Daddy | CoupleDumb

The shoulds of parenting.

Aug 112009

I can safely say you should not do this.
          It’s Tuesday and you should know that this week we are discussing a dirty word. Is it the dreaded ‘F’ word that will get you fined on the radio? Nope. Is it the ‘C’ word that makes women cringe and grab the closest bat? Nope. It is the ‘S’ word and we ain’t talking shit. That’s right! We are talking the dreaded ‘should’ and as parents we are so full of them it may as well be the other ‘S’ word.
          Lee says: I would like to take a moment in the beginning to ask the Mom’s in the audience a question. How many things did you give up when you were pregnant? You know, things like sushi, tuna, alcohol, traveling after a certain point, certain physical activity, risky things like road rage. For 9 months we literally went without some of our favorite things so that our babies would get the best chance possible. Sure, this wouldn’t guarantee perfection but it would limit toxic or traumatic causes to ruin the baby. As Mommies, we were more than happy to put our babies first.
          But, what would have happened if one day you broke down a little and took a bite of your husbands tuna sandwich or popped a California roll in your mouth because you just wanted one bite? That’s right! The wagging fingers and morality and Musterbating Police would have started waging a war of guilt on you the likes that have never been seen. What I’m saying is that as parents, these self-appointed, self righteous assholes do not stop at pregnancy. They keep judging and Shoulding us every chance they get. It doesn’t get easier.
Self-Righteous Asshole: Is Bobby taking any other classes other than Kindergarten? (Eyebrow raised in disapproval)
Me: Sure, he’s taking AP Physics and Calculus. We are a little bummed he didn’t make varsity dodge ball but there’s always next year.
          I’m not saying that we shouldn’t have a minimum level of care for a child but please remember, the only thing your Mom didn’t do when she was pregnant with you was shoot up dope and I’m not too sure about that. You had no car-seat, helmet or pads and you made it. She fed you processed foods, white flour and sugar in the morning, afternoon and evening and you survived. You didn’t learn another language until high school and the only thing you can say is ‘Where is the bathroom’ in Spanish and you aren’t lacking. I’m saying let’s stop shoulding parents and let’s start supporting each other.
          I, for one, will stop shoulding you if you stop shoulding me. Well? Have to go make dinner. It’s hot dog and Cheetos night at the CoupleDumb home. I think I’ll give them cubes of sugar for dessert.
          Paul says: The 1950’s demands of fatherhood have changed significantly but the shoulds have not. A dad should be involved with their children but not too involved. A dad should work hard and still be at every game, recital and spelling bee. A dad should be an equal parent but always a little less than mom. After all, we didn’t push the kid out of our peepee hole so how can we have a bond like a mother does? I’m trying to be sardonic here but I do think that if we got a handful of moms and dads together, there would be an antiquated underlying belief that mom should be ever present and dad should be responsible but distant.
          The shoulds for a dad, just like for a mom, do nothing but create inadequacy and fear. After Ricky was born, I was working in downtown Miami, about an hour away with good traffic. It was a corporate non-profit position and I was the chief financial officer. For me, this was an awful time. No matter where I was, I should be somewhere else. When I was at home, I felt that I should be at work. When I was at work, I felt that I should be at home. Since I could not shake off the shoulds, and the cloning machine was broken, Lee and I did what we needed to and pimped me out to the church job that was much closer to home and the topic of a week’s worth of other posts.

A Dick by any other name: Naming your children

Kids and why you can't kill them

Jan 272009

We named our youngest Richard, mainly because we liked the name. Neither Lee nor I like the new celebrity trend of naming their offspring after vegetables, streets, or bodily sounds. Most of the family uses the diminutive Ricky but I call him Dick; or more accurately, my Dick. This is solely for the joke. It gives me the opportunity to pass out baby pictures while asking, “Do you want a picture of my Dick?” Or declare that a friend is rubbing the head of my Dick when she tousles my son’s hair. My particular favorite is “Who wants to kiss my Dick” before Ricky and I make the bedtime rounds. I easily have a twenty year supply of these jokes.

So why do I make these jokes at my son’s expense, besides the fact that I love seeing the look on my mother-in-law’s face when I say them? Though Lee and I do not subscribe to gender roles, there is something to be said about how humans are socialized. Mommy gets to be nurturing and kind and society sees the need to infuse our children with this form of love. Daddy is the flip side. We get to say things like “walk it off” or “get it yourself” that give the child a sense of responsibility and self-strength. If this was one of those African tribes that practices scarification rites, I’d be the Daddy with the sharp rock and the confidence that my son could succeed through the trial of pain. When all is said and done, it is the celebration, the laughter, at the end of the cut that makes the tiny scar into a piece of art. Remember – The one with the most beautiful scars gets the prettiest girl in the tribe. So, my viewpoint is that I am preparing my Dick to be the strongest of this little American tribe of ours.

Luckily, we have three therapists in the family and dozens of mental health worker friends to fix the results of my philosophy. This way, Ricky will be able to get some pretty great discounts as he works out his issues with his Dick wielding father.

Lee says: I will admit, at first I was shocked, disgusted and upset that Paul chose to call Ricky Dick. But the truth is that in my heart I am a comedic whore and funny is funny. He doesn’t actually call him Dick but refers to him as his Dick. There is a small but important distinction.

It’s a joke. Ricky will be called Dick whether we like it or not. I think by using it the way we do, we have diffused that potential trauma. When he gets older, he will wield the power of his name thus taking that weapon away from the bullies that will undoubtedly be around.

Another important thing about Ricky’s name is that we knew of his sex when we were 14 weeks pregnant. As a mother, the bond is easier because they are with you and you can feel them move around. They are as real as the kicks and constipation that they give you. For fathers, the reality of their son or daughter is a little more surreal. Naming and joking about Ricky was a way for Paul to bond to him even before he could touch or see him. As a parent and therapist, I strongly recommend for parents to find out the sex of the baby. The bonding takes place earlier and is ultimately healthier for all involved.

I do agree with Paul’s opinion that Mommy’s and Daddy’s parent differently. He taught me this the hard way and there will be lots more blogging on this concept. Everyday, I will hear “I’m washing my Dick” or “Hey honey, you wanna kiss my Dick?” and I will smile because it’s funny and keeps Paul entertained. I also smile because one of these days, when Ricky is taller and bigger than his dad, he will kick his ass. That’s when I get to say “Hey honey, your Dick just kicked your ass!”