chicagodads

Four out of the last eight governors in Sillinois were found to be corrupt. Were indicted by a trial of their peers. Were weighed and found severely lacking. 4/8 = 1/2. One has yet to be brought up on criminal charges, but he was the only one kicked out of his office while in term - by a powerful task force consisting of his own father-in-law, his own hubris & idiocy, and Patrick Fitzgerald (the ballsy-est federal attorney I’ve heard of since ol’ what’s his face that got Clinton impeached).

So, what have we done here at ChicagoDads in order to honor the ridiculous? We built a weeklong, revolving shrine on our Facebook profile page. A different governor every other day. Because there mey be some powers limiting what I may or may not be able to show here, I would like you to direct your attention to ChicagoDad’s older brother site, LeftCheek. Enjoy!

Despite the protests, Ron Huberman — who just two years ago was pegged as Daley’s appointed man on the Chicago Transit Authority and is now taking over the CEO spot in the Chicago Public Schools — won’t be changing much. That’s largely because the same man will still be in charge, Mayor Daley. Even the Chicago Teacher’s Union (CTU) knows that nothing good comes of fighting Daley’s will - or at least it seems that way. CTU President Marilyn Stewart pretty much laid down the guns, saying she would prefer somebody with some actual education experience, but that she, for one, welcomes her new handsome overlord. (Is that two Simpsons quotes in two days?)

 *”Superman” by aka Kath via Flickr

 But let’s look at the bright side shall we. There’s a lot of experience that Huberman can bring to our neighborhood schools, and wherever my daughter ends up going, I’m sure it will be brighter and better because of what he can bring in. Take, for example:

• Introducing a new threat in high school men’s basketball and football, a new league will be formed out of the old standard-bearer Red West and will be rechristened, The Pink Line.
• For streamlining and updating purpses, during off-peak hours, four core classes will be shut down to one. During peak hours, two classes. Classes will resume better than before in 2014.
• Leave home early; go home late, alternate!
• After modifications are done on the north west side school (presently causing any classwork to come to a near-grinding halt), students will be able to cruise along at speeds of up to 60 miles per hour.
• Expect integral schools not serving white kids to be shut down.

Got any more ideas? Put ‘em in the comments box and we’ll be sure to post them on the internets!

My fellow dads,

Have we seen this report from Parenting (dot) com on how we make our wives angry (shorter version here)? Do we even know how to react to it?

Basically, it’s about how half of mothers with young children get angry on a weekly basis with their spouses because we do not keep track of basic things like the child’s social security number, or where his insurance card is, or what to bring for the parent-teacher mixer, etc. As for the other half, they are probably single. No, I’m sure they’re wonderful.

But I’ll just be on the level in this:

1. It doesn’t strike me as being very scientific.
2. So what?

I’m looking through this list and I’m checking off where I’ve done some wrong. And there’s quite a few spots, to be honest. Even though I’m our child’s primary care-giver, even though I know her diet and sleep patterns best, I still feel like, when I can, I turn it off around the child. In other words, if my wife and I were both out with the child, she would be the one worrying about the particulars, while I would rather spend the time in a good book (a rare luxury these days, btw).

Maybe we should make the sacrifice and (cue Simpson’s reference), “Think of the Children! Will somebody Please think of the children?!”

Apparently, my buddy G-Rod (whose face emblazons the top of this blog at the moment of writing. Along with, of course, his twin) just finished giving his testimony at his own impeachment hearings. I’d like to give him a moment of silence now in deference to his solemn, sober and intelligent self-defense, but, um, Missy Elliot’s “The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)” is playing now. I can’t interrupt this for that.

More on this to come tomorrow. Later today, I’d like to concentrate on Ron “Lack of Hubris” Huberman’s (currently head of Chicago Transit Authority) appointment to become CPS chief.

So, um, apparently watching any sort or length of television is not a good idea for the very young . It does not matter what Elmo says. Do not listen to Elmo. Elmo is evil.

No, I’m kidding. He is, however, paved with good intentions.

But I don’t really want to talk about television or the damaging effects it has on our children’s attention spans (and we know this to be true through experience too. Just still would like to have tele or movies running on occasion…). I’d rather tell a couple stories.

When my wife and I were in South America this past summer, we had the misfortune of leaving without our daughter (does that sound like we accidentally left her somewhere? We didn’t. We left her in capable hands, I assure you.). For the first half of the trip, we were with a group of friends from our church who knew our daughter and would ask us questions about her. And thus I hearkened back to the many times over the summer when she would be wide awake and springing from her crib at seven in the morning. Eyes aglow. Mouth brimming from one side to the other like a mischievous elf. I would approach her slowly, one leg swung then another, “I’m coming to get ya!”, arms held up to shoulder length via the Frankenstein monster, also wildly grinning.

And then as I turn on the light, I would notice that she in her little onesie were all full of baby mess. But I could not hesitate. So I’d stop, go back to the kitchen, find a really large pair of tongs and grab her with it to immediately send her to the toilet, where she got the spin cycle treatment. And she would still be grinning and laughing, “Wheeee!”

“Jason, stop! That’s your daughter you’re talking about!”

“What, I can’t stop. I’m just telling the truth.”

Telling such stories made me feel all right for awhile. And I’m not sure why. Maybe there’s a simple connection being made at that moment, a new memory woven from old photographs, pieced together by emotional truth.

I thought about that this morning. Jocelyn was in a fit this morning, so after a few hours I rescued her and found out that her diaper was full, although not overflown. (Sigh) I put her back down to bed and returned to mine. When I next heard her (at I entered the room to a distinct smell. One I hadn’t smelled in her room (although on her) in a long time. Knowing full well that she did not have a baby-mess movement the day before, I kind of smiled because I was a bit concerned for her before.

It was a bit like somebody had found the cork holding up the Hoover Dam and unplugged it, only to drown in the vast yuckiness suddenly pelting him. We went into emergency mode then. And as I was wiping the baby mess from her little baby legs, and trying to get it from her baby bottom (some baby mess is drier than others) before she submerged into her baby bathtub, I was thinking, “I love this poor shivering baby. I do. And she, in her baby mess, needs me now.”

I love her. That’s it; nothing profound or new. She’s needy and she’s mine and as messy as today was (and it got worse), I can’t imagine life without her.

During their infancy and throughout their young childhood, children change in their sleep habits. It’s something that we parents can try to adapt and mold, but certain trends are going to continue no matter what we do. For instance, an old pastor’s second-born is impossible to get up early in the morning. Since I was the church’s youth director, I would ask if he could come to certain evening functions only to be informed that he would have to leave early as he had to go down by a certain time during school nights. I think of this because, during winter break, he would post his facebook status as “just got up” at 3:30 pm.

My wife can survive and do miraculous things (like function) on virtually no sleep for several nights straight - without caffeine! I, now entering my mid-30’s, am coming to realize that I need a lot more sleep than I want to admit - and I always have.

And just when I think I have the science figured out with our daughter, she blows it all away. She normally gets up around 7 am. Goes down for a two-hour at noon and goes down for the night at 7:30. Now the only thing seeming to be consistent is that she’ll resist the afternoon nap until 2, 3, or more likely 4 o’clock. So when she wakes up, we have to get ready to put her back to bed. She may be in bed the other times, but often she’s not sleeping - sometimes actively railing against the cruel hands that have put her to rest, other times quietly mourning the unjust policies of the ideology of sleep via a peaceful sit-in. And then there’s the times when she’s so overly tired that she plays furiously with herself and maybe her stuffed toys and blankets.

I wonder if she has a secret nightlife?

“Nighthawks” by Thomas Duchniki via Flickr

Since we’ve closed out about 80% of light in her room, I wonder what her little internal clock is trying to tell us. However, although we need to roll with it, we can’t allow her to be in charge of her sleep schedule. That would lead to ruin for all of us. We need a schedule and so does she. And without a form of structure, she would just crash every time. And that is not healthy for the development of her little brain. Crashing ain’t good for me, and my brain is mostly developed.

Now, all I need to do is figure out how to manage her sleep patterns, then everything will be perfect.

A couple weeks ago, a bunch of friends from our church came with my wife, baby and I on a retreat to a tasty local restaurant (stop me if I already told this story). Since it was so danged cold, I decided that I should bring along my rarely-seen scarf (rarely seen because it matches absolutely nothing in my wardrobe. Or at least that’s what I think. We were there for a while when some other friends from our church - who were working with homeless people that frigid night - showed up. Started chatting it up with those from that group that we knew. I noticed and proclaimed that one of the guys, who is himself homeless, was blatantly wearing the very same red & blue flannel Target scarf that I was. Rather than just stand there and both look awkward at this genial faux-pas, we both pulled out our fencing swords and began to duel for the right to wear the crest.

(Okay, so I just made up that last sentence, but you get the picture.)

**

I just found out this morning that there is another website called Chicago Dads . And, from what I could tell, it looks great. Informative, up-to-date, with several pages for forums, play-dates for the children, play-dates for the parents (I’m assuming that there’s nothing fishy there. Actually, it’s called something like “Fathers Night Out”. But even that sounds a bit fishy…), etc.

It’s a part of a larger nation-wide collective called AtHomeDad, which is a multi-page site about and for stay-at-home dads .

I’m going to register at the site and I’ll let you know what I find, eh?

*For more on the Awkward Turtle, read here.

** “Paul, My Turtle, says to make each day in 2008 a great one” by turtlemom4bacon on Flickr.

In case you missed it, the dear, embattled governor of our beleagured and cash-strapped state isn’t going anywhere without a fight (and this is just a taste from the man who believes that his impeachment is a scheme to raise Illinoisian taxes). Which means that we’ll have to drag his gubernatorial arse and Cousin It-like hairpiece out of his director’s chair (which, oddly enough, is based in Chicago and not in Springfield). But a local radio station is giving Blagojevich an offer he can’t possibly refuse. If he will step down voluntarily from office now, WLS-AM will give him a two hour weekly radio show to blow his little ol’ horn about whatever the heck he wants. I’m sure that Roddy will do triumphantly in whatever format he chooses, but these are my suggestions for optimal priming and to help him make up his mind (add yours in the comments section and they will be added to the wonderful pot):

The Epic Heroes Radio Show:  Where RB reads from the classics of epic heroes, their myths, exploits, and shining examples and then reveals at the end of the show that, yes, he is Frodo/Odysseus/Herakles/King Arthur/Batman/Jesus.

Kranky Effing Yankee: All crank calls to the White House consisting entirely of bleeped-out verbal firebombs.

Keats, Longfellow, Wordsworth & Me: Two uninterrupted hours (except to introduce the pipe and/or tweed-jacket sponsor of the moment) of reading the greats. At the end, we will be assured that the hero of the poem is Blagojevich.

Hot-Rod the Shock Jock: “HaHa! Boobs! Fart! Poo! OOHH, that was a stinker.” (Let Rodderick loose on the mics with a sound-effect machine. Now, imagine the hilarity!)

Family Feud - Chicago-Style:  Do you have a powerful politically or financially connected family? Would you like to see that family bicker until it self-implodes and somebody ends up in jail? Bring them on to this show and let Blaggo work his magic!

Ideas for other shows? Leave them in the comments.

I completely and utterly apologize if I was wrong about the lack of connections between the Chicago Democratic Machine and President Barack Obama. I know that they were never really the tightest of friends, but I’m not too sure what that means. All I hope it means is that our president will not be listening to his old (and still present, really) mayor in terms of short-sighted but deep-pocketed advice. I’m not even just talking about clearing the way for the Chicago Olympics (which would effectively displace entire neighborhoods and destroy a huge and much-needed park on the South Side for a five-week stint seven years in the future — complete with temporary stadiums). I hope to God that the Prez remembers his South Side and activist roots. And, indeed, from what I understand, Mayor Daley did not look to the junior senator from Illinois for federal help in becoming one of the top spots that the International Olympic Committee was reviewing.

So, anyhow, now I’m just rehashing old stuff. And doing a pretty poor job of it.

Our honorable Top-Dog gave some advice to the President - hopefully it’s unwanted or at least goes unlistened to. Daley actually thinks it a good idea to lease out public space to private companies/corporations for about a hundred years a piece . He’s rushed City Council through several votes involving billions of dollars of public space and infrastructure within the last year or so, telling them with each subsequent vote that they’ll lose out on such a great deal and may never get it back, but they’ve only got minutes to decide. And that’s why we no longer own our own parking meters (but are paying exorbitant fees for them all through the city within hours of selling them), the Skyway connecting Chicago to Northwest Indiana, or - soon - Midway Airport.

In other words, Daley’s playing card shark with the big boys, and the bloody, legless and rudder-less victims are the tax payers who pay exorbitant fees to the lawyers and accountants to do all the necessary legal and financial transaction numbers for us (a bonus, in Daley’s opinion, because we would put newly down-sized Wall Street types back into work for the next ten years. And this is supposed to make me feel good how?) only to get screwed by the very companies we’re selling out to within days. Nevermind that its short-term, at best and that, eventually, you’ll run out of stuff to sell. Nevermind the fact that private investment firms don’t necessarily have the public’s best interest at heart (and where would I pick up that negative assessment from?). nevermind that, in a recession, quick cash looks good, but it’s never a good idea to give a junkie or gambling addict a wad of cash in anticipation that they’ll invest it. And that’s what’s happening in Chicago. And really, most government.

Alas, the Wall Street Journal reports that a coalition led by banks is also supporting such an idea (h/t to Mike Dumke ). God, does everybody think Obama’s an idiot?

The piece of advice that I did find useful from Daley is his mentioning of having to leave gov jobs off the Do Not Touch List. Daley is right in saying that in these tough economic times, it’s fiscally unfaithful to expect that each and every government job is riskless. But of course, the federal government doesn’t really worry about things like debt…

Some commentators, friends, and associates made note yesterday that during the swearing-in of President Barack Obama (ooh, goosebumps! sorry… but really that’s what this is post is about. The goosebumps, that is, not idolization of our new president), the president-of-transition goofed. I didn’t notice it because I could not concentrated beyond the din of my eyes and mouth trying their hardest to not sound like blubbering idiots.

But what really happened there, or so I believe, is that I experienced elevation . And not, ironically, of the U2/Bono variety. Or, maybe…

“Who’s That Guy?” by Elycefeliz via Flickr

Perhaps you felt it too. Roger Ebert wrote a post on it recently (before the inauguration) and he mentioned election night and how Oprah was so elated that (paraphrasing) she used the man in front of her as a giant Kleenex. Now, never mind questions of class and status (from what I understand, Oprah uses and dispenses common people like me and you as replaceable household objects every day of the week), what she felt - according to researchers and psychologists fronted by University of California-Berkeley professor of psychology Dacher Keltner and University of Virginia professor of moral psychology Jonathan Haidt - was common that day among millions and millions of Americans watching Obama’s acceptance speech from Chicago, and then watching his inauguration from DC.

Haidt calls it “elevation”. Which is really a spiritual or relgious term. Only now, however, is it being taken seriously by psychologists, who have just given it a realm within its own emotional state (new motto: “Emotional States: Not just for the negatives anymore”). There is not much new here except for the fact that it is being studied as a science, but even so, I believe that it brings to bear three things that are particularly relevant to parents and that we should bare in mind:

1) Elevation has a washing effect. It helps to clear out the negativity and cynicism which we drag around with us. I know that being a parent (really being anybody, but specifically being a parent) can be taxing and trying from the extra responsibilities. And sometimes we bring in that load to bear on our family. Going through an occasional emotional wash helps to restore a sense of balance, a sense that everything’s gonna be okay after all!

2) Although in the heat of elevation, one feels that heaven and earth will move as a result of the transcendence of the moment, apparently the effects are short-term and not very long-lasting. Which means that (um, duh?) we shouldn’t rely on feelings alone to produce active conviction. If we are to make change in the world around us for the betterment of our children’s lives, we must convince with more than just the heart or even by pulling heart-strings. We must attack from a pragmatic, tactile, mental and emotional state - an emotional message of uplift alone won’t do it.

3) You cannot control elevation. That’s like trying to make yourself happy all the time or, more apt parallel, pumping up the economy. To do a Yogiphorism: It’s not real if it’s fake. Sure, I could make myself cry every night if I watched “Extreme Home Makeover” religiously, but that becomes shallow, and the elevation is not true anymore. Once it ceases to be true, it is worthless. However, although we cannot control going into a state of elevation, we can prepare for it, mostly by looking at the world through the wonder that our children view it by. My daughter, for instance, is only eighteen months old, so she constantly looks at the world through sheer amazement, often announcing to her environment that she finds it to be worthy of a “Wooh!” or a “Wow!” What kind of eyes and ears should we gather about us when we are around them to enjoy what they enjoy? How can the world be a better place as we become more receptive to what it has to offer us and more attentive to the beauties, miracles (and dangers) that lie on every branch and around every corner?

Having said all that (informational source ), now it’s time to rawk to transcendence.

A friend asked, in regards to an article she was to do for Relevant Magazine , “If you could pick one thing, what do you hope the Obama administration does for the moral good of the country? “

Unfortunately I was too late to meet the deadline. However, Relevant’s loss is ChicagoDad’s gain:

My hope is that the Obama administration would communicate to the American people how the growing disparity in education between those who have and those who do not is undemocratic and dangerous for the American economy. My hope is that President Obama can demonstrate that until we see that we are replacing broken schools with overcrowded prisons because we are not treating all of our children fairly, we all lose out. That until we retain the dignity of the Supreme Court’s Brown v. Board of Ed decision in deed as well as word, we all lose out. That until brown, black, rural and poor children can get the same early start on education and come to kindergarten prepared to learn in a stable and welcoming environment as more privileged children, we all lose out.

*Atelier Teee, “Abandoned School” via Flickr .

Because our economy is not the same now as it was fifty years ago, when large segments of the population could go into service or manufacturing with little prior experience or learning and still create jobs and money, we need to creatively address our problems with a fully-educated and prepared workforce. Because our economy will not be the same in twenty years, we cannot afford to address the widening education gap between the haves and the have-nots now, before our democracy becomes a true oligarchy.

These are my hopes for the moral good of the country. My prayer is that President-elect Obama and his team will consider the long-term needs of this country and of our citizens.

Please read the other (and thankfully shorter, less flatulent and less convoluted) responses here .

I would love to hear your responses, though, in the comments section.

I was originally thinking of putting all the pieces together on one page and editing them to a cohesive whole, but then I thought, nahhh!! For that, stay tuned to order it from the ol’ ChicagoDads Micro-Press, coming soon to Amazon & finer booksellers (probably in the actual Amazon) for an exaggerated pittance. Let’s just say that I’d like to put my daughter through college and I’d prefer to have the money lined up now. Also, I’d like a heated pool.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

But wait, there’s more!

Part VI

Part VII

Remember the first law of LeftCheekyDynamics: Place tongue so firmly in cheek that it starts to take root there. Okay? Have fun and safe reading and keep your hands inside the vehicle at all times.

buh-bye now.

(Caveat lector: I know that the Chicago River is frozen over at the center of the city. However, don’t try walking over it.)

So, why may we ask, would someone with all of that experience and practical, hands-on love neglect such an easy yet essential issue as changing a diaper? Maybe he figures that those days are over or maybe he’s actually forgot how (funny how our minds work – or don’t). But the truth is that he is more likely to find another woman to take care of the business end of that stick when possible. And no one seems to mind or even give it a second thought. (Note: I am curious and running this through my head. I do not mean to sound judgmental, but I realize that I often do.)

Why? Because it’s not expected of him, that’s why. It’s not expected that men would do the child-raising. Yet, I think that we’re going to have to rise above this stage if we are going to be engaged in the lives of our own children. My theory is that we men leave the home because we are not tactile with our own children, therefore we do not feel that we are connected with them in the way we may be with our vinyl records, cars or bushy, bushy beards.

Men, we have let ourselves slide from responsibility in the area of child responsibility. My brothers, we’ve allowed other people to tell us that we should have nothing to do with raising children but supplying the dollars. And when we see how much we’ve been minimized in the family, we split. And who can blame us? Gimme some hands-on. Allow me to prove myself a parent as well as a provider. Until then, let me change a diaper or two.

But, y’know, don’t get carried away.

(Caveat lector: When last we left our hero, he was talking about a male friend of the family who helps to watch the baby but doesn’t really change diapers. And now we continue with our saga.)

There was a time, come to think of it, when I went to my friend’s parents’ house to pick up my daughter. And she was very little at this stage, and not yet able to walk, so she could easily be held by one hand under her diaper-laden butt. Often, that’s how we would carry her, with one arm steadying her of course. He brought her out to the front as I was coming. And at this point, he highly resisted the idea of carrying around a diaper bag, even one as deliberately unisex as ours (it’s like a green and hazel brown messenger bag fell into a vat of plastic). But as he was lifting her, I think he had regrets about that decision. Dark, warm and liquidy regrets.

Fortunately, I was carrying her bag anyway and we rushed back into the house to take care of her. Or rather, to watch her being cared for by his sister while I was being escorted through the house and force-fed some delicious homemade Puerto Rican cuisine and he gathered his possessions.

And yes, he now bravely carries the baby-bag on longer trips.

(Today’s Caveat lector: if you are going to change a wet diaper in a pitch black room, make sure you know exactly where you placed that diaper.)

We have a male friend who will occasionally watch our daughter. In fact, he’s one of the few people I know who I absolutely trust with her. In that he’s constantly looking out for her. He absolutely adores her and tells everybody about her and pampers her and buys stuff for her and protects her. But, and I’m being quite serious when I say this, not in a creepy way at all.

Yet, for all of the love and playfulness and comfort that he brings to my daughter, I’m not sure that he has once changed her diaper or laid her down to sleep. He has had those responsibilities before. He has been a father before. He has changed the old tires before, been through that whole process before. Which, truth be told, is more than I can say for most of my male friends and yet so few of my female friends.

(Today’s caveat lector: when you are being impeached, wow the good citizenry and shame your critics by quoting some epic poetry and casting yourself as a hero for the widows, orphans and elderly.)

part of a multi-series essay:

We need to make a space for men to be allowed into the best school of infancy and young childhood, the most pragmatic and hands-on training for applied parenthood: baby-sitting gigs. We will not rest until the best and brightest of our men enter into this vital work-force and internship. In fact, as far as internships are concerned, this is a pretty sweet deal: five dollars an hour plus everything you can eat. It’s like your parents are paying for your degree, only you don’t have to even pretend to listen to them or go to class. You should, however, not leave a mess or put your feet on the furniture or make yourself comfortable. And there’s that thing about you having the ultimate responsibility for some child’s life for a few hours.

(Caveat lector: there is a reason that they are called “Sh*tty first drafts”. Unfortunately, I tend to blog out my sh*tty second or third drafts” just to see how my bowls are doing.)

Part 3 of an ongoing and mostly tongue-in-cheek series.

Now, I consider myself a fairly progressive, fairly forward-thinking fellow. But nine times out of ten, if I think of a baby-sitter, I imagine a girl. Largely because that’s how a lot of our female friends have made their cash and paid their dues and school books. And most of these women are also fairly progressive and independent women. However, to my knowledge, not a one of them has ever apologized for getting all the good jobs. And why, may I ask, have they not? Are we not human? Do we not bleed when pricked? Do we not sweat when provoked? Do our heartbeats not flutter when prodded? Are we men, or are we not?

I, for one, demand restitution. I demand pay-back. Somebody give me the number to… The Baby-Sitters Club!

pic from genre X: A twenties and thirties book club

(Caveat lector: if you can use the latrine before you walk a mile in the Chicago snow and stop over at the store on the way home, maybe you should exercise that option.)

Second in a multi-part series:

I think I figured what our [men’s] problem is: We men haven’t had adequate practice in child-rearing.

Girls baby-sit while boys never consider changing a diaper, let alone watching a child for more than a few minutes at a time. I have had many male friends who have made a living watching entire houses – virtual castles for that matter – for weeks and months on end. They will watch and feed and groom pets. Heck, they will style the mess out of your hair or design the most intricate home interiors. But babies? They would rather give a pedicure to a poodle and wear a mesh top. A man who watches children? Not even remotely considered! The only men who enjoy being around babies are pedophiles. No sane male watches a baby unless they are the father or older brother (and the older sisters are indisposed. And by “indisposed” I mean, “dead” or “non-existent”. There is no other excuse for their negligence!).

Or so that’s the popular perception, spoken or - most-likely - not. It’s the silent rule and it’s silently killing fatherhood.

and if you don’t, you get arrested.

God bless Mr. T and technicolor 80’s clothes.

Today’s caveat lector: I am beginning another series of my tongue-planted-so-firmly-up-my-cheek-it’s-coming-up-my-other-cheek-if-you-know-what-I-mean serials. It’s really just one short essay that I will be releasing over the next week. I’ve yet to decide on a title for this one, so the title above will probably be changed a couple times.

Enough talk. Let’s rawk!

You ever sit back, look in the mirror? I mean, really hard into the soul of that fellow in the mirror who is looking back at you all curious eyed and maybe with one nasty hairlip and possibly a few extra nose hairs than he thought he had? That one. And then you ask that guy: Where are the men? Where are the grown guys who raise children and maybe gather some moss? Why is it hard to find men thoroughly engaged in their children’s upbringing? Why does it seem like the only two options are to raise hell or to raise hellions? Why are some locales nearly Father-Free Zones?

Try this exercise: look around, count the number of men that you know that are actively, hands-on involved in nearly every aspect of their spawns’ upbringing. Compare that to the women who are involved. Usually, I find this exercise to be staggering. But if you think differently, please don’t hesitate to tell me so.