by Tim on September 26, 2008
This kind of stuff really chaps my behind. Parenting magazine has remained on my [insert bodily function name] list for years because of their tendency (and the tendency of similar magazines) to write articles that either assume that dads don’t do squat or that when dads do anything (ZOMG! He changed a pee diaper! Call the Nobel Prize committee!) that it’s cause for sacrificing the fatted Barney doll to the fertility gods.
And now according to the article, when the dad does help, we have to shift to a new message. We really don’t want dads to help! Gah!
If you’re lucky, you might even get to read some lame, token piece written by an actual dad. I know a number of dads are simply in this world to carry around carbon and a couple of liters of testosterone, but these magazines need to get over themselves.
I’ve been a stay-at-home dad since J-Man was born. I do freelance work as I have time. It was difficult at first, but you know, it worked out just fine. No one died. The space-time continuum didn’t rupture. Starbuckses kept being built (probably thanks to me). And the sun still rises every morning.
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(Chock full of video goodness!)
“Swifter, Higher, Stronger” is the Olympic motto. It is natural, even if somewhat misguided, to take that to mean that those who go farther or faster than anyone else are our greatest heroes. While Michael Phelps is just freakish in his athletic ability and I would celebrate him getting eight gold medals if that happens, after I would move on. No offense, Michael. Though I probably will go bat crazy if Dara Torres wins gold.
There are some people who have to stare down the most daunting of choices about whether to try to overcome impossible odds or to accept something less. They aren’t the best at what they do, but they represent the best of who we are as human beings. Either for one moment or over an entire lifetime, they do something that inspires us. Through their example, we learn about hope and commitment.
Because of their choices and their determination, there are many athletes who have touched something fundamental in our souls. I could name many more than the ones I mention below, but here are some that really stick out to me.
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So, here I was today at the Yes, We Can! preschool (yeah, not really its name, but that’s a good name for it anyway). I was talking to a couple of the other moms and one of them pulls down the waistband of her two-year-old daughter’s shorts a fraction.
“Look!” says Mom1.
“Oooohhhhh!” says Mom2.
WTH? thinks Dad1 (um, me).
Um, oh! I get it now! thinks Me some indeterminate number of seconds later.
“Oh! How about that!” says Me out loud with some combination of genuine and feigned interest, the exact ratio of which I’ll leave up to the philosophers.
We proceeded to have an intelligent conversation about Dora underwear and potty-training achievements.
I’m not making this up.
Excuse me while I run to the store to buy something with camo on it. I think there’s a 24-hour Army Surplus down the road somewhere.
