DadCentric

Black Hockey DadCentric Reviews: Kids Talking

There's constant danger lurking around the edges of writing about being a Dad. The truth is surrounded by dishonesty on all sides. You want - believe me I really do want - to write about children as if everything they do and say result in epiphanies that alter your destiny in profound ways. But that's not true. So you try to pepper it with the hard stuff. However, when you start writing about the negative, you run the risk of harsh criticism - the harshest criticism comes from yourself - about being a terrible parent and then some idiot asks you why you even had kids in the first place when you hate them so much. Well first of all, I never tried to have kids, but that's beside the point. And if you give me a bunch of jazz about not having sex if I didn't want kids, then this conversation is over because Black Hockey Jesus just gots to have it. Anyway, complaining about kids doesn't mean you hate them and wish you never had them. It's just that sometimes you really wish they'd shut the fuck up.

Fireworks

I'm taking the easy way out tonight - I can't properly combine words into coherent sentences in order to post something worthy of your time so I'm posting a video that was crucial to my elementary school learning. I'm sure it was with many of you as well. At least those of you who grew up in front of the TV a la Martin Tupper. For those of you born in the 80s or later, this was the Dark Ages, B.C. (Before Cable).

Anyway, I hope everyone has a great Fourth of July. Take a moment to remember the sacrifices of our Founding Fathers (and Mothers) and ponder the significance of what they wrought. Also remember those who paid the ultimate price in defense of this great nation and the freedoms and liberties we enjoy (and often take for granted).

Have a great weekend!

The Declaration of Dependents

We the people of Castle TwoBusy, in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common beer fridge and wine rack, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of free and easy movement unrestrained by the grubby hands of children, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of Parenthood.

Article I
Freedom of Speech and Assembly

Assemble away, children. Get together, plot your nasty little plots, then run away and weep as we crush them beneath the authoritarian bludgeon of our will. You may, on occasion, invite other children to join you in assembly — as long as it's only for a couple of hours and/or we get along with their parents. If their parents are dull and/or judgmental, however, they will be declared enemies of the state and summarily executed. Sorry. Them's the rules. Along similar lines, Freedom of Speech only kicks in when you turn 18. Although if you promise to use your indoor voices, we might give you a little slack on this one.

You Can't Swim in an Ice Age

We were supposed to go see Ice Age 7:Dawn of Tony Orlando or some such nonsense.  I was then going to post about it here for your reading enjoyment.

Enjoyment is such a strong word.

However, I'm fairly confident that I can review the movie for you anyway.

Books are Free, Knowledge is Priceless

You guys are so lucky- especially those of you that live in the U.S. or Canada and have a mailbox.  Due to circumstances beyond my control the contest to end all contests has been extended!  It's like the contest that never ends.  It just goes on and on and stuff.

The circumstances beyond my control were margarita-related.

Enter the damn contest, people. Win and read!

Please enter at the original post so as not to confuse my pretty, little head.

This post brought to you by Dell Children's Hospital and BlogPress for iPhone

Written at the ER...I'm typing this post on my phone in a dimly lit hospital room, my 19 month old asleep in my arms. SpongeBob is on mute on the wall-mounted TV, not nearly as entertaining as those Madagascar penguin fellows on before him. My right shoulder is soaked with baby drool. We're in the ER because this is where the pediatrician said we needed to go, the pediatrician I took my son to because of the 103 temperature that hit him today at daycare. It might be pneumonia, she said. Or swine flu, yep, that's still around, even if it's not front page news anymore. But don't be scared, she said. Very treatable, she said. Several times.

The Obligatory "Michael Jackson Was A Dad" Post

"When history is personified, and the person behind that history dies, history itself is no longer real." - Greil Marcus, on the death of Elvis

Greil Marcus' quote can easily be applied to Michael Jackson. Live fast, die young, leave a freakish surgically altered corpse, a grieving pet chimp, and the remains of the Elephant Man. So long, Michael Jackson; we hardly knew ye. Or maybe we knew ye too much. Michael Jackson was perhaps the most polarizing performer of the last 30 years; love him or hate him (full disclosure: I skew towards the latter), it's hard to deny the impact he had on popular culture. 

Of course, when any controversial entertainer dies, there's a symbolic as well as actual voiding of the bowels - lots of shit comes out, and it usually ends up splattering the people that were closest to the deceased. Sadly, Jackson's kids may be caught up in the custody battle to end all custody battles - who gets to claim the King of Pop's heirs?

And worse - are they even his?

Bastion of journalistic integrity TMZ is reporting that MJ is not the biological father of any of his kids. Us Magazine claims that Prince and Paris Jackson's father is Michael Jackson's dermatologist. And the Weekly World News? They've got the scoop on Michael Jackson's funeral, President Obama's reaction to his death, and Kim Jong-Il's planned tribute. (I love that The Weekly World News has separate headers for posts about Aliens and posts about Mutants.)

But back to the kids. Personally, I'm convinced that Jackson was up to some pretty sick shit at the Neverland Ranch, and I think that we'll learn more than we ever wanted to know about his penchant for young boys over the next few months. That said, I sincerely hope that someone steps up and looks out for his three kids. They're about to be thrust into a media circus that they never asked for and do not deserve. The sins of the father shouldn't fall on their heads, and after years of what must have been a bizarre (at the very least) and potentially damaging life with a father who clearly suffered from various forms of mental illness, the Jackson children need protection, care, and love. Katherine Jackson, Michael's mother, has filed for guardianship and the kids are currently residing with her. 

And that, sadly, doesn't give me a whole lot of hope for them.

Win a 3-Month Membership to JumpStart.com!

Gone are the guilt-free summer days of simply babysitting your children with endless sitcom and cartoon reruns.

We parents are beaten with the guilt stick about needing to continue our kids' education when school is not in session lest they fall behind and become total failures.

Fortunately, two such failures -- college washouts Billy Gates and little Stevie Jobs -- overcame this neglect and gave us home computers.

And these computers have games that can:

• teach the wee ones educational basics that help them meet the No Child Left Behind requirements necessary for your school system to get mucho federal dinero, and
• entertain the scamps long enough so you can enjoy a tall cold one on the patio in a bit of peace.

One such game is JumpStart.com and DadCentric can get you hooked up with a free 3-month membership to this online gaming/learning site that could help keep your kids happy this summer and you sane.

But first, a review …

Harley Davidson and The Marlboro Man

I used to be a badass. Distance running, rock climbing, rugby playing, crazy-ass expeditions into the wilderness, surfing before the crack of dawn - that was me before having two kids. At one point, back in my mid-30's, there was even talk - with Beth's support, no less - of dropping the cash on one of these. Now I'm a 40 year old laundry-doing house-cleaning grocery-shopping Stay At Home Mr. Mom, a poster child for the Stop The Pussification Of The American Male Movement. 

I'm mostly not complaining. I of course love my kids, and having the opportunity to spend more time with them is a blessing. And I've done enough Macho Bullshit for a lifetime, so I don't think I have anything to prove in that regard (I've been in a shark cage. Underwater. Nose to nose with real sharks. Big ones. The kind that kill people.) The idea that a Real Man shouldn't pitch in and help with the running of the house and the care of the children seems like something out of The Knuckle-Dragger's Handbook. Still, it occurred to me, one morning when I was sitting on the floor helping Zoe pick out a dress for her doll, a pretty one that would match Dolly's pick toy stroller, that perhaps I was losing touch with my masculine side. Even my blog posts, which used to be full of tales of Manly Fathering Adventure, had been getting weepy and sentimental. I needed to do something to recapture that old dick-swingin' he-man magic. 

I decided I needed to grow a mustache.

Charming the Pet Cobra

I promised my wife Beth that I'd let her have some uninterrupted Bejeweled Blitz time if she did a guest post and told you all how awesome I am. Also, since I've made the transition to Stay/Work At Home Dad and I don't really make any money and she's earning six figures, I told her that I'd shower at least twice a week. Give and take - the key to any good relationship! So here's her post, with a few added notes from me for clarity.

People are always asking me about my relationship with Jason, aka your beloved PetCobra, or @PetCobra as I've started to call him just for shits and giggles. (EDITOR'S NOTE: Talking to each other is sooo 2007. We now communicate solely via Twitter.) My first question is: do other women get asked about their relationships as much as I do, or am I just lucky because my husband is so...so...um...interesting?

Yes, life with Jason is just that. A roller coaster of irony and sarcastic comments - and I wouldn't have it any other way.

We've definitely had an eventful past few months, a life-shift, a death and a huge-ass birthday...all on top of the day-to-day insanity of raising a 5-year old and toddler who is mature for her age, hitting the terrible twos at 19 months. But these are the things that bond us. Being able to mutually agree that we can't share an office all day like we thought we could, getting through all other the shit together, all the challenges that we've faced since we both left the regular corporate world - and still being able to laugh tells me that we are what a "good marriage" is.

When I was told I was going to be guest-blogging here, or more like when I came up with the idea 3 months ago (EDITOR'S NOTE: Credit where credit is due - she did come up with this idea 3 months ago. I wrote down. Honest. Ok, I wrote it on the back of a Starbucks receipt, but I did write it down), then noticed the other wives blogging this week and screamed( across my office into the kitchen (aka Jason's office) "Hey, am I supposed to write also?!", I had really hoped to have a funny conversation or story to tell. But, alas, I don't. (EDITOR'S NOTE: Thanks a lot, Dead Michael Jackson. You sucked all of the fun out of today.) So I will just say how much I love and appreciate my husband for being the man he is - and tell the world how proud I am that he is the father of my children.

Now, excuse me while I get back to my Bejeweled Blitz addiction. (EDITOR'S NOTE: Thanks, baby.Here's a token of my esteem.)