DadLabs - The Daddy Blog

The ACLs of My Youth

DaddyClay — Mon, 12 May 2008 17:34:06 +0000

Every family has its orthodoxies, large and small, assumed and shared values that undergird the household. One of these for us: sports are good for kids, especially girls. Both my wife and I were college athletes. We think that Title IX is one of the glories of American civilization for what is has done for women's athletics, and for a generation of women and girls.

We have gently guided out six-year-old girl away from Hannah Montana and toward Mia Hamm. When she expressed a preference for basketball over dance, we were quietly satisfied. My wife has been very overt that cheerleading is forbidden. We both wept our way through In These Girls Hope is a Muscle. As teachers we have watched literally thousands of girls, over fifteen years in the classroom, benefit in the areas of self-esteem, confidence, and body-image as a result of participation in athletics.

And there have been plenty of studies that show sports help girl delay sexual activity, avoid drugs and alcohol, reduce eating disorders, and serve them well in their careers.

I sincerely hope, and if pushed would probably insist, that my daughter will participate in sports. Orthodoxy.

The fun starts when information emerges that, as a parent, really forces you to question your assumptions. Michael Sokolove's article "The Uneven Playing Field" in this weekend's New York Times Magazine was a gobsmacker for me. I kept shaking my head as I read page after page of his description and analysis of the epidemic of injuries plaguing high school and college age female athletes.

I won't summarize the article because if you have female children you will read it this instant without hesitation or objection. You must read it now.

The frequency of injury statistics (the article focuses on ACL injuries, but the news on concussions is equally bad) had me putting down the magazine to ponder. Five times more frequent? Times five! Orthodoxies are not easily shed, so I needed confirmation. The director of a girl's soccer club is a close friend. Over breakfast I asked him how many ACL injuries he had in the past season.

"Two."

"Really, that's not bad, just two in the whole club."

"Oh, the whole club? I thought you meant my team. Twelve."

One club. One season. A dozen girls with ruptured ACLs. It quite literally took my breath away.

In the article, club sports and specialization predictably come under heavy shelling, but as hard as Sokolove tries not to say it, the underlying message here is that any intense team sport puts girls at a very high risk of serious injury. Parents seemingly get a bye as the article characterizes girls submersed in a warrior culture insisting that they be allowed to push themselves beyond the limit.

My wife and I are not alone in our orthodoxy. Belief in girl's sports has become conventional wisdom backed up with the power of political correctness. To assert that competitive athletics may be hurting our girls is a tough one to make, and an even tougher one to swallow. This is a particularly personal issue for me, as my leg is pinstriped and crisscrossed with long scars from ACL reconstruction attempts performed before orthroscopes came into use. Jogging is out of the question. A knee replacement is in my future; it's just a matter of when.

So I told my son that football was off limits. Does that mean by extension that I should be turning the Hannah Montana back on? Talking up fashion? (Dance and cheerleading are certainly no safer.)

The article did offer some hope. Some sports medicine wonks believe that improving core strength (training these girls harder?) will reduce injuries, though the jury is out large study-wise. I certainly hope that this is true, because I simply do not want to be in the position to decide that despite the huge and permanent risks to my daughter, that sports are still worth it.

Join DadLabs at Freddie's Place May 13th

DaddyClay — Mon, 12 May 2008 14:34:15 +0000

Come on down tomorrow, Tuesday, May 13th from 4-7PM at Freddie's Place (1703 South 1st between Monroe and Annie) for another taping of "The Lounge." Freddie's is a new location for the taping, and we're really excited because the place is so damn family friendly we can't stand it. There is a great playscape, and our taping will be happening on kid movie night at Freddie's. This week "Bee Movie" will be showing.

So you can ship the kid off to sit in front of the big screen, grab yourself one of their potent and tasty margaritas, maybe order up a atasty burger, then sit down with us for a little chat. For those of you taking your turn in the hot seat, we'll be talking about charity/volunteering/giving back, game nights, kid movies, and, of course, sex.

So come take your turn in the hot seat, share your opinions of things parental, and get your snack on. Hope to see you there.

The Tao of Tires: Dad on the Rack

DaddyClay — Thu, 08 May 2008 17:00:23 +0000

I suspect that there are a number of Americans that would rather buy a new car than a new set of tires. Buying tires may be the most arcane, arbitrary, and opaque of all major purchases in the American consumerist universe. What is worse than buying tires? Dentistry? Is there anything that involves more secret codes, more rating systems, more shibboleths and buzzwords that getting a set of radials for the minivan? International arbitrage is a cinch by comparison.

The reason I have to buy new tires is that I pay off my minivan in two weeks. That’s just how it works. Pay off the note after five years, then immediately get slammed with new tires, bad oxygen sensor, need for transmission fluid change and oil change. At least a grand, all told. Could I please just keep paying for the car a little longer instead? You can keep the title.

I could just go to Costco and be done with it. Just take what tires I get. But I refuse to be bested by this thing. It’s the information age. So I crank up the Google machine and:

1) Consult How Things Work to learn about tires and all those numbers
2) Go to Consumer reports to figure out what tires they rate the highest
3) Go to Costco.com to learn that my 2003 Mazda MPV has exotic tires that they don’t carry (same with Walmart)
4) Consult NTB, Discount Tire, Goodyear, and Firestone
5) Get really depressed

Because it turns out that, in addition to being difficult to understand and evaluate, tires are incredibly expensive. This may have to do with the price of oil, or may be a function of the system described above. My initial study leads me to believe that if I want to replace my tires with anything like the original Dunlops, I’m in for a bill from $800-$900.

Now, I could go cheap. There is a rubber ocean out there. The problem with this is that Consumer reports only rates expensive tires. If I want something off brand, or cheaper, then it’s up to me to understand the interlocking rating systems (H vs T speed rated, Uniform Tire Quality Grading, whatever). The prospect of being defenseless and information-free in the face of a tire salesman makes me queasy. And even cheap tires are going to be $450, installed.

And then I think of my kids. Do I really want cheap tires? Isn’t this a fairly important component? Braking, wet performance, where the rubber meets the road, etc. I finally decide. I want Goodyear Triple Treads. I call the Goodyear guy and get quoted $875 installed. I decide I do not want Goodyear Triple Treads. I want Michelin Hydroedges.

At this point I decide that all the big chains are trying to price gouge me and I resolve to go local. I search all the local search sites. One shop rise above all the rest, with consumer raves all over the web -- a father/son spot. I resolve to go local. I call. I get the son. I tell him Michelin Hydroedge. He laughs.

“On a minivan? On some crappy minivan? You, really...Dude, if I was you, I would slap some cheap-ass Toyos on that an be done. It’s a minivan, right? Who cares? Like you need good tires on a minivan.” And on like that. But if I really want those Michelins, $800 out the door.

Let me be perfectly clear: I love my minivan. I think my minivan rocks. The “it’s only a minivan” argument doesn’t really work so well with me. So I ditch my “buy local” thing, go back to the internet, spend about a hundred hours researching tires, stores, prices. Finally, finally, I settle on a discount tire warehouse. Time spent obsessing and researching: 12 hours.

The following day, I’m picking up some party supplies at Costco. On a lark, I stop in the tire dept. Turns out they special order. Turns out their price if $50 cheaper, and I get a $60 cash card. Turns out that spending hours of research and thinking you can out smart the system and running all over town does not necessarily mean a great return.

But I do speak P215/60R17 95H.

And I’ll never forget it.

Daddy Brad of the Month

DaddyClay — Tue, 06 May 2008 19:29:15 +0000

We’ve always liked the folks over at iParenting Media. They gave our first DVD “Due Dads, The Man’s Survival Guide to Pregnancy” one of their awards. But now that have really shown that they have impeccable taste. They have chosen our own Daddy Brad as their Father of the Month for May (the Mother of the Month is Rikki Lake). The accompanying article is very nice, but are they really talking about our Brad? Like Brad Powell?

A nice honor for a genuinely great dad. Congrats, Daddy Brad!

The Miley Issue

DaddyClay — Tue, 29 Apr 2008 17:32:54 +0000

Is there really an issue here at all? I find the notion of taking trampy pictures of a fifteen year old to be a little distasteful, but how old are most models anyway? Would it put this in context if all models depicted in fashion magazines had their ages in boxes at the bottom of the frame? Miley would come in slightly below average, but not really by that much.

In terms of talking to the kids about it, I'm probably going to steer my six-year-old away from her subscription copy of Vanity Fair this month. She'll be crushed, I'm certain. Maybe I can distract her with a Cosmo.

I will own this much -- I have let my daughter watch Hannah Montana from time to time. It's a sure sign of my parenting decrepitude. Parenting fatigue. I was absolutely strict with Bubba about those live action tweeny shows that are all over the Disney channel. I even felt squeamish about High School Musical. It all seemed a little too cute boy/girl, kissy face subtexty to me. So I said no. But Hannah Montana, with the exception of the occasional appearance by Dolly Pardon, is generally without any suggestive subtext whatsoever. It's horrid, but it's not horny. So I felt okay about letting her watch.

A Times blogger felt compelled to show the photos to her daughter, which gets a resounding "hunh?" from me. Pre-emptive exposure to arty photography? I don't get it. What's to be gained by actively exposing the kid to the photos? Other than getting material for your blog, which puts her actions in the same category as Achy-Breaky Boy. Thoughts?

Vote for Daddy Troy So I Don't Have To

DaddyClay — Mon, 28 Apr 2008 03:43:39 +0000

While you want to support your friends and colleagues, there are some things a guy, no matter how evolved, simply cannot do. One of those things is vote for your boy in the Sexiest Web Host contest. Daddy Troy is the bomb. Amazing guy -- creative, talented. But casting a vote for him in the "Sweet Guy" category in Daisy Whitney's sexy web host poll would be completely...awkward.

Now, if you were the kind of guy that liked to give his friends and co-workers shit, this kind of thing is a t-ball, under-hand, lead-pipe-lock of an opportunity. But then, some things are just too easy.

So, because you are more mature than I am, go vote for Troy.

A Day At DadLabs: Lights Go Out, Monster Insect Attacks

DaddyClay — Fri, 25 Apr 2008 16:43:22 +0000

Just another day. Yesterday, we’re back in the studio putting together a show on sunburn when half the studio lights go out. Sunburn in the dark. Daddy Troy goes out back to fix the situation, and all the lights go out. After some swear words, half the lights come back on. Lots more swear words, guys running around yelling into cellphones, crawling in dusty places and such, meanwhile I’m sitting down because I have never owned a home, so have made it a point to be ignorant of all these things.

After a while, a surrender is declared, and Daddy Troy heads to Home Depot for a part. The solution for the shoot: run an extension cord from the studio, through the warehouse, into the crappy offices, up to the front door. Water cooler unplugged. Studio plugged in. And action.

So this is internet television. You have to unplug the water cooler to make it work.

So after a long day at the office, I get home and there is a dinner party under way with the Nice Couple From New York. The Nice Couple have children aged 3 and 1 that are scared to death of me but otherwise quite cute.

We’re lingering over dinner when Bubba requests my attention. This thing is sauntering through the living room. I immediately call over the Nice Couple From New York because I am confident that it will make them throw up. Mr. Nice Couple squeals in a high pitched voice and soils himself. Which causes the centipede to run under the couch.

The Nice Couple From New York excused themselves in one hell of a hurry, and the hunt was on. These things are venomous, by the way. I am wearing flipflops, but it turns out that Cuvaison Zinfandel is the anti-venom. I flipped the thing into a bucket and gave it to the kids to parade through the neighborhood (questionable judgement? Too much anti-venom). When they returned, I released it in the yard because centipedes this size are immortal. Seriously, cut them in half, both ends bite you.

So, basically, another Thursday.

Somewhat Sick Somewhat Sucks

DaddyClay — Thu, 24 Apr 2008 03:34:58 +0000

One of the worst diseases that a kid can get is the 99.3 disease. Just a slight fever, maybe a little runny nose, maybe a little cough. The. Worst.

Because this is just enough to keep the kid out of daycare, thereby casting two working parents into the my-meeting-is-more-important-than-your-meeting pit of hell. Then if you lose that argument (which I usually do and I can’t imagine why) you have to deal with a mostly healthy kid that wants to play and be entertained. If the kid has an honest to goodness flu, then he’s conked on the sofa and easy as pie to take care of. Hell, I’ll even bid on that. Work from home. Pat the sick kid’s head every once in a while. Cinch.

But the perfectly well sick kid will drive you nuts. He’s like regular, just extra grumpy. Doesn’t know exactly what he wants but he wants it this very damn instant. It demonstrates to me that I am not temperamentally suited to be a stay-at-home.

My day of nursing a healthy kid did lead to one beatific moment -- pushing my kiddo in the swing on a perfect spring day. Not many of those left. Coop will be four next month. He can swing himself and asked for a push just to be social I think. But you fall into that rhythm swinging a kid. He started singing a madeup song about being a superhero, oblivious to me. He was faster than Flash, swinging like that, and it made Flash mad, he sang, but he didn’t care.

Somebody please slow down time.

Texas Day Disaster: Dad Reads

DaddyClay — Mon, 21 Apr 2008 13:50:47 +0000

“Daddy, why were you wearing a napkin around your neck?” Ri-ri asked with such disdain in her voice that my stomach knotted. It was the most dispiriting criticism I’ve gotten since the Houston Chronicle declared my first play to be the dramatic equivalent of the process of evaporation.

I was flattered to be invited back to read to my daughter’s class. My first visit was pretty successful, IMHO. I was able to pick my own material, and I went to the standby -- Baloney, Henry P. Kids laughed; I read a couple more. So I wasn’t shocked that I got the return gig.

I was asked to come back and read for “Texas Day.” Do New Hampshire school kids have “New Hampshire Day?” Does “Illinois Day” exist? Here in the Lone Star State, the school children perform a pledge to both the federal and state flags each morning, and it just get loonier from there, culminating in Texas Day when all the kids wear boots and hats. You kind of have to live here to get it.

So I got invited back to read for Texas Day. I didn’t get to pick my own material, but was sent a stack of Texas-themed books, and when I arrived at the school I was informed that by “class” they meant the entire first grade. AKA 125 6 and 7-year olds. I had them for 45 minutes.

When they told me this, I about soiled my chaps.

If I had been able to get those for my costume, anyway, but as my daughter pointed out, I was a little weak in that department. Like any self-respecting native Texan, I always have boots in the closet, thought I prefer flip-flops. Straw cowboy hat -- got it. But I’m light in the western shirt and bandana department. So I improvised. Napkin was the closest thing. I choose maroon. I thought it would be very Roy Rogers, but I guess it was more Fred Flintstone.

I got really into the reading, multiple voices and accents, broad gesticulations. I even had some choreography for the kids to represent the stampede that Pecos Bill saves the town from. The kids were very quiet, as if they were watching a grown man lose his mind, so I kept getting louder.

When it was all done, they applauded, which was nice, but I noticed that none of the teachers would make eye contact. Ri-ri bounced up, gave me a big hug, and asked if she could go home with someone else. A friend.

Artists take risks. Maybe a more subtle approach was called for. Maybe a red faced man shouting in a strange voice and getting pretty sweaty is not most first-graders idea of entertainment. Personally, I think it was the napkin.

You Went to a Wine Festival with Your Kids?

DaddyClay — Thu, 17 Apr 2008 19:35:30 +0000

This is going to be a difficult case for you to make.

You understand that, on its face, the idea of taking the kids to the Texas Hill Country Wine and Food Festival looks bad. I get it that your kids spend the vast majority of their screen time watching shows on the Food Network, you heard repeated multimedia messages that said event was family friendly, and that some of your happiest marital moments have arisen from shared foody times. You sprung for the pricey tickets, packed a bag full of frisbees and outdoor toys, herded the family into the truckster and drove forty-five minutes to said fest.

And ended up with the biggest mass-meltdown, flameout, disaster in the history of your family.

But entitled, after leaving the fest after less than an hour, to a refund?

In my opinion, whether or not you are entitled to a refund centers around what a reasonable expectation of “family friendly” means. Obviously anyone going to a food and wine event can’t expect balloon clowns and pony rides around every corner, right? What’s the minimum?

-one food choice palatable to kids
-juice/softdrinks
-reasonable wait times for food
-one cooking demo or event appropriate for kids
-one area/activity for kids

What’s that you say? None of this was available? Maybe you’re just being bitchy and entitled. Not everything has to be built around families, Bucko, ever think of that? But you may have a point that if an event is going to bill itself as family friendly, and invite folks to spend precious entertainment dollars, a minimum number of activities and services are appropriate.

But get a refund, or even a return email? Keep dreaming.