Category: Parenting

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Guest Post: Discoveries of a New Dad

I am so very happy to introduce this blogger to you. Many thanks for Doyin Richards for sharing his work us.

Baby Over Head

I’ve been a father for 16 months, and it’s mind-boggling how much I’ve learned in such a short timeframe about life, my daughter, and myself. Here’s a Top Ten list that lays it all out from a new dad’s perspective.

Number 10: I’m a happily married man, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve learned that nothing serves as a better chick magnet than a halfway decent looking guy taking a baby out on a walk. Usually my wife and I are together when we take our daughter out, but on the rare occasions that it’s just me and the little one – it becomes quite a social experiment. Women from all walks of life will stop me and say “Awwww! She’s adorable!” or “You’re so cute for taking your daughter out on a walk!” or “Your wife is so lucky to have you!” My wife quips that nobody ever stops her when she takes the baby out. Memo to single men: Offer to borrow a friend’s baby and go to your local mall this weekend – you will return home with digits, trust me. My wife disagrees and says, “Those women probably never saw a black guy take care of a baby before and had no idea how to act. It’s similar to the way a child would react when seeing an exotic animal at the zoo. Get over yourself.” I’ve also learned that nobody is better at checking my ego than my half-Japanese, half-white wife – but I knew that after our first date. Did I mention that we’re happily married? Good…just checking.

Number 9: I’ve learned that having a daughter makes me say a lot of unmanly things. In the past 24 hours I’ve probably said the words, “pumpkin,” “snookums,” “honeybun,” and “love bug” more often than I’ve said them in my entire life before the baby. Not only do I say these things often, but I also say them in a voice that sounds like Pee-Wee Herman moments after getting kicked in the nuts by an NFL Punter. However, when I’m alone with my thoughts, I often fantasize about beating up crackheads, or eating uncooked meat, or wearing Wrangler jeans while playing catch with Brett Favre – or doing anything to feel like a real man again. Is that wrong?

Number 8: I’m kidding in the comment above, because I’ve learned that nothing makes me feel more like a real man than being an attentive and loving father to my daughter. Not a day passes where we don’t laugh together, dance together, and play together. It’s so interesting how such a small human being can bring out the best qualities in someone, because my baby does that for me every day.

Number 7: I’ve learned that babies are so much cooler than adults. They laugh when you do/say something funny, they’ll let you know instantly if you do/say something to piss them off, they aren’t afraid to show affection towards the people they love, they’re the most unintentionally funny people you’ll find (and that’s the best type of funny, if you ask me), they’ll stay up late to drink with you, and they’re comfortable enough to fart and poop around you. I don’t know about you, but it’s hard to find friends who have all of those qualities. You’ll never have to worry if they’re trying to backstab you, use you, or manipulate you (well, sometimes those l’il buggers can be quite manipulative, but you get my point). As adults we’re often preoccupied with impressing strangers and being cool – but babies couldn’t care less if you’re chubby, drive a beat up car, have morning breath, or tell corny jokes. In other words, even though we think we have a ton of faults, babies will remind us that we’re absolutely perfect just the way we are.

Number 6: I remember while at my first corporate job as a knuckleheaded 22-year old college graduate, an older lady (and by “older,” I mean mid-30s) in the cubicle next to me spent her first week back from maternity leave in tears. The whole time I heard her sobbing, I thought to myself that she must nuts. I arrogantly believed that the only time you should cry over your kids is if they’re dead, dying, or kidnapped. Wouldn’t she want to get away from her baby for a few hours and do some “real work” for Pete’s sake?? When we had a discussion a few weeks later, she put her hand on my shoulder and said, “Just wait until you have a baby. You’ll spend a lot of time in tears when you have to go back to work, trust me.” I chuckled and responded, “All due respect, but there’s no way that I’m going to cry over a kid. I’ll be happy to get back to work.” Fast forward 14 years later, and I was the “older” mid-30s guy heading back to work after paternity leave – and you guessed it – I was a sobbing mess of a man…for two weeks. Even though I hadn’t talked to this woman in years, I looked her up on Facebook and sent her a message that only said, “You were right about the baby thing.” She wrote back an hour later and said, “And I bet you cried for longer than a week, didn’t you?” Damn. To recap, I learned three things here:

  • I was a complete idiot when I was in my 20’s.
  • I’ll cry over my baby when she’s perfectly healthy, and for no other reason than I just miss the hell out of her whenever she’s not around me.
  • Mothers are always right. Always.

Number 5: Now that I have a baby, I’ve learned that there’s hardly any time or energy to partake in the ancillary activities that I used to enjoy. For example, in the past three weeks I’ve turned on my PlayStation as many times as I’ve turned on my wife. And for those of you keeping score at home, that number is zero.

Sleeping Child

Number 4: I’ve learned that whenever I worry that I’m not doing a good enough job as a father, it probably means I’m doing a damn good job.

Number 3: About six months ago, I made sure nobody was around and I took a quick swig of my wife’s breast milk that she left in the fridge. I learned that it tastes like sunshine and happiness topped with melted sugar.

Number 2:  As a sports loving, beer drinking man – I didn’t quite know what to expect when I found out that we were pregnant with a girl. Now that she’s here, I’ve learned that raising a daughter is unbelievably awesome. I had no clue that I’d have so much fun dressing my daughter up in Hello Kitty gear, doing her hair, watching Dora the Explorer, and playing Patty Cake together. (must…fight…urge…to…beat up…crackheads)

Number 1: I’ve learned that a different type of love exists. I love my wife to death, and I love my family and friends, but the love I have for my baby girl is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s what I call “LCL” (life-changing love). For example, LCL is what prevents me from succumbing to the cravings for a Burger King double cheeseburger because I’m afraid I could stroke out before she enters high school. LCL is what makes me not stress the small stuff – because at the end of the day, my daughter’s health, safety, and happiness are all that really matters. LCL is what has transformed me into a happier, kinder, and more selfless man than I ever was before. Words cannot describe how thankful I am for that.

In closing, I’m not sure what else I’ll learn as I dive deeper into parenthood; however, a lot of parents tell me, “Just wait. You’ll learn to love your daughter even more than you do now once she gets older.” I always say, “All due respect, but there’s no way that I can love my daughter any more than I do right now.”

Somewhere there’s a mother in a cubicle laughing…

 

Doyin Richards shares his unique and hilarious adventures as loving new dad on his blog on Twitter at @daddydoinwork, and Facebook.  

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Merck: Using Moms and Madagascar to Market to Kids

Merck, the pharmaceutical conglomerate, is getting some pretty bad press this week for releasing a children’s version of Claritin with a Madagascar 3 marketing campaign integrated in its packaging.  And they’re using mommy bloggers to shill it.

Here is the offending packaging:

Merck Packaging

Now to me, that looks like a pretty good time if you’re a three year old.  I mean, of course it does.  That’s the whole point of marketing, isn’t it? Stickers!  Grapes!  Animals!

Don’t take my word for it, though.  I asked three year old Mary Tyler Son to weigh in — my kitchen table marketing sample of one.  Sure enough, he liked it.  He liked it enough to exclaim, “Madagascar!  I want some!”  I’m not joking. This is a kid who has not seen Madagascar, sitting with his Mom, me, who has not seen Madagascar.

Marketing works, folks.

Beside the fact that the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) has rules established against marketing vitamins to children directly, there are no such rules applying to over-the-counter (OTC) drugs.  Yet.  A complaint was filed with the FTC on Wednesday by the Public Health Advocacy Institute that attempts to duplicate the rules for vitamins to OTC drugs.  The complaint is backed by ten leading public health and media advocacy groups.

A second complaint involves the Merck social media campaign to market the meds.  This is where the mommy bloggers come in — oh, I’m sorry, the “Children’s Claritin Mom Crew.”  Each member of the Mom Crew was gifted the items below to host a Claritin Madagascar viewing party.

Mom Crew Package

Now I hate to get all self-righteous here, but I’m gonna.  Seriously, mommy bloggers?  I get that blogging is a money making venture for a lot of us moms out there.  I don’t play for that particular team, but shill away if that is what floats your boat and helps provide for your family.  I get it.  I do.  But please, have a line in the blogging sand.  Have a thought in your head that tells you that when Big Pharma comes knocking, you best question them.

Read this.

I mean, honestly, I rest my case.  A kid’s party revolving around medicine? Does no adult in the room see the problem with that?  Claritin is medicine. Not candy.  Not fun and games.  Not popcorn party time.  Medicine.

These are the folks that give mommy bloggers a bad name.  Some of us will sell our soul for a free DVD.  Ugh.  And aside from the superiority complex I am obviously afflicted with, there are the ramifications for kids.  WOW! Allergy medicine is fun.  I wish I had allergies.  Now that may sound silly, or like an overreaction, but already from three year old Mary Tyler Son, I see that for him, medicine can be an enticing yummy treat.

When he has a fever, he gets dye-free acetaminophen and ibuprofin.  I generally go generic with these, so the only exciting thing on the packaging are pictures of grapes or cherries, but he likes the flavor.  He recently had a bout of Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease, so was on a heavy rotation of both for a few days until the fever died down.  Weeks later, he is still asking for medicine at bed time.  Yum!  Last night at dinner he told me he had a fever, “I think I need some medicine.”

Kids don’t need Madascar characters to encourage them to take meds.  Kids also don’t need moms throwing them parties that revolve around medicine. And us moms?  We don’t need Big Pharma using moms who live down the street from us to encourage our kids to use Claritin.  Creepy.

Merck’s official line is that their marketing is geared towards the adults purchasing on behalf of children.  And I have no doubt that the Children’s Claritin Mom Crew will tow the company line and tell you about what a difficult time they have getting their allergy ridden kids to take their meds.  Slap a licensed character on Claritin and PRESTO, problem solved.

I reject that argument with the strength and fury of a million Cancer Moms standing behind me.  Suck it up, Mom Crew.  If you can’t get your kids to take their allergy meds, it’s your job to figure it out.  If I can put on gloves to mix toxic chemotherapy in ICE CREAM to make it more palatable to my terminally ill daughter, you can find a strategy to give your child allergy medicine that doesn’t have a licensed character on it.

So I’ve already established that I can be self-righteous.  May as well get indignant here too, right?  Embrace my flaws.  Hell, I got nothing to lose.

Big Pharma has produced one pediatric oncology drug in twenty years.  One. ONE.  Most pharma companies don’t invest in research for children’s ailments, including cancer, because the numbers simply aren’t there.  There is no profit in sick kids as there are simply not enough of them.  But there is profit in over the counter drugs, and if slapping licensed cartoon characters on medicine can increase that profit, by all means, they will.

Will the kids start confusing medicine for sweet treats?  Meh, Merck will leave that for the Mom Crew to figure out.  And with all those free product samples and DVDs, the mommy bloggers are happy to accommodate them. Pretty cheap freaking price to pay for marketing, I’d say.

I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t sell my kid’s well being for some DVDs and product samples to make more of a profit for Merck.  My kid deserves better than that.  And so does yours.

Rant over.

Correction:  I had originally stated that only one cancer drug specific to children had been developed in thirty years.  It is twenty years.  I apologize for the mistake.

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Winning the Daddy Lottery

Daddy Mountain
Photo courtesy of Anne Geissinger

When each of my two kids were born, moments after they were placed in my arms, I said to them, “Congratulations, child, you won the Daddy Lottery!” Mary Tyler Dad doesn’t especially like this, but truer words have never been spoken.

On Father’s Day I think about what it means to be a good dad and how lucky me and my kids are.  Gratefully, it’s not nearly as loaded for me as Mother’s Day, nor is it for Mary Tyler Dad.  He doesn’t get tripped up about holidays or significant dates like I do.  He’s calm like that.  But it’s still hard to celebrate Father’s Day when one of your children is not with you.

I knew shortly after I met him that he was different.  We had been out on a few dates, but it wasn’t until our third or fourth date when he talked about a hard time someone close to him had gone through that I stood at attention.  Ding, ding, ding!  The compassion, generosity, and concern he expressed made me take a second look.  He was always handsome, but his eyes became softer after that talk, his hands sturdier, his shoulders broader — this one, I knew, was a keeper.

I was the first to know and understand that we would be husband and wife.  It took Mary Tyler Dad a few years to catch up to me.  I snared him with my wily ways after five years of dating.  He, though, was the first to know and understand that we would be parents together.  I kept putting it off and putting it off and putting it off.   We were in our mid-thirties, both invested in our careers, and had a great life together.  He never pressured me, just gently and persistently brought it into our conversation.  Repeatedly.  Kind of like he’s doing right now with me procrastinating making a dentist appointment.

As I type these words, I am looking out the window, watching him walk up the street with Mary Tyler Son, returning from a morning trip to the park.  Mary Tyler Dad puts in the time.  When he’s tired, he puts in the time.  He understands more than most how fleeting it is.  When he’s busy, he puts in the time.  When he’s got bills to pay and chores to do and projects to manage he puts in the time.  I love that about him.

Donna Running to Daddy
Photo courtesy of Joel Wanek

From day one, bringing Donna home from the hospital for the first time, he proved himself to be the prince among men I knew him to be.  While I nursed both kids through their first year, Mary Tyler Dad would sleepily wake to change their diapers before handing them off to me in the dark for the one thing he could not provide our kids — mother’s milk.

He does laundry and dishes and sews Halloween costumes.  Sews Halloween costumes, people.  He watches too much basketball in June, but that is forgiven as he is not a fan of baseball, hockey, or football.  He sings sweet songs to Mary Tyler Son, remembering all the correct lyrics, rather than the made up ones I cobble together.  He doesn’t flinch when I teach the little one the words to bad pop songs and we have kitchen dance parties to LMFAO. He brings our boy to the sitter on the days I work so I can get in early or do my hair.

Last week Mary Tyler Dad had a business trip to St. Louis for a few nights. He came home and said that sitting all alone in the hotel suite made him sad about how empty his life would be without us.   That broke my heart and filled it to brimming all at the same time.

He is the best father I can imagine for my children.  It is criminal that his daughter was taken from him.  Criminal.  Our world needs clones of Mary Tyler Dad — millions of him putting in the time, sharing their wit and love and generosity and parenting and partnering.  What a world that would be.

Mexico Joy
Photo courtesy of MTM

Happy Father’s Day, Mary Tyler Dad!  I love you more than Coca Cola, cheeseburgers, and chocolate — combined.  xox.