All posts tagged: daddy coping

Disney Drag

So my son’s been going through a strong princess phase for the last year. As he announced to me, one evening, “Daddy? I’m excessed with Disney princesses.” Truer words, son. Truer words. In his big love for all things Disney, he’s fascinated by the villains. And he’s predictably drawn to the villains who scare him. Many of the Disney movies we’ve borrowed from the library have ended up scaring him. He’s watched The Little Mermaid exactly once, because Ursula scares him. Ditto with Beauty and the Beast (which, btw, is objectively terrifying…beasts, wolves, murderous bands of villagers, Gaston’s chest hair). Despite these fears, my son loves to linger on the villain pictures in books and has lots of questions about their hair and capes and gowns. As I’ve become reacquainted with these villains for the first time since childhood, I see them with fresh (and catty) eyes. And I wonder if my son is actually drawn to drag queens, cuz let’s face it: all Disney villains are basically drag queens. Image credit: ABC Disney pop-up …

OMG. I’m on the Other Side

Last night, a good friend texted, “I hate everything and everyone.” We aren’t in regular contact, but we trade messages when we’ve reached the ends of our ropes. She has a 5-year-old and a 9-month-old. She continued, “Am I a bad parent if I want to give my children away? The oldest one does not stop whining. Ever. And the youngest doesn’t stop crying. I may have to commit myself.” I responded, “Yes. You’re a bad parent. And you’re on the bad parent bus with me as the driver. And let’s face it – do you really wanna be on a ‘good parenting’ bus with someone who can’t say a bad thing about their kids?” Her husband was home watching TV with their older son, the baby was in the crib (crying). I told her “Go scream into a pillow. Go outside and lie on the sidewalk and stare at the sky. Go. You have the right. Have a drink. You’ve earned it.” Then texting felt silly and I called her and said, “Vent. Vent …

A Not-at-all Embellished Textual Conversation with my Blogging Bestie about Christmas Cards

So…the following conversation took place between my blogging bestie and me. It started out innocently enough. I mentioned my feeling that people should sign Christmas cards…even if it’s just writing the recipient’s name and “xo”. But my friend (blogger Keeper of the Fruit Loops) says, “ain’t nobody got time for that.” Keep in mind, she’s a Christmas over-achiever to the Martha Stewart degree. We quickly devolved into sarcastic hilarity.. No hard feelings for anyone (including readers). But I thought it was post-worthy. Feel free to weigh in on the debate. If we agree, you get a gold star. If we disagree, well..you’re wrong. But we are still friends, and I’ll still send you a Christmas card (personalized). Daddy Coping in Style: I need to do my Christmas cards. Keeper of the Fruit Loops: That’s on my list, too. Ugh. DCS: I know. It’s so much work. Does anyone care? KFL: I like getting them. DCS: Yeah. It’s nice. KFL: I’m getting mine out tomorrow. DCS: Shut up. KFL: Suck it. I got them the other …

BIKE SURVIVAL IN NYC: 13 UNOFFICIAL RULES

Assume that everyone else on the road is drunk and/or blind and/or learned how to drive 2 hours ago. Assume you are always obscured in blind spots, every is about to clip you, and every clueless pedestrian reading their phones will will step in front of you. Belligerence is a New York biker’s right. You are justified in yelling at every car that cuts you off or cuts across the bike lane. Carry on until they say “I’m sorry,” which you will probably never hear. But keep screaming at the violator. Then pedal on. Don’t ride in the middle of the bike lane, dummy. Ride on the right or the left to allow people (me) to pass you. If you’re “changing lanes” within the biking area, glance back and be aware of cyclists behind you. Just be aware, people! Be aware of everything around you. Bike traffic is like car traffic. You don’t change lanes without looking as you’re careening downing Main Street, USA, do you? Doubly true for bikes. Cuz we don’t have air …

Scorecard: Daddy vs. Back-to-School

0:1 We didn’t start breakfast or moving until 45 minutes before we needed to be out the door…like…actually walking briskly to school, not just posing for pictures. 1 point: B2S 0:2 Ellison orders “toast, cereal, eggs, yogurt” for breakfast. When I place in front of him pampered eggs and golden toast, he cries because there’s no damn cereal. B2S gets one point. 0:3 Dog shits on the floor by the door. 1:3 No fight over what to wear. Ellison chooses one of my two optioned shirts. Score one for daddy. 1:4 Colton melts down when he realizes he has to stay at home. 0:4 I offer an iPad to muzzle him ( I lose a point) 0:5 I scramble, frantically, with 3 minutes to spare (before we will need to officially RUN on the first day of school) to find the fucking vintage chalkboard (weighing 10 pounds) to write our stupid facebook picture first-day stats. 0:6 Colton has been running around…naked. (I’m leaving him to my partner to manage.) He comes to me with poop …

This Just in…From Hollywood

I’m sitting on a bag of ice in my corporate housing and sipping some booze as I document a little of my week. We’ve had eight intense days of rehearsal in the un-air conditioned gymnasium of Hollywood Methodist Church. I’m falling in love, all over again, with this hilarious musical, Spamalot. Among the stars are Jesse Tyler Ferguson, of Modern Family, (who’s hysterically dry) and Christian Slater. Yes. Christian Slater. He’s infectiously playful with a perma-grin…just a guy who can’t believe he’s being paid to screw around on stage in a Monty Python sketch/musical. And then there’s Warwick Davis. Now. I’m a terrible celeb keeper-upper. I knew he looked familiar, but I was like….”yeah, yeah, yeah. The little person who’s done a bunch of stuff, but who isn’t Peter Dinklage of Game of Thrones.” Then, one of my cast members tells me, “Yeah, but Gavin…not only was he in the Harry Potter movies, he was also in Star Wars.” Y’all: this child-of-the-80’s is soon to be tap-dancing alongside Wicket Fucking Warrior. Like: no shit. I …

9 Reasons Your “Adorable Kids’ Picnic” is Gonna Suck

A super-fun friend recently visited New York with her newborn. She emailed: “Meet in Central Park for a kids’ picnic at 2:30.” She saw Pottery Barn picnic photo shoot (PBPPS). I saw hell. Dear super-fun friend, Let me enumerate the ways this picnic is utterly inconvenient for everyone else with kids: 1. Timing – Your child is a house plant who sleeps all day long. We, the toddler-encumbered, schedule our sanity around naps. You’ve asked us to schlep DURING PRIME NAPPING HOURS to come coo at your kiddo. Though your kid might not let you get 8 hours of beauty sleep, mine will turn the remainder of my day into tantrum hell. That’s worse than sleep-deprivation. 2. Enclosure – I know urban playgrounds are hell for those who don’t rely on them for socializing, herding, and sippin’ on gin-in-juice. There’s no grassy knoll for pretentious picnicking. But those gates spell the difference between fun and fury. Toddlers don’t do open-space in NYC. They do caged asphalt. 3. Sweat – If I choose to sit for …

Posting from 35,000 feet

So I’m sitting on a 5 ½ hour flight from New York to Los Angeles with my kids and my partner. I’m so happy not to be alone for this flight. My oldest son is sleeping on my arm (we had to depart for the airport at 4:30 AM), and my youngest is very much attached to his “Tatty”. So…not my responsibility, for the moment. And I’m posting this from 35,979 feet with free JetBlue wifi. Just like the old days…except I’m sure they’ll flood my inbox with spam, now. And the plane is freezing. So we’ll be breaking down to pay for a damn blanket at any moment. I’m taking advantage of the quiet. I love flying because I can’t do anything but read and write. Put me on a plane to nowhere. If it’s a 13-hour flight I’m in heaven. I don’t want to sleep. But flying is so stressful with kids. You just can’t help but worry and worry. What if they scream? What if they fight? What if we are “those …