Clark Kent's Lunchbox: A NEW Post from The Daddy Blog of Tomorrow -

6 Things I Want My Sons to Know About My Depression [TODAY Show]

As it did to so many, the news of Robin Williams’s death came as a great shock to me. How could a man with such talent and charisma who brought me to tears, both of joy and sadness, on so many occasions be gone so suddenly? Then details of his depression came to light, and I understood. The National Alliance on Mental Illness estimates that 6.7 of American adults live with major depression, and of those, 2.6 percent, or 6.1 million people, are afflicted by bipolar disorder. I understand, because I am one of them.

When I initially informed my first wife of my diagnosis and the associated concerns I held for our three boys, she expressed strong reservations about saying anything to them. This, however, is exactly the problem for men with depression. It actually needs to be talked about more, and if I don’t talk with my sons about the twisting despair brought on by depression, who will? There’s actually a lot they need to know. So, boys, listen here:

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5 Things I Wish My Bosses Knew About Fatherhood [TODAY Show]

I consider myself fortunate to be working for an employer who understands the demands of fatherhood. This hasn’t always been the case. Through the course of my professional life, which has spanned the military, corporate America, freelance work, and small business, I’ve had bosses who discounted the value of fathers.

Such attitudes come from a general cluelessness shared by men who represented a different generation — everyone knows that fathers are much more involved these days. Still, half of working fathers surveyed in 2013 consider work-family balance a challenge while 46 percent feel they are still not spending enough time with their children.

I have certainly felt the pressure of this crunch, and it would be a lie to say I always chose family over work. Some circumstances, deployments for example, deny the option of choice; however, there have been other moments when I wished my superiors knew a few things about what it means to be a father. Here are five:

TODAY Show Parents: The Sugar Milk Hack

If you haven't already heard I've got a new writing gig at--wait for it--the TODAY Show via their website which just this week they renamed from Moms to Parents. I am thrilled and honored to be part of an all-star lineup of fellow dad bloggers that includes Doyin Richards, Jim Higley, Whit Honea, Carter Gaddis, and Adrian Kulp who in our inaugural week of posting shared their favorite dad hacks (#dadhack). As you will see, their clever tips are much more advisable than mine. Below is an excerpt from my patent-pending, sugar milk hack.

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One would think a guy with five kids would have a whole slew of shortcuts to help ease the burden of parenthood. I do not.

This is not to say I am without creativity. It’s just my techniques lack a certain classiness. While many parenting hacks warrant viral validation via Pinterest, mine rank with the redneck who crafts a BBQ grill out of a shopping cart. Effective? Yes. Share-worthy? Possibly after obliterating a case of Milwaukee’s Best.

Case in point: My teen son and tween stepdaughter are now of an age where they require deodorant, yet they are afflicted by some form of adolescent dementia that causes them to forget to apply said deodorant. The solution: Affix the deodorant to the door frame at eye-level using Velcro, and voila, no more stinky kids. It’s effective because it’s unorthodox. CONTINUE READING

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Want the full story? Get a copy of Sugar Milk: What One Dad Drinks When He Can't Afford Vodka

The Power of Dad: Lessons Learned

My father as a Green Beret in Vietnam

My father is, hands down, the toughest, hardest working man I have ever met. A lot of people say this about their fathers, and I don’t doubt them, but how many can say they watched their father calmly hobble into the house to take a shower and then drive to the ER after accidentally sticking an ax blade into his shin? What truly amazed me about that memory, though, was waking to the sound of the crunching gravel from our driveway as my father left for work the following morning. At the time he was the company president, and everyone would’ve certainly understood had he decided to take it easy for a few days. But that wasn’t my father.

How Social Media Ruined Me as a Parent

I’ve been blogging for a little over six years now, seven if you count that first year when I posted nothing but inane drivel. In that time I also gained familiarity with the various social media channels—Facebook, LinkedIn, Google+, the Twitters, etc. And while blogging provided me with an outlet to work through my journey as a stay-at-home dad, social media granted access to a community of fellow parent bloggers sharing their own stories.

Eventually this lead to substantial freelance gigs, a published book, speaking engagements, and media appearances, not to mention numerous chances to participate in campaigns with major consumer brands. My experience soon resulted in a position as a social media marketing specialist which then morphed into a content marketing strategist before I earned my current title as online marketing manager. In the blogging world such accomplishments are generally considered milestones of success, and I am exceedingly grateful for all the doors my modest blog has opened for me and my family. Despite this, though, in some respects I feel social media has ruined me as a parent.

Mad Men Season 7, Episode 1, Time Zones: The True Don Draper

When we last saw Don Draper prior to the Mad Men Season 7 opener, the normally cool and collected paragon of masculinity entering the beginnings of an existential crisis. Soaked in booze, he's landed himself in jail for the night after punching a preacher. He's alienated himself from his young daughter who earlier caught him in the middle of his latest affair. He’s angered his wife, Megan, by jerking her chain over his previous commitment to move to California, and he’s lost his job after coming clean in front of a major prospective client about his Dickensian upbringing at a sleazy whorehouse.

If we feel any empathy for Don it’s anchored in the irony of his attempts to fix the things he himself has broken. Admitting to being out of control, he pours out his alcohol and promises Megan a fresh start together in LA. The chance to open an office on the west coast, however, was an idea he stole from a co-worker, and later on, to atone for this, Don then offers it to one of the partners who is trying to save his marriage from an affair with Peggy Olson. And although Don’s honesty about his boyhood is courageous if not heart-wrenching, the timing of his self-cathartic admission is wholly inappropriate to the extent that not even his own charm and genius can protect him from the move by the baffled heads of Sterling Cooper Draper & Pryce to let him go.

Does The Buying Power of Dads Really Matter?

Recently several articles dealing with the role of today’s modern father and how marketers should view them popped up in my news feed. As a longtime dad blogger with a background in marketing and experience working with major brands, I have a keen interest in such information. One of the reasons I blog is to help collectively reinforce a positive image of fatherhood, and in a sense, the way marketers represent dads in their campaigns can serve as a gauge of success in regards to this. Sometimes brands get it, and sometimes they don’t. Often the difference is the reality verses perception.

The reality, it seems, is that men place a higher value on their involvement as fathershttp://www.chicagonow.com/marketing-strategist/2013/10/dads-redefine-fatherhood/ over other more traditional functions. According to Boston College’s 2011 The New Dad Report, when it came to defining what it meant to be good father, men prioritized providing emotional support, being present, and being a teacher well above other aspects such as providing discipline and financial security. This, of course, is a big shift from the days when being a good father was measured by merely bringing home the bacon. So too is the amount of time fathers spend with their children, a metric a Pew Study discovered has tripled since 1965.

Based on these and other findings we know fathers are more involved. What then are marketers to make of this? A number of brands to include Dove, Subaru, and Tide have gotten behind this movement by introducing campaigns involving dads. However, is the hype surrounding dads justified? Not necessarily says Stephanie Azzarone, founder of Child’s Play Communications and blogger at Mom Market Trends.

Breaking Dad: Say My Name

First allow me to apologize for the “Breaking Dad” portion of my title. I realize it’s a bit cliché, and thousands of dad bloggers and journalists have probably already worn it out. Hopefully, though, by the end of this you’ll agree it still applies.

By admission I was a latecomer to the television phenomena that was Breaking Bad. I resisted the hoopla for as long as I could, but left with nothing substantial to entertain us, my wife and I binged our way through all five seasons in a matter of a few weeks.

Naturally, as a father and husband I was drawn to the show’s premise: A once world-class chemist, turned teacher, manufactures methamphetamine to secure his family’s financial security after learning he is dying of cancer. Simply put, the man wanted to provide for his family, and debate me if you want, but I believe this is an inherent instinct men are wired with.

If You Give a Mouse CPR

Most people know I’m not a cat person, and yet, despite this we have a cat. The reason for this is simple: Our house was being overrun by mice last winter, and conventional methods such as traps and poisons failed to stem the tide. A cat, therefore, seemed like the only other cost-effective option. After a brief search through Craigslist my wife found a suitable feline candidate that was even advertised as being a good “mouser.”

In short order our mouse problem was no more, even though I only ever saw the cat catch one of the furry little bastards. My guess is that our cat’s mere presence was enough of deterrent to keep the mice at bay. Since then the cat has been splitting her time between being an entitled indoor cat and a prey-stalking outdoor cat—something akin to a Kardashian living a dual life as a ninja assassin. It’s not uncommon to open the front door and find the limp body of a once perky chipmunk or hairless baby squirrel at least two or three times a week.

I know the common belief is that these little “gifts” are a cat’s way of showing they are happy, but the reality is cats have an inherent kill pattern programmed into their brains. That and they are very bad at disposing of the bodies. (See this infographic.) Thus, if you suffer from Phagofelinephobia, take heart, once the cats have had their fill your corpse will be found (of course, on whose doorstep is anybody’s guess). I digress.

13 Things My Kids Seem Incapable Of [Slide Presentation]

Are there certain minor, little things that your kids keep doing even though you've tried time and again to get them to change? Do you wonder if your children will ever get it? I'll wager to say we've all been there. Here is my list of things that cause me to ask that very question. Are some of these on your list, or are there others in your household?

Dreams of Failure [GMP]

A while back I had two dreams that were so vivid I will never forget them. In the first I was a boy, roughly 10 or 11, standing before a white farm house with three gabled windows protruding from the roof and a wide, covered porch spanning the entire front exterior. Yellow daffodils filled the flower beds at the porch’s base, and the surrounding yard was neat and trimmed. Facing the left side of the house stood a traditional-looking barn with two large doors that were swung open revealing its insides.

A path to the left of the barn cut through a spacious field that was bordered on three sides by a wall of maple and oak trees. Something compelled me to follow the path, and as I walked my feet could feel the cool clover growing in the raised strip running between the shallow ruts that were worn into the damp dirt by some wheeled vehicle.

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Daddy Blogger Mad Lib

The other day I walked into the (ROOM) where I found my (NUMBER) year-old child, (CHILD’S NICKNAME) playing with a (NOUN) in the toilet. This frustrated me because I’ve tried over and over to teach him/her the message that (CLICHÉ MAXIM). Unfortunately it seems like it’s going in one (BODY PART) and out the other. It makes me want to pull out my (BODY PART) sometimes. Not only that, you’d think at this age they would be potty trained and I wouldn’t have to clean the (BODILY SECRETION) out of his/her diaper anymore. The other day he/she dropped a man-size (BODILY SECRETION) that they proceeded to wipe on the walls. I supposed this is just part of being a full-time parent.

I love being a dad, but if I was being honest, I would have to admit that I like my (FAMILY MEMBER) more than my son/daughter. Hey, I’m just saying is all. I know some might find this controversial, but it’s simply the truth, and I’m not going to hide it.

The Perfect Life

I don’t know if it’s because I’m wading into the deep end of my mid-life crisis or if it’s simple escapism, but lately I’ve been thinking a lot about when my life seemed perfect. When precisely was this this? It was soon after working through the issues of my recent divorce. I was in my 30’s and making a comfortable living which afforded me a trendy downtown loft and a hot car, the kind the valets like to park out front for others to see.

Physically fit, I weighed 25 pounds less than I do now, and had a closet full of designer suits that made me feel sharp as I walked out the door each morning. Professionally, I was at the top of my game, and I knew it which gave me a supreme confidence and healthy sort of cockiness that fueled my continued success.

J.J. Abrams, Dad 2.0, and The Life of Dad [Podcast]

Earlier this week I had the opportunity to be a guest on the Life of Dad After Show where I chatted with hosts Art Eddy and Ryan Hamilton about Star Wars, J.J. Abrams, the origin of Clark Kent's Lunchbox, how to make Sugar Milk, attending the Dad 2.0 conference, and the evolution of dad blogging. I did my best to sound interesting, but who knows--I say "uh" a lot. Anyway. It was at least nice to have a real conversation with a couple of great guys which is a big deal for me considering I only have a cat to talk with all day.

If you're not familiar with The Life of Dad bunch and all the stuff they are doing, then I highly encourage checking them out and joining the community they've put together over there.

Many thanks to Art and Ryan for having me.

You can listen to the program here: The Life of Dad After Show

Type-A Takeaways for Dad Bloggers

Type-A Dad Panel: Myself, Fred Goodall, Eric Payne, and Trey Burley

Over the past weekend I attended the Type-A Parent Conference in Atlanta, Georgia. This was my third appearance as a speaker covering the topic of daddy blogging, and as in years past, it was a wholly positive experience. Founder Kelby Carr and her staff did a marvelous job putting together an event that was both informative and fun.

Admittedly I was apprehensive about the conference after my experience earlier at BlogHer. Granted I probably wasn’t in the best frame of mind while in Chicago, but regardless, the event felt a little bit… flat—like everything was a matter of going through the motions. The strength, though, of BlogHer is that it’s a celebration of women—their creativity, their accomplishments, their business savvy, and ultimately their voice. And rightfully so. It’s not that I felt uncomfortable, this despite being “interviewed” by a curious mom blogger who, using a tampon as a microphone, wanted to know what a dad was doing at a blog conference geared to women. Even so, as the male minority at BlogHer, I knew my place, and that was okay with me.

What's the Deal with Me and Richard Marx? [DadCentric]

Inevitably, if a conversation turns toward musical tastes, I always end up the laughing stock of the group. Why? No one has ever deemed my choice of bands and singers as being cool. I’ll bring up names like Matchbox 20 or The Fray—and of course there’s that whole thing with Coldplay—and everyone starts doubling over. It’s fine. I’m used to it by now. Sometimes I’ll even join in. Admittedly I deserve ridicule for my brief flirtation with Nickelback.

My wife, Ashley, is undoubtedly my harshest critic. A song from Snow Patrol will come on the radio, and she’ll roll her eyes so hard I can hear it over the music. “How did I ever marry you,” she will sigh.

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Not My Kid

Not my kid. That’s what we as parents wish we could think on a continual basis. We see another child doing something outrageous, or we hear about it from a fellow parent and we naturally imagine our own children in the same situation, believing that our parenting skills have made enough of an impact so as to prevent them from doing anything stupid and embarrassing.

Hey, I’m no different… I’m no different until I overhear someone commenting on the kid plundering the bowl of mints offered in the church’s coffee café, only to learn later that it was both my 11 year-old and my nine year-old sons who were grabbing fistfuls of peppermint candy like greedy pirates stuffing their pockets with gold doubloons. I would’ve been none the wiser had it not been for the indiscriminate trail of cellophane wrappers laying in the hallway and the sibling who snitched on them. (With five kids it’s hard to get away with anything, especially when you don’t share the loot.)

The Life of Bi [Huffington Post]

There's an implied danger that goes with being greeted by a metal detector the instant you enter a door. After all, why would it be there if someone didn't want to prevent a deranged lunatic from attempting to sneak a weapon into a school or an airport? Or a behavioral health facility.

That's where I found myself -- a behavioral health facility assuring a hulking, six-foot-five guard that I had left my cell phone in the car as the sign in the parking lot instructed. The guard politely pointed me towards the door on the right of the nurse's station as opposed to the thick metal one on the left, which I noticed had a lock requiring the nurse to buzz someone in or out.

Peering through the small glass portal I could see a sterile hall lined with closed rooms. For a moment the option between doors made me feel like Neo choosing between the red pill or the blue pill, and I wondered which would take me down the rabbit hole. ...continue reading.

Swim Test

Unlike me, my kids are a bunch of water bugs when it comes to swimming. Swimming is one of those things that never really stuck with me after I grew up. Perhaps this is because my sisters and I never went that often. Once each summer our mother would take us for a day at the Lake Erie peninsula where the lake’s docile waves would toss our bony little bodies back onto the gravely shore. Sometimes, if we were lucky, a well-off friend would invite us over to their pool, but mostly we just damned up the small creek behind our house and sat in muddy, knee-deep water.

My kids also have a good size creek running through our backyard, but they would much rather prefer the new outdoor pool at our local YMCA. It’s not that they are averse to playing in the creek (and then tracking mud through the house); it’s just that the pool has a thirty-foot water slide, a playground, a whirlpool, fountains, and a zip line. Needless to say we spent more than a few weekends there over the summer.

Gone Kitties

Have I mentioned that we have kittens—well, had, but I’ll get to that later. Perhaps you saw something about this my Facebook photos or Instagram feed. That I haven’t written about them already is, I suppose, some travesty on the part of someone who claims to be a blogger (something that I will have much more time for in the immediate future, but let’s save that for a separate post unto itelf). Getting back to the subject at hand—kittens.

When we got our cat, Tallulah, awhile back (something I have already written about) we were told she was “fixed.” She was not, a fact soon deduced by her swelling belly which in the late stages of her pregnancy would move revealing the squirming life forms lurking below the surface.

One evening as my wife sat reading in bed the cat leapt onto the covers searching for a soft spot to rest her heavy frame.

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