Trixieintransit writes:

The other night my husband virtually arm wrestled our 19 month old son into a reclining position to perform the nightly diaper change. It was an ugly scene of crying baby, colorful diaper and testy father. With all the leg kicking and butt rolling, the colorful contents were being moved around…kind of like finger paint on a white canvas. Ick. When I asked my dear one why he just didn't change our son standing up (which is something I do easily and which makes child and I happy), he replied "because I am the daddy ~ that's why" and he promptly growled in frustration as the wiggling continued.

When all was said and done and our son was asleep, I asked my man about his obsession with having diaper changes done in the laying-down-on-the-changing-table position when it can be easily, happily addressed with a standing up position and we don’t have to worry about the changing pad needing to be replaced due to the wrestling match of the decade being played out on it….He said that “this is the way daddy’s change diapers and my son has to learn to listen to me.”

Now this statement is coming from the World’s Most Laid Back Dad Ever! He routinely fails to follow basic parenting nonsense about schedules, etc and probably feeds kiddo junk food when I am traveling for work. I picture them just hanging out watching TV and eating Wendy’s kids’ meals.

So what’s with this man’s diaper position obsession?

BusyDad:

When your baby is struggling on that changing table and making complainy noises, it sounds like this to the untrained human ear: “waaahh waaah gaaaaa waaa.”

To a new dad, it sounds like this: “Screw this dad! You suck! I wanna stand up, dammit. And by the way, in 17 years after you explicitly tell me not to, I will steal your car and go to the Jonas Brothers reunion concert with Mindy and her cheerleader friends.”

And in baby-ese, that smile and coo after being stood up translates directly to: “Chump.”

No man is ok with being a chump -- especially to the newest member of the wolf pack. As long as it is on dad’s terms, daddy and baby will seem perfectly content doing the “lazy parenting” thing. Let’s just say I agree 100% with what Mr Lady says below, so there’s no point in repeating it here less eloquently.

But here’s a good illustration of this concept in practice: Fury (my kid) gets a Happy Meal on most weekends whenever he asks. But the second I feed him something and he complains and demands a Happy Meal? No deal. He’s getting extra spinach. As long as I don’t feel as if I am giving in, I spoil my kid rotten. I think he has since learned to play that card, but I’m a sucker for it anyway. I like to feel like the big dog, even if it’s just lip service. Not just in relation to fatherhood, but in my marriage, at work, in my social circles… I’m sure many men are the same way. It’s our Achilles heel.

Mr Lady:

R-E-S-P-E-C-T, Find out what it means to me..,

And that is my answer to your question. Your husband wants your son to Respect His Authoritie. (please add the appropriate Cartman enunciation. Thanks) This is a very GOOD thing. He's trying to teach your son at an early age that dad means business. You want this.

We never took any sort of shit from our first two kids. We were young, we had an idea in our head of how things should go, and we were Enforcers. We never negotiated with our kids, we had no problem saying no, they ate whatever we fed them and the LIKED it, they lived on a very tight schedule, we didn't give them options. Like, ever. They are very well behaved kids now; almost too much, honestly.

We worried that we were too hard on them. We fretted that we'd ruined them forever. And so, when the baby came along a long time later, we totally relaxed with her. If she didn't want to eat something, she didn't eat it. She went to bed when she was ready. If she had to have a tantrum, we chuckled and moved on. It's not like we haven't seen bigger and better tantrums, you know? If she didn't want her hair washed, we skipped it. If she didn't want to sit down for a diaper change, we just worked around it.

This kid is the most self-absorbed, spoiled, downright bitchy child you'll ever meet. I say that with a very thick slice of love. She screams, she hits, she throws, she plays little mind games. We just never really drew a permanent line in the sand, and kids can smell that shit a mile away.

Having two big brothers is quickly humbling her a bit, but honestly, we screwed up. Badly. And we're paying for it now, in a big way. The worst part is that we HAVE to undo this, or the poor girl is never going to make it in school. Undoing this in a three year old is about as productive as talking to a toilet.

Those things you mentioned, "He routinely fails to follow basic parenting nonsense about schedules, etc and probably feeds kiddo junk food when I am traveling for work. I picture them just hanging out watching TV and eating Wendy’s kids’ meals" ? None of those things have anything to do with authority. That's just a dad enjoying his time with his kid. But when he says that it's time for a diaper change, he wants your son to know he means it. It's the fine line between being your kid's friend and being their parent. It's a hard line to walk, but it sounds like your husband is figuring that out just fine.

Michael writes:

In review - our kids are 10, 10, and 8. In 2 months they'll be 11, 11, and 9. My wife and I disagree (yes, most of my questions will probably start out this way, get used to it!) regarding whether to get cell phones for our kids. Here's how the argument roughly breaks down:

Pro's:

• safety - makes it easy to track the kids down as they wander around the neighborhood
• socialization - all the "cool" kids have 'em; texting might help kids overcome social anxiety. (?)
• PDA features - reminding them when they need to come home, when school assignments are coming due, etc.

Con's:

• cyber-bullying - apparently a huge problem, esp. in this age group?
• health concerns - EMF technology has been linked to brain tumors, etc. (just google "cell phones health effects on children". Wanna see something really scary? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gkeMLOIAEKU

It was all I could do to convince her to allow wireless ethernet into the house.

So this probably falls (again, sigh) into the category of "if one of you is dead set against it, just don't do it". My kids are totally BEGGING for cell phones though, and I really feel like the pros outweigh the cons here.

So I just thought I'd run it by you guys. Your take, please. Thanks!

BusyDad:
I have a recurring dream where I realize that Hunter, my pet beagle from childhood, is still tied to a tree out back and I have forgotten to feed him for the past 25 years. Right now I am bringing Stark Raving Dads a fresh bowl of water and guilt-riddenly apologizing for my negligent blog-rearing skills. You can learn a lot about people through blogging. I’ve learned today that Mr Lady and I should never adopt a pet.

Michael, I like this question. We’re a couple years away from the cell phone issue ourselves, so allow me to think out loud here.

Back in ‘95, my sister told me she got an email account. I called her a geek. I then proceeded to call up the object of my affection to tell her to stand by the office fax machine to receive my daily “I miss you. Please move out to California” love memo. Discreet communication fail. Email wins.

Just a few short years ago, I was ok with the fact that I had to pay top dollar and be happy with the meager selection of whiskeys at my local supermarket. Today, I’m petitioning the government to amend that famous piece of paper to say “life, liberty and the peruse of BevMo.”

Breakthroughs happen. Life evolves. Just because we didn’t need something in the past doesn’t mean they cannot greatly enhance our lives now. Cell phones are no different. I have gone from “they are only for doctors and stockbrokers” to “only for rappers” to “if I forget my cell halfway to Vegas, sorry but those strippers will have to wait.” No one is going to tell you that a cell phone is not a necessary evil in today’s world.

But a lot of people will tell you that a cell phone is not necessary for kids. I personally don’t think a cell phone is essential, but I do think the pros outweigh the cons if the opportunity arises. Anything that can theoretically put me in direct contact with my kid (and vice versa) at all times is a plus in my book. And to be honest, the cons are weak. Cyber-bullying is more of an internet thing. Having someone make up a fake MySpace page for you is a lot worse than getting a text that says “UR suk.” And let’s face it, everything gives you cancer. If you need a male rational justification, here it is: the odds of your kid calling you with the cell phone because he/she missed their ride and it’s getting dark out are much greater than that same kid duct taping the phone to their ear for the requisite 22.5 hrs/day for 234 days that it takes for lab rats (being fed a steady diet of Sweet ‘n Low) to develop a brain tumor.

I would like you all to know, first off, that it's been so long since we've done this that SquareSpace has managed to completely change their editor without us knowing, and it has taken my 1500 hours to figure out how to post this.  We're being punished, too.  Just sayin'.  Also, BusyDad and I were just the tiniest bit busy over the past few weeks; we both had to pull Single Parent stints so our super fly spouses could go work out of town, and we also had to go get snot-slinging drunk together broaden our minds and enhance our blogging skilz in San Francisco at BlogHer.  Which works well for you all, since we now know each other in real life, and have plenty of crap to rag on each other about.

<ramble>

Michael, I am replying in two parts.  First, I am going to tell you a little story.

My sons are 8 and 10.  They have been sorely neglected by their cheap ass parents for years, as their cries for cell phones have gone unanswered, nigh, unacknowledged.  We explained rotary dial phones, we explained life without tv, or cable, we discusses Michael Jackson and we even tried to explain COLECO-VISION to them (oh, how we suffered).  And then one day, my husband realized that he wanted a new phone, that he couldn't LIVE without a phone that had a QWERTY pad and wireless internet.  We set out to get him one.

I mentioned we're cheap, right?  We're cheap.  There was no way we were paying more than our month's grocery budget for a stinking detachable penis phone.  We opted for the totally brilliant plan of Getting Him a Whole New Cell Phone Account.  Which left us with one shiny, perfectly functional RazR and one shiny, perfectly overpriced 3 year contract on that phone.

We gave it to our boys.  They declared us The Best Parents Ever and were very well behaved for 27 minutes and 4 seconds.

Am I glad they have a phone?  Hell yes, I am.  My kids go outside in the morning and come inside for dinner.  They walk themselves to and from school.  They go to the corner store on their skateboards.  I sit here eating Bon Bons and worrying myself sick. 

Do I actually ever let them use said phone?  Hell no, I don't.  ONE of their friends has the number (and he's 29).  We turn it off in the morning, and they turn it on after school.  They have been threatened with every Pokemon card they hold dear to nevereverever send a text message on the thing.  So, what do they use it for?  They call me when they're on their way home from wherever, they answer it when I call freaking the hell out because they're 22 minutes late, and they are both professional Frogger player.

So, part two of my answer is this:

• Yes, it's excellent for tracking.  It's even better for my own piece of mind, which has been well-established as shaky on the very best of days.  I think that when my son starts grade 5 in a few weeks, it could come in very handy as an organizer, though I'd have to let him actually turn the thing on during the school day for that, and I'm pretty sure his teacher would hang my on the flagpole by my giant panties if I did.  In fact, I think most elementary schools have a strict No Cell Policy.  As for socialization, um, screw that.  I have not subjected these kids to hour after hour of The Family Guy and Monty Python and The Simpsons to have them relying on technology for coolness.  But that's just me.
• Bullying is bullying.  It's unavoidable.  Just don't tell your kids their own phone number, and they'll never be able to give it out.  I make any phone calls come through my landline, anyway, because I CENSOR.  As for the health risks, well, see Jim's reply.  I whole-heartedly agree.  The con you did overlook is cost.  Cell phones, especially with texting, get freaking expensive.  My nephew's first cell bill was FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS.  I don't care how many times he scoops poop, he's never going to earn that much money.  I have one phone for two kids, and I pay something close to $40 a month for basic (Canadian) service.  If each kid wants their own, they'd better get really cozy with the word CHORES.

If you feel really strongly about it, I'd encourage you to do what we do...get one, get it basic, and see how you feel.

</ramble>

Jason writes:

Due to a extended transition period, which involved moving from one state to another and having to stay with family while our home was being constructed, our two-year-old son ended up sleeping in the same bed with us for a number of months. We've been able to transition him from our bed to his own, but now we're struggling with trying to get him to fall asleep alone. Right now I have to lay with him or sit on the edge of his bed, sometimes for an hour or more, until he falls asleep. If we're not there he gets out of bed constantly and screams his head off. It's tough. What advice do you have in helping us break him of his need for company when falling asleep?

Mr Lady:

Dude, earplugs.  That's the best I've got.  Honestly, I don't think there's any one clear answer, but what I can tell you is that unless you're dedicated to co-sleeping, you have to break this cycle right now.  Every day you wait makes it harder.  My oldest pulled this on me when his brother was born.  The middle child gave me some reprieve, but the toddler hit me hard with it, too.  The toddler's problem was also in transitions.  We moved countries 3 times in two years.  She freaked out.  I did, too.

What works...hmmm.  No one thing works for anyone.  With my oldest, I had to reason with him.  After about 6 months of screaming matches (I actually had to lock myself out of the house one night and call my husband to come home from work because I was so frustrated, I thought I might hurt the kid.  Being tired makes you nuts) I figured out something that worked.  It went like this, "Dude, all your cups are dirty."  "Me no juice?"  "No, buddy, you no juice until momma washes the dishes.  She can't do that until you go to sleep.  Can you go to sleep so I can wash your cups for you?"  "Okay, momma.  ZZZZzzzz."

Man's heart, stomach, all that.  The toddler was a different story.  She flat out refused to sleep unless she was on top of me for close to a year.  That was, hands down, the worst year of my life.  We took her out and let her pick her own big girl blankets and bedtime babies at the store for her bed, and then we came up with the most insanely OCD night time routine you've ever seen; X amount of hairbrushes, an exact set of words spoken followed by one exact song, and one only, etc.  I would do all of those things and then just let her cry.  She eventually figured out those things meant Bed.  One night, we figured out she had a cue for us.  When she says, "See ya, momma" she doesn't cry when I leave.  So all I have to do is get her to say "See ya, momma."  Sometimes it takes 5 minutes, sometimes it takes 20.  But it works EVERY TIME, even with a babysitter.

Do I think that was helpful information?  Hell no.  Do I totally pity you right now?  You know I do.  This is one of those things where you've got to figure out what's going to work, and it's just plain trial and error.  Good luck, and please let us know what eventually works. 

BusyDad:

Ugh. I feel for you too. Having a kid kicking and screaming at bedtime is like spraining your ankle 10 yards from the finish line. You were so close.

I have a word that will help you in this, as well as many other parenting adventures: ramp. I also have a phrase that will help: sacrifice fly. 

Observe:

Ramp: kids don't like sudden changes. They will fight them with every ounce of their being. And even at 2, that's a lot of ounces. To change their behavior you need to ramp up towards the final outcome. In this case, tell him to rest or play in his bed for a sec and you'll be back in 2 minutes. Do this a few times (maybe even 20 times the first night - hey, no one said this was easy!), then extend it to 4 minutes the next time (be it the next day or the next week, depending on your child's reaction). In a short time, you could be up to 15 or 20 minute intervals. In my experience, after they can wait about 15 minutes, you're just around the corner from success. This alone may work, but it seems to me that this kid's pretty hardcore. Here's where the sacrifice fly comes in.

Sacrifice Fly: folks reading this may know this as a baseball term. This is where you hit the ball knowing that it will be caught for the out, but in the time it takes to make that play, the runner on base is given ample time to tag up and run home to score. In other words, accepting one bad thing (the out) in return for one good thing (scoring the run). I apply this ALL THE TIME. The sacrifice fly has done wonders for Fury's willingness to eat vegetables. I have no problem letting Fury indulge in candy or cookies -- as long as he also puts something good into his body to get there. To me, the benefit of eating 4 stalks of steamed broccoli (scoring the run) far outweighs the harm of ingesting 2 Oreos (the out).  Applying this to getting Fury to sleep in his bed meant that we let him load his bed up with toys (not usually a good thing) at night. While this did not contribute to making him sleep, it DID make him comfortable in his bed. He actually looked forward to it. Once he was comfortable with his bed, we gradually put restrictions on the toys (ramping down). First it was "you can only pick 5," then that eventually became "you can only have stuffed toys." Granted this occurred over months, but it worked. Totally. Worked.

If you do decide to go with my advice, please let me know how it goes. I'm just curious to know if my advice actually works for others... 

Tom  writes:

I have a wife, a stepdaughter, two daughters from a previous marriage, and a four-year-old boy.  Invariably, someone ends up feeling left out because I'm spending time with someone else. We've taken trips together, gone to the movies, zoo, science museum, parks, etc. But still, I really quickly run out of ideas for keeping the whole group entertained.

What are some new ideas for diverse family fun?

Mr Lady:

I come from a very large, very split family.  There are 4 of us that are direct siblings (well, maybe 3, but no one's done a paternity test just yet) 2 half brothers, one half sister who thinks she was just my best friend growing up, a step sister and two older ones we don't know directly.  Still, that's 8 kids to juggle.  You know how they kept us all entertained?

A garden hose.

That may have been the most interaction our Entire Family Unit ever had together.  Someone's always going to feel left out, Tom!  I have just three kids, from the same daddy, and we all live in the same house and every single second of the day, someone feels left out.  Once you have more than one child, the drama begins.

That wasn't really your question, though, was it?  My best, most honest response?  Board Games.  It's the one and only thing we do as a family that really brings us together, that ensures every single member of the family is interacting with every single other one.  Those Cranium games are great at any age level.  We play Zigity a lot, which is the Cranium card game, and even a four year old could play with a team-mate.  My husband and I have taught the boys Poker and BlackJack. (Yes, we know how badly this is going to backfire.  My 8 year old already is into me for a years' supply of Chex Mix.)  We play Monopoly and Trivial Pursuit a lot, too.  And you know what?  More than vacations, more than days at the beach, more than Christmas, those are my kids favorite times.  Especially when we let them win.

BusyDad: 

That’s a whole lotta kids! Luckily I have some experience in this area. I grew up watching the Brady Bunch. Mike and Carol always seemed to keep their blended family entertained and playing well.  You could pack up the old station wagon and take them to the Grand Canyon. But stay on the freeway and avoid ghost towns. Those old prospectors like to lock people up for no reason.

Or you could take them to Hawaii. Just make sure to check your kids’ pockets daily for ancient relics, because if someone has found a Tabu, you could wipe really badly off your surfboard.

Do your kids like to perform? They could write some really catchy tunes and win the local talent contest (we’re gonna keep on keep on keep on keep on movin’ – sorry, couldn’t resist. That tune is stuck in my head and I want some company). Backyard productions of Snow White are also fun for the whole family. If you need extra cast members, your neighborhood butcher has nothing better to do that weekend than to dress up as a dwarf. Just make sure to get a permit first. They’re really strict about backyard productions (at least here in California).

Two pop-culture references in two questions. If I’m gonna cop out from giving real advice, I should at least vary my bit somewhat. Amateur. For real, though: Kids these days are hard to entertain. With the barrage of media, games and consumer items out there, good old family fun times are just hard to come by. If it were me, I’d plan maybe just one really good family activity a month - something where you could all be together, but not be forced into the mix every second. Like the beach. The younger ones could build sandcastles, while the older ones could explore the boardwalk or boogie board. Or you could do a night out at Dave and Busters (my all-time favorite family place). You could all enjoy dinner together and then afterwards, the kids could play games, win tickets or do whatever on their own. And the best part? You could kick back and enjoy a Newcastle or two (they’ve got it on tap and you can order it in the 24 oz big glass), knowing that your family members are within a 20 yard radius of each other, and smiling. That’s what being king of your world is all about!

 

Matt asks:

One of the things that always troubles me about raising my daughter is that I will make the same mistakes that my parents made. In trying so hard not to do so, inevitably I will make different ones I never saw coming.

What are the mistakes your parents made that you won't make, and what mistakes will you probably end up making while you're not "paying attention?"

BusyDad:

I’m going to tell you off the bat that Mr Lady will have a far more compelling answer to this than I will. I had a relatively hardship/drama-free childhood. And I turned out pretty run-of-the-mill. This is not to say I think my folks couldn’t have done some things better though. One of those areas was nurturing the “cool factor.” There was absolutely none of that in my household. No sports, none of that “wild” rock ‘n roll music, and very little TV unless it was educational. I kicked ass on my report card, but thought the “AC/DC” that kids scribbled on their books was pronounced “akdik.” Don’t even mention gym class. I was a guaranteed liability (first guy pegged in dodge ball, only kid to strike out in kickball, etc.). When I grew up, I ended up over compensating. And that’s where I believe one of the biggest parental pitfalls lies. It’s not so much a lack of attention, but rather paying too much attention to certain things that were salient in your own life somewhere down the line.

I spent much of my adult life making up for lost experiences. I started doing martial arts at 18 and engaged in full contact fight sports for the next 18 years, when I should have been diversifying my portfolio. Bought a sick electric guitar, shaved my head, got tattoos, etc., etc., etc. If it simply ended with me, it would have been fine. But, as soon as he could throw, I bought my son a baseball glove and threw a regulation baseball at him, busting his nose in the process. And he can tell you the difference between pre- and post- Brian Johnson AC/DC. Should he be watching Backyardigans instead of UFC? Probably. But he’s not. Overcompensation.

Of course in my heart, I’m doing this out of a genuine desire to save my son from the feelings of social rejection that severely impacted my self-confidence growing up, but when I sit here and really look at it (like now), it’s obvious that I’m putting way too much weight on not making the mistakes that my parents made, and likely knocking something else out of whack in the process. If there’s any advice to be had here, it’s to be mindful of the difference between avoiding past mistakes and seeking redemption for them. Hell-bent just isn’t a word that should come up when characterizing your parenting style.

Mr Lady:

This is where I take a deep breath in, let it out, and try to not go all Oprah on your ass.  The first mistake my parents made was becoming parents.  So, yeah, I didn't outdo them there,  But.....

My parents did almost nothing right. They are the kind of people that make me believe in forced sterilization.  They beat us until we tore open, they humiliated us, they indoctrinated us in the scariest sort of a cult, they made us believe we were good-for-nothing wastes of air, they resented us and hated us and while one of them chose to live his life as if we'd never happened, the other one completely stopped living, entirely, the second the last kid was born. 

The biggest things my parents did that I fight every day to avoid are these:

• They refused to acknowledge that we were people.  Part of that was the cult, part their own upbringing, part their absolute inability to deal with the fact that they ever had kids.  They were the Seen and Not Heard generation, and they embraced that philosophy fully.  Every day, I try to find at least one way to validate my kids, to make them feel special and attractive and smart and valuable, not only in the world but in our family.  ESPECIALLY in our own family.
• They beat the ever-living dog shit out of us.  My father, to this day, still has his belt of choice.  And yes, it still has dried blood tucked in the crevices of the leather.  He thinks this is hysterical.  Every time I see that belt, I gag.  My children will never, ever associate an object with pain.  They will not remember my hand as an instrument of anything other that a pat on the back.  Oddly enough, I am very pro-spanking, but if you were ever subjected to one of my spankings, you'd see that I've learned.  The LAST thing they are is painful.
• They never once did anything in our best interest.  My mother has never worked one day in her life, even though she had four children and received only $525 a month in assistance.  We just had to survive on that.  We were very skiny children, who though free school breakfast was the greatest invention since the wheel.  I wore my brothers hand-me-down undies until I was 13.  (And wow, those bastards are C.O.Z.Y)  She joined up with the super-fab cult to satiate her own stupid need for something, paying no mind to the fact that her religion of choice had this thing against kids being kids.  My father just decided his new family was better, and away he went, 1400 miles away to be exact.  He married a woman who hated our guts and half of us never saw him again.  The other half of us tried and failed to have a relationship with him.  Not one stinking single step I take has any motivation OTHER than my kids.  Now, I haven't lost myself in that, and I get it that going out and getting hammered with LatteMommy or ZoeyJane or Huckdoll severely improves my mood and is therefore beneficial to my family in the long run, but I have been forced in the past two years to make some hard-core and questionable decisions, ones that almost broke me in two, and I did what was best for those people who trust me to make their lives the best they can be, and it's all worked out fine.
• They kept us completely removed from our immediate family.  I speak of four of us, but really?  TEN.  That I have touched?  EIGHT.  But only four that had any real contact growing up.  I longest amount of time I spent with my paternal grandmother following my parents divorce was the day I buried her.  My aunt?  Same thing.  I don't know how to spell either of my grandmothers first names, and have no clue what my grandfathers names are.  Cousins?  I have a vague memory of bunkbeds and a Playboy.  My mother was afraid of her family, and hated my father's, and my father was living it up in Colorado while we were starving in Delaware, so we didn't have him to help us see our family.  My kids, unfortunately, also don't have a ton of contact with their family, due solely to us living in Canada and grandma living in South Africa and Aunties and Uncles scattered to the four winds.  But let me tell you, my kids KNOW them all.  We talk on the phone, we email, we Skype (god bless Skype).  My kids also have a very unofficial, very devoted fake extended family.  God father, grandmother, grandfather, auntie, uncle and cousin.  Who would stand in traffic for them.  I made up for my parents shortcomings there amply.
  

There's more, loads more, but I've typed too much already.  I just do the opposite of them and pray for the best.

As for what I do unintentionally, well, there's a ton of that, too.  I pop.  A lot.  I try to be patient and sweet and attentive, but at some point I just overload and, well, you've never heard nothin' until you've heard me scream.  It breaks my heart to see them jump, and while I know that it's a better alternative to just beating them as I was trained to do, but I still need to improve.  I also don't worry so much about cleaning and organizing as I do about cooking with them and reading together and stuff.  Which is great, but a pig-sty is a pig-sty, no matter how many rainbows are hanging over it.  I haven't exactly taught them organizational skills, simply because I have to pay SUCH close attention to how I am treating them.  Every ounce of energy I have goes to not becoming my mother.  Maybe I need a therapist, eh?  Also, I spoil those suckers ROTTEN.  We had, oh, nothing growing up, and we didn't even get holidays or birthdays, and I overcompensate in the most disgusting sort of way with my kids.  Hell, my kid got a limo and a chartered ferry ride just for turning TEN.  I may be decked out in Target Couture, but those kids are all Gap'd and Naartjie'd and Ambercrombie'd to hell, dude.  Designer clothes, Polo bed sheets, Heeley's, every toy a kid could ever want, you name it.  I have to knock that shit off already.

Sorry, Matt, to totally over-answer your question.  It hit a nerve, brother.  I think it's a great question.  I hope we all ask ourselves that lots over the course of raising our kids.