August 27, 2008

Use Your Words: How We're Raising a Nation of Pussies!

Walk into any playground or classroom in America and the most common phrase you'll hear parents and teachers say is "Use your words!"

I hear this phrase EVERYWHERE. Essentially, it's a mantra that enforces the idea that children should never hit or push one another. Nonviolence should be practiced at all times under every circumstance. And there is no problem that cannot be solved by open communication.

Want to know what I think? I think it's a bullshit mantra that only helps raise the next generation of pussies.

You want to know what I teach the Peanut? That actions have consequences. That one must always take responsibility for one's own actions. That words are sometimes not enough. And that, frequently in life, people need to be taught tough lessons.

Don't get me wrong. My daughter is a sweetheart. She's kind. She's caring. And she's extremely empathetic. I don't encourage her to go around indiscriminately hitting people. However, I do teach her not to take shit from anyone. Whenever another child pushes her, I tell her to politely tell that child that you don't like being pushed. But if he does it again, she has my full permission to shove his ass to the ground as hard as she can.

I guess the parenting mantra I'm trying to reenforce with her is, "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me."

Because I'm such an easy-going guy, people are often surprised when they hear my philosophy on this subject. Last week, I was at daycare with the Peanut when an older boy came over and grabbed a toy out of the Peanut's hand. When she kindly asked for it back, the boy pushed her. The Peanut then turned to the boy and said, "Please don't push me. I don't like being pushed."

The boy's mother witnessed the whole thing and gently admonished her son, saying that it wasn't nice to push one's friends. What does the kid do? He hits the Peanut and pushes her again!  Before the boy's mother can do anything, I calmly turn to my daughter and say, "You know what to do, kiddo."

The Peanut immediately runs up to the boy and shoves him so hard, he falls down on the ground. Predictably, he starts bawling his ass off. The mother looks at me with shock and yells at me, "how can you tell your daughter to push my child?"

I calmly reply, "My daughter very politely asked your son to stop pushing her. You yourself told him to stop pushing her. And what does your son do? Not only does he push her again but he also hit her. Do you think your way was working?"

At this point, I turn to the boy and say, "Are you ever going to push the Peanut again?"

Still choking back tears and clinging to his mother, he says "No. Never."

Five minutes later, the two kids were hugging each other and playing in the toy kitchen.

I don't know why, as parents, we've become so overprotective of our children. We coddle them. We hover over them. We don't allow them fail or to learn life's lessons on their own. And most importantly, we fail to discipline them. It's almost as if we're afraid of doing so.

As I said earlier, the most important lessons I want to teach the Peanut are that (1) actions have consequences, and (2) you should always accept responsibility for your actions. Somehow this seems to have faded from our nation's consciousness.

Look around us and you'll see adults everywhere who no longer hold themselves personally responsible for anything! From the adult who sues for wrongful termination because the employee manual didn't say that Xeroxing your bunghole was against company rules to the politician who blames his embezzling funds on the fact that he had an undiagnosed allergic reaction to mangoes, you'll notice that we've become a nation of pussies.

Don't you think it's because we're raising our kids to BECOME pussies?

Back when I was a kid, you learned your lessons the hard way. If you mouthed off to the wrong guy, you got your ass kicked. You sucked it up and walked it off. Nobody gave a rat's ass about your self-esteem or your gentle demeanor. You made a decision and that decision got your ass kicked.

That's an important lesson to learn in life, don't you think?

August 25, 2008

Are You An Asshole Parent? Take the Quiz!

Last year, Vanity Fair published a hilariously satirical article imploring readers to measure their Asshole Footprint. In the hopes of improving overall life on the planet, they offered a questionnaire to help individuals determine the size and breadth of their footprint.

Personally, I've often felt that the best way to reduce the toxic increase of assholes on this planet is to make sure that certain people never breed. Unfortunately, my lobbying efforts for mandatory targeted sterilization have been blocked by virtually every government on the planet. Some nonsense having to do with Human Rights. Whatevs.

My latest solution to the problem is to help asshole parents identify themselves. In the same manner that many completely humorless people (especially bloggers) think they're hysterically funny, many asshole parents have no idea how douchey they really are.

To help them out, I've come up with the following quiz.

While it's ok to answer "yes" to some of these questions, if you reply affirmatively for six or more of them, you're very likely an asshole parent and it is incumbent upon you to take urgent measures immediately:


FOR WOMEN

(1) Have you ever bought your 4-year-old a $500 Marc Jacobs cashmere hoodie?

(2) Are you constantly trying to impress your children's friends by being "the cool mom?" Does being "cool" involve dressing inappropriately for your age, drinking alcohol with minors, or referring to your daughter as "your best friend?"

(3) Have you ever mocked the frazzled new mom at the playground dressed in old sweatpants that are covered in breast milk and jelly?

(4) If a fellow patron comes by at a restaurant and inquires whether your children can be a little quieter, instead of apologizing for disturbing their meal, do you snap back and retort, "Don't tell me how to raise my kids!"

(5) Do you have business cards for your mommy blog?


FOR MEN

(1) Do you refer to having young children as "doing the parent thing"?

(2) Have you ever pointed at a breastfeeding woman and said to your buddies, "How'd you like to suck some milk out of those hooters?"

(3) Have you ever picked a fight with a ref during your kid's Little League game? Ever filed a formal complaint against a coach because your kid didn't get enough playing time? Have you ever heckled  a little kid on an opposing team? 

(4) Do you make your wife drive a minivan while you drive a two-seater convertible?

(5) Have you ever "smacked some sense" into your kid's head?


FOR BOTH MEN AND WOMEN

(1) Are any of your children named CoCo, Sage, Prince, Aurelius, Apple, Cat, Bryce, or Keegan?

(2) Have you ever joined a church or temple solely in order to get your children into its affiliated school?

(3) Have you ever flown your kids to summer camp in first-class, a private jet, or a helicoptor? Does your kindergartner have an iphone? Does your teenage daughter drive a Lexus?

(4) When having dinner out as a family, do you let your kids play PSP or gameboys?

(5) Does your minivan have custom rims and flames painted on the side?


HOW TO BE LESS OF AN ASSHOLE PARENT: SOME TIPS

(1) Go to the cancer center of your local hospital and spend the afternoon reading books to the kids.

(2) Donate all of your kids' used toys, clothes and books to charity. One child's junk is another's treasure.

(3) Stop referring to your kids as "rugrats."

(4) Quit drinking beer and smoking cigarettes in front of your kid.

(5) Learn to apologize for your kid's behavior. A simple "sorry" goes a long way.


PURCHASING ASSHOLE PARENT OFFSETS

There are a variety of agencies and organizations whose missions nobly uphold the tenets of anti-asshole parenting. Here are a few where your donation would be welcome:

The Make-A-Wish Foundation

Boys & Girls Clubs of America

Children's Defense Fund

National Center for Missing and Exploited Children

St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital


Obviously, the above quiz is a joke. I'm sure there are tons of people out there who would qualify me as an asshole parent for half the stuff I do. However, is it me or has there really been an increase in the number of asshole parents who seem to be loose on the streets these days? Or do all of them just live in my neighborhood?

Anyway, feel free to leave your own examples of asshole parenting. Either ones you've witnessed in person or are guilty of doing yourselves!

August 15, 2008

Chaos Theory: August 2008

LET'S HUG IT OUT

Thanks to all of you for your touching comments, e-mails, phone calls and sympathy cards. I'm truly humbled by your kindness. If I could come over to your house, give each of you a hug, and take you out for a drink, I would definitely do so. But let's face it. That could take a really long time and would probably interfere with my busy television-watching schedule. Besides, I don't know your addresses. Hey, here's an idea! How about you come over to my place and I give you a hug while we watch TV together? If you could pick up a bottle of scotch and some pickles on the way over, that'd be great. I'll be the guy on the couch watching the Olympics and weeping like a little school girl.

 

MY DAUGHTER THROWS LIKE A GIRL

I recently realized that while the Peanut and I have been spending our afternoons farting on the dog, drawing funny pictures of the neighbors, and pretending to shop at Whole Foods so we can sample the free food, a lot of the other kids in the neighborhood are immersed in after-school activities like gymnastics, swim lessons, tae kwon do, or Super Soccer Stars. Really, I had no idea.

Now I'm worried that it's too late for the Peanut to catch up. I'm thinking that her only shot of achieving athletic excellence is to pick an obscure sport and master it. So, every night, as we watch the Olympics together, I ask her whether any of the sports appeal to her. Archery? Badminton? Curling?

Yesterday, after listening to me rant about choosing a single sport, the Peanut though about it it for a few minutes and told me, "I don't want to do sports, Daddy. I just want to wear dresses like a princess."

Hmmm...field hockey, anyone?


TO BE FILED UNDER "UNINTENDED CONSEQUENCES"

Most of you know that I'm pathologically obsessed with instilling good manners in my daughter. It's like I'm launching my own personal war against the decay of civilization and the Peanut is my ambassador to the world. I'm sure I'm going to drive her crazy in the future. Especially when it comes to my pathological compulsion regarding hand-written thank you notes. I apologize in advance, Sweetie.

At home, I've taught the Peanut to say "excuse me" whenever she farts. The only problem is when we're in public, she'll randomly say "excuse me" to a bunch of strangers. When they inquire why she's saying "excuse me," she enthusiastically yells out "Because I tooted! Want to smell?"

NO THANK YOU!


CHILDREN'S BOOKS THAT NEED TO BE WRITTEN...IMMEDIATELY!

(1) "Santa Only Comes If You Eat Your Vegetables"

(2) "Stop Yelling: Mommy and Daddy Can Hear You!"

(3) "I Don't Care What Your Friend's Parents Do"

 

THINGS KOREAN PARENTS MUST SAY TO EACH OTHER BEFORE HAVING KIDS

(1) "We should definitely never talk about our feelings."

(2) "Let's cut their hair at home until they're 18. We'll use the kalbi scissors."

(3) "What else can we pack for lunch to ensure that he's teased mercilessly?"

(4) "Whenever his friends come over, make sure the whole house smells like kimchi."

(5) "Don't forget to use guilt whenever possible."

 

WIKI, WIKI...WHAT? (FUNNIEST WIKIPEDIA ENTRIES)

There's a lot of high falutin' scholarly debate about whether sites like Wikipedia make us dumber. Personally, I think these scholars should be looking at the lack of funding for public-school education or the increased prevalence of video games but hey, that's just me. I'm crazy like that. Besides, I love Wikipedia. It's a constant source of entertainment for me. Witness!

The Mermaid Problem

The Sudanese Goat Marriage Incident

Toilet-Related Injuries


QUICK THOUGHTS ON THE OLYMPICS

-Even the Peanut thinks that Bela Karolyi sounds like The Count from "Sesame Street." Every time Karolyi opens his mouth, I keep expecting him to say, "TWELVE is the number of the day!"

-Sports Illustrated is reporting that Michael Phelps is listening to Young Jeezy and Jay-Z on his ipod. Why don't I buy this? He seems more like a Hootie & The Blowfish guy.

-Speaking of music, why does floor exercise music suck so bad? Wouldn't you rather see Shawn Johnson tumble to "Who Let the Dogs Out," "Hell's Bells," or "Fight The Power?" After sticking the final landing, she could stick her tongue out and throw up some gang signs!

-BossLady and I made a conscious decision when Peanut was born that we weren't going to kiss her on the lips. Watching Nastia Liukin and her dad smooch on the lips after a successful vault confirms that we made the right decision. The Liukins have officially replaced Angelina Jolie and her brother as "Most Disturbing PDA of All-Time." Fucking Guh-ross!

-I'm sure you've all read the controversy regarding Spanish athletes being photographed making "slanty eyes" and then claiming that they're not racist because hey, they have a lot of "Oriental" friends. Of course, this is the same country who rained chants of "Monkey, Monkey!" on French striker Thierry Henry during a friendly soccer match. But hey, it's cool. Because I'm sure those Spaniards had a lot of black friends too. So to show solidarity with my Spanish brothers and sisters, I will spend the next week being completely fucking lazy, drinking cheap wine, taking 3-hour naps, avoiding showers, and getting my ass kicked by Italians, Moors, Germans, and the French. But hey, it's cool. I have a lot of Spanish friends. Ok, not really. I hate those slimy bastards. Fuck you, Spain!

-By far, the best coverage of the Olympics has been on The Onion. Aside from articles like "Hurdler Overcomes Many Hurdles To Win Hurdle Race," my favorite has been "Green-Clad Olympic Archer Steals Gold Medals From Rich, Gives Them To Poor."



REJECTED OLYMPIC SPORT: TODDLER TOSSING


Rejected Olympic Sport: Toddler Tossing - Watch more free videos

Although I would never do this with my own daughter, I would totally do it with someone else's kid. I think I would be fucking awesome at it. The only thing I might do differently is spray a little rosin on the kid first. You know, as an additional safety measure.

In all seriousness, I've watched this video about a dozen times. I can't decide whether it's a shining example of Darwinian stupidity or whether I'm just a nervous nelly. There's a good part of me that wants to report these people to the proper authorities. Clearly, their parenting license needs to be revoked.

It's interesting because we're now at that stage where the Peanut feels compelled to try and give me a heart attack every single day. If I take my eyes off her for one second, I'll look up and see her climbing scaffolding or picking up trash from the street and putting it in her mouth. Thankfully I only have one kid. I don't know what I'd do if I were outnumbered.

In fact, there's an idea for a new Olympic sport. Put one person in a room with 20 toddlers. If you make it out alive after 24 hours, you get the Gold!

Winner gets their face plastered on a Wheaties box.

August 05, 2008

Rest in Peace

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Earlier today, my father-in-law finally lost his battle with cancer. Surrounded by loved ones, he took his last breaths on this world and moved on to a better one. No longer will he be besieged by the pain that defined his last weeks among us.

I cannot even begin to express how truly blessed I feel to have had him as a father-in-law. I loved him very deeply and he loved me too. Though we couldn't have been more different from one another, from the very first moment that we met, he embraced me into his family and loved me as if I were one of his own.

Although he was the strong, silent type, my father-in-law was one of the kindest and gentlest men I have ever known in my entire life. In a world defined by greed and chaos, he lived his life simply and honorably. Nothing gave him more pleasure in this world than his family, his God, and the church of fishing. My respect for him was immeasurable.

However, what I love and admire about him the most was his undying love for his wife. They had a lifelong love affair with one another that was magically romantic and one of the most beautiful things to witness on a daily basis. They were practically inseparable and their lives revolved around one another. BossLady and I frequently talked about how their marriage was an inspiration to the rest of us.

Sadly, my father-in-law's last days were filled with great pain. Although he could hear us, he was unable to communicate with us and could hardly move. His organs had begun shutting down and his body was emaciated from the ravages of the spreading cancer. Yet, the only stimuli that he would ever react to was the soothing voice of his wife.

Several days ago, we gently propped him up so that we could change his bedding. As his son and daughter held him, he surprised all of us by suddenly lifting himself forward so that he could gently kiss his wife on the lips and softly caress her back. It was the last act of a dying man. He used every remaining ounce of strength in his dying body so that he could lovingly express to her just how much he deeply loved her. It was one of the most beautiful and touching moments I've ever witnessed in my entire life and I'll never forget it for as long as I live. Just writing about it here brings me to tears.

It's true what they say. Love does conquer all.

Farewell, dad. We love you and will miss you forever. Though we're tormented by grief and saddened by our loss, we pray that you're finally at peace and we look forward to seeing you on the other side.


We inherit from our ancestors gifts so often taken for granted. Each of us contains within, this inheritance of soul. We are links between the ages, containing past and present expectations, sacred memories and future promises.---Edward Sellner

 

July 29, 2008

MetroDad Unplugged

Living in New York City can often be as brutal and impersonal as a cavity search in a Turkish airport.

That's why, every once in awhile, I feel the need to check myself out and disappear for some peace and quiet. I need to find someplace where I can reconnect with nature and remember that there are far more important things in life than securing the corner office, the best table at the restaurant, or those prime orchestra seats.

For me, that escape has always been camping.

When I tell people who don't know me very well how much I love camping, they always start laughing their asses off. They think I'm kidding them and truth be told, I've got to admit that I don't look like much of an outdoorsman. Not many people in the fashion industry do. Could you imagine Ralph Lauren, David Beckham or Tom Ford pitching a tent and living off hot dogs for a week?

But underneath this polished urbane veneer lies the heart of a true outdoorsman.

Since the beautiful BossLady hates camping (one word: Arachnophobia) and has been in Texas caring for her ailing father the past two weeks, I decided this would be a good time to take Peanut on her very first camping trip. I've been dying to take her camping since she was born and decided that, at the age of 3.5, she was finally ready.

A week before we left, I pitched a tent in our living room and let her take a nap in her new sleeping bag. What's the first thing she does when she gets in the tent? She throws a little tea party for her stuffed animals and then starts doing some redecorating. Girls are fucking funny.

During the weekend, we drove up to a state park in Duchess County. It was in upstate New York, right on the banks of the Hudson River. Together, we spent the weekend going on long nature hikes, building campfires, cooking s'mores, roasting hot dogs, skipping stones in the river, chasing fireflies, and learning how to crap in the woods.

It was great seeing the Peanut have so much fun. Being raised in Manhattan, she's already a true New Yorker and I often worry that she's growing up too fast or too far removed from "normal" life. After all, she's not even four years old yet she knows what to order at an Indian restaurant. She knows how to ask for the check in Chinese. She knows the subway lines that we take on a regular basis. She knows when taxis are off-duty. She knows how much to tip the parking attendants at the garage. Hell, I think she even knows the fastest way to get through midtown during rush hour!

But now, she's totally hooked on camping and I couldn't be happier. I never want to force my interests on her. I much prefer to expose her to everything and let her figure out where her own unique set of interests lie. If she didn't like camping, I would have been fine with her decision. On the other hand, it's just nice to know that sometimes the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

This was hilariously reinforced to me when, after seeing all the jeans, flannel shirts, and polar fleece that I had packed for her, the Peanut turned to me and adamantly stated, "Daddy, if we're going camping, I'm not going to wear those clothes. I'm only going to wear dresses, ok?"

What could I say? After all, she is half-fashionista on her daddy's side...

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It's no secret that the best campsites are always found by word of mouth. That's why I want to hear about your favorite campsites, both in the US and abroad. Where's your secret spot and what's so great about it?  Feel free to share any good camping stories too. If you don't camp, what do you and your family do to "get away from it all?"

July 22, 2008

Blog Friends, Virtual Relationships, & The Wind in Your Vagina

Being a long-standing, card-carrying member of the "blogosphere," I often find myself pondering the state of modern-day relationships in this virtual internet age.

What does it mean to be friends with someone you only know through blogging? Are facebook friends really friends? Does knowing the details of a person's life via twitter constitute anything meaningful?

The writer Chuck Klosterman once wrote that he had 43 close friends, 196 good friends and 2,200 affable acquaintances. Close friends were people that he would phone immediately if he was diagnosed with lung cancer; good friends were people whose death from lung cancer would make him profoundly sad; and affable acquaintances were people whom he generally liked and hoped would recover from lung cancer.

He wrote that statement back in 2002, a time not so far in the distant past but one that predated the explosion of personal blogging, the proliferation of Facebook as a social network for adults, and the introduction of sites like twitter or tumblr that allow you to follow someone's immediate thoughts and activities in real time. I often wonder how the number of Klosterman's defined relationships has changed just in the past 6 years.

Living in New York, I've had the opportunity to meet not only many other fellow bloggers but also several people who simply know me from being a reader of this blog. At first, I was concerned that people's on-line personalities would prove to be far different from reality. After all, it's impossible to convey the complex entirety of one's self solely by the written word. And isn't there a human tendency to shape one's image so that we may appear more interesting (or attractive, funny, or smart) as possible?

However, after meeting so many people in the "real world" that I previously only knew in the virtual one, I have to admit that I've been amazingly surprised. Without fail, I've found that you really can get to know someone closely through the internet and that the people that you think you would like, you almost always do.

Not only have I formed close relationships with people that I previously only knew online but I've also come to realize that I have quite a few great relationships with friends that I haven't even met in person...yet. These are people that I truly care about and whose lives I am fully invested.

Now admittedly, I'm a "people person." I've never wanted to befriend people who are just like me. In fact, it's quite the opposite. I like having relationships with people who couldn't be more different from me. I enjoy being taken out of my comfort zone and I'm a firm believer that any two strangers on the planet, given enough time, can find a common ground that unites them far more than it divides them.

Being a parent is one of those universal common grounds.

I bring all of this up because I recently discovered a new parenting blog called The Wind in Your Vagina that I absolutely love. The writer is a father of two children and refers to himself online as "Black Hockey Jesus" (aka BHJ.) His writing is refreshingly smart, hilarious, and caring. He has the kind of writing talent that makes me drool with envy but I don't begrudge him a single iota because he's a uniquely iconoclastic character who is constantly barraging me with effusive complimentary e-mails. He's on a one-man mission to singlehandedly take over the internet and I have voluntarily agreed to help him in any way possible. I'm the Robin to his Batman, the Kelly to his Regis, the Porky Pig to his Daffy Duck, the Sancho Panza to his Don Quixote, the Ivory to his Ebony, and...well, you get the fucking idea. Together, we're going to make him a male version of Dooce.

Anyway, BHJ is on vacation this week so he asked me to write a guest post. I don't normally do guest posts because I barely have time to write on this blog. However, in exchange, he's promised that if I ever need to be bailed out of jail, he'll be there for me. No questions asked. He's also promised not to release that photo of me in cutoff denim shorts. How could I say no?

Go check out my guest post on BHJ's blog, The Wind in Your Vagina. Then, go read some of his earlier entries. If you're not entirely satisfied, he'll give you your money back.

Meanwhile, I'm curious to know what YOU think about virtual vs. real world relationships. Do you have close relationships with people whom you only know online? What have your experiences been like? What are your thoughts about the changing nature of relationships in the internet age?

An inquiring mind wants to know.

July 18, 2008

My Kingdom for a Cheeseburger!

Have I ever mentioned that, as a teenager, I played serious competitive tennis on the junior circuit?

One summer, in a misguided attempt to move up the rankings, I spent 6 weeks training at a hard-core tennis academy located in the living hell known as central Florida.  Every morning, I was forced to wake up at 7:00 am, run six miles, and then spend the next ten hours violently hitting tennis balls underneath the sweltering sun.

That summer was hell. Most of my time was spent throwing up on my Tretorns, massaging cramps out of my legs, and trying to figure out how to cure my interminable case of swamp ass.

It was probably one of the most painful summers of my life...until now.

At the age of 39, I think I can safely say that this has probably been the shittiest summer of my life.

It started in May when we learned that my father-in-law had cancer and was given only a few months to live. At the same time, the apparel industry in the US took a nosedive and work became infinitely more stressful. Then, I found myself having to deal with some other personal issues that I won't even begin to share with you.  

When some people get stressed out, they lose their appetites. The BossLady, for example, seems to have simply just stopped eating. She's either too depressed about her father to eat or she's too crazed at work and simply "forgets."

Now generally, I eat fairly healthy. Lots of sashimi, salads, vegetables, and egg-white omelets. Being a foodie, I eat like this so that I can enjoy my porterhouse steak and dumpling splurges without any remorse or regret.

But ever since the summer started, I've been eating like crap. Serious crap. I'm talking pepperoni pizzas, bacon-egg-and-cheese sandwiches, steak burritos, fried chicken, General Tso's chicken, homemade gnocchi in cream sauce, and any other unhealthy food saturated in fat that looked like it might provide me with comfort. I even started having dreams about those infamous Krispy Kreme bacon cheeseburgers.

Hey, I'm no doctor but this couldn't be healthy for me.

So a few weeks ago, I decided that I needed to get my body back into fighting shape. It wasn't a matter of losing weight. I just needed to give my organs a rest, clean out my system, and give myself some more discipline about what goes into my mouth.

Being one of those people who tends to commit to things a gazillion percent, I decided to take drastic measures. So ever since last week, I've been on a serious hard-core juice fast called the Blueprint Cleanse.

The idea is that the cleanse will help your body purge the "toxins" you build up in your system. All the juices are from organic raw-food fruits and vegetables. They're compressed with a special hydraulic machine that generates over 7 tons of pressure and extracts every single nutrient. Apparently, these juices contain 3-5 times the vitamins and minerals found in any other juice.

Now, I'm pretty old-school when it comes to stuff like this. I don't think there are any shortcuts in life so I don't buy into fad diets or New Age solutions. Want to get healthy? Eat some salad, hit the weight room, and put on the jogging shoes. Period.

For me, this was somewhat of a science experiment and a personal challenge. It was like that time during Yom Kippur when all my Jewish friends were fasting and I decided to try it just to test my willpower. Besides, I figured I had nothing to lose. It wasn't going to kill me, right?

Well, on Day One, it almost did.

The week before, you're supposed to gradually wean yourself off unhealthy foods and stop drinking alcohol. Me? I did the exact opposite. The night before my cleanse started, I barbecued with my neighbor Mark and ingested a mountain of chipotle short ribs, cole slaw, and cheese. I washed it all down with a few beers, some wine, and a big glass of scotch.

My first drink the next morning was a disgusting concoction of spinach, cucumber, kale, parsley, apple and lemon. It smelled like the Devil's ass and tasted even worse. Some of the juices tasted better. Some didn't.

After 24 hours on the juice fast, my body was cursing me out and threatening to mutiny. I had massive headaches, stomach pains, dry mouth, body odor, and nausea.

The next day wasn't much better. All I wanted to do was snort giant slabs of bacon, rub my naked body with cheeseburgers, and dive into a pool of burritos. I would have eaten ANYTHING.  I would have eaten your pet if you smothered it in BBQ sauce.

Clearly, this wasn't going to work for me.

But, after a few more days, a funny thing happened.  All my symptoms disappeared. I started feeling ridiculously better. My eyes were brighter. My skin looked better. My sinuses cleared up. My energy levels were through the roof. And without even trying, I lost about 8 lbs. The weirdest thing is that I haven't really been craving food at all.

Until about 5 minutes ago.

That's when I passed a street vendor grilling a pile of meat with peppers and garlic. Mmm...meat, peppers, garlic. That's like the Holy Grail for me and, for a brief second, I was about to throw discipline to the wind and reward myself with a giant gyro slathered with mayonnaise and extra hot sauce. I even got in line and busted out a $5 bill.

But suddenly, the desire to put that garbage in my stomach passed. In fact, the idea of eating it almost repulsed me. The previously aromatic smell even made me a little nauseated. What was happening to me? Had I turned a corner? Am I now addicted to a raw food healthy diet? Would Gwyneth and I soon be sharing kale milkshakes made out of soy and celery? Would I start taking up yoga and scheduling weekly colonics?

I think not, my friends, but we'll see. Stranger things have happened. I'll keep you posted.

Have any of you ever done anything like this? What's the craziest thing you've ever done to get healthy or lose weight? Any vegetarians out there? How do you do it? I can't even picture a life without meat. Then again, I never thought I'd live off juice for two weeks. What do you think?

July 08, 2008

Happy 7th Anniversary, Sweet Cheeks!

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There are three things that I always tell people when they're about to get married.

One, always remember that marriage is about the journey, not the destination.

Two, always remember that a great marriage is like a duck.  Everything may look smooth on the surface but underneath, you've got to paddle like hell.

Three, keep in mind that the key to a healthy long-term relationship is never go shopping for shoes with your wife.

Also, if you can afford separate bathrooms (usually both for her,) go for it.

Personally, before I got married, people gave me crappy advice. About a million people told me "whatever happens, don't go to bed angry." Seriously? I find it hard to believe that there are couples out there who can get into massive fights and then have everything be alright before "Nightline" comes on. I have personally slept on our couch enough times that there's a giant indentation of my ass right smack in the middle of it.

But that's ok. Arguing can be healthy in a relationship. Spouses are individual people with their own individual views and needs. What counts in making a happy marriage is not so much how compatible you are, but how you deal with the incompatibility.

That's far more important to remember than any aphorism about not going to bed angry.

Personally, I like to celebrate my anniversary by thanking my wife for putting up with me. I snore like a buffalo, hate doing laundry, and cannot go shopping with her for more than 10 minutes before I want to blow my brains out. I fart incessantly, tell the same stories at every dinner party, and am utterly useless at fixing anything other than a dangling participle. Also, my feet smell like ass and I clog our toilet up on a weekly basis.

On the other hand, my wife is a wonderful, intelligent, beautiful, sexy, funny woman whom I love and adore. She not only puts up with all my little "quirks" but she actually finds them charming. I'm lucky to have her and the key to our marriage is that we both know it.

So...happy anniversary, honey!

As the great American philosopher Rocky Balboa once said, "I got gaps; you got gaps; we fill each other's gaps."

Let's keep filling them together.

I love you.

June 23, 2008

The Greatest Video Ever Posted on the Internet

Due to my father-in-law's cancer, the mood is fairly grim these days at Casa MetroDad.

That's why I was pleasantly surprised to get an e-mail today from my wife with the subject heading, "This warmed my heart and put a smile on my face today." Not much puts a smile on my beautiful wife's face these days but when I saw it for myself, I completely understood. Somehow, this touching video speaks to the indomitable strength of the human spirit. It's amazingly uplifting. Few things have ever made me smile and tear up at the same time. I simply can't stop watching it.

See for yourself...


Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.

This video reminds me why I love traveling around the world so much. It's because getting to intimately know people all over the planet always reminds me that, deep-down inside, we're so much more similar than we are different. It's something we should all strive to remember every day.

In a similar way, it also reminds me of why I love blogging so much. Through the power of the internet, the world has become such a smaller place. Ever since I mentioned my father-in-law's cancer, we've received so many incredibly touching e-mails from people all over the world. People from Malaysia to India to Greece have all taken time out of their busy days to express their deepest sympathies and send their warmest thoughts and prayers. I can't even begin to express how much that means to us.

I hope this inspirational video makes your day just as it made ours. And may it remind all of us that, despite all the hate in the world, we're more similar than we could ever imagine.

Peace out.

Text Messaging for Dummies: Part Deux

It's been almost two years since I revealed my hatred for text messaging.

However, this only seems to have spurred my weird friends to text me even more. So, in lieu of the fact that I have nothing substantial to write about today and also because I just spent twenty minutes trying to figure out how to erase all the text messages from my phone, here are the latest batch of text messages deleted from my cellphone:


"Don't fuck with me. I know you are not at Olsteen. I'm at Olsteen. You are at Soho House with Jim. You are both going to hell. Heathens!"

"That bar in Harlem on Nicholas Ave is now a Chuck E. Cheese. I am upstairs very much enjoying myself."

"Girl arrived at 2:51 pm. 7 lbs. Toes. Fingers. Hair. All good. 5 pushes for mommy. No cursing or bruises for daddy this time."

"I'm in therapy. Why aren't you?"

"The only thing making me feel better today is the fact that you're older than me."

"Donna making me see SATC. Just being on tic holders line a joke. Woman in line said she needed to look up words while reading a review."

"Pork butts are the new short ribs."

"Bummed about Omar. A young'n did him."

"I gave up pot for Lent. Yes, I do know I'm Jewish."

"Download new Duran Duran album. Serious. And no, this is not 1986 texting your cellphone."

"I know you're a Korean Jew and it's Sunday but I don't want Chinese. I want stone crabs."

"I am sixteen going on seventeen. On repeat. Over and over again."

"My daughter just licked the pole on the subway. Another proud parenting moment."

"Just ran into RZA at a deli. Never saw a rapper order a blueberry muffin before."

"Don't come home. The A/C went out! I'm melting. Save yourself."

"Why does every toddler in NYC have a better haircut than me?"

"Living my life with new philosophy. WWPDD?  What would P.Diddy do?"


For the record, all of the above text messages were sent to me by friends over the age of thirty-five. Notice how none of them used that retarded shorthand internet slang?  That's because my friends know if they did (or used an emoticon,) I'd cut them.   

What's the most random text message that YOU ever received?  An inquiring mind wants to know.


June 17, 2008

A man without a fish is like a woman without a bicycle

I've fly-fished for trout in Idaho's famous Silver Creek. I've deep-sea fished on a yacht in Hong Kong Harbor. I've spearfished for cod in Peru. And I've battled gigantic marlin off Florida's Gold Coast.

However, my favorite fishing memories are those days of being a kid sitting on a dock with nothing but a plastic fishing rod and an empty coffee can filled with worms.

As a young boy, I spent virtually all my summers at a beautiful camp in Maine located on the Saco River. For two whole months, I'd ride horses, canoe in British Columbia, climb Mt. Washington, kayak in Lovell Pond and camp out at Sebago Lake. It was during those amazing summers that I first developed my love for fishing.

Being single in Manhattan during my late 20's put fishing on hold for quite some time. It really came down to making choices. Should I go to a friend's new nightclub with a bunch of models or go to bed early so I can wake up at 4:00 am and go fishing? Spend a week in the Caribbean golfing with buddies or freeze to death by myself in Montana? Eat canapes on a terrace in Paris or munch on stale beef jerky and gorp while patching holes in my leaky tent?

You can imagine which decisions I chose.

But recently I've rekindled my love of fishing.

Why? Because my father-in-law LOVES to fish.

As many of you sadly know, BossLady's father was recently diagnosed with inoperable bile duct cancer and has been given only 3-6 months to live. Ever since we heard the devastating news, we've been flying out to Texas practically every weekend to not only spend time with him but also to create new memories for all of us. Particularly the Peanut.

My FIL has worked six days a week for his entire life The only time he ever took a vacation was to spend time with family or go on a church convention. He's a noble man who truly believes that idle hands are the devil's tools. In fact, before we sent him and his wife to Italy this year as a 50th wedding anniversary present, he hadn't been on a vacation or left the country in over twenty-five years!

In one of life's ironic twists, my father-in-law's cancer has sadly given him time to do the things that are purely for his sole enjoyment. And, more than anything else, he enjoys spending his remaining time on the planet fishing.

So every weekend, we rent this awesome pontoon boat and go fishing together. My FIL spends days setting up our fishing gear; my MIL and the Peanut prepare the food;  BossLady and I are in charge of stocking up on live bait, lures, and beef jerky at the local Wal-Mart.

It's been great spending all this time together fishing as a family. I love seeing my FIL so energized and focused on catching fish. I love watching BossLady lay out on the boat as she works on her tan. I love watching the Peanut give names to all the fish that we catch ("hello, Marlin! Hi, Nemo!") And personally I love that this opportunity is giving me a chance to rekindle my long-lost love affair with fishing.

This past weekend, we finally got Peanut her own fishing pole. She was so excited that she not only slept with it but she also spent the entire morning practicing her casting in the swimming pool. Now, as any parent will tell you, a great part of the joy in being a parent lies in seeing your child go through new life experiences. You see wonderful things through their eyes and, in the process, you tend to experience life in a completely different way. Moments like that are so life-affirming that it almost makes you forget about all the whining, the tantrums, and the ongoing battle over taking a bath.

Almost.

And while I've always been a believer that ALL kids are cute, I have to say, in all seriousness, have you ever seen anything cuter in your life than my daughter in her fishing gear? Christ, it's like looking at bunch of newborn kittens kissing a unicorn underneath a rainbow!


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I've always believed that life is short so I've tended to take a very carpe diem approach to life. So far, I think I've succeeded. I've traveled to 51 countries all over the world and have experienced so many incredible adventures during the course of my lifetime. However, maybe it's due to my father-in-law's illness or my approaching 40th birthday but lately I've decided to add a few more things to my life list.

To start off, I've decided to start kayaking in the Hudson River every weekend, take cooking classes, and volunteer at a place that tutors adult illiterates.

See, I have this theory that, too frequently, we take the easy way out in life and are content with the daily status quo. And c'mon. Let's face it. We're a lazy nation. As Dennis Miller once said, we're the only nation in the entire world that can cook food in a microwave and yell, "faster! faster!"

But more importantly...what are YOU going to do? Tell me something you've always wanted to do but have continued to put off. It doesn't have to be anything grand. Just tell me something that you've always wanted to do during your lifetime. Now, get off your ass and do it. Put it here in the comments so you can come back and remind yourself of your promise.

Because not only is life short but let's face it, there's nothing on TV these days anyway!

 

June 05, 2008

THREE-PEAT THURSDAY

LATHER, RINSE...REPEAT!

Although I curse like a fucking sailor, I'm extremely diligent in never doing this in front of the Peanut. Toddlers are experts at parroting anything they hear from their parents. Things that you whisper under your breath will come back to haunt you. Maybe not tomorrow or next week...but sometime.

Anyway, a few weeks ago, I banged the shit out of my thumb with a hammer. Wincing in pain but seeing the Peanut right next to me, I yelled out under my breath, "GOSHDERNIT, MODDAFREAKING OW!"

Needless to say, the Peanut started laughing hilariously and began hopping around on one leg around the apartment while holding her thumb and yelling, "GOSHDERNIT! GOSHDERNIT! GOSHDERNIT!"

I'd wash both our mouths out with soap but really, it's too damn cute for words.
 

3 PHRASES I'VE TAUGHT THE PEANUT FOR MY OWN ENTERTAINMENT

(1) "Mommy, there's something in your eye. Oh, it's a sparkle!"

(2) "What are we ordering for dinner, lady?"

(3) "Hey pretty mama, you want some fries with that shake?"



3 MOVIE LINES I'M TEACHING THE PEANUT FOR MY OWN ENTERTAINMENT

(1) "Luca Brasi sweeps with the fishies. "

(2) "I drink your milkshake. I dwink it all up."

(3) "I am Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod!" 


3 PHRASES I NEVER THOUGHT WOULD COME OUT OF MY MOUTH

(1) "PLEASE stop walking around the house with your finger up your butt!"

(2) "Did you eat two packages of Starburst while I was sleeping?"

(3) "For the last time, stop putting your dresses on the dog!"


LIES, DAMN LIES, OR STATISTICS?

Here are three recent parenting news headlines that I find EXTREMELY hard to believe...

(1) "The average mother of a child under 15 spends more on fast food every year than on books, music, movies and video games combined."---NY Times

(2) "A new study shows that mothers argue with their toddlers an average of 20-25 times per hour."---CBS News

(3) "Nearly HALF of all pregnancies each year are accidents."---Boston Globe   


NOTA BENE TO THE THIRD POWER, YO!

(1) As many of you noticed, I finally have a new design for this blog. Long-time readers may remember the first version of this site (which we all affectionately decided looked like a pumpkin had thrown up on a chalkboard.) The last version wasn't much better. The type was so small and the background was so dark that I could barely read it. 

Kudos to the wonderfully talented Half Mama, who not only designed the winning banner but also won herself a brand-new Apple Shuffle, a full ensemble of athletic apparel, and a $50 American Express gift certificate.

I'm still going to tinker around a little with the site design. Feel free to offer up ANY suggestions!

(2) The last post? Holy cow! Almost 300 comments? It made me feel all Doocey inside. Anyway, it seems that slightly more than 90% of you would want to be woken up from a coma to say bye to your loved ones and then be told that you were about to die. Andrew believes that the polling data is skewed by demographics. He thinks that people who would read a "daddy blog" are most likely parents with young kids themselves and therefore more inclined to want to be woken from the coma. He still believes that, in the general population, more people would NOT want to be woken up.

And since many of you asked...No, Andrew and his wife do not have kids. Should that make a difference?

(3) We've been so busy going back and forth to Texas to see BossLady's father that I just realized this is the FIRST time in my life that I don't have a song of the summer. Where's my "Hey Ya," my "Brass Monkey," or my "Since U Been Gone?" I can't believe I have nothing!

Every summer, I burn a CD of summer pop songs so I can listen to them while I drive in the car. This weekend, we're going out to the beach and all I've got are Donna Summer's "Stamp Your Feet" and Coldplay's "Viva La Vida."

I'm looking for suggestions, people! What's YOUR song of the summer for 2008? What's rocking YOUR ipod right now?

P.S. I can't stop watching this video of one of my favorite bands, The Roots, cover U2. Check it out.

May 28, 2008

Quick Poll

Yesterday, my buddy Andrew and I were discussing the season finale of the TV show "House."

During the episode, a woman is injured in a bus accident. However, there are some strange complications that seem to imply a dangerous preexisting condition. The patient is put into a medical coma while the doctors attempt to diagnose her and find the proper treatment.

The doctors eventually realize that the patient cannot be cured and will soon die. The boyfriend is given the choice whether to let her die peacefully in her sleep or to have her awakened so that they can say goodbye to one another and he can tell her about her impending death. This being television, he naturally chooses to have her woken up. They lie together on the hospital bed for a few hours, tell each other how much they love one another, and then she naturally slips into a coma and dies.

While Andrew and his wife Lara were watching the show, Lara immediately spun towards him and said, "Just for the record, DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT WAKING ME UP!" Andrew completely agreed.

I posed this hypothetical to the BossLady and she didn't hesitate either. After thinking about if for a brief millisecond, she told me that she wouldn't want to be woken up either.

Me? I thought there was something romantic about it. I would want to be woken up. I could tell my wife and daughter how much I loved them. I could offer them my last lessons on life. Also, I think it would help provide closure for everyone and maybe make their suffering a little less painful.

Plus, knowing I was going to die, I could inhale a giant cheesesteak with fried onions and pickles, maybe catch a Mets game on TV, and then still have time to call a few people and tell them how much I hate them. How bad could it be? Sounds great!

Andrew thinks I'm a romantic idiot and that the idea of being woken up, only to be told that you were about to die, is morbidly disturbing. He thinks if we asked 100 people, 99 would not want to be woken up.

So naturally we agreed that we'd post the question here on the blog.

What's the deal, my friends? Would you want to be woken up from a coma so that you could say your goodbyes and be told that you have only hours to live? Or would you rather stay in the coma and pass peacefully? And why would you pick one choice over another?

An inquiring mind wants to know...

May 15, 2008

Spiritual? Definitely! Religious? Ehh. Not so much.

When I was eight years old, I was convinced that my Sunday school teacher hated my guts. So every weekend, when my parents dropped me off at the front door of the church, I'd walk straight through to the rear exit, change into gym clothes, and spend the next few hours playing basketball at a public court down the street.

By the time I finally got busted, it was the end of July. Unfortunately, at the end of every summer, the church put all the Sunday school students on display in front of the entire congregation, an annual event at which we were supposed to impress the elders with our vast canonical knowledge of the bible. Despite the fact that my church education for the year had been cut short due to my delinquency, I was informed that my presence was absolutely required.

During the event, the reverend turned to us and asked if we knew all of God's different names. One child answered, "Yahweh." Another called out, "Jehovah." Then, to my utter fear and horror, the reverend turned to me and said, "How about you, Pierre? Do you know God's name?"

Trying to think fast on my feet, I yelled out, "Yes! God's name is Howard!"

The reverend's face turned quizzical and he asked, "Why would you say that God's name is Howard?"

"Because it says so right in the Lord's Prayer! 'Our father who art in Heaven, Howard be thy name!'"

With that, the entire congregation burst out laughing hysterically and the vast scope of my religious ignorance was exposed for everyone to see. Needless to say, my days at church were numbered after that traumatic experience.

Flash forward 30 years later...

Members of my father-in-law's church congregation visit his house to pray for him. As the pastor begins to recite a long and solemn prayer, the Peanut walks into the room eating a candy bar. Confused as to why everyone has their eyes closed and their heads bent, she immediately starts yelling, "Hey! Wake up, guys. It's not nap time yet."

Receiving no attention to her remarks, she then proceeds to walk up to random people, forcefully prying their eyes open with her little fingers, and saying "C'mon. Please don't go to bed now. The sun is still awake!"

As my mother-in-law stifles her laughter, one of the members of the congregation turns to the BossLady and whispers, "So I guess you guys don't go to church much, eh?"

Damn. Is it that obvious?

Thanks for all your kind comments and heartfelt e-mails. We're truly touched by your sympathies. Unfortunately, my FIL's cancer is worse than we had previously thought. We'll be spending the next few months commuting between New York and Dallas on a weekly basis. Posting here may be light. Thanks again for your thoughts and prayers.

May 02, 2008

Lonely is the night

You miss your wife and daughter terribly.

It's late at night. Your apartment feels cavernously empty. The silence seems to echo off the brick walls and reverberate noiselessly. How is that possible? The TV hums in the background. You sigh heavily and, as you gaze upon a photo of your wife and daughter, you pour yourself another scotch.

Things changed so quickly. Only a week ago, you and your family awoke to one of those beautiful spring mornings in Manhattan, the kind of morning that always rekindles your unabated love for this city. Your daughter is practically bursting at the seams with excitement. "Isn't it a beautiful day, guys? When you pick me up today, let's all go to the park for a picnic. Hooray! Picnics!" You and your wife smile and laugh at your daughter's unbridled enthusiasm. Together, all three of you walk out of your apartment building. Rays of golden sunshine warm your faces.

Three hours later, you leave the office briefly to get another dose of that midtown sun. You chat amiably with the Pakistani newstand owner downstairs as the two of you share a cigarette. You both agree that it really is a beautiful day. Despite your yearning to flee from work and enjoy the outdoors, you return upstairs to your office.

Immediately as you walk in, your co-worker runs up to you. "Call your wife. It's an emergency."

In the seconds that it takes for you to dial her number, your mind races. Since your wife is the one calling, you assume that nothing bad has happened to her. What else would constitute an emergency? Has something happened to your daughter? Your heart is racing.

When your wife answers, all you hear are the anguished sounds of her sobbing uncontrollably. Between choking sobs and gulps of air, you hear only isolated words. Father. Liver cancer. Inoperable. Tumor. 8 cm.

Your gut wrenches. A sickening feeling falls into the pit of your stomach. For some strange reason, you're reminded of that tragic morning of 9/11. Another beautiful day that started out with so much promise yet ended with so much pain.

The next 24 hours are a dizzying combination of activity and emotion. Phone calls are made. Tears are shed. Sympathies are laid bare. You learn that everyone reacts differently in these situations.

We all do what we have to in order to get by.

Your wife decides to get on a plane immediately so she can see her ailing father. You agree that it will be easier for everyone if you and your daughter stay at home. You both think you have it all figured out. However, when you telephone your mother-in-law to inform her of the news, she pauses for a moment and then tells you that it's great that your wife is coming to see them. However, the doctor said that her husband needs to enjoy life as much as possible now. Things might get worse soon. That being said, your mother-in-law tells you, do you think the Peanut could come to Texas also? Nothing would make him happier.

You and your wife look at each other and agree wholeheartedly. Knowing how much joy can come from being around a fun-loving toddler, you both know that this is one of the best (and only) things that you can do for her father right now. You also know it's hard to cry when you're laughing so hard. And one thing your daughter does do is provide lots of laughter.

So as you sit alone in your apartment missing your family and thoroughly depressed over your father-in-law's illness, you decide to watch some videos that you took last week. In one, your daughter is demonstrating how if mom and dad will not give her a baby sister, she will make one by herself. And as you sit there with tears in your eyes, you cannot help but start laughing again.

It's true. Laughter really is the best medicine.


I'm having a baby sister from Pierre Kim on Vimeo.

We love you, Dad, and we're thinking about you all the time.



 

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