Are you mad at Dad?

That is the topic I am a little late jumping into, but nevertheless, I feel it needs to be aired out here for all of you WIMmers to comment on.

Basically, all these stats say that nearly half of all mothers are mad or get mad at their husbands on a regular basis, have all kinds of penned-up anger towards their spouse, and are generally unhappy with the level of effort and attention that their hubbies are putting into the children and overall domestic life. (The Motherlode blog at NY Times has a nice response to the original piece from parenting.com).

So, I’ll ask it again: are you mad at dad?
Read the rest of this entry

I have a five-year-old daughter, and from that you may infer that I’ve watched High School Musical and High School Musical 2 more times than is appropriate for a 38-year-old man with seven Rage Against The Machine songs on his iPod. My guy friends would make me surrender my testicles if they ever found out about this, but I know most of the songs by heart and I’ve memorized some of the dance moves, including the one where you make a clock with your arms.

While I was cuddling on the couch with my daughter the other night, watching the scene where Zac Effron stomps around a golf course, chanting “bet on it, bet on it, bet on it!” my wife walked into the room.

“He’s so cute!” she said.

“Mommy?” my daughter responded. “Are you in love with him?”

“No, silly. I’m in love with him.” She was pointing at me.

I have every reason to believe my wife, and of course the feeling is mutual. But is there a part of me that thinks she’d drop me for Zac in a heartbeat? Bet on it.

I don’t know what the eff(ron) is happening to my life. I used to lead a fairly normal existence – highs and lows like everyone else – but the day those sunza bitches at Disney first aired High School Musical, all of it fell disintegrated like a drenched piece of one-ply toilet paper. Nothing is normal anymore. The walls are closing in around me and I fear I may be the world’s first victim of Death By Disney.

I can assure this isn’t some figment of a hyperactive imagination. The following is a list of changes that have occurred over the last 12 months, and the blame for each one of them can be traced directly to this insidious High School Musical crap:

•    When my big-shot literary agent from New York City feels compelled to leave a comment on my blog, she does so as “Gabriella.” Her name is Karen!

•    My wife’s good friend Pam, a physician and assistant medical director for a very large healthcare system, has three children, one of whom is a daughter the same age as ours. Naturally, Pam has the High School Musical soundtrack in her minivan. Not so naturally, Pam listens to it in the car, by herself, and she sings at the top of her lungs.

•    Once, when I was home alone and could have been watching an important hockey game, I watched High School Musical 2 instead. You have no idea how much therapy I’ve had to endure over this revelation alone.

I don’t know what to do anymore, you guys. Nothing seems real. People are changing as though they’re in some song-and-dance-induced trance. I no longer know who I can trust, who’s immune from this epidemic, who will be the next person to fall under the High School Musical spell. In fact, there only one declarative statement I can make with nary an ounce of trepidation, and it’s this:

I’m soaring. Flying. There’s not a star in heaven that I can’t reach.

Do you rent? Good. Keep it that way.

Yes, I am trying to get into the holiday spirit here, but it’s a little tough to do when it feels like I’ve been through a practice with the New England Patriots, having shoveled snow - and I mean, the heavy, wet, icy, nasty snow - for the past 2 days straight. (Yes, I do have a snowblower, but there was just too much snow).

Why am I ranting here? Because I have come to feel the pain of homeownership; life was just so much easier when we rented.

So, if you’re biding your time out there, hoping for the market to continue to fall and pounce on a good deal this spring, give it a second thought, and here’s why:

1. Utilities: when you rent, they’re sometimes paid for, once you buy, you’ll be staring down HUGE, unheardof sums to heat your home (especially if you live in balmy New England like we do). I have begun to just ignore the gas bills when they come.

2. Repairs: when you rent, you have a super or a landlord - something breaks, you call em; once you own, fuggedaboutit - every. little. thing. that goes wrong, you either have to do it yourself or pay someone extra to fix it. Last week I cut power to two of our bedrooms, accidentally; I emptied my wallet to an emergency electrician, and now, we’re good to go!

3. Maintenance: the 2 feet of snow that was just dumped on us counts here, too; you rent, this is likely not an issue for you, nor is grass-cutting, plant-planting, bug spraying, weed-pulling, etc. I mean, maybe you enjoy these activities, but then you’re lying. Once you own, get ready to do all of this stuff, or at least deal with it in some way.

4. Mortgage. Do I need to add anything here? Once you have one, life will never be the same.

5. The American Dream is real. This is where I reverse course and tell you the reason to go and buy that house you’ve been eyeing - because it feels amazing to OWN, to know that it’s yours (or the bank’s) and that you don’t feel like a transient while renting, like we always did. It is rewarding.

On second thought, I wish I’d just stayed in college. (food on points, anyone?)

Do you own or rent? Which do you prefer?

So I may be a few weeks late to this one (I guess THANKSgiving would have been a more appropriate time for this post), but in the midst of my newly found vacation (aka laid-off state), we were fortunate enough to take in a movie yesterday (”Slumdog Millionaire” - just go and see it).

Inevitably, you leave the theater feeling exhilarated by the story and the music and the film’s grandiosity, and then you realize that the slums of India that are so vividly displayed really do exist. And you begin to appreciate your life, all the things that you do have (instead of what you’re missing - in my case, the first thing that comes to mind is a job).

So I started a list, which I will add to as necessary, in order to gather all of the reasons why I am thankful amidst the turbulent turmoil (of the economy, the nation, our family, and my career).

Without further ado…

1. My wife and daughter, without whom nothing else would matter.

2. Health for all (despite the occasional cold).

3. (Relative) Wealth - we don’t have much, but we have what we need and a house that we love.

4. Opportunity - that we do still live in a place that affords the freedom to pursue new goals.

5. Friends - who are ever more important in times of uncertainty.

6. Fantasy Football - which provides the daily distraction necessary to survive the insanity that is life.

And while I ponder what else to add, time for you to comment on what you are most thankful for.

Last winter, the little start-up I had joined two years ago was - astoundingly - acquired by one of the largest Internet companies out there.

We all rejoiced. No more running out of VC money or dealing with crappy benefits or no bonuses; we would finally be rewarded for our years of toil.

But oh how times have changed (as we all know) since the beginning of this year…
Read the rest of this entry

And now for a few questions…

Were you listening, watching, and freaking when this happened?

Does this news make you nervous and unsettled?

Are you just as anxious as I am about the fact that our country is on its way down and no real leader(s) to get it going in the right direction?
Read the rest of this entry

Guess who’s the disciplinarian in the family, Brad or Angelina? That’s right, it’s mommy. Are you surprised that it’s the woman in the house? I’m not.

It seems that if you look back across the landscape of American mass culture of family sitcoms (which obviously perfectly reflected life at the time - Growing Pains, anyone?), you actually see families where the fathers are stern, but the mothers “run” the household. When the kids mis-behave, the threat is always: “Just wait until I tell your father…”

So what’s changed, if anything?
Read the rest of this entry

So, you love your hubby but you’ve never really liked his fashion sense (or as my wife gently asked me yesterday “do you think you actually have taste?”) - I sense you may not be alone.

Putting aside the most important election of our collective lifetimes, the fact that our economy is in shambles, winter is fast approaching here in New England, and Tom Brady is out for the season, I would like to lighten things up here and help you cool-ify your guy.

Okay, where do we start?
Read the rest of this entry

As the father of a four-going-on-twenty-four year-old girl, I am (rightfully) nervous about the fast-approaching day when she tells me that she’s going on a real date with a real boy. In fact, we are already discussing how boys and girls are “different.”

Oh boy.

“Luca has a penis, but I don’t.”

The blood slowly seeps out of my face. Fainting…
Read the rest of this entry

So my wife’s fourteen-wanna-be-eighteen-year-old cousin came to visit this past week from Florida. As an older guy who is not his own father, he does idolize me a tad, largely because I can play basketball with him. I have known him since he was three or four, having joined my wife’s family around that time, so I’ve watched him grow in sporadic fits, only seeing him once or twice a year. And, of course, I remember my own growth when I was a wee lad up until his current age, when I, too, was a know-it-all, pubescent, attention-seeking male.

Oh, the horror.

So he has come to visit every year, but somehow, this was the year when it all changed.
Read the rest of this entry