MetroDad

Rest in Peace

       

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

 

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!

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!

 

Patria Potestas (Daddy Power!)

When I first started this blog, I never really believed that anyone would be interested in hearing a guy blather on about fatherhood.

After all, let's face it. We still live in a world where men are not really encouraged to discuss their inner feelings. Most of us just don't want to hear about it.

If society has taught us anything, it's that there's a fine line between being a strong, confident man who is in touch with his feelings and being a giant wuss who cries at every father-daughter dance, likes to bake banana bread, and loves Jane Campion movies. Iron Man meet Iron John.

So yeah, really, who the fuck would want to listen to some random NYC Asian-American dude talk about being a dad?

But four years, ten pounds, and two colonoscopies later here I am. Still standing.

In fact, this is my 337th post. It's hard to believe. 337 times I've released my mental diarrhea out into the public arena. Who knew I even had that much to say?

Since its inception, this blog has been my own personal soapbox. It not only serves as a place for me to transcribe my personal journey into fatherhood but also lets me vent about the truly important issues of the day that seriously affect all of us.

Like sitting at the pediatrician's office yesterday, I jotted down an observation. Look, I wrote it on this napkin. It says: DO SOMETHING FUNNY ABOUT BABY DROOL. You see, that's the joy in writing this blog. Taking on the big guys.

Anyway, four years ago when I started this site, there weren't really any dad bloggers around. In fact, as far as I knew, it was just me, Greg, LOD and a small handful of others.

Then, along came Dutch, Danny, and Matthew. Pretty soon, more and more dads started entering the blogosphere. It's almost as if they started springing up in waves. I loved it. I've always enjoyed reading new dad blogs and wanted to give all of them as much attention as I possibly could. In fact, whenever I had free time, I'd do various write-ups introducing all the new dad blogs as they came online.

As I've said many times before, mommy blogs are like the giant 800-lb gorilla of the parenting blogosphere. They are an amazing revolutionary force of sheer will, spirit, and determination. They're fantastic and I love all of them. (Don't forget I was always on your side, ladies, 'cause I don't want to get hurt in the coming revolution. And by the way, don't you all look sexy today! Did you lose some weight? Is that a new haircut?)

What the hell was I talking about again? Ah yes, mommy blogs as 800-lb gorillas. Well, if that's the case,  then daddy blogs are like the tiny gnat on the gorilla’s ass. Although our numbers are growing larger by the day, in all honesty, most people don’t even know we exist.

That's why I was so surprised to learn that Guy Kawasaki's amazing new site aggregator, ALLTOP, now has a channel featuring just Dads!

Alltop is an amazing, new kind of site. If you are interested in celeb gossip or politics or gaming or fashion or geeky stuff, the top posts in a wide variety of different genres are covered all in one place, without you having to load anything into a feed reader. It's absolutely brilliant.

The fact that there are now enough dad bloggers out there to justify their own channel on Alltop is amazing to me and warms the cockles of my soul. At last count, Alltop listed 81 different daddy blogs! How cool is that? I can't wait to see more and more added to the list.

Thanks to Guy and AllTop for recognizing the growing popularity of Dad bloggers. Now, go check them out here.

And if any of you know some other dad bloggers out there who either aren't on the list or I've never mentioned before, leave their URLs in the comments below.

Speaking of fathers...Al Copeland (the mack daddy of fried chicken and legendary founder of the Popeyes restaurant chain) passed away this week. I was so upset that I poured out some cajun gravy and dirty rice for my homie last night. Rest in peace, Al. Thanks for making the world a better place than it was before you entered it.

Korean DJ Wunderkinds

Back in the day, NYC was the birthplace of mixing and scratching.

Growing up as a young kid in the early 80's, my friends and I were always on the lookout for new mixed tapes from legendary DJs like Kool Herc, Grandmaster Flash, Grand Wizard Theodore and Afrika Bambaataa. The tapes were always sold illegally on random street corners all over the city. And while other kids from the suburbs were trading baseball cards, we would spend our free time trading mixed tapes.

Back then, I briefly entertained the idea of becoming a professional DJ. My buddy had a turntable and mixing board set-up in his apartment and the two of us would spend hours mixing and scratching until the break of dawn.

At the same time, MetroBro ended up developing a love for freestyle rap. He was fucking fearless. He'd go out on the streets and trade battle raps with anyone. He was like the illegitimate love child of Yeats and Eminem.

But let's face it. Two Korean-American prep school kids in blazers weren't going to have much of an impact on the future of urban street music.

That's why it warms the cockles of my aging turntablist’s heart to see these two young Korean kids burning up the decks. Big props to the next generation. Word on the street is that the little girl is seven years old and the boy is five!

As I like to kid all my white and black friends when we're talking shit on the hoops court and I'm dropping threes on them, "Koreans take what you make...and we make it better! Boo yah!"

By the way, while doing a random surf on youtube, I came across THIS. How is it possible that this movie never won the Academy Award for Best Picture?  Is anyone else out there old enough to remember this classic scene or am I dating myself again?

Fuck, I'm old!

A Dying Professor's Last Lecture On Life

Beloved Carnegie Mellon professor Randy Pausch recently discovered that he has incurable pancreatic cancer and has only a few short months to live.  This week, he addressed his students in a final farewell lecture, which he entitled "How To Live Your Dreams." 

The Wall Street Journal called it "the lecture of a lifetime" and it's undoubtedly one of the more inspiring and moving lectures I've ever heard in my life. I can't stop watching it and, every time I do, I find myself with tears in my eyes. Even with death at his door, Randy Pausch remains one of the most life-affirming people I've ever met. 

At the end of the lecture, he reveals that the life lessons he was discussing weren't for the audience - but rather for his three children. As his oldest son's just five, he's focusing on making videos during his remaining days so that his younger kids will have something to remember their father.

"I find that I am completely positive. The only times I cry are when I think about the kids -- and it's not so much the 'Gee, I'll miss seeing their first bicycle ride' type of stuff as it is a sense of unfulfilled duty -- that I will not be there to help raise them, and that I have left a very heavy burden for my wife."

His wife and children, he said, "mean everything to me. They give a purpose to life and a depth of joy that no job can begin to provide. I hope they will remember me as a man who loved them, and did everything he could for them."

Here's a video of excerpts from the lecture.

Read the story here. Visit his website here.

My deepest thoughts and prayers to Randy Pausch and his beloved family.  May his story help inspire all of you to pursue your childhood dreams and appreciate the value of the life you have. 

Life is short, my friends. Kiss your wife. Hug your kids. Tell your loved ones how much they mean to you. And always remember to seize the day.

'Cause you've gotta have faith, baby

I spend an absurd amount of time thinking about my daughter's future. 

Now don't get me wrong. I'm a fairly laid-back guy so I rarely get myself too stressed out about parenting.  However, there probably isn't a single future event/milestone that the Peanut will ever face that I'm not already thinking about: the cost of pre-school, making friends, belly-button piercings, the SATs, orthodontist bills, shitty boyfriends, college, marriage, career, global warming.

Honestly, the list goes on forever.

Now it's bad enough that I spend so much time thinking about my daughter's future but recently I've started to concern myself with something even further removed...HER AFTERLIFE!

I'm more than a little embarrassed to say that my own experiences with organized religion have been somewhat spotty at best.  I like religion and I'm interested in theology.  I'm just not a big fan of church.  I abhor organized religion's growing intolerance and I'm extremely turned off by the scandals that seem to constantly plague them. In general, I like to consider myself a spiritual man who has always chosen bits and pieces of various religions in order to suit my own personal needs. 

For example, when I was younger, I really did believe that idle hands were the Devil's workshop, so I was constantly jerking off. 

Just kidding! 

In all seriousness, despite the fact that I was baptized and confirmed in a Korean Methodist church, I've also fasted on Yom Kippur, sought guidance from Buddha, celebrated Ramadan, and dragged my hungover ass out of bed on many a Sunday morning in order to attend Mass.  It's like I couldn't decide on a religion so I picked all of them!

To their credit, my parents did try to expose me to church when I was younger.  But for them, church was more of a social event where they could meet up with fellow Koreans and eat some donuts.  Although my father donated a lot of money to the church, I'm not sure he was ever motivated by faith or charity.  I think he just wanted better seats so he could be closer to God.   

As I look back, I realize that my personal disillusionment with religion started when I was 8 years old and got kicked out of Sunday school.  The bible teacher was asking us whether we knew God's name and I kept yelling out, "HOWARD!  God's name is HOWARD!"  When the teacher asked me to elaborate, I replied, "Haven't you ever read the Lord's Prayer?  You know, the part where it says, 'Our Father who art in Heaven, Howard be they name.'  Jeez, lady!  And you call yourself a Sunday school teacher?"

In a fit of fury, she kicked me out of class.  However, I was being completely serious at the time and her misplaced rage only served to confuse the hell out of me.  In typical fashion, I just shrugged my shoulders and went down the street to grab a slice of pizza.  Man, my ass still hurts thinking about the beating I got from my dad that night!

Sadly, I never did find God in that church either (but thanks to the basketball court in the basement, I did find one hell of a great jump shot.)

My lovely aunt, on the other hand, is a devoutly born-again Christian.  After losing her teenage son to leukemia and her asshole husband to infidelity, she found great solace and comfort in religion.  And although she's given me enough rosary beads and bibles to start my own congregation, I find her faith to be a beautiful thing.  If anything, helping people cope with life's many shitstorms is the greatest benefit of organized religion.  I truly believe that church saved my aunt's life. 

Sadly, the only times I enter a church these days are when someone dies or gets married.  However, BossLady and I are seriously contemplating attending one again so that the Peanut doesn't automatically assume that our peculiar brand of Agnostic Secularism is the natural order of things.  If the Peanut chooses to eventually opt out of organized religion, we want it to be HER choice, not ours.  As parents, we feel that, at the very least, we owe it to our daughter to make sure she is exposed to religion (or religions) so that she can eventually make her own decision about the role it's going to play in her life. 

And who knows?  Maybe in trying to help the Peanut find her faith, we'll find our own as well.

It's funny being a parent, isn't it?  You spend so much time thinking about how you're affecting your child yet you rarely notice how sometimes your child affects you more.  As I've mentioned, I became disillusioned with organized religion many years ago.  Then, after 9/11 and the loss of one of my best friends, I was convinced that religion was the core root of the world's problems.  Now, a scant two years after the birth of my daughter, I'm contemplating going to church again for the first time in years.  Who would have ever guessed that? 

Certainly not this jaded New Yorker. 

But honestly speaking, there's a part of me that is curious about attending church again.  After all, I see the Lord's work all around me.  A beautiful sunrise, my wife's gorgeous face, my daughter's heart-warming smile, the infield grass at Shea Stadium, and, of course, seeing that asshole driver in the Hummer who cut me off on the Jersey Turnpike getting pulled over by state troopers for a full-body cavity search.

Hmmm...maybe God does have a sense of humor!

In all seriousness, I'd really love to hear your thoughts about religion in regard to parenting and raising kids.  Or your own religious experiences growing up and the role your parents did or didn't play.  I know religion is generally a taboo subject in the snarky world of blogging but let's talk about it nonjudgementally just this once, ok?  A truly inquiring mind wants to know. 

Life is short

Part of being a Met fan is having your heart broken. 

Every spring brings glimmers of hope and optimism.  And every autumn tends to bring sadness and disappointment. 

However, I'll never stop rooting for my beloved Mets.  I was born under the shadows of Shea Stadium in Flushing, Queens and my heart will always belong to the Mets until the day I die. 

As many fans understand, seeing one's team in the World Series may only happen once in a lifetime.  The Chicago Cubs last appeared in the Series in 1945. They last won a championship in 1908.  How many Cubbie fans have lived and died since then? 

So when the Mets made the division series and World Series tickets went on sale, I knew I had to be there.  Thankfully, my beautiful wife understood how important this was to me.  She sold an arm, a leg, one of her kidneys, and the naming rights to all of our future children in order to buy me an early birthday present...the now-worthless souvenir ticket that you see here.

Tied at 3 games apiece in a best-of-7 series, down two runs with the bases loaded and two outs...that's about as close as you can possibly come to making it to the Series.  But with a single strikeout, the Mets season ended.  As the saying goes, close only counts when it comes to horseshoes and hand grenades. 

Oh well...there's always next season.

Gloria Patria (In Praise of the Father)

For the first several months after I started this "Daddy blog," I had no readers except for my lovely and encouraging wife, the BossLady. This was fine with me. I really just wanted an anonymous place where I could keep an online diary of my impending fatherhood and chronicle the journey into parenthood. Though I tend to kid around about it a lot, I'm not entirely joking when I say that one of the main reasons I started the blog was because it really was cheaper than therapy.

I also enjoyed the idea of having a creative outlet for my writing. I don't have much use for it in my daily life but I've always been the kind of person who, instead of sending postcards on long trips overseas saying, "wish you were here," would instead send 2,000 word e-mails to my friends about getting drunk with Muslims in Pakistan or explaining how "Falcon Crest" is actually much funnier in Hindi (whereas, on the other hand, "Joey" is not funny in ANY language.) I missed having a place to release the strange machinations and observations that bounced around in my brain on a constant basis. 

In no way did I think that my blog would ever be read by more than a small handful of people.  However, soon after I started, my two blogging godfathers, Jay and Greg, started linking to my site and pushing people to come over and read various posts I had written.   

Suddenly, for the first time, I had readers (which is a weirdly strange phenomenon, kind of like picking your nose in bed and looking up to see 50 people peering through your window.)  But more important than readers, I found an amazing community of people with whom I've become friends. Some are parents. Some aren't. But connecting with so many people as a community in this online internet thingy has been, by far, the most rewarding aspect of having started this blog.

However, since MetroDad primarily deals with my ongoing experience of fatherhood, I've got a soft spot for all my fellow dads out there.  There aren't too many men writing online about fatherhood so I try to promote all of them as much as possible.  We've done this here a few times before and I'm glad to say that many of these guys have become good friends of mine. Some I've met in person. Others are friends whom I just haven't met...yet!

Anyway, the great thing about daddy bloggers is that there are always new ones that are starting every day.  Here are a few new ones that I've discovered recently. Enjoy!

Corndog & Rootbeer

There's a small possibility that Henri is my long-lost twin brother.  French-name?  Check.  Korean-American?  Check.  Unhealthy obsession with scotch?  Double check.  However, if my strange sense of humor is derived from juvenile drug use, I think Henri's weirdness comes from being dropped on his head as a baby.  He's a loving father and husband who thinks he's an Irish ninja.  I got such a kick out of reading him, I even recruited him for the Rice Daddies blog.  Go check him out.

Flailing My Arms

A self-described "dad, partner, theatre-maker, graphic designer, writer, and flagrantly flailing 20-something living in Austin, TX," Jonathan is a very cool dude whom I've enjoyed reading a lot lately.  In many ways, he reminds me a lot of myself when I was younger.  And although he sometimes struggles to find balance in his life, I continue to be impressed by the fact that he's an introspective guy who is always asking the right questions of himself.  For a kid in his 20's, he's a refreshingly mature guy and a very talented writer.  I think if Dutch and I were ever to have a baby together, he'd come out a lot like Jonathan! We like Jonathan. A lot.

Spit Up & Shut Down

Sandy is a stay-at-home screenwriter dad living in Long Beach with two kids, a dog, and a hilarious take on life. He dresses his kid up in an Elmo costume just to hang out around the house, has actually peed at a supermarket urinal with his son on his shoulders, and is teaching himself how to play cricket via a book. Best of all, he's the inventor of the bologna-melt paternity test. Clearly a man after my own heart.

L.A.Daddy

Tim is a displaced Ohioan who has been working as a marketing director and writer/director for the past 11 years.  In his spare time, he's an avant-garde raconteur, retired gigolo, and a proud papa to a two-year old girl.  I enjoy reading Tim because we're both around the same age so we can relate to one another. When he writes about Colecovision or I write about Brite-lites, we each know what the other is talking about. Not like all you young 'uns out there!

Abba-Daddy

Abba-Daddy is a fellow New Yorker who's been married for 8 years and has two wonderful daughters.  Whereas I'm more Jewish by affiliation, Abba-Daddy is a proud Israeli man with a deep love for his homeland, music, and Elmo porn.  Ok, just kidding about that last one (sort of.)  He's just starting out but I'm enjoying reading him. I think you will too.

I Hate Snaps

I feel like I've known Kaz forever. He was such a loyal and frequent commenter over at daddytypes that I think Greg finally just told him to start his own blog. What I truly love about Kaz is that he's a passionate man. As a tree-hugging environmental vegetarian, Kaz shares tips to help other parents live "green" and discusses the highs and lows of raising a loving daughter. As a meat-eating, non-recycling urbanite who drives a car that gets about 11 mpg, I still got nothing but love for Kaz. Go check him out.

Dad in Progress

There are many cool things to like about Michael. He's a great guy who spends a lot of time and energy in trying to figure out how to be a great dad. He's also an avid reader of parenting resources who always has an interesting take on the articles he references on his site. However, the coolest thing about Michael may be the fact that he is the head of North American brand communications at Lego. The dude works at Lego Land!

As always, if you know of any new dad bloggers out there, feel free to shoot me an e-mail or leave a comment. Otherwise, enjoy these newbies. I think you'll like them.

GO METS!

Mommy Dearest

Over the past six months, the Peanut has been treating me as if I were the living embodiment of Christmas, Elmo, and an all-you-can-eat ice cream buffet. 

When she woke up in the morning, she demanded that I be the one who got her out of the crib, changed her diaper, and dressed her.  When she hurt her knee at the playground, it was me that she always came running to.  When she was hungry, only I was allowed to prepare her dinner and feed her.  And every day, all she ever wanted to do was hang out with me. 

Man, is there any greater feeling than the complete and unadulterated love of a child?  I was on top of the world.

While I felt badly for the BossLady, I couldn't help but take some pleasure and satisfaction from the fact that the Peanut's universe revolved around me.  In some way, I felt that this was perfectly natural and actually SHOULD be the state of things. 

After all, I was the one who came home early every day to play with the Peanut.  I was the one who read to her before bath time.  I was the one who made all the fun bubbles in the tub.  And I was the one who cooked her meals and fed her every night.  Why shouldn't I be her favorite parent?  It made perfect sense to me.

Internet...those days are over!

Right now, the Peanut's sun, moon and stars all revolve around the BossLady.  It's mama THIS or mama THAT.  Without a doubt, mommy is the new and improved center of the Peanut's universe and she wants absolutely nothing to do with daddy any more.  All of sudden, I'm like the bubonic plague.  Now, she actually pushes me out of the way so that she can go hug and kiss the BossLady! 

The whole transition occurred so quickly, I'm not even sure what happened.  My head is still spinning from the demotion. 

The hardest part of dealing with my recent change of status is the fact that I am a seriously competitive bastard.  I don't like being second in anything.  To quote the famous faux-Nascar philosopher Rickey Bobby, "If you ain't first, you're last."

Now, I'm man enough to admit that I was filled with jealousy, confusion, envy, bitterness and bewilderment that I had suddenly been displaced as the Peanut's #1 fan.  When the fuck did they send out THAT memo?  Man, this was horrible!  I didn't like these new feelings at all and I was ready to break out ALL the tricks to remedy the situation quickly...giant piles of chocolate chip cookies, huge fountains of strawberry milk, unlimited quantities of Elmo juice.  Hell, I even started surfing the internet to try and find the nearest pony dealer. 

Thankfully, I regained my senses.  After all, if parenthood has taught me anything, it's that everything I do is for the benefit of my daughter.  So, once again, I realized that I needed to change my perspective and alter my way of thinking.  I couldn't allow my sense of competitiveness to manifest itself.  If I followed that evil path, I'd end up doing something destructive like bribing the Peanut for her affections (a path I definitely didn't want to go down.)  I also couldn't allow bruised feelings or parental snubs to alter my opinions, my emotions, or my feelings about her.  If I couldn't handle her little baby snub now, how would I deal later when she's an obnoxious teenager chucking telephones at me and yelling that I'm "the world's worst father?"  Clearly, I needed to get a better emotional perspective on things. 

Besides, it wasn't that long ago that BossLady had been in MY shoes.  And, sure, I tried to understand what my lovely wife was saying about not feeling loved by the Peanut.  It's just that, like going to watch the Knicks play, you don't really know how horrible the situation is until you see for yourself. 

Of course, I probably didn't help matters for the BossLady by constantly running around the apartment with the Peanut on my shoulders yelling, "I'm #1!  I'm #1!"

However, there was an instance last week when I had a true moment of clarity.  The Peanut, once again, snubbed me and quickly ran over to give the BossLady a giant two-handed neck hug (always the best kind.)  Then, the Peanut planted a big, wet, sloppy kiss on the BossLady's cheek.  As I witnessed the two of them sitting together, holding hands and singing, I saw a look of sheer joy on my beautiful wife's face that I'd never seen before.  It seemed as if every fiber of her being had been filled with the rapture that came from knowing that the Peanut's universe now revolved around her and that her daughter really, truly loved her!  The moment may have only lasted for a nanosecond but I immediately knew, right there and then, that not only would I never again try to compete for my daughter's affections but also that I would do anything in the world to see that look of joy on my wife's face forever. 

Hell, I would die to see that look on her face forever.   

Anyway, like my man L.L. Cool J says, I know I'll be back on top sometime again.  Besides, as they say in the fashion biz, everything old eventually comes back in style again at one point or another. 

Right? 

Hello? 

Anyone? 

Ahhh...fuck it!  Have fun, BossLady and Peanut.  If you need me, I'll be on the couch.

 

Happy Anniversary, BossLady!

Five years ago today, the lovely and beautiful BossLady and I exchanged vows to one another in a Tribeca loft.  It was one of those gorgeous summer evenings and the perfect time to celebrate our union together. 

After all these years together, I still can't believe she agreed to marry me and my smelly feet.  I don't even want to contemplate my life without her.  A life without her is no life at all. 

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Happy Anniversary, honey.  Not only do you rock the Casbah, you make me make me make me make me hungry again!   

You're the coolest cat in town and I'll always love you forever.