Category Archives: Blogging

Dads and Kids, Making Memories #DadsWay

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This post is sponsored by Tide and Downy, who have made it possible for me to plan a very cool Father’s Day event Saturday for my sons and a few of our friends in the Tampa Bay area.

Tide and Downy

After a nature walk and picnic in the hot Florida sun Saturday morning, it’ll be time to bring up these heavy hitters to clean things up and get ready for the next adventure.

As a #DadsWay ambassador, it is my privilege this Father’s Day weekend to be able to help Tide and Downy celebrate the unique way each dad does things. I like the analogy they’ve shared, the idea that dads can be as strong as Tide, as gentle as Downy and sometimes can show both of those sides simultaneously.

Let me pause here to provide full disclosure: Long before Tide and Downy ever offered me the chance to participate in this campaign, my family used Tide detergent. And during the course of writing these sponsored posts, I learned that when my father was a boy, his mom used Tide, too. So, you might say it’s a family tradition.

Only, these days, it’s not just the mom who does the laundry. Modern Day Dads share in the housework far more than their dads did 30 or 40 years ago. So, once we’re done with our incredible Father’s Day weekend nature walk and picnic at Brooker Creek Preserve on Saturday, you can bet that many of the participating dads — including me — will be heading home to wash a load. It’s just dad’s way of doing things these days. You make a mess, you clean it up.

Tide and Downy

This is Brooker Creek itself. There’s an alligator hidden in that algae bloom. How could any kid (or dad) resist? It’s going to get messy out there, though. (Good!)

And I’m pretty sure our kids are going to be a mess by the time we’re done with Saturday’s big event. You see, we live in Central Florida. It gets hot here in June, even in the morning. We’re going to walk through the woods along dirt trails for a couple of hours, then play games and eat picnic food. My kids will run and rip. They’ll sweat, they’ll fall down, and they’ll get as dirty as 7- and 5-year-old boys tend to get under those circumstances.

No problem. We’ve got Tide and Downy. When we’re all through for the day, our clothes — and our kids — will be ready for the next adventure.

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One thing I like about working with Tide and Downy on this program is the opportunity to share well-done videos and ads depicting dads in authentic situations with their kids. It’s an important issue for some of us. Earlier this week, I shared my thoughts on the matter and showed how it should be done with Tide’s the Princess Dress spot. Below is another offering from Tide, and it might be just the thing to get you in the mood for a great Father’s Day weekend! (Seriously. Watch this. It’s very well done.)

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Everyone has a story that describes how his or her dad is truly unique. If you would like to help Tide and Downy celebrate dad’s way this month, go tell a story about your dad on Twitter using the hashtag #DadsWay. For every tweet sent out using #DadsWay, Tide and Downy will donate $1 to the National Fatherhood Initiative.

I would also personally like to thank Tide and Downy for making it possible for DadScribe to make a donation of $100 to Brooker Creek Preserve, which is run by incredibly dedicated and helpful volunteers who love nature as much as we do (probably even more).

Tide and Downy

What adventure lies around the bend for us this weekend? We can’t wait to find out!

What Does it Mean to be a Modern Day Dad?

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This post is sponsored by Procter & Gamble.

While P&G has long been known as the Proud Sponsor of Moms, they also celebrate everything Modern Day Dads do for their families.

What does it mean to be a Modern Day Dad?

To me, it means not just wanting to be more involved in the upbringing of our kids, but needing to be there for them. It is a physical compulsion for me. An obsession, even. Every day at work, I feel the absence of my sons in my gut. I need to be part of every aspect of their upbringing. I need to see it happen. I need to be there.

I don’t know if that was the case for fathers 40 years ago, or even 30 years ago. I mean, my dad spent a year-plus in Vietnam when my brother and I were tiny. I just … I can’t fathom that. But I suspect a great many of my Modern Day Dad peers think like I do when it comes to their kids. I hope so, anyway.

Along these lines, two statistics from a recent Procter & Gamble survey of 2,000 parents (1,000 mothers and 1,000 fathers; see infographic below) stood out to me.

One was the fact that 65 percent of dads surveyed said they have a different parenting style from their fathers. And 54 percent of dads surveyed said that work-life balance issues make being a Modern Day Dad more difficult. Those two statistics go hand-in-hand, I believe. I think now, more than ever, dads crave the meaningful interaction with kids that has traditionally been the purview of moms.

That’s what this Modern Day Dad is all about, though. The partnership between me and my wife feels completely natural. We each do what we need to do to nurture our elementary school-aged sons. The duties overlap. There are no specified “Mom” duties or “Dad” duties.

I’m not trying to win any medals here. I’m just doing what feels right. I think that’s what it means to be a Modern Day Dad. What do you believe it means? Let us know on Twitter with the hashtag #DadsWay, and the National Fatherhood Initiative will receive a $1 donation from Tide and Downy. Meanwhile, what statistics in this survey stand out to you?

Infographic_Fathers Day_6.11.13

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Do you know a Modern Day Dad who is so rad that his accomplishment(s) deserve to be digitally posterized? You know, like this poster (which I wish my sons were old enough to have made for me):

Procter and Gamble

Yeah. That’s me. Happy Father’s Day!

As mentioned above, Procter & Gamble’s Thank You, Mom campaign is celebrating dads and everything they do for their families. But that celebration goes beyond just saying, “Hey, nice job, Dad.” P&G wants to help you recognize your dad’s unique rad-ness by making a poster based on how you fill in the blank in the statement, “My dad is the #WorldsGreatest __________!”

To be considered for digital posterization, simply go to Procter & Gamble’s Facebook page and/or Twitter page and share your answer to what your dad is the “World’s Greatest” at. While you’re at it, check out all the digital posters they’ve made so far at the Thank You, Mom Pinterest page. P&G will be selecting submissions and turning them into digital posters you can share with your dad and the rest of your social network.

Good luck, and please let DadScribe know in the comments below or on Twitter (@DadScribe)if your statement of dad-ulation is chosen for posterization. We’ll share them all in a future post.

Dad’s Way of Parenting Deserves Authentic Depiction, Not Derision

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This post is sponsored by Procter & Gamble, parent company of Tide and Downy, who have compensated the author to explore the concept of dad’s way of parenting during the week leading up to Father’s Day. Today, I take a look at why it’s important for dad’s way to be portrayed authentically on TV and in movies. All opinions and inaccuracies are mine.

Procter & Gamble

This dad’s way means being there, and making sure my sons know that the sometimes-inauthentic portrayals of fathers they see on TV and in movies are just not acceptable.

I have never burned a batch of cookies. And even though I’m a seasoned traveler and fiercely proud of my innate sense of direction, I would without hesitation ask a local resident the quickest route to my destination on the off chance that I ever got lost (and if the battery life ran out on my iPhone).

My sons are long since potty trained, but by the time they got out of diapers for good, I could make the change with one hand. In the dark. On the backseat of a two-door Civic. Without making an even bigger mess. Yeah. That actually happened.

When my wife gave birth, I was there. Not just in the room, either. I helped with the delivery, and not merely for moral support. I saw both of our sons born, and I held them within seconds of the cutting of the umbilical cord, and I beamed like a thousand stars and cried tears of joy both times. In short – I was not about to be shunted to the periphery during the two biggest moments of our lives.

This is not bragging about my refusal to be a cliché. It is, rather, to provide context when I say this: I really don’t like it when I see fathers portrayed as cookie-burning, no-directions-asking, too-squeamish-to-be-diaper-changing, non-assertive-sideline-sitting buffoons and idiots on TV shows or ads. It just doesn’t jibe with my experience.

Even though I can’t say I’m all that offended when I spot another tired, lazy caricature of the Doofus Dad depicted on a mass media stage, and even though parents confront more pressing issues today, I will admit to being a bit more than annoyed when I see a dad depicted inauthentically simply for effect.

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Florida Neighbor

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We got home this morning from a family grocery shopping excursion and saw this little fellow sunning himself across the street. Life in Florida!

The Farm, the Woods and the River

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This post is sponsored by Procter & Gamble. The author is responsible for all opinions, fading memories and overly sentimental reminiscences.

Procter & Gamble

Where the Neuse River brushes against our family’s ancestral land. There’s a lot of mud back in there.

The Neuse River rises from the North Carolina piedmont north of Raleigh and winds its muddy way to the Atlantic Ocean, emptying into the Pamlico Sound at New Bern. The Neuse is the longest river fully contained within the borders of my home state. It is an especially crooked river, as if it took its own, sweet time carving a path to the sea, meandering where it would across the millennia, taking in the sights along the way.

With a C-shaped turn of the river between the small Eastern North Carolina towns of Grifton and Kinston, the Neuse brushes against a particularly lush and green 100-acre plot of land. Upon this land once wintered members of the Tuscarora tribe, which dominated the region until the early 1700s brought European settlers and their diseases. Somewhere nearby, maybe even right in the woods that run down to the river’s edge, Union and Confederate forces skirmished for control of this strategically vital waterway throughout most of the Civil War.

And in 1918, my great-grandfather, George Tebo McArthur, bought those 100 acres and the antebellum house on them and began to scratch a living out of the rich, loamy North Carolina soil. My dad, Tebo’s Dayton-raised grandson, spent his summers on the farm, his mother’s childhood home, in the late 1950s and early ‘60s. That kid from Ohio learned to put in tobacco, prepping the smooth, golden, gummy leaves for hanging and toasting in the cavernous barns that used to dominate the Southern landscape. He traipsed through the woods with his younger brother in tow, pretending to lead Lee’s cavalry at Fredericksburg, marching under the cypress trees, dodging hidden cypress knees and deadly water moccasins. He learned to call those mean, nasty snakes cottonmouths, which is all they’d ever been to the people of Eastern North Carolina. His people. His place.

My people. My place.

In 1976, when I was 7, we moved from Raleigh to the farm where my father used to spend his formative summers. Those tilled fields and dense woods became my playground. I traipsed through the woods with my younger brother in tow, pretending to lead Lee’s cavalry at Antietam, marching under those same cypress trees and keeping a very close eye out for the descendants of the cottonmouths that terrorized my father 20 years earlier.

Procter & Gamble

There are definitely water moccasins in there. I can’t believe I used to PLAY in those woods.

When we visit the farm these days, the highlight is always our family walk back into the woods. We grab some walking sticks off the back porch, wander down past the old potato barn, and cross the railroad track into the world of soil and undergrowth and fresh deer tracks. My 7- and 4-year-old sons thrill to the novelty of a hike into the “wild.” To these two children of the Florida suburbs, the open fields and dense forests of my childhood are other-worldly. Around every bend is a bear. The rustling leaves all are cougars. Every stick on the ground is a cottonmouth. (OK, that could be real. Ugh. Cottonmouths still give me the shivers.)

The boys come back from those hikes tired, but excited. Just as I was when I came back inside after my long, carefree adventures on the farm, the woods and at the river when I was a kid. Just as my dad did before me. And yes, we were all usually a bit dirtier than my boys are today when they come home from our community pool in Florida.

Which gave me an idea.

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Procter & Gamble

The boys have their sticks and are off on an adventure. That could be me and my brother. Or my dad and his brother.

As you saw above, this post is sponsored by Procter & Gamble, parent company of Tide and Downy. As Father’s Day approaches, I have the privilege of working with Tide and Downy to bring attention to “Dad’s Way” of parenting.

I can only speak for one dad’s way of parenting – mine. So, when given the chance to plan an event for dads and their kids to have a fun time together with little or no regard for staying neat and clean, I started thinking about what we do as a family that falls into that category.

This is Florida, so I thought about the beach. Then I thought about a fishing pier, or a charter vessel on the Gulf of Mexico out of John’s Pass. Maybe we could get a bunch of us together and take an air boat ride through the Everglades, or go kayaking on the Weeki Wachee River.

Then it hit me. Not far from our home in the Tampa suburbs is a hidden gem of a public space, Brooker Creek Preserve. They have guided nature walks on Saturday mornings, and there is ample space for a picnic. I would invite a bunch of dads and their kids to get together the day before Father’s Day and just have a great time.

Which is exactly what we’re going to do, and I couldn’t be more excited. The boys are fired up, too. It’s not Disney World, but that’s the point. We are going to have fun, we are going to get dirty walking in the woods and playing and eating picnic food, and we are going to have an absolute blast with our friends. We can’t take them all to the farm in North Carolina, but this will do. This will definitely do.

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As a bit of an epilogue, I want to share one of my favorite new dad-focused commercials. It happens to be for Tide and Downy and – hey, this is a nice happenstance – our family has used Tide for years. You might have seen this one: the Princess Dress. It’s nice to see a major brand portray a father as competent instead of as a buffoon when it comes to parenting and household responsibilities.

If you enjoy the video, let the world know by tweeting about it with the hashtag #DadsWay. Me and some of my favorite dad writers around the country will be checking in on that hashtag quite a bit over the next couple of weeks, too. And as we get closer to our event at Brooker Creek, I’ll be writing more about the things that shaped me as a father – why I am who I am as a dad, and what that means for my wonderful sons.

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During the month of June, Tide and Downy are celebrating the unique way each dad approaches his role as a parent — Dad’s Way. Because they know that everyone has a story about what makes his or her dad unique, they’re encouraging the sharing of those stories on Twitter with the hashtag, #DadsWay. Every time someone uses that hashtag, Tide and Downy will donate $1 to the National Fatherhood Intitiative.

Life as Dad, According to Esquire (or Yet Another Thing Brad Pitt and I Have in Common)

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Esquire taught me how to be a man. Not the deep, esoteric definition of manhood. The practicalities are what I’m talking about. I used to have it delivered every month when I was in my 20s. I read it cover to cover. There was brilliant writing to be found there, and I wanted to be a brilliant writer. Plus, it smelled good. Esquire used to come with page after page of cologne samples, those scratch-n-sniff type things with the glued fold-over. I’d go through each edition and pull open the samples, just to learn what I was supposed to smell like. You know, as a man.

So, I was wandering through the supermarket doing the grocery shopping Saturday (as you do) and came across the magazines. There was Esquire, with Brad Pitt’s greasy long hair and bug-eye aviator glasses and rugged man-of-the-world glare on the cover. The tag line was something of an Esquire institution: How to be a man 2013. Also on the cover (what made me pay $5 to buy it) was this: In Defense of FATHERHOOD, a manifesto for the 21st century.

OK. They got me. Nostalgia for my 20s wasn’t enough, but Esquire found the sweet spot of my 40s.

After I stopped to sniff the sample of l’homme by Yves Saint Laurent (“A magnetic, sensual fragrance, both elegant and intensely fresh”), I found Stephen Marche’s 1,000-word essay called Why Fatherhood Matters. I would normally link to it here, but it apparently isn’t available yet online. If I find it later, I’ll add the link. For now, I’ll sum it up. Marche outlines fatherhood in the context of losing his own dad, giving the institution double weight. Some become a man when they become fathers, Marche writes, and some become a man when they lose their fathers. Oh, and fatherhood creates the last meaningful bond between men and women. In short: Fathers are indispensable.

In the same edition, I found Richard Dorment’s piece called Why Men Still Can’t Have it All. I wrote about the topic myself on Friday, and I realize we can’t have “it all,” whatever that means. But, as I wrote in a comment on that post, it’s important for us to aspire to that. Otherwise, why try?

Anyway, Esquire. The magazine has a slogan: Man At His Best.

A man at his best means what, exactly? How does one achieve bestness? I mean, it’s all I can do sometimes to summon the energy to be just OK. Every now and then, though, it happens. All of the fog of life falls away, and I find myself experiencing the sublime clarity of the Best of Me. These moments are few and fleeting, but they almost always are associated with being a dad.

And hey, there’s yet another thing Brad Pitt and I have in common. Based on what I read in Tom Junod’s Pitt profile in this month’s edition, his best moments also are associated with fatherhood. I loved this quote, in particular, because it’s exactly how I feel:

“There’s a constant chatter in our house, whether it’s giggling or screaming or crying or banging. I love it. I love it. I love it. I hate it when they’re gone. I hate it. Maybe it’s nice to be in a hotel room for a day — ‘Oh, nice, I can finally read a paper.’ But then, by the next day, I miss that cacophony, all that life.”

Exactly.

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I’m a Dad, a Husband, a Writer … and I Want It All

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VPK Grad

I was not going to miss this. No way, no how. Dads want it all, and that means being there. Actually, physically there. Is that too much to ask?

I want it all.

I want to be there – actually, physically, there – for my sons. I want to be a life partner and best friend for my wife, and I want her to be those things for me, too. I want a career that pays me what my work is worth and provides the kind of personal and professional gratification that comes from making a meaningful contribution, whether from a business perspective or culturally.

I want all of that.

And I want this, too: I want to write fiction that resonates with someone. I want to write short stories like O’Connor or Fitzgerald and novels like Irving, Chabon or Russo. I want readers. I want readers that want to buy my work in order to read it.

I want that, and I want to play FIFA soccer on my PS3 while I drink cheap red wine or expensive English beer. I want to watch Mad Men and enjoy a nice glass of bourbon every now and then.

I want to play softball again, and I want to go on dates with my wife. I want to go to Walt Disney World every other weekend, and I want to fly to Cape Cod every August.

I really, really want to go back to London. Paris, too. And I’d like to see Rome and Florence one day.

I want it all.

I’m a dad. I’m a husband. I’m a writer.

I want all of the things behind those three curtains.

What? I have to choose?

Says who?

Here’s the problem. I do have to choose, just as men and women have had to choose since the rise of the original American middle class. That began about a century or so ago, when technology and progressive ideas about how the working class should be treated combined to thrust this country into an unprecedented era of relative ease and prosperity. It wasn’t always easy. Not everyone prospered. But on the whole, the world has never seen a society like ours, wherein individual aspirations are – in theory – paramount, and we are free to shape our government in order to create an atmosphere conducive to the pursuit of those aspirations.

A fiercely independent spirit – that’s the American ethos. That’s why we want it all. But who am I kidding? The past three generations – the Baby Boomers, Generation X and Generation Y – have collectively believed they are owed it all. We aren’t.

We are, however, owed the freedom to pursue happiness. The freedom to conduct that pursuit is an inalienable right, I believe.

So, what would make me – a dad, a husband, a writer – happy?

I want … it all.

Is that too much to ask?

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There’s been a lot of public discussion lately about this topic, along with another subject that is directly related to our family, women as primary breadwinners. I think those two topics are connected.

Here is an interesting piece that ran Thursday in Bloomberg Businessweek. Alpha Dads: Men Get Serious About Work-Life Balance.

Here is a piece on the Pew research study that concluded that in 40 percent of American households, a woman is the primary breadwinner. That’s how it is now in our house, and I could not be more proud of my wife. Breadwinner Moms.

And here is a link to the blog of an online friend of mine, Scott Behson, an academic from Cornell who researches and writes extensively about family work-life balance issues. There is a lot of good stuff there on this topic, including a guest post by yours truly about why I asked off the baseball beat in 2005. Fathers, Work and Family.

I hardly ever ask for comments, but I would love to know how you do it. How do you make life’s pursuit of happiness work for you? How do you decide what to sacrifice and what will absolutely never fall by the wayside? Our family doesn’t have any big secret. We just do it day by day and work hard to stay on top of all of our responsibilities at home and at work.

Sometimes it’s great. Other times, it feels like our heads are going to explode.

There’s been some backlash lately about the term “work-life balance,” but for us, it really is a balancing act sometimes. For instance, we both took today off in order to attend Jay’s first-grade class play and Chris’ preschool graduation ceremony, which began a half-hour apart and took place a mile apart this morning. There was no way either of us would miss those events, but we had to sacrifice a precious vacation day to do it.

What sort of decisions have you had to make in order to strike that balance? What have you missed? Is it even realistic to think about “having it all,” whether you’re a man or woman? I’d like to think so.

 

 

 

Proud to be an American

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Jay, 7, to MomScribe: Do you know that song, Proud to be an American?
MomScribe: Yes.
Jay: Can you sing it for me?
MomScribe: No.
Jay: Why not?
MomScribe: Because I have a terrible singing voice, and I don’t know the words.
Me, from downstairs: Ha ha ha ha ha!
Jay: Why is he laughing at you?
MomScribe: Because I’m funny.

The Difference Between I Can’t and I Won’t

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Parenting

He’ll stand soon enough. Until then, at least he hasn’t ruled it out forever.

I can’t.

Yes, you can.

He makes that sound, the one between a whine and a groan. He’s sitting down, but he somehow manages to flounce where he sits before screwing up his face and his gumption and yelling:

No. I. CAN’T.

Yes. Yes, you can.

But kids know, don’t they? They know their limitations, or their imagined limitations. Something, instinct maybe, holds them back when they approach that thin, red line. They know that on the other side of the line they’ll find frustration and tears and – probably – pain.

Maybe it’s because of the fresh, if subconscious, memory of those first, halting steps as a toddler and of the many falls that followed. Maybe it’s because all they’ve known since they exited the womb was long stretches of failure, punctuated by incremental moments of triumph that almost immediately were relegated to the foothills of achievement that crouch in the shadow of the mountain of What Else You Got?

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In Which I Reveal My Author Envy of Adrian Kulp, Dad or Alive

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Dad or Alive

Dad or Alive: Confessions of an Unexpected Stay-at-Home Dad. Wirtten by my friend Adrian Kulp. It launches Tuesday!

I met Adrian Kulp at a karaoke bar among a big group of parent bloggers in Houston on the first night of the Dad 2.0 Summit this past winter. I was a little drunk on whiskey and adrenaline. Adrian and I bonded over baseball.

He told me he has been a die-hard Phillies fan since the days of Schmidt, Rose and Carlton. I told him my dad was a Phillies fan when I was growing up, and that the first major-league stadium I visited was the old Vet in (I think) 1976. I might have mentioned my former job, and he might have mentioned that – oh, yeah – he had this book coming out in the spring based on his blog, Dad or Alive.

The book is entitled (appropriately enough) Dad or Alive: Confessions of an Unexpected Stay-at-Home Dad. It launches Tuesday (tomorrow), and I could not be more pleased to tell you that it is every bit as entertaining and insightful as I had hoped it would be. (And, frankly, expected it to be.)

Adrian sang something at that karaoke bar that night. I can’t remember what. Might’ve been Pearl Jam, or it might’ve been the Doors. Maybe Nine Inch Nails. I don’t know. The whiskey and the intoxicating company of so many fellow parents/writers/bloggers on that concentrated, transformative night and weekend made the details a bit blurry. I just know that I didn’t sing and I bugged out sometime before 1 a.m., because – like Adrian, as I learned from the story in his book of a post-fatherhood bachelor party – I have always had this internal alarm bell that sounded when my body knew I had had enough and it was time to slink back home. I also knew I’d need my wits about me for the next day’s full slate of panels and speeches and interactions with fellow bloggers and brand representatives, because that’s what it was about.

I saw Adrian a few more times over the weekend, and each time I reminded him I wanted to get that book to review. I’m glad I did, for many reasons.

It is always gratifying to be entrusted with writing about something like this. I have never written a book (more on that pitiful factoid below), but I can imagine how grueling the whole process can be. Talent and a story to tell are only part of it. You always have to have the will and energy to see the project through to fruition, and the savvy to be its shepherd and advocate once it has published. Here’s the thing about Adrian’s book – the stories in it might soon be coming to a TV screen near you: Adrian’s blog bio mentions a potential deal with Sony Pictures Television and Happy Madison Productions on a possible scripted TV show. Oh, and his wife, Jen, is listed as an EP on a forthcoming A&E reality show called Modern Dads (about – hey, where have we heard this before? – life as a stay-at-home dad). He clearly worked hard to put this together, and even though I envy him the title “published author,” I would like to think I can rise above my own petty self-esteem issues and get past the shameful fact that I have never summoned the gumption to actually see a book through to the end.

(Ahem. Where were we? Oh, yes. I was being magnanimous.)

I also love the idea of a fellow dad blogger contributing to the ongoing education of the general public about what it means to be a dad in the 21st century. He does this without resorting to “Mr. Mom” or “Three Men and a Baby” tricks. The truth is funny enough without the lame gags tossed in. This is the story of a stay-at-home dad who has tasted the big-time career track on a big-time stage, only to step away from that big-time job and devote his time and energy to a “non-traditional” role. He once rubbed elbows with show-biz hot shots. Then, that was over, and he found himself spending his days with a baby daughter (there is now a son, as well). As someone who lost his job shortly after the birth of a second son and stayed home for 19 months before returning to the full-time workforce, I can absolutely empathize with Adrian’s tales that reveal his and his wife’s occasional (and more than occasionally funny) struggles with adjusting to their respective roles.

There’s a lot of honesty in this book, right down to the witheringly funny dialogue between Adrian and Jen. Adrian’s reverse-psychology argument in favor of finding a sacred place to store (and … fondle?) his collection of wine corks, LEGO mini figures, and other miscellaneous toys collector’s items was at once pathetic and touching. What parent doesn’t long for an inner sanctum, a warm burrow to nestle in, an oasis for deep contemplation and reflection? And if that place is packed with PEZ dispensers and vintage 1980s GI Joe figures, so much the better.

I’ll leave it with this, from Adrian himself, toward the end of his freshly minted book. It sums things up for this (and just about any) stay-at-home dad nicely, I think:

“It took me a minute to come around, but this is my dream job and I consider myself extremely lucky to have it. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Am I worried about what people think of me?

I shouldn’t be. I’m doing one of the most important jobs there is.

I don’t need to be the breadwinner to know that I’m leaving my mark.

While I lost a job, I gained a lot more. I gained perspective. I gained a best friend.

My daughter.”

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I received a copy of the book, Dad or Alive: Confessions of an Unexpected Stay-at-Home Dad for review purposes. Opinions expressed are my own. If I ever remember what song Adrian sang at the karaoke bar, I might try to update. Otherwise, pretend it was Pearl Jam. Let’s say … Jeremy? Yeah. Sounds about right.