Have you heard about "Go the Fu*k To Sleep?" Described as a "children's book for adults," it's pure genius. Check out Samuel L. Jackson on this youtube link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hNhnCD0EZtE
C'mon, this is funny stuff. It's O.K. to laugh.
I love "Go The F*ck to Sleep" because it's another chink in the "perfect parent" armor; A sippy cup in the eye of the parenting fantasy as nothing but smooches and ice cream.
Parenting is a full contact sport. I would love for my kids to go to sleep on demand, just like I'd love walls without hand prints or a bedroom that doesn't double as a doll and toy minefield. And while we're at it, I'd like to wear dry cleaning within a mile of my house.
How can beings so small, so cute, be so utterly destructive and exhausting?
As far as kids and sleep goes, so far I'm 2-for-4. My twins were easy on the sleep front once they passed age two, though early on it felt like Vietnam.
These days, my younger ones are creating their own legacy.
When Audra was two she went through a diva phase, constantly changing her clothes. One night I awoke to the thump of little feet. Over the next week or so I would open her bedroom door and find her in one of three states:
1. Naked in front of a pile of clothes.
2. Asleep on top of a pile of clothes, either naked or in a, ahem, creative ensemble.
3. Running around the room in a creative ensemble.
We were forced to move all clothes to the top shelves of her closet.
As parents, we continually move things higher, out of a kid's way, as if a flood has struck the living room. Show me your refrigerator door and I can guess your kids age within two years.
Then there's Drea, who somehow can't fall asleep unless strapped into a car seat, and appears ready to vault out of her crib a la Mary Lou Retton.
If I can stay awake long enough, look for my follow-up book, "I'm Too Old For This Sh*t."
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
The Unknown Blogger
A friend of mine was recently lamenting the fact that a member of his family, an elected official, is often attacked on Internet message boards.
He's not bothered by criticism per say but that the fact that most of it comes via anonymous "comments" on political and newsie websites.
In the old days a dissenter had a few choices. Either show up at a meeting or hearing, call or write letters. And if your letter made it into the local rag, it was signed. By you. Name and city.
I'm not a fan of message boards, which are kind of like shouting out the window at passing cars.
But they're here to stay, along with our increasingly "anonymous" society.
Ironically, we become more anonymous by embracing Facebook and Twitter, "sharing" technologies that allow us to secretly view each others lives.
Does anonymity have limits?
The other day I came across this item in the Chicago Tribune in a story about President Obama's jobs plan.
"In his remarks, the president will make clear he's not going to support any plan that asks something of some Americans and nothing of others." This was according to a White House aide, speaking on condition of anonymity in a conference call with reporters.
Something is amiss here, beyond my "well duh" reaction to Deep Throat's earth shattering revelation.
A conference call?
First I've heard of that one. When I hear "anonymous source" I think of trench coats, chapeaus and parking garages, not a conference line and bank of microphones. I suppose the source used one of those voice altering machines you see on shows like 60 Minutes, or maybe as an extra precaution sat behind one of those kiddie "puppet stages" with the shade drawn.
And how did this source get the word out for the conference call? Maybe via email: "Please join me as I leak very special information about the Obama jobs plan." Or perhaps, borrowing from Gordon Gekko, "Blue Horseshoe loves Obama's jobs plan."
The conference call had to be set up en masse, no phone calls, because any reporter worth a darn would beg for an exclusive.
This is cheating, plain and simple. The annonymous source meets message boards.
If you are going to hurl tomatoes, or leak information, follow the rules.
Signed,
The Unknown Blogger
He's not bothered by criticism per say but that the fact that most of it comes via anonymous "comments" on political and newsie websites.
In the old days a dissenter had a few choices. Either show up at a meeting or hearing, call or write letters. And if your letter made it into the local rag, it was signed. By you. Name and city.
I'm not a fan of message boards, which are kind of like shouting out the window at passing cars.
But they're here to stay, along with our increasingly "anonymous" society.
Ironically, we become more anonymous by embracing Facebook and Twitter, "sharing" technologies that allow us to secretly view each others lives.
Does anonymity have limits?
The other day I came across this item in the Chicago Tribune in a story about President Obama's jobs plan.
"In his remarks, the president will make clear he's not going to support any plan that asks something of some Americans and nothing of others." This was according to a White House aide, speaking on condition of anonymity in a conference call with reporters.
Something is amiss here, beyond my "well duh" reaction to Deep Throat's earth shattering revelation.
A conference call?
First I've heard of that one. When I hear "anonymous source" I think of trench coats, chapeaus and parking garages, not a conference line and bank of microphones. I suppose the source used one of those voice altering machines you see on shows like 60 Minutes, or maybe as an extra precaution sat behind one of those kiddie "puppet stages" with the shade drawn.
And how did this source get the word out for the conference call? Maybe via email: "Please join me as I leak very special information about the Obama jobs plan." Or perhaps, borrowing from Gordon Gekko, "Blue Horseshoe loves Obama's jobs plan."
The conference call had to be set up en masse, no phone calls, because any reporter worth a darn would beg for an exclusive.
This is cheating, plain and simple. The annonymous source meets message boards.
If you are going to hurl tomatoes, or leak information, follow the rules.
Signed,
The Unknown Blogger
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Nobody's Foil on 9/11
Aluminum foil.
My wife will tell you I have an aversion to it. A big one.
I'm not afraid of it, but won't use it, unless I have no choice.
Growing up, my father used aluminum foil. And reused it. There was a drawer in our kitchen full of crumpled, crinkly used pieces of foil.
In fact, I don't recall seeing a fresh sheet of aluminum foil, coming from the box, until my mid-twenties.
We didn't grow up poor, and my parents aren't cheap.
My father, my parents, were children of war.
My Dad was 8 years old on December 7, 1941.
He grew up outside of St. Louis in a home often shared with soldiers from a nearby military base.
He knew sacrifice. As part of the war effort, aluminum was rationed along with food and other commodities.
He never forgot.
Growing up I remember hijackings and showdowns with the Soviets. I remember sitting in the school hallway with my head under a book, hiding from nukes, or whatever was headed our way.
I wondered how, when I heard about guerrilla warfare, they managed to escape the zoo and learn how to use a gun.
I remember vividly "The Day After," a movie about life after a nuclear bomb hits Lawrence, Kansas.
Have you seen any 9/11 specials, or read any articles?
So far I've seen little. It's too raw, too soon, too real.
They say 9/11 is our generations' Pearl Harbor.
If 9/11 was our Pearl Harbor, the parallel ends there, as we engaged in two wars which involved no shared sacrifice. No draft, war bonds or rationing. A missed opportunity by our leaders to truly unite our country.
My oldest children (twins) were 3 years old on 9/11.
My children, like my parents, are children of war, but they're growing up with little sense that life is different. They need to be reminded of war, which is sad.
So do we. Other than a longer wait for an airplane, we have little tangible evidence of war, other than lives sacrificed and a $3 trillion Visa bill.
Are we safer today than ten years ago? It seems we are, but seems is the operative word.
My twins, now in 8th grade, came home from school this week with a questionnaire for parents about 9/11. I found myself defining terrorism. "If we're scared or back down from our way of life, the terrorists win."
My daughter Nora asked, "What can we do to remember 9/11?"
That's an easy one. Cherish our freedom, and never forget.
My parents probably don't know Kid Rock from a pet rock, but they would appreciate his anthem "Born Free." My kids do.
And they don't use aluminum foil.
My wife will tell you I have an aversion to it. A big one.
I'm not afraid of it, but won't use it, unless I have no choice.
Growing up, my father used aluminum foil. And reused it. There was a drawer in our kitchen full of crumpled, crinkly used pieces of foil.
In fact, I don't recall seeing a fresh sheet of aluminum foil, coming from the box, until my mid-twenties.
We didn't grow up poor, and my parents aren't cheap.
My father, my parents, were children of war.
My Dad was 8 years old on December 7, 1941.
He grew up outside of St. Louis in a home often shared with soldiers from a nearby military base.
He knew sacrifice. As part of the war effort, aluminum was rationed along with food and other commodities.
He never forgot.
Growing up I remember hijackings and showdowns with the Soviets. I remember sitting in the school hallway with my head under a book, hiding from nukes, or whatever was headed our way.
I wondered how, when I heard about guerrilla warfare, they managed to escape the zoo and learn how to use a gun.
I remember vividly "The Day After," a movie about life after a nuclear bomb hits Lawrence, Kansas.
Have you seen any 9/11 specials, or read any articles?
So far I've seen little. It's too raw, too soon, too real.
They say 9/11 is our generations' Pearl Harbor.
If 9/11 was our Pearl Harbor, the parallel ends there, as we engaged in two wars which involved no shared sacrifice. No draft, war bonds or rationing. A missed opportunity by our leaders to truly unite our country.
My oldest children (twins) were 3 years old on 9/11.
My children, like my parents, are children of war, but they're growing up with little sense that life is different. They need to be reminded of war, which is sad.
So do we. Other than a longer wait for an airplane, we have little tangible evidence of war, other than lives sacrificed and a $3 trillion Visa bill.
Are we safer today than ten years ago? It seems we are, but seems is the operative word.
My twins, now in 8th grade, came home from school this week with a questionnaire for parents about 9/11. I found myself defining terrorism. "If we're scared or back down from our way of life, the terrorists win."
My daughter Nora asked, "What can we do to remember 9/11?"
That's an easy one. Cherish our freedom, and never forget.
My parents probably don't know Kid Rock from a pet rock, but they would appreciate his anthem "Born Free." My kids do.
And they don't use aluminum foil.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Remember When...
"Remember when' is the lowest form of conversation".
So says Tony Soprano during an episode of "The Sopranos" the other night.
Some shows never get old. I find myself watching reruns of shows like "The Sopranos," "King of Queens" or movies like "Caddyshack" over and over. I've seen "Goodfellas" so many times that I am prepared to perform it live for birthdays, Bat Mitvahs and Shriner dinners.
Guy thing.
The quote struck me, but "remember when" requires context. In Tony Soprano's case, he said it to a group over dinner as he left the table. The group included one of his captains, Paulie "Walnuts" Gualtieri. Paulie had been holding court, telling tales of life in the mob to a couple of buxom blondes. As in, "Remember when our friend disappeared off Long Island?"
So yes, Tony is right. It's best not to reminisce about capital crimes in public.
But is "remember when" the lowest form of conversation? Lower than gossip?
And isn't "remember when" important not only for linking ourselves to our past but also our family and friends?
Our family has had a challenging year. Harassment, the death of my father-in-law, work stress.
As they say, a crisis doesn't change people, it just exposes them.
We have also had some wonderful moments.
I got to watch my middle daughter perfect her latest dance moves.
I watched my son grow like a weed. I still beat him at arm wrestling, but it's getting close.
I held my oldest daughter's hand as we merrily jumped off a raft while on vacation.
And I chased my youngest daughter, everywhere. At 15 months, think of her as a top being pulled with a rip cord.
I had a chance to attend my 25th high school reunion, the ultimate "remember when." Those touchdown runs only get longer with time, especially for brutes like me who never carried the ball. Why let the truth get in the way of a good story?
We also had a family member diagnosed with dementia. So painful, watching a vibrant, successful woman slowly lose touch with her surroundings. And yet there still is a twinkle in her eye, a glimpse of what once was.
So no, Mr. Soprano, I think you have it wrong.
"Remember when" might seem mundane. Until you can't.
So says Tony Soprano during an episode of "The Sopranos" the other night.
Some shows never get old. I find myself watching reruns of shows like "The Sopranos," "King of Queens" or movies like "Caddyshack" over and over. I've seen "Goodfellas" so many times that I am prepared to perform it live for birthdays, Bat Mitvahs and Shriner dinners.
Guy thing.
The quote struck me, but "remember when" requires context. In Tony Soprano's case, he said it to a group over dinner as he left the table. The group included one of his captains, Paulie "Walnuts" Gualtieri. Paulie had been holding court, telling tales of life in the mob to a couple of buxom blondes. As in, "Remember when our friend disappeared off Long Island?"
So yes, Tony is right. It's best not to reminisce about capital crimes in public.
But is "remember when" the lowest form of conversation? Lower than gossip?
And isn't "remember when" important not only for linking ourselves to our past but also our family and friends?
Our family has had a challenging year. Harassment, the death of my father-in-law, work stress.
As they say, a crisis doesn't change people, it just exposes them.
We have also had some wonderful moments.
I got to watch my middle daughter perfect her latest dance moves.
I watched my son grow like a weed. I still beat him at arm wrestling, but it's getting close.
I held my oldest daughter's hand as we merrily jumped off a raft while on vacation.
And I chased my youngest daughter, everywhere. At 15 months, think of her as a top being pulled with a rip cord.
I had a chance to attend my 25th high school reunion, the ultimate "remember when." Those touchdown runs only get longer with time, especially for brutes like me who never carried the ball. Why let the truth get in the way of a good story?
We also had a family member diagnosed with dementia. So painful, watching a vibrant, successful woman slowly lose touch with her surroundings. And yet there still is a twinkle in her eye, a glimpse of what once was.
So no, Mr. Soprano, I think you have it wrong.
"Remember when" might seem mundane. Until you can't.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Money Can't Buy Me Love, or Wins
Dateline Miami.
Nevin Shapiro, a University of Miami booster, came forward this week alleging he paid thousands, and thousands, of dollars to Miami Hurricane jocks for the past eight years. 72 athletes are named as recipients of Shapiro's alleged largess.
What's not "alleged" is that Shapiro is squealing from the federal pen, where he is serving a 20-year sentence for running a billion dollar ponzi scheme. He's got an ax to grind since all of his newly bought friends bailed on him when he was sent away.
Shapiro says he paid cash to jocks, took them on his yacht, gave them NBA tickets and threw wild parties with women who weren't brownie scouts.
Yada yada yada.
One of the athletes named is former Cane and current Chicago Bear Devin Hester, who when initally asked about Shapiro said he never met him, then when shown pictures of him and Shapiro frollicking around town clammed up faster than a frog in a bee hive.
The NCAA can't touch Hester, or any other athletes no longer in school. But it's serious stuff, especially if coaches were in the know.
It's not the first time Miami has been in the penalty box. In the 80s Miami Hurricanes footballers were brash, dominant and well paid.
They won three national champinships.
Which is what struck me most about the Shapiro story.
Boosters waving cash is here to stay, but the money tossed around in this scandal went to bad teams. The Canes were mediocre in the years Shapiro alleges he paid players, which means either he continued with bad investments or other schools were paying more.
It's not the worlds oldest profession, but using money to buy influence is nothing new. The roll call of busted schools this year alone is extensive: Ohio State, USC, LSU, Georgia Tech.
And probably Miami.
I'm proposing yet another bowl game. The Lawyers.com Probation Bowl will pair the two ineligible teams with the highest year end rankings. Pay per view of course, with the money going directly towards sports cars for the winners.
Tickets are available, but only on street corners from men in dark shades and rain coats.
Nevin Shapiro, a University of Miami booster, came forward this week alleging he paid thousands, and thousands, of dollars to Miami Hurricane jocks for the past eight years. 72 athletes are named as recipients of Shapiro's alleged largess.
What's not "alleged" is that Shapiro is squealing from the federal pen, where he is serving a 20-year sentence for running a billion dollar ponzi scheme. He's got an ax to grind since all of his newly bought friends bailed on him when he was sent away.
Shapiro says he paid cash to jocks, took them on his yacht, gave them NBA tickets and threw wild parties with women who weren't brownie scouts.
Yada yada yada.
One of the athletes named is former Cane and current Chicago Bear Devin Hester, who when initally asked about Shapiro said he never met him, then when shown pictures of him and Shapiro frollicking around town clammed up faster than a frog in a bee hive.
The NCAA can't touch Hester, or any other athletes no longer in school. But it's serious stuff, especially if coaches were in the know.
It's not the first time Miami has been in the penalty box. In the 80s Miami Hurricanes footballers were brash, dominant and well paid.
They won three national champinships.
Which is what struck me most about the Shapiro story.
Boosters waving cash is here to stay, but the money tossed around in this scandal went to bad teams. The Canes were mediocre in the years Shapiro alleges he paid players, which means either he continued with bad investments or other schools were paying more.
It's not the worlds oldest profession, but using money to buy influence is nothing new. The roll call of busted schools this year alone is extensive: Ohio State, USC, LSU, Georgia Tech.
And probably Miami.
I'm proposing yet another bowl game. The Lawyers.com Probation Bowl will pair the two ineligible teams with the highest year end rankings. Pay per view of course, with the money going directly towards sports cars for the winners.
Tickets are available, but only on street corners from men in dark shades and rain coats.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Camp Getmeottahere
There are three "young child activities" every adult should witness at least once:
1. Watching a child eat an ice cream cone
2. Watching a child dance
3. Watching a child head off to summer camp
I have experienced all three in the past month through the eyes of my 4 year old daughter.
We signed her up for summer camp three days a week.
Could have done five days, or seven, or ten. The kid has not had a moment of separation anxiety since birth. I am confident if we dropped her off in Paris for a week we would return to find her in a beret sipping cafe au lait, surrounded by her new native friends.
On the first day of camp it's hard to tell who is more excited, the kids or the newly sprung parents, who suddenly has time to sip coffee without dodging toys and vomit.
But you get used to it.
It has been a few years since my older kids started summer camp. Now it's as routine for them as waking up in time for lunch. In fact, I'm planning to found "Camp Wanderteen" next year, where the sole activity will be aimlessly roaming parks while plugged in to an ipod.
The camp experience has me thinking, what would happen if adults were loaded up on buses, with backpacks and baseball hats, for four weeks of summer fun?
Here are a few activities for "Camp Getmeottahere:"
"Sweet Dreams" - Campers sit in circle time and hear stories about strenuous exercise and evenings that end after 9pm. Those who fall asleep the fastest get a special prize.
"Organ recital" - Campers line up to discuss their various ailments, with points awarded based on degree of acceptance. Bald spots and pouches get top billing.
"Connect me not" - Campers troll the mall with a blackberry connecting all day while ignoring those in their immediate presence.
"Remote duel" - Campers sit in front of flat screens and are timed to see how many shows they can fully recall over a single hour of channel hopping. Sporting events excluded, and women are given a five show lead.
How have your camp experiences been? I invite you to comment and would enjoy hearing from you.
1. Watching a child eat an ice cream cone
2. Watching a child dance
3. Watching a child head off to summer camp
I have experienced all three in the past month through the eyes of my 4 year old daughter.
We signed her up for summer camp three days a week.
Could have done five days, or seven, or ten. The kid has not had a moment of separation anxiety since birth. I am confident if we dropped her off in Paris for a week we would return to find her in a beret sipping cafe au lait, surrounded by her new native friends.
On the first day of camp it's hard to tell who is more excited, the kids or the newly sprung parents, who suddenly has time to sip coffee without dodging toys and vomit.
But you get used to it.
It has been a few years since my older kids started summer camp. Now it's as routine for them as waking up in time for lunch. In fact, I'm planning to found "Camp Wanderteen" next year, where the sole activity will be aimlessly roaming parks while plugged in to an ipod.
The camp experience has me thinking, what would happen if adults were loaded up on buses, with backpacks and baseball hats, for four weeks of summer fun?
Here are a few activities for "Camp Getmeottahere:"
"Sweet Dreams" - Campers sit in circle time and hear stories about strenuous exercise and evenings that end after 9pm. Those who fall asleep the fastest get a special prize.
"Organ recital" - Campers line up to discuss their various ailments, with points awarded based on degree of acceptance. Bald spots and pouches get top billing.
"Connect me not" - Campers troll the mall with a blackberry connecting all day while ignoring those in their immediate presence.
"Remote duel" - Campers sit in front of flat screens and are timed to see how many shows they can fully recall over a single hour of channel hopping. Sporting events excluded, and women are given a five show lead.
How have your camp experiences been? I invite you to comment and would enjoy hearing from you.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Men are Weiners
I was sorry to see TNT's "Men of A Certain Age" canceled after two seasons.
The show had a great cast and was smartly written, so naturally it drew a few more viewers than a public access zoning hearing. I suppose without "very special episodes," DNA tests or brawling hillbillies it was doomed.
"Men" focused on the lives of three middle aged guys played by Andre Braugher, Ray Romano and a third guy I had never heard of (Scott Bakula, who was good).
One memorable episode had the boys heading off to Palm Springs for colonoscopies in celebration of Terry's (Bakula) 50th birthday.
As an aside, if my wife is reading this, I would prefer a tie or golf balls.
When the boys weren't playing candid camera they ate at a diner and hiked a mountain.
Sound boring? It wasn't.
Every time I watched I thought "these writers get it." To paraphrase Bruno Kirby in When Harry Met Sally, it "spoke to me."
More importantly, it was television's most honest portrayal of middle aged men in recent memory.
Let's face it, most guys can't honestly portray themselves.
I was also struck by the timing of "Men's" cancellation on the heels of the Anthony Weiner scandal.
For those of us trying to forget, Weiner is a now former member of Congress forced to resign after taking pictures, not of his colon but just about everything else. He sent the pictures to women he had never met throughout the country. After 10 days or so of denial, he finally admitted the pictures were of him, by him.
Then I came across an interesting article about men and the Weiner scandal:
http://family.lifegoesstrong.com/outraged-women-whats-wrong-men
My two takeaways:
1. Women are upset with mopes like Weiner who can't seem to control themselves as they bathe in the raw sewage of power.
2. A psychologist (Michael Bader) suggests that we "look with curiosity and compassion and see these (powerful) men as complex human beings, full of feelings of longing, anxiety, and guilt."
So because men are complex it excuses their behavior?
I, for one, hope if Weiner's wife was given the explanation, "I'm complex, misunderstood, needy or some combination thereof," her initial reaction was "Boo hoo" and that there were no sharp objects in the room.
Yes, men are complex. So are women. The difference is that most men aren't willing to examine their complexities, preferring to slog along through life holding the proverbial wooden club over their shoulder.
They're out of touch. With themselves.
As a result, women do back flips for a man who is even remotely emotionally available. I think women tuned in to "Men of A Certain Age" for a glimpse of men as they want to experience them.
It's sad when a show like "Men of A Certain Age," with its honest examination of men's complexities, is bagged for a lack of viewers.
And men metaphorically canceled.
When men expose complexities it isn't very welcome, even in a fictional setting.
The show had a great cast and was smartly written, so naturally it drew a few more viewers than a public access zoning hearing. I suppose without "very special episodes," DNA tests or brawling hillbillies it was doomed.
"Men" focused on the lives of three middle aged guys played by Andre Braugher, Ray Romano and a third guy I had never heard of (Scott Bakula, who was good).
One memorable episode had the boys heading off to Palm Springs for colonoscopies in celebration of Terry's (Bakula) 50th birthday.
As an aside, if my wife is reading this, I would prefer a tie or golf balls.
When the boys weren't playing candid camera they ate at a diner and hiked a mountain.
Sound boring? It wasn't.
Every time I watched I thought "these writers get it." To paraphrase Bruno Kirby in When Harry Met Sally, it "spoke to me."
More importantly, it was television's most honest portrayal of middle aged men in recent memory.
Let's face it, most guys can't honestly portray themselves.
I was also struck by the timing of "Men's" cancellation on the heels of the Anthony Weiner scandal.
For those of us trying to forget, Weiner is a now former member of Congress forced to resign after taking pictures, not of his colon but just about everything else. He sent the pictures to women he had never met throughout the country. After 10 days or so of denial, he finally admitted the pictures were of him, by him.
Then I came across an interesting article about men and the Weiner scandal:
http://family.lifegoesstrong.com/outraged-women-whats-wrong-men
My two takeaways:
1. Women are upset with mopes like Weiner who can't seem to control themselves as they bathe in the raw sewage of power.
2. A psychologist (Michael Bader) suggests that we "look with curiosity and compassion and see these (powerful) men as complex human beings, full of feelings of longing, anxiety, and guilt."
So because men are complex it excuses their behavior?
I, for one, hope if Weiner's wife was given the explanation, "I'm complex, misunderstood, needy or some combination thereof," her initial reaction was "Boo hoo" and that there were no sharp objects in the room.
Yes, men are complex. So are women. The difference is that most men aren't willing to examine their complexities, preferring to slog along through life holding the proverbial wooden club over their shoulder.
They're out of touch. With themselves.
As a result, women do back flips for a man who is even remotely emotionally available. I think women tuned in to "Men of A Certain Age" for a glimpse of men as they want to experience them.
It's sad when a show like "Men of A Certain Age," with its honest examination of men's complexities, is bagged for a lack of viewers.
And men metaphorically canceled.
When men expose complexities it isn't very welcome, even in a fictional setting.
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