Thursday, June 30, 2011

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.

Friday, June 24, 2011

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.

Sunday, June 19, 2011

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!