twice to prove he's not out with some chick]

• Single Male:Dreams of a regular sex life
• Married Male with kids: … actually … that doesn’t change…

Anniversaries

Well, the Ninja and I celebrated our 13th wedding anniversary in typical busy suburban style yesterday: by going out to do the grocery shopping. Cash flow and busyness conspire to make the official date a later-rather-than-sooner event.

Ninja’s mum/mom kindly gave us a card, as she always does, and this time a present. I was (of course) excited to see what it was. Could it be … chocolate??

Alas! It was some frilly thing made out of lace, the 13th anniversary apparently being the lace one.

I have to ask the question: where were the men on the original committee that decided which theme each anniversary would get? huh? It was obviously women! And not the empathetic, understanding modern ones either; it was the ones who love schmalz and “culture” and having things “just-so”.

Last year was our linen anniversary. As Homer Simpson might say, “Oh, linen. Fiddleydee!Let’s buy a pillow case…” 

If men had gotten hold of the list of anniversary themes and had the power to veto, I think the list might have looked more like this:

1.  paper sex
2. cotton sex
3. leather … ok, we’ll let that one stand
4. flowers … sex
5. wood … no, wait, that’s ok, I can build a pagola!
6. candy … ok.
7. copper … PC games or sports
8. bronze … monster truck rally
9. pottery/willow … hmm, dunno … er … ok, sex
10. tin … booze or chocolate or booze and chocolate
11. Steel … now we’re talking
12. linen … sleeping in
13. lace … unless it’s about lingerie, make it golf
14. ivory … technology
15. crystal … weekend away

Then we jump to

20. china … sports car

And after that, the men on the veto committee would probably be bored with the whole thing and not be bothered changing anything else.

If it was up to you, what would you change 25th (silver), 30th (pearl) and 35th (coral) to, fellas?

Feed me, Seymour – FEED ME!

Over at 100 Bloggers April’s theme is Proper Care and Feeding. There’s some great posts about nurturing ideas and about maintaining essential commitments.

It made me think more “prosaic” thoughts about what Generation Z kids get fed literally.

[No, it's not going to be a rant about childhood obesity. Yes, the word prosaic is somewhat pretentious, as is the word pretentious].

My oldest son eats almost anything. He’s a little like The Blob from the old horror film: a relentless eating machine. Oh, sure he’s slow getting started in the morning, but as the day wears on, his appetite moves up through them gears until even the dog is running for cover.

He’ll eat: all vegies except onions and peppers (fair enough!); any kind of meat including kangaroo (although he complains that steak is too hard to cut and doesn’t want it! Jeez!); most breakfast cereals (once in the morning, once in the afternoon and once again in the evening); and of course almost every junkfood known to child-kind.

3 days into the recent school holidays (and four days after our grocery shopping night) i go to the fridge to make lunch for both boys. Nothing. No bread, barely any cheese, no tinned food, no nothing.

“Where the heck did it all go?” I ask myself … and then – like Jerry Seinfeld realising Newman is behind some calamity - I hiss “the boy”.

The most annoying thing is at 11, he has the body most surfers aspire to complete with six-pack abdomen. I look at a cheeseburger and my belt pops its buckle. (double Jeez!)

Youngest son? He actually eats the right way round if you listen to dieticians: big breakfast and then less as the day goes on, so that dinner is problematic for getting him to eat anything (besides dessert which – let’s face it – relies less on appetite than it does on sugar-addiction).

He’ll eat: Brocolli but but no other vegetables (unless you are prepared to weather the emotional storm of forcing him to eat them, which we try to do); cereal and bread (but not toast); apples (if the moon is full or nearly full); honey but not jam (unless it’s the third Wednesday of the month, where this is reversed); oh, potatoes sure (if the wind is blowing from the south); corn (if it’s just the right shade of yellow); a nibble of meat; and if you serve him a fillet of any fish he’ll gobble up the entire thing (but tuna is yukky).

Up until now, Youngest Son has despised oranges. Yesterday his teacher asked his 2nd-grade class to bring an orange cut into quarters. Now he declares he wants oranges every day (yeah, like that’s gonna last!)

Here’s two questions that plague caring sentient parents everywhere (the non-sentient uncaring ones have different questions):

1. Is my kid getting enough nutrition? (e.g. is a diet of rice, wheat flakes, milk and oreos enough?)
2. How do I stop my kids eating so much junk? (junk = the salt + sugar + fats + chemical additives that seem to give even the most well-adjusted children double chins or irregular bouts of homicidal rage followed by superhuman feats of acrobatics)

To question 1, my wife and I agree that if the kid is healthy and not pre-anorexic, let em alone. As long as the diet doesn’t consist entirely of oreos, but contains grains protein and some stuff with vitamins somewhere – what’s the problem? Who says they have to eat like a horse? That’ll come with adolescence or pre-adolescence. I’m open to correction of course; I’m not a nutritionist. But Youngest Son doesn’t seem any less healthy for missing out on most of the food on his dinner plate.

To question 2, I laugh uncontrollably. “Stop them??” I exclaim: “Good luck with that!”

But, seriously folks, it’s a deep concern. It’s like a quote from one of my favourite books on parenting (which I won’t reference because they won’t give me permission to print any of their words – officially – the buggers!): “The child’s job is to test the boundaries. The parent’s job is to resist.”

Good news huh?

But if you care, you’ll just take a deep breath and control the junk food intake, without denying them the odd Happy Meal or Oreo … well, alright the odd 6 Oreos! Ya can’t stop at just one – hope you’re reading Oreo Company: see my contact details to get the advertising cheque ready…)

And heck! We need to find ways to become less dependent on processed foods for our own sakes as much as our kids…

…but that’s for a more serious blog…

I Feel Like Procrastinating … Nah, I’ll Do it Later

Overheard in my living room…

Eleven-year-old boy: (To a seven-year-old boy) “Do you think I’m mature?”

Seven-year-old boy: (Just stares at him perplexed)

*****

Laugh Links

Just some laugh-links for you today: 

• An oldie … but still one that’ll make you comment with a lol or rofl at Bad Dad
• The Art of Hand-farting at Say No to Crack.
• Technical support for monks (thanks to Markk for the link).
• Mounting an attack on your son (an illustrated story) at Atomictumor.

Enjoy!

I Breed Scapegoats

I was telling a friend of mine this morning that the reason I couldn’t talk to her via skype was because my kids had wrecked my microphone headset.

Mid-sentence I stopped short because that inconvenient voice inside my head (named Conscience) cleared his throat meaningfully. I then had one of those rapid-fire dialogues in my own head that take up less than a second in real time…

Me: Yes? What is it?

Conscience: Your kids wrecked your headset?

Me: Yes, what about it?

Conscience: Wasn’t it you who first walked away from the desk still wearing it and jerked the wire loose?

Me: Well, I may have…

Conscience: And haven’t you run over the lead at least many times as your kids?

Me: Er, maybe, but…

Conscience: And when exactly have the kids used the microphone facility? I seem to remember them constantly folding the mic flat against the earphones where it won’t get damaged…

Me: Okay! Okay… Rotten lousy conscience…

… and so I went on to correct myself as I talked with Leah: “Well, actually I’ve proabably done as much damage to it as the kids have -”

(Conscience: A-hem!)

“- if not more.”

This lead to Leah and I discussing how often we blame kids for stuff that either we did or nobody “did”. (”Isn’t that why we have kids?” she chipped in).

Now that I think of it, I’m constantly emabarrassing myself by blaming kids for something only to discover I’m at fault. The scene usually plays out like this (& you’d have thought that the video tape would’ve worn thin at this scene but it keeps on going!):

Me: Where the hell is my Widget?

Ninja (my longsuffering wife): Dunno, hon. Where did you leave it?

Me: Right here next to the keyboard. I know I did! Son, what did you do with it??

Oldest Son: (Highly anxious and defensive) Nothing! I haven’t touched it!

Me: You sure you didn’t move it? You were on the computer last night.

Oldest Son:(Angry) I don’t even know what it is! I didn’t touch anything on the desk.

Me: (Under my breath) You touched the keyboard AND the mouse… (Louder) Sunshine! Did you move Daddy’s Widget??

Youngest Son: (Non-anxious, self-defined) No, Daddy.

(I now rummage around the house, especially through the kids’ bedrooms until Ninja appears in the doorway holding… the Widget).

Me: Oh, thankyou God. All is well with the world now that my Widget is returned to me. (To Ninja) Where’d you find it?

Ninja: (Wearing The Look) On the dresser. By your side of the bed.

Me: (Suddenly realising my folly … again). Oh. That’s right.

Ninja: What?

Me: I kind of … put it there. Last night.

Ninja: … Mm…

(And I trudge off to offer another round of apologies to 2 very gracious boys)

***

I really have to break this habit. In fact, I’m going to drive over to a counsellor right away!

Now where are my carkeys? …

“… Boys!?!”

Dead Man Walkin’

The Easter story is about hope, about new life, about a new start, about freedom from the things we fear most. I have been celebrating its effects on my life with freinds and family at a dawn communion gathering at our local beach. (Followed by a massive breakfast of pancakes, bacon and maple syrup, eggs – scrambled, fried and chocolate! -and lots and lots of good good coffee)

Speaking of coffee (and new life), caffeine-connoisseur Markk was asking about whether the Lazarus story has been created in lego, and the answer is YES. Here is the expurgated version.

[For all your Biblical Lego needs, please go to the Brick Testament.]

Dads in Distress

There’s no doubt that everyone suffers after separation, divorce or the death of a spouse. Over the last twenty years, I guess the Aussie government has begun to provide help for some of the women who have to pick up the pieces and move on while caring for kids. And the kids. Maybe.

But often men have become the villified ones (and let’s face it, there are a lot of recalcitrant and callous men out there who have sired children but take no real responsibility for them – but they’re not the majority)… and sometimes they can be the forgotten sufferers in these situations. Many support groups have risen up to attend to the needs of these men, but as the following excerpt from the latest Fatherhood Foundation newsletter points out, these groups are doing it as tough as some of the Dads themselves…

Tony Miller announced last week that ‘dads in distress’ (dids) will be forced to close its doors on 30th June 2007 unless they are able to receive further government funding. Such recurrent funding has been refused so far because dids important work does not fit into any government funding box at the present moment. This is hardly surprising considering the Howard government and previous Labor governments consistent ability to ignore the needs of the male of the species while pouring hundreds of millions of dollars and more likely billions of dollars into projects and benefits that only women can receive benefit from. It is good that the government helps women but why cannot they also help men? The ratio of government funding that is directed at women or mothers compared with men or fathers is somewhere between 300 to 1 or at best 100 to 1.

It is ironic that Mensline are funded over 2 million dollars per year and that they refer hundreds, possibly thousands of calls to dads in distress or Lone Fathers Association and neither operation is properly funded by the Howard government. You can find out about DIDS here. 

The foundation’s objectives are not to belittle or minimise the struggle of single mothers or the aftermath (financial, emotional etc) of divorce for women. They are:

• To promote, establish and nurture dids support groups throughout the country.
• To promote awareness throughout the community of the need for support for men going through the trauma of divorce, separation or relationship breakdown.
• To bring about solidarity amongst single dads to show them they are not alone and that there is life after divorce or separation.
• To raise the awareness of male suicide particularly relating to divorce or separation.
• To establish and promote a dids referral and drop – in centre in Coffs Harbour, NSW Australia.
• To establish and promote a dids retreat in each state, so that, Australia – wide men needing help and guidance can obtain it.
• Offer and encourage ongoing support to our members in the form of relevant courses, counseling, legal and medical advice.
• To lobby relevant organizations and government bodies to examine and make fairer changes to the Family Law Act.
• To encourage other organizations to investigate and develop programs, particularly relating to separation grief.

What else can we do apart from lobby our local members of government and make a donation to redress this imbalance. I have (I don’t say that to make myself a big deal, it was the very least I could do). Maybe you could add your voice to help single and divorced Dads where you live too.

Maybe you read more at Eric’s post about this and contact Tony Miller at Dadsindistress to encourage him.

Thanks for listening to my rant.

The Coming of the Second One

Following on from yesterday’s spiel about Dads with post-natal depression (just scroll down people, I can’t be bothered inserting a hyperlink – is that blogging bad manners or what?)…

My good mate, Molks, has opened his life for inspection in a brave and humble way over at his blog. (Damn, I had to do a link anyway.)

He mentions that many people told him that the “most difficult change is from 1 kid to 2 kids… the added grabs for attention, the learning of the first kid to understand that Mum and Dad can no longer lavish their total attention on them all the time, etc. ”

I absolutely agree. Add to that the normal demands of new baby and well, woah Nelly! It gets a little stressful…

(And not just for the parents. I remember Oldest Son asking – when Youngest Son was about 8 weeks old – if we could take him back to the hospital and leave him there)

But then again, I only have 2 kids.

Maybe the “most difficult change” is actually from 2 to 3??

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