I’m quite sure I’m not the only one out there who thinks that the media coverage of Prince William and Miss Catherine Middleton’s wedding has been a smidge overdone. You can’t turn on the “telly” without getting a face full of speculation that strains to make even the minutest of details newsworthy.
Yesterday, one of the morning programs showed a paparazzi-style picture of the happy couple driving from the bride’s hometown in Buckleberry to London. “Notice how Kate’s hair is worn up,” one of the anchors said. “Could this be a hint of how she’ll be wearing if for the wedding?” Oh, yes. I don’t think I can finish my bowl of Cheerios without knowing.
The best part of this story was when the British newscaster sitting nearby tempered the overblown analysis by pointing out there were two full days remaining before the ceremony, plenty of time for Kate to hit the salon and have her hair styled in an infinite number of ways; thus proving even the English are sick of America’s stalker-ish coverage of the event. I swear he rolled his eyes just prior to offering this common sense observation, after which he proceeded to do a 15-minute segment on the tradition behind the inclusion of jelly molds at all royal wedding receptions. Apparently King Henry “Turkey Leg” the VIII was a big fan of the jiggly little buggers, and they’ve been a mainstay ever since.
The thought of this actually happening, most likely at the beauty parlor where DiCaprio and co. pose as hairdressers who then proceed to drug Kate into a deep enough sleep for them to burrow down to a level three dream state only to witness the bride in the nude, proved to be the final straw. That’s when I officially decided to get a full eight hours of sleep rather than rouse myself out of bed at 3 AM for the live broadcast of the royal nuptials. But this isn’t the only reason I won’t be watching; here are a few more:
NPR recently aired a report on the United States’ need to shift its strategy in order to keep up with al-Qaeda’s constantly changing tactics. Suddenly I thought to myself, “Hey that’s just like me and my kids.” I mean this metaphorically, of course, even though there are moments when it feels as if they are plotting against me. But that’s another story. No, what I’m referring to is the shift in strategy I have to employ when it comes to disciplining the children as they get older.
Just when you think you’ve got the little buggers figured out, they adapt and move on without saying a word. This extends to correcting their lapses in behavior as well. What used to work when the kids were toddlers won’t when they are teens.
Although, being a 17-year-old in time out would probably be a tad humiliating.
With this being Safe Kids Week I was reminded of the rare opportunity I had to see my two younger sons play basketball earlier this year. It was such a special moment for me, especially given that we live so far apart. This is something I’ve been working to change, hopefully before the boys start playing competitively in high school.
Basketball warm-ups before the game
If there was any question as to which person I was among the other parents rooting on their kids, all one needed to do was look for the guy holding a camera in his left hand and a Flip video in the right while trotting up and down the sidelines in an attempt to capture every pass, dribble, and shot involving my boys. I really didn’t care how out of place I may have looked. For the parents in the stands this was just another Thursday night of watching their elementary-age kids running around in an uncoordinated gaggle on the hardwood for a couple hours.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean to imply that these moms and dads were apathetic as many of them cheered their kids on just as they probably did week after week. For me however, it was different, not only because I was able to be there with my boys, but also because this constituted the very first time I saw them play any sort of organized sports. And I didn’t want to miss a single second.
To anyone who may have noticed, my face was flush with an obvious amount of pride for all the reasons one would expect. What father doesn’t beam as he points towards the boy or girl who just scored a layup. “That’s my kid.” Everyone may already be aware of this, but it doesn’t stop him from reminding those within earshot of that fact as often as possible. I of course was no different except that my method for letting everyone know which superstar was mine came in the form of yelling things like, “Great shot!” and “Awesome pass!” at volumes that drowned out the rest of the crowd. (Incidentally, my 8 year-old scored 16 of his team’s 20 total points in a crushing win.)
Glory days.
During my high school glory days I lettered in two sports, earning first-team, All-State nods in both soccer for two years and basketball for three. After graduation, I never really followed through on the possibilities these honors might have led to. I had other plans. Now, standing at the threshold of my forties, I’ve all but forgotten these accomplishments. They have lain dormant for over twenty years between the pages of old high school annuals and tattered scrapbooks stashed somewhere in the most insignificant reaches of our storage closet.
However, as my sons run back and forth across the hardwood, I feel a familiar sense pride that came from playing ball in my younger days as it fuses with this new pride derived from watching my boys mimic these same interests. It’s these sorts of mirrored patterns that link fathers and their children together. Yet at the same time, just as a reflection is reversed, so too are these roles in that the perspectives have changed.
As a high school athlete, my concerns consisted of how to break down a full-court press and anticipating which corner of the goal an opponent was aiming for on a penalty shot. The focus was on performance and winning—simple and straightforward. As a parent, though, I suddenly recognized the host of considerations and worries that go through your mind watching your child take to the field.
Recently my 8 year-old stepdaughter asked if she could play volleyball after watching her older cousin play in a big tournament. My wife and I thought it would be a good way to build her confidence, but as we checked out the nearby teams for kids to join, I was surprised at how competitive these leagues were. (That and how flippin' short their shorts are!) Apparently, according to my stepdaughter’s aunt 8 to 10 is exactly the age girls start training seriously if they want to play in college.
And there are other things I wonder about too, like when to push the kids and when do I back off? I resolved a long time ago not to be that parent who tries to make their children into being something they’re not or don’t want to be. My oldest son who’s 12 has zero interest in sports, as opposed to his brother who’s a natural athlete. And then there’s my youngest—his signature move is sprinting to the complete opposite side of where the action’s at and then do a swan dive onto the floor. Talk about your head not being in the game, his isn’t even in the gym. (But he is having a heck of a lot of fun in the video ...until the poor little booger gets it in the face with the ball.)
I know the answers here might seem obvious, but I could not have cared less about kicking a ball around until someone gave me a bit of a nudge when I turned 13. Who knows how my life would’ve ended up without the self-esteem I gained from playing sports. Will any of my boys need that same nudge at some point?
I realize that maybe this sounds a little premature on my part. I mean, after all, I was watching a bunch of 7 and 8 year-olds mobbing whoever had the ball the way goats at a petting zoo do to people who enter the pen holding a handful of grain over their head. Even so, the fact that these considerations didn’t even exist in my mind until this moment is what caught me off guard. Sometimes we as parents tend to make assumptions, not intentionally, but rather as a lapse in awareness. Then we find ourselves in the middle certain situations thinking, “How did I not think of this before?”
That’s the thought that hit me as I stood there videotaping my son tossing the ball into the net. “Dad, Dad! Did you see that?” he said running back on defense. “Were you watching?”
I held up the video camera and laughed. “Uh, yeah, whadda ya think I was doing with this thing? I was totally watching.” And I’ll be watching you and your brothers in all sorts of ways because looking out for your wellbeing is my job.
* * *
This post was sponsored by Safe Kids USA in conjunction with Johnson & Johnson. Safe Kids is an organization dedicated to child safety “at home, at play, and on the way.” April 19 – 22 has been designated as Safe Kids Week, an annual nationwide event introduced by Safe Kids USA and founding sponsor Johnson & Johnson in 1988. This multifaceted public education campaign is created each year to help parents and caregivers understand a different part of childhood injury prevention.
On May the 2nd at 12PM EST, Safe Kids USA will be airing an educational webcast about sports injury prevention.
• Dr. Angela Mickalide, CHES, Director of Research and Programs, Safe Kids Worldwide
• Dr. Douglas Casa, Director of Athletic Training Education, University of Connecticut
• Dr. Gerard Gioia, Chief, Division of Pediatric Neuropsychology and Safe Concussion Outcome, Recovery & Education (SCORE) Program at Children's National Medical Center
• Steve Young, former NFL Star Quarterback and On-air Talent ESPN (and this guy knows about concussions)
Disclosure: In accordance with FTC regulations I am required to disclose that I was compensated monetarily for this post by Johnson & Johnson; however, payment for services does not represent an endorsement of their products by myself as the creator of Clark Kent’s Lunchbox.
NEW ORLEANS—Late last week rumors alluding to formation of a secret society of dad bloggers were confirmed at the Mom 2.0 Summit which took place in New Orleans, Louisiana. During the mom blog convention’s closing remarks, Doug French (aka Laid Off Dad) and John Pacini announced the creation of Dad 2.0 Summit, a shadowy male-oriented organization in the same vein as the Masons and the Stonecutters. Aside from sharing that Dad 2.0 (@Dad2Summit / Facebook ) will convene for its first annual meeting in March 2012, French and Mays provided minimal details, fueling the bounty of speculation that had already existed among conspiracy theorists, cryptozoologists, and FOX news commentator, Glenn Beck.
Chevy Texas kindly lent me a GMC Terrain for the trip
However, as part of my continuing investigation into the corrupt underbelly of the parent blogging-industrial complex, I once again infiltrated the Mom 2.0 Summit disguised as the mild-mannered blogger behind Clark Kent’s Lunchbox, and what I managed to uncover during my time in the Big Easy was telling.
From the moment I set foot inside the Ritz Carlton Hotel and strolled along its marble floors and paneled walls, it was clear Kirtsy foundersCarrie Pacini and Laura Mayes had put together a top-notch event of the highest caliber, which immediately piqued my journalistic curiosity. Certainly a site with a sole function of aggregating information supplied by mom bloggers couldn’t have orchestrated such a gathering without the outside support of some silent backer or backers. Running through the possibilities, I jotted down several of the most credible theories, which included the Chinese Triad, National Public Radio, and Wisconsin Governor, Scott Walker, either working separately or together.
(R-L) Whit Honea, JCO, Me, Beta Dad, Clay Nichols
Before I could prove the existence of these connections, though, I had to keep up my cover by attending conference’s opening reception and later, the speaker’s dinner. If I squealed out loud upon seeing some of the biggest and most respected names in the mom blog community, it’s only because I was trying to maintain my ruse as a bumbling, unmemorable representative of the Y chromosome with kids and a URL, a feat I managed to pull off by awkwardly engaging the likes of Eden Kennedy (Fussy), Alice Bradley (Finslippy), Aimee Giese (Greeblemonkey), Laurie Smithwick (LeapDesign, Kirtsy), Anissa Mayhew (Free Anissa), and a litany of others. Not since Donny Brasco penetrated the inner workings of the Mob, has someone ever fooled so many so completely for so long.
Thankfully dad bloggers such as Beta Dad, Father Muskrat, Bobble Head Dad, Clay Nichols, Whit Honea, and John Cave Osborne were in attendance, allowing me to further fade into the backdrop as we stood together in a loose gaggle during many of the social events much like seventh-grade boys hanging out in the corner of the gymnasium during school dances. Later in the evening, however, we made a rapid advancement through puberty, acting closer to college fraternity brothers as we worked our way down Bourbon Street. (New Orleans must have a magical Benjamin Buttons-in-reverse effect on the aging process because all of us relived our teens, our twenties, and upon waking up the next morning, our sixties in under 24 hours.)
A Confederacy of Dunces or Dad Bloggers?
Day two was filled with a number of breakout sessions, and my journalistic senses told me that if I wanted to confirm the existence of any male secret societies, attending the dad blogger meetings would be my best bet. My hunch here proved to be right, and I was stunned that French, who played a major organizational role in this event, was not the least bit shy in referring to these discussions as the “Dad 2 point oh” tracks. What followed was even more disturbing, and I barely could keep up with my notes as men and women on the panels spoke to full rooms about such topics running ads for the Nazi party on your site, utilizing exploitative capitalistic practices on your site, and embedding secret codes within blog posts that will help keep the Declaration of Independence out of the hands of Nicholas Cage, who was arrested later that night by New Orleans police. Coincidence? I think not.
In session oneJim Griffioen of Sweet Juniper and Jon Armstrong, who, as the executive director of the dooce empire, many consider to be the parent blogging equivalent to media mogul Rupert Murdock, joined French in a conversation dealing with building your brand through content and extending your reach beyond the niche community. The underlying message to me was clear: find and enlist more converts for the secret society.
This panel was then followed by a moderated discussion lead by the famously intelligent Catherine Conners of Her Bad Mother in which author John Cave Osborne, Dad-Centric contributor Whit Honea, and the mysterious blogger known only as BetaDad shared what they felt the roles of fatherhood were within the context of their blogging experience. Tensions flaired momentarily when Honea, threw down his microphone and kicked over a chair as he talked about his family. Later it was learned that the move was meant as a joke to distract the audience from noticing the tears forming as he got a little choked up about the topic. Even so, Honea’s beard and ties to the Pacific Northwest, in my mind, had al-Qaeda sleeper cell written all over it.
Higley, Chase, Ross, & poser
In the final panel, the question of, “Do Dads Want What the Moms Have” was raised by Edelman PR’s and The Exceptional Man writer Caleb Gardner. The question was then batted around by Jim Higley (Bobblehead Dad), Renee Ross (Cutey Booty Cakes), Kristen Chase(Cool Mom Picks, Motherhood Uncensored), and, through masterful undercover skills, myself. (I will admit to almost blowing my cover when Chase, who also wrote the The Mominatrix's Guide to Sex: A No-Surrender Advice Book for Naughty Moms, pulled out a crocheted pair of male genitalia in front of me and then proceeded to use them as a finger puppet. Having grown up in rural America, I’ve attended my share of craft fairs overrun by crocheted doilies and Kleenex box covers, but never has the sight of yarn ever subconsciously caused me to cross my legs until now.)
What 6AM looks like with beer
The first full day then gave way to an evening of social gathers hosted by sponsors such as Truvia, Lego, Dole, PBS Kids, TiVo and others. Here, I thought, is where the real deals go down as bloggers and brands exchanged envelopes containing crisp stacks of hundred dollar bills, and discussed ways of pimping products via the internet. My hope was to find evidence of companies interested in enlisting financially desperate dad bloggers as a sort of “e-mule” if you will, that would carry the company’s products on their personal blogs much in the same way the drug cartels use college students to smuggle goods across the border.
Despite my efforts however, I saw nothing of the sort, only groups of people sincerely enjoying themselves. My suspicions were briefly aroused coming across the likes of French around 3AM at the Ritz’s courtyard as he concocted unheard of cocktails such as “The Louisiana Purchase” (Jamison whiskey mixed with the cleaner CLP) for a group that included IzzyMom, Chicky Chicky Baby, and several of the dads. But if I thought by joining this group I’d be privy to a planning session for a secret society, I was wrong as this band of merry pranksters turned out to closer to a bunch of Beatnik bloggers than anything else. By 6 AM, after joining Honea, BetaDad, and Father Muskrat for one more beer, I figured this to be a dead end, and I retreated to my room.
The third day turned out to be just as unproductive in rooting out information for my research. That afternoon I tailed BetaDad and Lesbian Dad to the eastern side of New Orleans where volunteers were building a community playground as part of the Let’s Play initiative. Let’s Play is a partnership formed by Dr. Pepper Snapple and the good people of KaBoom as an advocacy program aimed at getting kids more physically active. Turns out, my ability to assemble wooden park benches resulted in me producing something close to Escher’s Never Ending Staircase. Fortunately, the kids didn’t seem to notice based on the joy in their faces after seeing the playground they had designed, come to life before their eyes. (sniff!)
The conference officially closed out with a keynote panel on the future of media as viewed by some of the most accomplished and intelligent women in the business—Vanessa Holden, Margaret Gould Stewart, Sarah Bryden-Brown and Andrea Wishom. It was right after this that the Dad 2.0 initiative was announced as well as news that filmmaker Doug Block’s documentary, The Kids Grow Up, which follows his daughter as she grew from a child to young adulthood, would be released nationally this Father’s Day on HBO.
Armed with confirmation that the Dad 2.0 secret society actually was in the works, I pushed my way deeper into the inner workings of the community landing an unexpected invite to do a reading at the conference’s final social event, a Red Cross fundraiser sponsored by Tide laundry’s Loads of Hope program. It was more than a little unnerving to be amongst a roster of writing talent that included such well-known names as Liz Gumbinner, Alice Bradley, Eden Kennedy, Maggie Mason, Megan Jordan, and, of course Heather Armstrong.
Richard Marx is making a comeback
However, despite extreme nervousness, my persistence seemed to pay off as I came across a strange white powder while waiting backstage. Ah ha! Loads of Hope is actually Loads of Dope! Unfortunately, after realizing I would be immediately following The Bloggess, arguably one of the funniest women on the web, my anxiety got the best of my and I snorted two lines of this powder before realizing it was actually the spilled contents from Tide laundry detergent samples.
From that point on the evening was a blur but according to the eyewitness accounts of my fellow Aiming Low compadres, Faiqa Khan and Britt Reints, who graciously cheered me on, I did okay despite loudly announcing that Richard Marx would be making a 12-city comeback tour this summer. I took their word for it seen as how the only thing I can recall is flashbacks eerily similar to that of Burt Reynolds, Dom DeLuis and Sammy Davis Jr. dressed as belly dancers at a bordello in the movie Cannonball Run 2.
Final Thoughts: The Mom 2.0 Summit proved to be highly professional and well organized event. I thought it appropriately symbolic that a gathering of the parent blog community’s most elite and accomplished women took place in New Orleans, which also served as the backdrop for Kate Chopin’s novel, The Awakening, a literary classic with a core theme that centers on women defying archaic societal expectation.
However, it was disappointing that in a city commonly associated with voodoo, political corruption, and the assassination of JFK, I was unable to compile more details about the secretive Dad 2 Summit. Questions still exist as to conference’s whereabouts, but unconfirmed sources claim that Da Vinci Code-like symbols in blog posts will reveal the answer to “true believers,” and Fruit of the Loom, as one of the sponsors, will be supplying the hooded cloaks conference attendees will be required to wear during all ceremonies including the singing of the supposed members-only theme song (a blatant rip off of the video below).
Who knows where Big Foot’s found?
Who keeps NASA on the ground?
We do! We do!
Who controls MTV?
Who really owns AIG?
We do! We do!
Who knows where LOST’s survivors are?
Who makes Seth Rogan a star?
We do! We do!
Who keeps the Cubs from being champs?
Who makes Midol for your cramps?
We do! We do!
Will Dad 2.0 as a stand-alone conference be a success, erasing any previously created doubts? That depends on a number of factors, the biggest being dad bloggers’ willingness to take the same leap moms have in becoming successful. However, through the efforts of Doug French and John Pacini, the Dad Track sessions at the Mom 2 Summit proved to be an overall success, and with them at the helm for the Dad 2 Summit, I believe it has the best chance of establishing the professional footprint of dads as part of the parent blogging community.
