Parents > Blogs > The Dadabase


Oversharenting Awareness: TMI About Your Kids In Social Media

May 15, 2012 at 8:23 pm , by

17 months.

Do you really want to know about a former high school classmate’s toddler’s pooping schedule? Or even worse, see the evidence?

Where do you draw the line on sharing your own child’s info on Facebook, Twitter, and any other social network?

I think about this constantly. From pictures, to videos, to status updates, to blog entries, I have to ask myself:

Am I doing this at the future expense of my son, as well as, the present expense of my reputation and my wife’s?

Am I exploiting my son or simply sharing the joy he brings me?

Ironically, today’s article wasn’t intended to be about this.

Instead, it was going to be entitled “Being Naked In Front Of Your Toddler.” It would have talked about how even though it’s not weird for your toddler to see their parents naked now, it will be in several years.

But my wife nixed it.

She said even though it’s probably a very relatable (and funny) topic for a lot of parents out there, it still falls in the “too much information” category. Because after all, there are definitely creepy people who search the Internet for that kind of stuff, in a bad way.

So I won’t be sharing the story about how a few weeks ago my wife snuck our son into the bathroom while I was in the shower and he pulled open the curtain, pointed up at me, and started laughing.

Because that could be considered “oversharenting.”

Oh well. Our society loves watching train wrecks. That’s why reality TV rules the major networks instead of classic laugh track-infused sitcoms with corny but catchy theme songs.

And maybe that’s why it’s easy not to hesitate to share too much information about our kids online.

Maybe we subconsciously follow the examples we see in our mainstream popular culture in which boundaries are irresponsibly set to help insure we snag enough “cool points” from our Facebook friends and Twitter followers.

I personally am always in danger of oversharenting. If not, this daddy blog of mine pretty much couldn’t exist. Or at least, it wouldn’t be interesting.

But as the conductor of this train, I keep a close watch on the tracks. As far as I know, I haven’t wrecked yet.

 

Henry: Jack’s Best Friend (And Long Lost Twin?)

May 14, 2012 at 10:09 pm , by

17 months.

Several months ago a blonde haired, blue eyed little boy named Henry showed up at Jack’s daycare. He and Jack are now best friends; I think it’s safe to assume.

By default, my wife and I have become friends with Henry’s parents; because, after all, we have to set up “play dates” for our sons. Henry and his family came over to our house for breakfast two months ago and it went well for all six of us.

So we decided to repeat. This past Saturday, we all met at The Pfunky Griddle (where we are every single Saturday anyway at 8:30).

As I sat across from Jack and Henry, I had this revelation that somehow makes sense in my head:

Henry is the Swedish version of Jack; Jack is the Norwegian version of Henry.

But (ir)regardless, they definitely favor in appearance and behavior.

As we left The Pfunky Griddle, we watched our sons run up and down the entry ramp in a delirious state of mind that conveyed the message, “I’m so going to fall asleep right after this!”

It’s interesting to see them react to each other outside of daycare; as if daycare is the Avatar world but in the real word they can’t actually see each other.

I guess it’s like when we were kids and saw our school teacher shopping at Walmart and were confused by the fact that she actually had a family and life outside of being a teacher at school.

I like watching them play together.

One day when I was picking up Jack from daycare I caught them both taking turns climbing to the top of a 2 foot tall padded play structure, pretending it was a mountain.

Each time one of them reached “the mountaintop,” they would throw their hands up in the air as if to say “Whew! I’m exhausted!”

Another time they were outside taking turns going down a 2 foot tall slide. Henry was taking his time getting comfortable for his descent down the slide and Jack, who was behind him, saw me; knowing that it was time to go.

Jack started pushing Henry in a “hurry up, man!” fashion to get one more turn in before I loaded him up in the Honda Element and made him listen to Matt Kearney’s newest CD for the 83rd time.

Jack and Henry deserve their own Eighties sitcom. Like the baby version of Bosom Buddies or Perfect Strangers.

I’d watch it.

 

The Lazy Smurf Version of Mother’s Day

May 14, 2012 at 9:11 pm , by

17 months.

Earlier last week I heard Jaci Valasquez say on her morning radio show on The Fish that what she wished for most on Mother’s Day was to take it easy while she and her husband watched their kids play.

I figured that sounded like a pretty good idea. So sure enough, I made sure we had the laziest Mother’s Day ever at our house.

There’s something anyway about waking up wearing a Smurfs t-shirt that says “Spaced Out” on it that leads to not taking to a shower, which somehow leads to us not leaving for church on time.

We were so slothful we not only were too late for the 9:30 and 11:00 services, but we barely made it on time for the 11:11 service.

It’s evidently designed for anyone who is just late enough that they need to watch the 11:00 service on an 11 minute delay on a giant movie screen in the big slacker room down the hall while coffee is being served.

That would be us: the slackers.

Not normally, though. Usually we’re okay to confirm to the strict and necessary weekend schedule it takes to socialize, buy groceries and run errands, go to church, and still clean the house, all with a toddler in tow, while living in a big enough town like Nashville.

But not this Mother’s Day. We chose to be as deliberately unmotivated as we could: Starbucks Frappucinos for brunch (where we pushed Jack around in one of their R2D2-looking kid stroller seats) and then had leftover pasta back at the house for a 3:00 lunch.

Jack took a 2 hour grace nap which led to us catching up on some Netlix. (We’re too cheap to ever pay for cable or satellite.)

“Hey, they have the show I Shouldn’t Be Alive now on the instant streaming…”.

Forty-three minutes later:

“That episode reminded me a lot of Lost. Umm… you want to watch Lost now?”

It was pushing Jack’s dinner time and we still had the house to clean.

In the likeness of one of those fast-forward montages in an Eighties sitcom where the characters clean up the mess real quick thanks to speed-dubbing, while zany music plays, Jill managed to get our place feng shui enough to feel comfortable while I entertained/annoyed Jack. (Pictured right.)

I took all the pillows from our couch and made a giant mountain that kept enclosing Jack as soon as he climbed to the top of it. Next I let him continually walk across our unnecessarily long couch until he got beyond giddy and delirious.

Then he discovered some forgotten (and dreadfully stale) fruit snacks in a travel-size container in the closet. I liked them better than he did.

At some point, Jack and I gave Jill her Mother’s Day care package which consisted of a card from Jack, a box of black licorice that were shaped like little hearts, and a gift certificate for a pedicure.

For us, it was a very lazy Sunday and what I have written is all I remember of it. But I already know Jill will look back on it as a good Mother’s Day; one worth repeating.

The moral of this story is to be lazy and then good things will happen.

The Real Threat To The Sanctity Of Marriage

May 11, 2012 at 9:31 pm , by

17 months.

I don’t feel threatened by how the government defines marriage because I firmly believe in the importance of separating church and state.

Do certain conservative believers in the Christian god have exclusiveness over the right to marriage, as recognized by the American government?

If so, then it’s time to start converting any non-Christian couples before they wed.

There is marriage as recognized by the nation I am a citizen of; then there is marriage as recognized by the particular religious faith I belong to.

Two separate things… and the first one is not something I’m too concerned with.

Though it makes me feel good that my wife took my last name.

It’s actually pretty funny to me when the same people who complain about the Ten Commandments not being displayed in government buildings can not even name all ten of the commandments.

And I always think it’s ridiculous when I hear that “they took prayer out of schools.” No. No they didn’t.

(I’m assuming “they” is referring to Communists and this is the year 1985?)

As the dad of a toddler and the husband of a Christian woman, I pray while holding them both each morning before we go our separate ways for the day. When my son Jack goes to his daycare, I don’t expect them to have prayer for him there.

If I want to teach my son to pray or to learn the Ten Commandments, then it’s my responsibility as his dad to teach him in my home.

I laughed pretty hard recently when I heard a guy complaining about the Presidential support of “legalizing gay marriage,” saying that it threatens the sanctity of marriage and the future of America.

The most obvious reason his viewpoint was invalid is because he unashamedly admits to watching pornography regularly and says there’s nothing wrong with flirting with other women in bars because at the end of the night he’s not going home with them, he’s going home to his wife.

Here’s what I know:

I’m protecting the sanctity of my marriage by loving my wife the best way I know how. That includes not coveting other women, keeping strong and open communication with my wife, spending quality time with her, and being the best dad I can be to our son. Oh, and prayer, too.

But not the kind endorsed by the government… because, you know, the government took away prayer from us.

Here’s the video I stole from a friend on Facebook that inspired this article. Now handing the mic to Julie Borowski:

 

My Toddler Son, The Baby Bartender

May 10, 2012 at 11:27 pm , by

17 months.

My wife Jill is one of those girls who keeps things very clean and organized. Now that I’ve been married to her for nearly 4 years, I have become a lot like her in that way.

Though for me, it’s more about keeping things feng shui.

And sure enough, without a doubt, our son has taken notice.

I suppose the theory on how my son reminds me of a baby bartender is that Jill would let him play with a moist diaper wipe while changing his diaper.

After having had observed her wiping off the counters every night after prepping dinner, Jack realized he could use his “toy” diaper wipe to help clean up around the house.

All it took was finding the perfect sized counter top for him to be able to wipe off: Our “coffee table,” which is actually intended to go outdoors on a patio but we found it on clearance and decided it can get the job done.

During his playtime, cleaning our coffee table has become one of his official activities that he enjoys doing. Last Saturday, I was sitting down in our living room watching him wipe it down when he casually, yet intently, came over to me and “washed” my back. Twice.

As he enjoyed his newest playtime activity, the theme song to Cheers started playing in my head. I couldn’t help but realize how much Jack’s demeanor resembled that of a token bartender on a classic TV show.

I especially feel that way when I look at the picture of him to the right. It looks like he has his sleeves rolled up, showing off his muscles.

As I allow the fantasy story line to unfold, I imagine another toddler walking up to Jack’s bar:

Jack says, “What’ll it be, a Baby Brewsky?”

His customer replies, “Nah, I’ll take a Milk & Scotch… hold the Scotch.”

But seriously, I’m digging the fact that my son actually likes cleaning; at such an early age, too.

Makes me wonder what else we can teach him to clean.

Hmm… he’s tall enough to reach the toilet seats…