The Blogfathers

According to  recent research, child obesity might be leveling off after increasing during the past 25 years.  A parent can do  bad things to a child.  But making a young child obese must be one of the worst things imaginable.  A parent is almost making sure a child is facing a life of ridicule, psychological problems, teasing, low self esteem, and health problems. The information is out there and every parent know, or should know, about the dangers and problems.  How come this is still an issue?

In 2003-04 and 2005-06, roughly 32 percent of children were overweight but not obese, 16 percent were obese and 11 percent were extremely obese, according to a study by the federal Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Those levels held steady after rising without interruption since 1980.

Those are some really depressing statistics.  I’m always hoping people in society are getting smarter but it looks like I’m wrong.  That we’re still having problems with obesity, in adults and children, after all we know points to very serious educational problems.  Or is there some other reason?

Kids don’ have much of a choice at home, they eat what’s on the table.  If food consist mainly of junk there will be serious consequences.  I think most parents are forgetting the huge responsibility concerning a decent diet but more importantly, the enormous additional problems and challenges an obese child will face throughout life.

Obesity is often defined as a BMI over 30.  Although this is a decent indicator of general health I would recommend not trusting this index blindly. A parent unfortunately does not need to calculate BMI to see if a child is obese.  It’s very obvious.

Growing up is not easy, being obese and growing up is just cruel.  I feel so sorry for all these kids and  all the extra challenges that wait. Made fun of every day at school, no girlfriends/boyfriends, picked last for sports, ill fitting clothes, low self esteem, and out of breath after a flight of stairs. Not to mention future problem such as diabetes, heart and psychological issues.

“My son has large bones”, “Honestly, we eat really good food.  No junk at all”, “Grandparents spoil her too much”, “Food at school is unhealthy”, “He drinks very little soda”, or  “Chips and donuts are not unhealthy” are some comments I regularly hear regarding obesity.  In rare cases, obesity can be explained by necessary medications or perhaps some disease.

Parents of obese children often argue that kids are young and should have some fun.  Eat some junk food, drink soda, and enjoy chips with their friends while playing video games.  I agree, kids should have lots of fun.  A child can eat cookies, chips, pizza, burgers, fries, hot dogs, and drink plenty of soda and shakes without being obese.  As long as it’s not done all the time.  And as long as he/she also plays with friends outside and live a normal active life. Video games or computer are also fine, just not all the time.  Balance is the key.

Is it fair to blame parents for their obese kids?  In my view, definitely.  Who else is to blame?  Parents are in charge, making all choices for a their little ones for quite a few years.  Food at school, a friends house, or grandparents can play a small role but those are after all choices a parent make.

How do we decrease obesity?  It’s all about habits and education  which unfortunately are difficult to change. This is very clear when traveling to other countries.  Some have obese kids wherever I look, in other places I can’t find a single obese child.

A child growing up obese and learning to eat nothing but junk is likely to maintain those habits.  Bad habits are very difficult to break.  Just look around and see how many adults who are desperately trying to lose weight and change habits.  Few unfortunately succeed.

A parent is often a hero  Kids often copy parental behavior and this is bad news for many families.  Obese parents often means kids turn obese as well simply by following their parents bad habits.  For most of you reading this, it’s all common sense.  Of course you give your child decent food and don’t fill up the sippy cup for your 8-month old with soda.  It’s not exactly rocket science to understand chips and pizza every single day might not be a good idea. But many parents seem to lack this seemingly simple rational way of thinking.  How do we reach them?

Personally, I don’t see any signs obesity is leveling out but hopefully I’m wrong.  What about you? Are we turning things around or is obesity like the gas price and housing market, bad but there are much worse things to come?

Both of our children potty trained several years ago which was unquestionably a Good Thing. And yet I’ve said and I still believe that, if it were possible, I’d have suspended or slowed their aging so that I could have enjoyed every nuance of their newbornness more completely. Not that I miss diapers and their contents; on the contrary, newborns and toddlers are so wonderful that I’m willing—literally—to put up with their shit.

In the intervening years I’ve learned that potty training isn’t so much an on/off switch or a marked point in time but a continuum with “tactical expert ++” at one end and “weapon of mass destruction” at the other. One moves gradually from less to more trained. Our kids are approaching expert but are failing in one essential aspect: they sometimes don’t flush. As you can imagine, this can be unpleasant. And yet, it’s not also without its usefulness.

As a new father, and one without any experience in the baby arts, I approached my first dirty diapers with all the bemusement and fleeting adrenalin of a flock of geese encountering 60,000 pounds of thrust from a jet engine for the first (and last) time. But I quickly came to know my children’s poop, and through it, them.

All devoted parents must eventually become connoisseurs. Poop gurus, if you will, who can predict excretory events down to the minute, who can divine with a glance and by nose not only how well a meal was received but even a child’s general health and mood—like tea leaves, each diaper contains secrets, squishy brown telegrams from a supernatural agency with a powerful and aromatic sense of humor.

Soon enough my children will stop sending us porcelain messages from beyond. And that too will be a Good Thing. But until then, I use my powers of fatherly divination to reveal what I can, to glean some useful tidbit of insight or knowledge, before I flush and close the lid.

Daddy has a deadline. Daddy is on the phone with an important call. Daddy is paying bills. Daddy is looking at your school papers. Daddy is planning your lunches. Daddy and Mommy are talking about some things can you go and play?

All of these things are things that I have told my kids over the last week. They are normal things that we say to our kids all the time. Woven into these phrases and sentences is a whole myriad of stress, anxiety and other concerns. I decided since I am a proponent of communication to call a meeting with the children to explain to them the idea behind stress. I figured that they would then know why Daddy has a short fuse sometimes and the troubles I face while raising my children on a day-to-day level.

I talked to them first about my work and the demands on my time. I told them it was like making them clean their room when they know their friends are out playing and having fun. Working to me is a lot like having to do something unpleasant to get to do the things that are fun, like going to the water park. The 7 year old seemed to grasp the concept, but I think I lost the two year old as he was tracing the indelible marker on his arm with his finger.

I told them about the stress of dealing with money and how we have to make money to do the things we like and to have the things we need. I explained that everything we do costs us money. Going to the water park 8 miles away costs us money in gasoline and other costs. The 8 year old starting giving other examples so I think she was on the same plane, but I think the 3 year old was concerned with why we were out of gas and whether we had to go get more.

I talked about the stress of making sure they eat right, and worrying about them being healthy and safe. I gave them the ideas that chicken nuggets and mac and cheese was good but it was not the best thing to have at every single meal. They understood that when Daddy asks that they eat their vegetables it’s because Daddy is concerned about what they eat.

I explained about how Mommy and Daddy are concerned about their education and about getting them all the tools they would need to be able to grow up and be smart. The stress of making sure their school is giving them what they need and feeding them right and making sure we are there when we need to pick them up and drop them off and all the things we have to do to make sure they have the best school experience.

I began to wrap up the family meeting and I could see that they were forming questions in their own minds after absorbing all that I had taught them. They were contemplating Daddy’s stress and the concept I was laying out for them. I opened the floor for questions. The 8 year old has a great heart and her first question was very caring, “Are you stressed right now Daddy?” I was happy to report that I was not stressed at the moment. This was of course the beginning of the end as the questions now were being fired out faster than I could respond. The questions were so fast I could only catch a few of them.

“When are we going to the water park?” asked the 7 year old.

“We have gas in the garage Daddy, I’ll go get it.” said the 3 year old racing off to the service door.

“Can we stop for pizza on the way to the park? Do we need to go to the bank first?” asked the 8 year old.

The 2 year old looked up from his coloring book that somehow he was able to go and get during the discussion, and was tearing out pages to color. “Daddy me have marker” he showed with new lines appearing on his forearms, “Me have mac n cheese too? Me no want no pizza. Color me Dad?”

The seven year old handed me my computer bag as he said, “You can work at the park while we play Dad, then you can get some things done.” So what do you think? Are they getting the lessons of what it’s like to be a parent? I think the idea of stress is lost on them a little.

[Dad Working photo via: rogefer] [Money photo via: SqueakyMarmot] [Water Park photo via: Muhammad ]

I ran across an interesting post today about the notion that a man would be at a disadvantage if he ran his own daycare.  The issue being that people simply do not trust men to provide childcare to their own children.  At the end, the author poses the question, “Would you take your children to a full-time stay-at-home-dad for in-home childcare?”

I think this question is such an interesting one because even though I am a male, work for an organization that provides childcare and employ many male childcare providers, even I hesitated for a split second when I read that question.

In the end, of course I would send my child to a male daycare provider, but the fact that I had to think about it simply because he was male (as also happened to a commenter of the post I am referring to), makes me stop and think about how we perceive the role of men and women in our society.

Men are often not seen as nurturers and, even worse, are looked upon as being potential predators of children.  Even in non-childcare settings, if I don’t have my children with me and happen to come across a mother and child, I can sense a certain tension that I don’t believe would be there were I a woman.

While men have come a long way in contributing to the family in the past 10 years (doing a greater percentage of household chores, spending more time with children) it is apparent we have a long ways to go before being seen as equals in the parenting/provider world.

The irony, of course, is that for decades women have been striving to be seen as equals in the work world having to battle sexism, glass ceilings and lower pay.  As women have made great strides (although not true equality, by any means) towards equality in the work place, it seems that men must now embark down the road of equality in the home.

What do you think?

I recently posted here about being a business owner and the trials and tribulations that involves being a SAHD of 4.  I spend most of my day trying to keep a facade of Mr. Business with phone calls and meetings spent with high anxiety of a child having a meltdown during either.  There have been times when I have to put a client on hold while I scrape a child off the ceiling for a fight over who had the green car first, but for the most part most of the people I deal with have been very understanding of my situation.  That is except my kids.  They don’t always understand about my situation. 

The toddlers don’t always understand why Daddy is on the phone.  They don’t understand that the paper they decided to color on happened to be that contract Daddy was wanting to send back to the client.  They don’t get the idea of being patient while Daddy finishes up with a proposal before throwing that fit because I haven’t fixed that PBJ with the special cutting of the crust.

Today I had a special meeting on my calendar that I made a few days ago.  I have a pop up system that reminds me of important meetings with clients or conference calls or other things that come up on the calendar.  It reminds me of them 10 minutes ahead of the scheduled event.  This usually allows me to prepare for the event as well as myself.  By preparing of course I have to have some way for them to be entertained by something that will allow me to accomplish an entire phone call or chat.  Today’s event popped up as is the usual but this time I did not need to prepare.  The event that popped up was "Be Daddy."

I need to remind myself sometimes that I am a SAHD and the responsibility that comes with that office.  I need to remind myself that those contracts can be put off for a little bit and that I can turn off the phone and that my business is sometimes just being Daddy.  The meeting was spent playing tickle monster, and a little while watching a DVD.  Finally we had some lunch of the special cut crust PBJ’s.  Being Daddy is the best thing in my world and my favorite pop up on the calendar.  If you are a Dad, make sure to add into your business plan a new heading in the outline.  Spend Time Being Daddy.

Summer is almost here and hopefully you’ve got plenty of BBQ’s planned. Perhaps you even get a chance to host your manly buddies for a fun evening. (Reminder, ask boss (wife) for permission first…). For that one night it might be fun to drop the Baby Björn, diapers, baby bottles and put away the stroller. Instead, throw some monster size steaks on the BBQ and serve up some manly drinks for your friends. Holy Taco got a nice list of the manliest cocktails in the world.

My favorite:

4. Tequila Sunrise

Why is it manly?:First off, it’s a breakfast cocktail. And secondly, “2 measures tequila” is short for, “as much tequila as your glass will hold.” It may look a little fruity but it’s about as tropical as a back alley in Tijuana.
Recipe:
2 measures Tequila
Orange juice
2 dashes Grenadine

Since my wife is Mexican I know a think or two about Tequila. We’ve got plenty of fine Anejo Tequila at home. Is Tequila a manly drink? It can be. The fine stuff tastes like fantastic 18 year old Scottish single malt but the cheap nasty stuff, that crap you drank in college, takes a real man and some lime to handle.

When your buddies come over, don’t make any mistakes. Like serving one of the 10 unmanliest drinks in the world…..

Salut!

The kids are in bed.

The Girl is having trouble sleeping. The neighbor’s dog is barking beneath her window. She’s reading and drawing with the light on. I’ll check on her in a few minutes and tuck her in and slide the paper out from under her arm and admire her drawings and put her pencil away and quietly, quietly turn off the light.

From The Boy’s room, a gentle murmur. I stand where he cannot see me, just beyond the light outside his door, and listen. And my heart swells with pride. He is reading.

I can’t find the words to express how wonderful it is to hear him sounding out the words. He reads slowly but with determination and with every victory over each stingy syllable his confidence grows. I can hear the excitement in his voice as he reads and then re-reads familiar words, a new understanding of each one blooming out of the old. Each conquered vowel, each consonant, is taken in and absorbed like so many tiny electric shocks, 50,000 volts of wonder.

It’s quiet now. The dog has stopped barking. I listen to my own breathing. I hear him turn the page, hear the dry rasping of paper on paper, hear him continue to read quietly to himself and supply sounds for the trains and cars and animals in his story.

As excited as I am, my feelings must pale next to his as his grip on this new ability tightens. He doesn’t yet understand the importance of what he is doing but I know he feels somehow bigger, more powerful. He is embarking on a quest and I envy him.

It’s amazing listening to him read. Listening to him learn. Listening to my son growing up.

I’ve recently run into some parents who apparently can’t stand their kids. Friday has now become the worst day of the week. Because one “must” actually spend time with the darn child during the weekend instead of delegating this to day care. This unfortunately seems to be a growing trend as well. Is this a sign some parents shouldn’t have kids or are there other explanations?

What puzzles me is the parents with this “Monday syndrome” usually only have one child and no special issues. Kid is healthy, not handicapped, behaves well, and causes little extra work. Still, there is this terrible anxiety of over spending a weekend together as a family.

Having a child at day care from 8-5 leaves very little time together during the week. Dinner and then an hour or so before the little one goes to bed. Throw in some business trips and client dinners and there is even less time available. I’m kind of questoning the reason to have a child if one desperately want to avoid spending time together. What’s the point?

My dear son,

What a crazy year it has been as we both finish our first years of school; you in kindergarten, me in grad school. 39 years apart and we a tackling our education with as much energy & passion as we can.

You and I are so similar when it comes to school. Studying comes hard for us, but friendships do not. Both of our teachers have indicated that it is extremely difficult for us to stay focused. My apologies in advance for passing on that trait.

Education is about learning and we have both benefited from these lessons.

We both had our achievements rewarded. You got five green days in a row and went to McDonalds. I made a 3.8 my first semester and went to Ruths Chris.

We both have had our frustrations. You hit a little in the girl in face and went to the principal’s office. I spent a whole year wanting to hit my teammate in her face for doing nothing to help the group.

We both joined teams this year. You started soccer and I connected with 5 other people who helped me get through these 32 weeks of classes.

We both jammed on certain subjects. You learned that 13 take away 7 is 6. I learned to calculate elasticity by looking at the percentage change in quantity over the associated percentage change in price.

We both had subjects that kicked our ass. You are still struggling a bit with upper and lowercase letters. I never could learn how to determine positive convexity on a 8-year semiannual note yielding 4.5% that was callable in 5 years.

We both learned that food can be iffy. You were surprised that school didn’t always serve chicken nuggets. I was shocked that my program would serve lamb and scallops on the same day.

We both received wonderful gifts from classmates. You got a rock and a dead worm from Devin. I got box seats at the Bon Jovi concert from Scott.

We both were chick magnets. You told me, “Emily is my girlfriend but we don’t kiss.” I told you, “Stephanie & Becca totally rock.” (And for the record, we don’t kiss either.)

We both felt overwhelmed at times. You struggled to stay in the lines when printing. I wanted to quit during statistics.

I want you to know how proud I am of you. The smile on your face as you tell us this week’s accomplishments have made me the happiest man alive. I have loved watching you learn; about this world and even more, about yourself.

Your excitement about school has gotten me through MY first year. I have so struggled with this program, but when I think of what you are tackling, I only want to make you as proud of me as I am of you.

Welcome to first grade, my little man.

It has been 18 months since I began my new career as a stay at home dad and we are coming on that time of year again that seems like being a death row inmate’s countdown to execution–summer vacation.  Having the 3 year old and 2 year old underfoot all the time has been manageable and sometimes even dare I say "easy", but now I am staring at a date on the calendar that seems to mock me and each day that passes makes that X on the calendar loom larger.

I’m writing this post at 4:30 a.m. on a Saturday.  It’s surreal really because I am used to wiping noses and pouring juice and changing pull-ups while working.  Yes, I am also a full time business owner and I can seem to keep all the plates in the air long enough to make it through until reinforcements arrive each evening.  That is what makes the fact of summer vacation so difficult to deal with.  I’ll have the 8 year old and 7 year old to also contend with, and they are at that age where I can’t really depend on them to take care of themselves and not also keep from leading the toddlers down the path of destruction.  I am currently open for any suggestions anyone may have.  I am not opposed to renting the kids out for those of you that want a taste of parenting.  Heck I’m even thinking of putting them to work and throwing out all child labor laws.  For now I am going to stock up on duct tape for those afternoons I need to have a little peace and quiet.

Most men are spending embarrassing little time with their children. Many barely know the little ones despite living in the same house. Is the main reason for this craziness money? That’s what author Tom Sykes is saying in the Daily Mail. According to him, men must always work so much and provide for the family. There is simply no time left for kids and family. Is this correct, is every man really so important that he can’t leave work a little earlier or prioritize the kids more without the world collapsing?

Let’s be clear, the reason that men are usually not present at children’s bedtime is because of one simple fact: money.

And the single most important contribution the majority of men believe they can make to the wellbeing of their family is to be an effective financial provider.

And I must also ask you bright fathers about your wives, or other women you know. Is it really true most women secretly hope for horrible failure when they leave the house and daddy is in charge?

Or think of the harridan-like mothers who always speak so dismissively about their partner’s parenting skills: “He’s useless”, “He doesn’t know one end of the child from the other”, “He can’t even change a nappy”, “He just can’t handle them”.

Isn’t there a great conspiracy among mothers to propagate the idea that only women can manage children, and are thus indispensable to their families?

What happened to partners working together making sure the heavy job of raising kids is shared in the best way possible?  Are men really back in the cavemen days hunting for food while the women stay home to cook and raise the kids? Or have we never left the caveman ways?  So many questions……..

The biggest hurdle to me losing the weight that I want to lose before June is my son. He’s cute and little, missing two front teeth, and as a result his smile is reminiscent of fangs on a vampire. This is suitable under the circumstances given that we are in the midst of a battle for food supremacy in my home and he is winning magnificently, depending on how you look at it.

It appears that we are in a classic Alpha Male/Oedipal battle over who is man of the house. I win clear and decisive victories in all other areas aside from food. If he wants me to stop being affectionate toward mommy I bellow a hearty laugh and plant a kiss on my lady’s cheek, then give her a hug despite his being appalled. If he asks to share the remote to the TV, again I respond with a deep guttural guffaw and dismiss the request as out of hand with love and amusement. I teach him his place in the world and our house with a firm but calm hand, and all is well and status quo.

That is, until it’s time to sit down to breakfast.

Everything always starts off normal enough. He takes a couple of French toast and sausage,  I take a few. I’m four times his size so that, theoretically, should be reflected in the way we dole out portions. He eats much faster than me, which is fine because everyone I know does. I prefer to let the tastes of my favorite foods linger on my palate, many others have no such interest in the full food experience. What ends up happening is that he’s onto seconds by the time I finish my firsts and I’m left with the conundrum: Do I allow my growing four year old (he’ll be five next week) out-eat me or do I take the low road, because I am the so-called man of the house, and show him how to put away the carbs? I want to lose weight but not if it means me eating like a wuss in the face of my offspring.

I’m of an era when daddy always got the big piece of chicken and first dibs on second helpings. Daddy was the big guy who held court at six o’clock every evening and every Sunday morning and we watched in awe as he ate, laughed, and asked questions like a man. These days many daddies are moving away from the old stereotypes and becoming more sensitive and open to ignoring tradition. My wife and I like a lot (definitely not all) of that old school stuff, and she balks at the idea of me losing weight - she likes a thick slab of a man.

So far my response to the boy’s unspoken food challenge has been to show him who’s boss. In other words I’ll be the guy in the long sleeve shirt sitting on the beach beneath the over sized umbrella, hiding my gut in victorious shame.