Dad, you may wonder why a mom needs a doula if they are going to be there.  Eoulas are as much for you as they are for the mom!

My DH said after Bryson’s birth, “Why didn’t we have a doula for all our births?”  He LOVED having a doula.  Often dads are the biggest proponents of doulas once they have experienced birth with one.  It takes the pressure off, so they can enjoy the journey.

Here is a great blog post delving deeper into this question of the Daddy-Doula dynamic.

I’m frustrated. Let me tell you part of what’s making me frustrated:

I haven’t heard from my father since July. Last time I saw him was my high school graduation, and that’s also the last time my sister had any contact with him. We didn’t hear from him this whole holiday week. It seems to me that the role of parent is one to call the kids and see how they are doing, not the other way around. However, last time I spoke to him, I called him.

This mainly bothers me because this is my sister’s senior year, and the guy never went to see her be a Drum Major at one of the football games, he hasn’t called to see how her year is going, see what her college plans are, etc. If he reads this, it may be the first that he hears that she made the NCDA All- Region Honor Band this year. (Yeah, she did, on Bass Clarinet.) Now that I think about it, it was usually me who called him my senior year. Maybe because I wanted that relationship. I’m not sure. But now? He’s not around, therefore there is no relationship. It’s unfortunate, and kind of sucky, but I suppose I shouldn’t have expected any more from him. He has the best intentions that he NEVER follows through with.

My kiddo snapped this picture at his school's Cowboy Round-Up.

“I saw the bobcat by the shed. I think it’s here because of the rabbits,” my dad said the other day. “There aren’t as many rabbits around now.”

“Do you remember when I tried to hide rabbits in my closet, Dad?” We have never talked about those rabbits.

“Sure,” he said. “That bobcat is big. I didn’t know bobcat’s got that big. And it’s skinny and tall.”

“Gee, I didn’t know they were very big either, Dad.” We didn’t talk about the rabbits in the closet.

I don’t know what I wanted my dad to say about those rabbits.

I don’t know what I want people to say about my writing either. Being a writer is a hell of a way to live–you might get compliments you can’t believe, you get criticism you don’t want to hear, or you get nothing at all. Did you read my story? Sure. What do you think about bobcats?

In graduate school I met a guy whose job in the Gulf War was to pick corpses up from the roads. He fidgeted in class. The writing life is not that life. It is a luxury. And still I can whine about how much I put into it and I don’t hear what I want to hear.

But when I was a kid, I didn’t hide those rabbits so that my dad and me could have a magical conversation decades later. I’m not writing so that I can hear that magical compliment. I’m writing because I’ve avoided thousands of other jobs.

Are you able to say exactly what you want from others when you write? Money? How much? A compliment? What would that compliment be? Approval? From whom? Revolution? From what?

And when your writing insecurities get out of hand (if you’re the sort of person that happens to), what helps you put things back in perspective?

My friend Tanya and I were talking about cool dads last night. She was trying to explain it to me because I don’t get it. In my head, just ’cause you like hip new things and you’re a father doesn’t mean you’re cool. Or that you’re a cool dad, for that matter. In my head, just ’cause you get the shenanigans of your kids doesn’t make you a cool dad.

I mean, witness:

(photo from here)

John Puruntong of John and Marsha was not a cool dad

(photo from here)

(photo from here)

and the best example I can think of:

Papa Al is the coolest of them all: tube socks, high-waited towel, and nothing more

Lord knows they aren’t cool. But tell me, please, if they aren’t cool dads. Right? Homer’s a hero! And John Puruntong is a class of his own. Pa Al, he’s slowly becoming a legend. Peter Griffin, I’m not too familiar. his photo just sums it up. ehehe

In my head, being a cool dad takes time. You have to play the role of a dad, first. You must embarrass your kids first—that’s your right as a father. You have to order them around and take advantage of your role. (cue evil laughter). And then you lose grace at some point.

At some point, life will break you, as Bill Hicks has said.

And then you become friends with your children. You tell them about your life back when you had one. You impress them with tales of your own shenanigans. You tell them of your glory days, of back then, of how, when you were their age, you knew far more things than they know now. You did more things than they do more now. Had a healthier love life than they do now. You would have established that you were a cooler person than they are now.

Then you become a cool dad. Your kids will realize that you are too cool for school. They’ll realize that it’s not because you’re uncool refusing to go, say, binge-drinking with them. It’s that a long time ago, you have. And you’ve outdrunk them. And all that is old, old, old news.

In my head is family rule number 3: don’t bother with the present parenting trend of coolness.

Family rule number 4: coolness comes with age.

Josh in West Hollywood

Josh didn’t get to see his dad on Thanksgiving so he saw him two days later.

Just got back from North Carolina. My trip was entirely too short, but it was great. I brought Tanya down with me and introduced her to the whole family. I think she had a great time, and my family really liked her. Oh, and the food… god it was amazing. Anyways, here are some pictures She took while we were down. I’ll have to break this picture post up into parts because I’ve got a lot photos to post!

Famed chocolatier Jacques Torres just released his new product, Fleur de Sel. These caramels are chewy and sweet with a hint of salt. Comes in a pack of 9 pieces, $9.

Grr.
Sometimes dad is just crazy.
I don’t know how to deal with him.
His choice of words is disturbing.
His manner is difficult to comprehend.

I suppose I have grown much these years.
I can endure without crying.
Perhaps love have its different ways…
Only my capacity to understand is limited.

“Take my hand. It’s okay, don’t be scared.”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere they can’t hurt us.”

“But I’ll hurt us…”

“You won’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because i trust you. And maybe i know you a little better than you do.”

Take my hand. It’s okay, don’t be scared. We’re going somewhere they can’t hurt us. We’re going somewhere warm. I know you hate the cold. Another thing we have in common. We’re going somewhere we’ll be alone. I know you hate people. So do i. Funny how we have so many in common. Coincidence? Doubt it. There’s no such thing.

I always hurt. Myself, you, everyone. I don’t want to.  I keep doing the same things over and over again. It’s like something is in my head, and it’s making me forget. I’m always so impulsive. I got that from my dad. I got his temperament too. I wish i could be more like my mom…

Did i tell you how perfect i think you are for me? I think you are more than perfect for me.

Keep me safe while i sleep. And I’ll keep you safe while you sleep. You look so peaceful when you sleep. And innocent. Just like a child. I love watching you sleep and cradling you in my arms. “And I’m wondering what you’re dreaming/ Wondering if it’s me you’re seeing”.

I wish i could be your heroine, just like you are my hero.

My Dad joined the league of hobbyist’s photographers, when photography was the forte of a few. Those were the days of ‘black and white’ photographs. Cameras were not nifty gadgets then and SD cards were unheard of.

In 1970’s he returned from his travels abroad with a sleek German – Zeiss Ikon, a classic piece of work and a photographer’s delight. He held it out for us to admire and pointed out its features – a 35mm rangefinder, a built-in exposure meter, and high quality zoom lenses. There was an expression of awe on his face which implied that it was anathema for us to touch it. We accepted his discipline unquestioningly.

Shoot sessions took a whole afternoon, and all photographs were shot on film. A single Kodapak cartridge of 12 or 24 images per roll would be made last a couple of months as Kodak’s prices were exorbitant. On his next travel abroad he bought a slide projector and a few color film rolls of 24 images per roll. Great deal of planning went into the shoot sessions now. Time was spent on calculating angles, lighting, shadows and the rest. Camera timers were tested and tripods were used to ensure the whole family was captured on a single frame. My mother began to tire of his hobby. Then came the knowledge that Kodak did not develop color photographs in India as the technology did not exist. My Dad sent the completed film to Delhi and thence to London to have them developed. When the photographs came back – six months later, they were picture perfect. None of them were out of focus. After nightfall friends and neighbors would gather to view the slides. We huddled in a darkened room with the slide projector whirring, comforted by the heat the projector emanated.

After my Dad died, we ransacked his belongings scanning the tons of memories he had accumulated. We hugged the albums and knew that we would never junk them. We found Kodak boxes with slides from the 60s neatly stored in aluminum boxes. Some Agfa and Fuji rolls were also stored. Dusty, unloved strips of negatives lay alongside. It reminded me of the care he took to load the camera spool making sure that the perforation on the films edge and the indexing pin on the camera would fit intimately so that the film would seamlessly and accurately frame itself by advancing far enough to position the next frame and no further. He never lost a single picture due to improper loading. An art I never mastered. The slide projector had joined the heap- of- the- obsolete years ago, but where was the camera? We all thought that the other had it but never asked? Dad probably used it last when digital cameras entered the market and manual cameras were considered outdated and cumbersome.

Today his camera is a collector’s item and the eBay listing shows a buying prize of $200. Ouch! That hurts. It is almost 2/3rd of the original price.

I hold up my cell phone and click a digital image. My eyes are moist. Through the haze, I visualize him standing erect, shoulders thrust back, the camera dangling from the neck and resting on his pot-belly. He is laughing and the camera is shaking as his tummy moves merrily. There is a happy contented smile on his face. For the love of the written word I write about his love for photography here.

Kids get sick.  A lot!  My nephew, Xander, is an industrious one and doesn’t let a simple illness keep him down.  Not five minutes after his mommy instructed him to stay away from his brother, Zereth, to keep him from getting sick as well, I overheard Xander threatening Zereth with a little germ warfare…  It’s no wonder when children get sick, their entire family (parents and siblings alike) are taken down with them.

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Dad’s always a hard person to shop for. Forget tools this year and put a smile on dad’s face with this unique and funny golf tee. Brought to you by a brand new etsy shop BWImageryNStuff . The “I suck” Golf Tee is a great gift for any and every golfer, newbie or seasoned pro.

The I Suck Golf Tee

I Suck Golf Tee

Description

Men’s Adult Hanes Beefy T shirt
High Quality Silk Screen Printed Golf Design.

Perfect for sports fans and golfing fans every where. Not just for dad. Buy it for any golfing man in your life. After all you can never have enough golfing tees.

Available in Sizes:
Medium-XXL
Colors Avail: Black or White

This item ships USPS Priority Mail Service.

Please allow 1-2 weeks for delivery.

BWImageryNStuff

Check Back with BWImageryNStuff more unique graphic t-shirt designs coming soon!

Taeyeon recently went to her parents’ optical shop. By the looks of it, Taeyeon is getting another pair of glasses. Even though the person who took these pictures has a creepster status, yay for catching the little kid leader there. It’s really sweet of her to visit her parents despite her busy schedule.

Here’s a clip of what the shop looks like and of her parents.

Video credits: Linklynh@Youtube

Picture credits: as-photo9 + soompi

My Thanksgiving was absolutely, insanely, ridiculously fun and perfect. First, I took a nap when we (my parents and I, my brothers both took off in brother D’s car) got to our destination. We ate at their long time friend’s place, who us kids have always called “Nanny” Nick (he used to help take care of us, diaper changes included). I hadn’t slept well and we got up super early to get out to Rancho Cucamonga so I ended up accidentally dozing off on the couch. When I woke up, I played a game of pool with brother S as they had a pool table (and a beer pong table!) in their backyard.

About 2 ½ hours after we arrived, dinner was ready. I stuffed myself full of turkey, mashed potatoes, brussel sprouts, green beans, stuffing and gravy. Plus 2 beers. Of course, I also went back for seconds. Actually I think I ate more than anyone, but hey it’s all good, especially since I have chemo next week. After about an hour – an hour and a ½, it was time for dessert. My mom makes the most best homemade cheesecake ever so of course I had to have some of that. Then while trying to watch the Raiders/Cowboys game, I slipped into a food coma and went down for nap #2 (oops!).

Immediately following my nap, I grabbed a 2nd slice of the most best homemade cheesecake ever and proceeded to play a game of beer pong with brother D, brother S and one of Nanny Nick’s step-sons. Normally I’m actually pretty decent at beer pong, but I woke up with a headache and only made 1 shot (totally embarrassing). Thankfully brother S was able to keep us going to victory.

Following beer pong, I went to the garage where everyone else was playing darts. I attempted to give it a go, but due to learning the very high risk I posed of hitting someone (anyone) in the head/face/neck with a dart, I decided that probably wasn’t really the game for me. So I decided to grab another beer from the fridge (no worries, I made a point to pace myself, especially because I didn’t want my mom to freak out) and watch everyone else play darts.

Once the night was drawing to a close, my parents, Nanny Nick, his wife Michelle, Nick’s daughter Sam, my parents and myself were all in the kitchen reminiscing of good times past + old funny stories (like the one time when brother D and I were 1 and 2 respectively, Nick and my dad somehow managed to blow up our brand new big screen; or the time when I ate my mom’s contact lenses and Nick took me in another room to get me to confess because I was afraid of my mom getting mad so she proceeded to call her optometrist who told her to just wait a day because I’d poop them out and I did). Talk about a good time and a laugh. Then it was time to get home.

Today was really great as well. I took a much needed (but quick) bike ride to Starbucks. Since we didn’t have the usual Thanksgiving leftovers, my parents thought it would be fun to hold a mini Thanksgiving feast for dinner. I had seconds (again!). Derek also came over, too. He is so sweet; he spent the earlier afternoon helping me put up my Christmas decorations in my bedroom (I always put them up the day after Thanksgiving), as I absolutely love having my room decorated along with the rest of the house. Whether or not our entire house will be decorated this year though unfortunately remains to be seen. However as the day went on, he started to feel unwell. I told him to get in my bed where he’s been resting all day/evening, and like a good girlfriend, I brought him a nice hot cup of tea and have done what I can to make him feel as comfortable as possible. After all, he’s been doing everything he can to take care of me these last many months I’ve been sick.

Now the night is winding down, I’ve watched Ghost Adventures (a fave show of mine on Travel Channel), written a blog post, prepared my nightly cup of tea and now it’s time to watch Dahmer (the movie) with my parents. Can’t wait to see what the weekend has in store for me as my last days before chemo come to an end.