'Tis the Season for Cheer, Cheerios

When I called my wife, Mom Dude, at work this morning to tell her about our son Buck's latest accomplishment she couldn't have been more overjoyed. Today, for the first time, Buck successfully ate Cheerios. You may ask, "Why would that be a big deal?"

Well, one of the many cool aspects of first-time parenthood is the many jaunts down memory lane, back to our own childhoods. Cheerios not only were a young Mom Dude's favorite food, but it was also her first word.

I had the same waves of nostalgia wash over me last night as I was compiling a list of toys for my mom to consider buying for Buck's first Christmas. Memories lept off of my iPad screen as I clicked on staples such as Fisher-Price's See N Say and Xylophone, Radio Flyer's red wagons, and LEGOs, as well Green Toys' cool take on the dump truck. Of course I also had to add in some noisy things like a tambourine and maracas, because it is waaaaay too quiet around the house (yeah right).

Hopefully the near-constant thoughts of youth help balance out the stress of sleep-interrupted nights and the constant mild anxiety that we are doing a good job doing the whole child-raising thing. Of course, they can't turn the grey hairs that I have back to brown; I've earned them.

Multitasking Happy Crap

Do you want to know one of the biggest crocks of the modern workplace? Multitasking. Why would anyone want to do a handful of things at once in a thorough half-assed fashion instead of doing one task correctly to termination or a logical stopping point and then moving on to the next task?

When I first started working from home while taking care of my son, I tried to multitask the living daylights out of my life. Any time my iPad would ding with mail, I’d spring up and examine the incoming message, no matter what I was doing—activities like feeding my son, putting him down to sleep, walking my dog, or trying to squeeze in a moment to read. I was working all of the time and trying to do everything necessary to take care of my child, wife, dog, home, and, once in a while, myself. I felt like I wasn’t taking good enough care of any of it. I just ended up feeling burnt out.

I realized that I needed to create some boundaries. First off, I silenced my electronic devices. When I was on kid-duty that is all I would do. I carved out (sometimes erratic) windows throughout my days and weeks to accomplish tasks like checking email, following up on potential interviewees, and writing. And Tuesday afternoons and all day Thursday, when Buck is at daycare, I need to really get to the old crankin’ and burnin’ on the work front.

So far, so good. Sure, when I’m on a tight deadline, all of these boundaries go right out the window. But I’m getting better at balancing my time during deadlines as well as in my day-to-day life. It’s a work in progress and it is always evolving. But at least I know better than trying to do that multitasking happy crap.

Roughing It Through Heatless Nights, Surviving Big-Butted Divorces

the sleep bag that saved the day(s and nights)

I keep talking about all these “firsts” that I enjoy seeing my son Buck experience. Well, this past weekend we certainly had an interesting first: first winter storm that knocked out the power and heat in our house.

The early, sopping-wet snowstorm that hit the Northeast on October 30 really did a number on my street and my property. The power went out early on and we spent the rest of Saturday afternoon and night listening to trees and large limbs snapping and crashing to the ground—and through the roof of my garage, which caused a falling roof beam to leave its imprint on the hood of my Subaru. Excluding those limbs, which need to stay in place until the insurance man pays a visit, I spent all of Sunday running the chainsaw and clearing the larger limbs from my driveway and yard. But enough about me…

While it did get rather chilly in my house during the two-and-a-half heatless days, and having a lights-out at sundown was duller than watching golf on TV, Buck toughed it out like a champ—much better than my wife did, I might add. Part of the reason Buck weathered it so well is because my wife had the foresight just the week before to get Buck a toasty Merino Kids wool sleep bag.

The chilly days and nights did offer some silver linings. Both my wife and I had a great excuse to get some extra cuddling time in with Buck. I liked to crawl under my warm down comforter with him napping while perched on my chest. With the astronomical growth rate he has been maintaining, I know the days of him fitting on my chest are numbered. So, even though the pain-in-the-butt caused by the storm still looms, mostly I am thankful for those stolen moments with my baby boy. Well I’m thankful for that and for avoiding Monday’s news cycle, which I’m sure was full of news about a certain big-rumped, talentless fame whore’s divorce.

Not Just Man's Best Friend

Dogs long ago earned the honor of being dubbed "Man's Best Friend." And I can see many, many reasons why. For instance, when my wife was pregnant and acting out of sorts, I would volunteer to make sure my ole best friend got her exercise. But after seeing my pooch Lucy with my son Buck, well, maybe dogs are a man's best friend, but a dog's best friend is a kid and a kid's best friend is that dog.

Even though Buck is only 8 months old, he has already established a great relationship with Lucy, and vice versa. Even from the youngest of Buck's days, they enjoyed each other's company and that relationship has grown. Anytime Lucy is near Buck, he is either smiling broadly or laughing from deep inside his gut. And Lucy, well, she has a penchant for licking Buck's feet, hands and, sometimes, face, and that only makes Buck laugh harder, which makes Lucy all the more adamant on her task. Sometimes, when I put Buck in his crib, I'll leave the door cracked and when I come back that door is open and there are traces of blonde dog hair left behind—just Lucy making sure her little buddy is alright.

Today's a special day for Lucy. October 20 is the day we designated as her birthday. She was estimated to be 7 months old when we brought her home from the shelter, so we counted back from that day. I need to wrap my work up here so I can get the birthday girl out for a hike. And later, some play time with Buck...and then a nice meaty ham bone.

A side note on the ham bone: Is it really necessary for Petco to label its ham bone with the warning: "Not Suitable for Children"? Although, with the way Buck has been chomping his teething gums, hmmmmmmmm......

The Tale of Frenchy Francois

Who would have thought that a rather plain 50-year-old rubber giraffe from France would turn out to be one of the absolute best baby toys I've seen? Sophie was one of the first things Buck was interested in at an early age. Its high-contrast colors attracted his limited vision. Its long legs were great for when Buck was learning to grasp. Now, its amusing squeaks and its soft-yet-firm texture that is perfect for emerging teeth (and its rubber surface that is impervious to the gallons of slobber a teething baby drools every day) are the attraction. I have a feeling that as he gets older he will use this for more imaginative play.

I have certainly used it for my own imaginative play with Buck. I have little story lines for each of his favorite toys. Sophie's story is [french accent]Hello, I am Frenchy Francois. I am a French giraffe and I smoke Gitanes cigarettes. Oui, Oui, Oui, but not on me.[french accent]

A First Is a First, Even When It's Snot

Not Buck, but, boy, does he look sick.

Watching babies grow, you get to experience a lot of firsts. First time rolling over, first tooth, first time he peed on you, first steps, first injury, etc. Well, ole Buckeroo is in the midst of a dubious first: first cold. Chances are, this will be the first of many. According to BabyCenter.com, the average baby has 6-10 colds per year. I guess I've gotten off easy if buddy boy has made it 7 1/2 months before his first mucous-laden infestation.

All of these firsts provide mini research projects for me as I scour the internet for medical information, advice from other parents, and the like. It turns out that the cool mist vaporizer that we've had for years has done wonders for his sleep. Thanks internet. And you can't fight a baby's cold without Boogie Wipes. Those things have magic boogie-dissolving powers. Thanks Jane. I have one of those rubber bulbs that look like they could suck a baby's brain out through his nose, but it wasn't necessary this go around. And don't get me started about those snot aspirators that have the parent orally sucking the greenish-yellow stuff out via a tube connected to junior's nose....

All in all, it has been a positive cold experience. It was a mild cold that helped build Buck's immune system. He's starting to feel better, which is great. And I've got yet another research project under my belt. Praise the iPad and the Google!

Great Thing, Not Such a Small Package

One minute I blinked my eyes and some big boy had taken the place of my little baby. I remember when my wife and I brought my son home. He weighed less than 5 pounds and could rest on my forearm; now he weighs more than triple that and sprawls longer than my torso. That little, helpless baby is gone and in his place is a big, hungry, heavy, sometimes-rowdy, always-cool little dude.

When he was born, my friends who already had kids warned me that the days of having a cute, little fragile baby would be short-lived; they suggested I do all I can to cherish this too-short window. But what new parent ever has time or energy to fully take advantage? I was overwhelmed with trying not to injure, maim, or kill my baby while learning as much as I could on how to be a good parent—and trying to find a rhythm in all of it while marching forth woefully under-rested.

That's not to say I didn't have moments with my newborn that I will never forget. Is there a better feeling in the world than laying on the couch with a little baby napping on your chest and some nice tunes playing in the background? I've tried many, many ways to try and reach that level of relaxed contentment and all have fallen well short.

Now, it is onward, upward, and outward with my big little boy (or is it little big boy?). I'm open-eyed and enthusiastic to find new levels of contentment, happiness, and pride in my growing son. Of course, I'm also a little better prepared for all of the work and responsibility that being a good parent entails. Although I do still spend a good deal of worry and energy making sure my boy is uninjured, un-maimed, and un-killed.

Curses!

I need to stop f@#*ing swearing so much. If my son’s first word is the four-letter fire truck word, my wife will ensure that my a*s is grass. The thing is, I love to cuss like a sailor, truck driver, stevedore, and your mom all rolled into one vile four-letter-word-spewing beast.

Some people argue that when people swear they are exhibiting a limited vocabulary. I beg to differ. If you’re talking about having a well-rounded vocabulary, why not use all of the words to exhibit a full range of nuances? There are occasions when a well-placed cuss says more than a paragraph of bullsh@t explanation. And sometimes it’s just fun to let some F-bombs fly.

However, while it is really f@#*ing hilarious when other people’s kids swear, it’s not so funny when your three year old lets it fly at the church picnic in front of the blue-hairs. Sure, when my son was younger I thought it was a blast to cuss, curse and swear to him, but, at six months old, he’s getting older and is really taking everything in. I guess it may be time to leave some of the colorful language behind... But swearing is so much f@#*ing fun! Man, I need to cut that sh!t out. Now. Seriously.

Everybody's Favorite Neighbor

I'm far from a perfect man. I sometimes snap to anger much too quickly. Sometimes lash out in sarcasm rather than taking a moment to pause and understand someone. Sometimes shut out people and ideas without even a second's consideration.

But I do try to be a good person with an open mind and heart. I try to treat the people around me fairly and with compassion. And, even at his ripe young age of 5 months, I strive to pass this onto my son.

Lately, I have rediscovered a guru for these sorts of matters: Mr. Rogers. When I'm home with my son and find myself wound too tightly, I'll search out YouTube videos of this great man who has taught decency, kindness, and love to more children than anyone else in the realm of pop culture. The videos have a calming effect on me and remind me of what is important.

Sure, he may seem to make things over simplistic. Heck, sometimes he even comes across as simple. But that couldn't be further from reality. I love this video from 1969 where he completely disarms a cranky Senator Pastore with kind words and earns a boatload of money for PBS in the process.

A Family Affair

Music is and always has been an important part of my life. Recently I got to share a part of that love with my family. Two Saturdays past, my band—The Dirt Floor Revue—played The Brooklyn County Fair, an all-day outdoor music festival, and I thought it would be a great opportunity to make it a family affair.

Since I haven’t found the time yet to make up a good fake ID for Buck to get into the dives the band usually plays, this was the first time he attended one of his dad’s shows. He looked mighty sharp wearing his Dirt Floor Revue T-shirt, I must say. And to keep the family-vibe going, my two eldest nieces—my biggest fans—got to see me play, as well as a good buddy’s twin 2-year-old boys.

Playing music in my band is the one outlet I insisted on keeping when my wife and I decided that I would work at home while taking care of Buck. I can’t even describe the pleasure I get making great music with the boys, but that pleasure was eclipsed on that Saturday. I was, and still am, thrilled that I got to play an integral part in exposing some really great kids to live music. 

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Check out Dirt Floor Revue's album here or here or on iTunes

Cutest ABCs Ever

Folks, once in a while the ole Dad Dude needs to show his mushy underbelly. This is too cute for words

4 Year Olds....

I saw a great post online about a man and his 4-year-old son. It's a great, quick read:

Read It Here

Steak, Anyone?

This?

Or This?

It is simply amazing how quickly babies grow and grow up. It seems like yesterday that my wife and I were trying to get the hang of the whole breastfeeding, pumping and bottle-feeding business, yet today I was shopping for baby spoons, small plastic bowls, and rice cereal. That’s right, my little baby boy is moving onto food. It is amazing how, in the midst of day-to-day parenting, these mini-milestones can sneak up on you so easily.

            Rice cereal doesn’t sound very exciting to me, but it certainly beats the pureed peas and mushed carrots that will soon be added to his diet. Depending on how he takes to this whole cereal business, in a few weeks Buck will be transitioning over to veggies and fruits. That phase starts to offer more options. Should I make his food myself or use food from the jar? Is organic worth the expense? Should I start with carrots, peas, potatoes, or beans? How do you clean mushy green bean puree off the ceiling?

And, most importantly, when will my little dude be asking me for a nice, juicy steak?

My Dad

In my rare spare moments since my first child was born in February, I find my mind drifting off on nostalgic tangents from my childhood. This includes doing a lot of thinking about my folks.

On the day my son was born, I was in the parking garage near the hospital—after just getting off the phone with my dad—when this strange feeling washed over me: I'm going to be THAT for someone? I'm going to be to my son what that guy is to me....not easy shoes to fill.

I'm like my dad in a lot of ways, for better and worse. Even though when I was growing up my dad's role was a lot different than the one I find myself in—he worked his rather-large posterior off (as did my mom) to make sure we were well taken care of, while I am working from home and doing the majority of the day-to-day childcare duties—the common thread here is we both are willing to do whatever it takes to ensure our families are well-cared for.

I also look quite a bit like my dad. When I show my favorite picture of me and my dad to my friends, they have a hard time believing that I am the short blonde one. I remember the day that picture was taken as clear as day. This and a million other memories of great times with my dad are stored away and never fail to warm my cold, black heart.

This weekend, I'm off to my Dad's 60th birthday party—hopefully making the first of the next million happy memories I have of my dad.

Happy 60th Birthday, Dad.

Who Sizes Onsies?

I usually like to dress my son like I dress myself. Basics. No crazy designs or logos. There is no piece of baby clothing as basic and timeless as the plain white Gerber Onesie. And you can't beat the price. Buck wears one almost every day I dress him. They're great.

But, who sizes these things? Smurfs? Little people? Buck is on the smaller side of average at 4 months old and he is about ready to burst out of the 6-9 month size.

Great, Now He Has Opinions...

The other day, after I fed Buck his early morning bottle, I continued with my usual morning routine of brewing some coffee, checking emails and taking a look at the day's headlines. A few sips into my coffee, what sounded like a fire engine rushing toward a three-alarm fire burst through the speaker of the baby monitor. I mentally went down the crying baby checklist: not hungry, not sleepy, not wet. Hmmm.

I walked down to his room and discovered, for the first time since tears started accompanying his wails, that there were no waterworks offered from this three-alarm situation. I thought, so, he finally figured out that if he wants me bedside all he has to do is scream real loud. The fake cry. I'm going to have to up my daddy game.

Around the same time, I began to realize that he was having more fussy moments throughout the day. But again, there were usually no tears. Ahhhh, so he's starting to voice his preferences. The concept that my son was starting to have opinions of his own was both amazing and scary. Amazing because after 4 mere months my boy was starting to find his own place in the grand scheme of things. Scary because if he takes after me or my wife I will soon be faced with more opinions than I know what to do with.

Kenny Rogers’ Advice

Music has always been an important part of my life. When my teenage hormones raged, it gave me an outlet. When I started looking for the definition of cool, I looked no further than Keith Richards, among others. I thought picking up the guitar would be a surefire way to be surrounded by beautiful women. That sort of worked, but it took a good 10 years to pay off.

My wife and I met while playing in a band together, so, needless to say, music is a very important part of our lives. Heck, our in utero son was witness to an impressive lineup of rock shows: The Black Crowes, The Black Keys, The Flaming Lips, Phosphorescent, Band of Horses, and, on an epic New Year’s Eve, The Drive-By Truckers (don’t worry, he passed on the shared bottle of Jack).

Of course, these days the rock show circuit has slowed down for us. Around home, my son and I have been enjoying a lot of music. I know that I have listened so very many times to his Lamaze Space Symphony Motion Gym and his Fisher-Price My Little Lamb seat that the tunes will pop into my head even when I’m away from home. My son also gets to hear plenty of silly, improvised tunes made up by his dad, as well as a front row seat to an acoustic singer/songwriter act with a warble that makes Bob Dylan’s seem downright mellifluous. I’ve been busting out tons of great, classic records to spin for me and my boy. Johnny Cash’s voice calms him and he will wake from a nap when the record needs flipped.  Ray Charles’ Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music is another favorite.

One aspect of parenting that I look forward to is looking back on my own upbringing and offering my son a peek into it. On the nostalgia front, he really seems to dig tunes by the singer of my first favorite song, “The Gambler.” As ole Kenny Rogers oozes dulcet tones, he offers great parenting advice, “you’ve got to know when to hold them.” (please don't hate me for that joke...)

Opening Pandora’s Toy Box

While I have written about the toy industry for the past 12 years, I never understood it as much as I do now. Those years were spent using my brain and having an academic-quality of interest in toys. That all changed in February, when my son Buck was born.

Buck was a surprise. Not his inception, mind you, but his arrival, which was 6 weeks earlier than expected. Needless to say, the eight days Buck spent in the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) were a cheese grater on my nerves. And when I would go home at night, I felt so helpless leaving my boy there alone. Sure, he was very well cared for by the wonderful NICU nurses, but nothing can replace the care, concern and love of parents.

Once he left the incubator, to leave a little piece of us with him, I ventured out and scored Buck a nice mobile that dangles fire trucks and Dalmatians as they orbit the tiny crib. I do realize that it was impossible for my premature baby to connect this swirl of red, white and black to the goofy bearded guy and the short, beautiful woman who kept showing up at his bedside.

Buying that mobile was for me and not for Buck. It did help me feel a little bit better—more in control. It meant something to me to leave a piece of me behind with him while I tended to my wife, dog or, gasp, my own sleep.

The amazing thing is, the other day I laid him down in his new crib for the first time and cranked up that mobile. He erupted in smiles.

Welcome to the Home of the Dad Dude

Hi Folks,

Welcome to my Dad Dude blog and thanks for stopping by. I hope you visit regularly to check in on my latest adventures as a first-time dad taking on dual work-at-home and childcare duty. I know it sounds cliché to say that my life has changed in more ways than I could ever imagine since my son was born in February. But it has. I’ve never been busier. I’ve never been happier.

For the past 12 years I have written about the toy business and I hope to use this experience to offer insight into toys, play, and raising a family. Of course, with most of my child-related experience having taken place on paper, I’m sure I’ll have my fair share of mishaps, mistakes, disasters and eye-openings as my son and I venture into the real world. Hopefully, I’ll have some fun and funny stories to report.

Enjoy!