At what point in the tenure of fatherhood does a dad shift from crushes on Head Cheerleader to The Girl Next Door?

I've been trying to figure out why Mr. Outdoors has saved photos of Anne Hathaway on the desktop of our computer. Not just one. Several photos. Since I know BusyDad covets similarly down-to-earth Jenna Fischer, I figure he probably has an inside track on the new crush going on in the Y chromosome half of my relationship.

What do I need to know here? The last I checked, the crushing was going on in Charlize Theron's world. Which I COMPLETELY UNDERSTAND (I have a GirlCrush on her).

Now that I've had my hair cut and colored to match Charlize (subtle hints were given over the years -- least subtle being the page from People magazine of her on a red carpet that was tucked into my purse as I headed to the salon), do I now need to think dark and mousy? With contacts to make my eyes brown? And maxillofacial surgery so my smile goes literally ear to ear?

I have written and re-written my answer 3 times already. This is my fourth attempt.

It would be easy to sit back at this point and say I really don't know why (as my failed attempts easily prove), but there is a reason. A really simple one that I cannot articulate. Time to pour me a little "writing juice," let it settle in and come back.

OK, I'm back. Let's try this one more time. I don't know your hubby, but I know how I think, and I have a feeling it isn't much different from him or other family guys. When you become a dad, you simply become more realistic. I think it's nature's way of buffering you from the blows that otherwise might emotionally derail you. Things like you will never get that Harley, you will never be a 32 waist again and you will never, ever fight in the UFC. That also means you could never turn the head of a Victoria's Secret model. Even if someone could get your Dockers-wearing dad ass into that premier party. Once reality sinks in, you admire the typical hot celebrities from afar, like you would a masterpiece hanging in the Louvre. But you covet the girl-next-door ones like you would that framed Al Pacino Scarface "pencil sketch" that dude at the mall sells out of his art kiosk.

Jenna Fischer reminds me of the little bit shy, doesn't realize she's hot girl whom I might find at the reception desk at my office (yeah, I know because she plays one! duh). To me, that would be attainable in my world (my alternate universe world). That bit of attainability is what gives her that extra something that guys grounded in reality would gravitate towards. Anne Hathaway has that look too, like someone whom you might find sitting in the cubicle next to you tomorrow. Someone who would compliment you on your comfort shoes from The Walking Company. Someone who would find your clip-on Blackberry case cool. She's not intimidating. Like you could totally go to Subway with her during lunch break. But wow, at the office holiday party in that dress and make-up you couldn’t stop staring (in Anne’s case, that secret agent bodysuit).

Scarlett Johansson? Never. Too hot for the cubicle. And that is why she resides in my ever-growing sour grapes pile.

Mr Lady:

Because real women are hot.

My husband will tell you, will scream from the rafters, that I am hotter today than the day I met him.  The day I met him I had a size 0 waist, a D-cup rack, and weighed under 100 pounds.  Today, I am within 7 pounds of his weight, have a size 10 8 waist, and facial hair.  I think he's insane.  He thinks I'm real.

Of course, when I just now called that motherf%@#er and asked him who the most crushable celebrity was, he said Angelina Jolie.  I said, "Really?" and he said, "Fine.  Avril Lavigne."  So, screw him.  He's totally ruined my point.

My point is that maybe, just maybe, your husband has grown up (unlike some of our spouses) and has realized that the skinny, blond, hot cock garage doesn't equal children and fulfillment and dinner and free ironing.  And free ironing is way hot.

Or maybe he's just trying to throw you off the scent.  Who knows?  Either way, it gives you a good excuse to spend an assload of money on highlights, and that makes it all worth it.

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?

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.

My son, Jacob, is rather rough with our cat, Cleo.  He wants to play with her, but he often pulls her tail or rips whole pieces of fur out from her backside.  What can I do to teach him how to pet nicely?  I'm worried she may bite him one day.

Are your cat's shots up to date?

My kids did not believe me that the stove was hot until they grabbed it.  They didn't believe me when I told them that mommy's soap is for mommy until they got it in their eyes.  They didn't believe me that the dog really didn't appreciate being drug about by the tail until the dog let them know herself.  They didn't believe me that sockets were buzzy until I had to pry them (and my good tweezers) off of the wall.

I don't mean to say we didn't try to explain these things to them; I can't count how many times I said, "No, hot!" or "Owie!" but at the end of the day, they had to test my theories, they had to find their own way.  They don't really ever stop doing this, but the earlier in life they learn that you have some credibility behind your words, the easier those years are when they test you on really big things.  And I promise you, they have to prove TO THEMSELVES that you're not full of shit.  Sometimes that means letting something unpleasant happen to them.  Kids don't really do blind faith very well past, oh, age 2.

I'd probably say either give Jacob a little smack on the hand every time he's too rough with the cat (because the cats safety is still your responsibility, too) or, if you're not cool with that, just keep telling him no and be ready for when the CAT tells him no, too.  Maybe, just maybe, one little snip from the cat will save Jacob one big snap from a strange dog someday.

A little blood can do wonders. And a cat can't do much damage. You have the perfect learning tool at your disposal. If you had a medium to large dog, I would proceed directly to Plan B below. Warn little Jacob accordingly and make sure he knows you are warning him. "Jacob, you know what happens when you bother the cat? Cat gets mad and scratches Jacob. OW!" He won't take you seriously. In fact, he'll laugh. But keep saying it. And let him do his thing. He will eventually piss off the cat, and the cat will swipe (I really don't think he'll bite. I've had cats and they tend to scratch unless they are being otherwise immobilized). Jacob will get a nice owie that will involve broken skin and the nice sting of Bactine.  Lesson learned. And you can totally pull that "what did I say when you were playing with the cat?" This brings it all back so that Jacob understands that sometimes dad does actually know what the hell he's talking about.

If you have a larger animal that actually would eat Jacob in the wild given the chance, or if you really don't want to subject your son to bodily injury of any sort (but are ok with long lasting mental trauma), I offer Plan B:  great acting. I actually resorted to great acting often in my younger days when babysitting the neighborhood kids, around electric sockets mostly. Feigning temporary death is an underrated behavior modification tool. I'd say something like "you know what happens when you touch electric sockets right? You die." And I'd pretend to stand touch one by accident while pointing at it. I'd follow that up with convulsing and making spit foam, and then dying. The kids would be totally freaked out. I'd then wake up a minute later and shake my head like "what the hell just happened?" And then I'd feed them dinner, twitching every so often. They would never again go near an outlet. This technique is very applicable to your cat situation. Bother the cat while Jacob is watching. Get him to swipe and just go down in pain. Go balls out, roll around, scream, writhe and cry in agony. Jacob will make the association. Trust me. It works. This method also works with hot stoves, fan blades, knives and touching your computer. I don't always do what's right, but I do what works.

Be honest.  If you were forced to make a gross generalization, who's blogs are funnier, mommies' or daddies'?

So, here's the breakdown:

Moms: 1875 PPW (posts per week) @ a rate of 2 funny posts out of every 3 = 66% GPP (giggleability per post)

Dads:  147 PPW @ a rate of 2.97 funny posts out of every 3 = 99.97% GPP.

Plus, watching some dad squirm on Twitter when we're all "Dude, I am so going to make out with EVERY GIRL in here" is pure comic gold.

BusyDad:

Moms are funnier. Case in point? See above. I can't even resort to using the lowest common denominator "Asian dude busting out the math" to get a laugh on this one. I'm left with nothing. Moms are quicker, sharper and wittier.

Because our numbers are so few, I can say this: we have more per capita funny. But in absolute numbers, the moms have us beat. And honestly, in quality of funny, they have us beat as well. You think I became such good friends with Mr Lady just because she looks so good in a cardigan? The girl is FU-NNY. Rather than ramble on like an idiot drinking Jack Daniels at 11:41 pm on a Friday night futilely grasping for anything humorous or insightful to add to this post, I'm going to take the easy way out and give you a list as proof that mom bloggers are funnier than dad bloggers (NukeDad notwithstanding - did I use notwithstanding correctly?):

• Momo Fali's
• Missives From Suburbia
  
• Oh, The Joys
• Vintage Thirty
• The Bloggess
• Manager Mom
• Happy Meals and Happy Hour
• Fusemoms
  
• The Only Thing I Know
• Sarcastic Mom [I hate editing after the fact, but really, how could I forget Lotus!!]
• Anne Nahm (totally snuck in there by Mr Lady, because really?  Funniest. Human. Alive)
  

And I am kidding about the bum thing, wife. I really don't remember a thing.

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!

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.

• 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.

Ashley writes:

If you could name just ONE thing that a wife/mother should take the time (what's that) to take care of (having to do with) their own personal appearance, what would it be? Yes, you each have to choose just ONE.

Would it be for them to put makeup on, workout, wax their eyebrows, shave their legs, get dressed up, fix their hair, or something else? And, explain...

 Matt:

Ashley, this is a great question. I'm going to take the easy route. I'm not really a butt man or a boob man (well, OK, I sort of am). I am a self-confidence man. Nothing is sexier to me than a woman who exudes an air of confidence. So, basically, I think its important for a woman to do the thing that makes her feel better about herself. It is SO easy to put that stuff on the back burner after having children. Its too expensive, or there's just not enough time. But moms really need to focus on those things, make time and do them. Whether its nails, hair, tanning...whatever. Men can tell when their wives aren't feeling great about themselves and, in my opinion, it can be a turnoff sometimes.

That being said, and to get back to actually answering your question, for me its wardrobe. Moms work hard...real hard. And they deal with spit up and poop and snot and God knows what else. For that reason I think it becomes really easy for them to slip into the sweatpants/T-shirt rut. This bugs me. You know how some guys' eyes sometimes wander at a restaurant or at the mall, right? Well, an easy way to avoid that is to put the cozys back in the drawer for special occasions and go hit the mall. I'm not talking about spending a fortune, either. Just go ballistic at Target once in a while. Buy a pink ruffle bottom tank and some sunglasses. Pick up a green ribbed wife beater and a pair of beige cargo shorts. Or how about a new nice cerulean blue keyhole top and a nice comfy pair mid-rise twill pants? The key is to buy enough stuff on the cheap that so you don't care if a particular item gets ruined. That way, wives look great to their husbands, and feel better about themselves in the process.

BusyDad: 

Wow, Matt. There's a reason why you are running an apparel business and I am not. Cerulean blue? I can't even front. I am clueless about clothing. So my answer will be completely different.  If I could choose just one thing, it would be working out. Hands down. I am a total "A for Effort" kind of guy. If someone puts the effort in to do something, it means a ton more to me than anything else could. Because effort is hard. Effort takes perseverence. Effort takes giving a shit. And to me, nothing is hotter than giving a shit.

You can easily plunk down a credit card and get a haircut, get waxed and get some new clothes. It's not painful. It's actually kind of fun. But to trudge to the gym between picking up the kids, preparing dinner and getting them to bed in one piece is something that requires dedication. To sweat it out and endure a little pain when you could be decompressing in front of the TV requires willpower and committment.  It shows that you aren't going to give up just because you have a perfect excuse to do so. It shows that you aren't happy simply resting on your laurels.

Sure, most moms don't have their pre-pregnancy bodies. But that's irrelevant. I think I speak for most husbands when I say that the mere fact that you care enough about yourself and how you look to try to get it back speaks volumes. Kind of like the guy who spends all day trying to figure out how to roast a chicken for his date. It may taste like rosemary-infused cardboard, but he gets all the "awwww" points when his girlfriend retells the story. Effort is appreciated and it goes a long way. So go forth and cardiobox! We'll stay home and burn the chicken.

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... 

I'm pregnant with my first child at the moment and we just found out it's a boy. I was raised in a house full of girls, even down to the dogs. I rarely had guy friends growing up, and the ones I did have were gay or questionable. I know absolutely nothing about boys or how to raise them. To me, girls are the easiest things in the world. Got any suggestions on how to keep myself from putting our son in fluffy-polka-dotted-lace-covered little outfits, or things I should know about raising boys????

By the way, I gotta say that I love this sight and your own personal sights. They always bring humor to my day!

BusyDad:

First, congrats! And second, thanks for the props on our sites! We love compliments, and it’s a bonus when someone thinks we’re funny, besides ourselves.

This boy thing. Don’t worry. My mom wanted a girl when I was born. She took matters into her own hands and prettied me up in dresses and paraded me proudly around the playground to the delight of all the little old ladies. I think I turned out ok, right? I mean, every once in a while I get the urge to prance about in something frilly, but besides that, you could never tell.

I am making the assumption here that you are not raising the boy with his father; otherwise, you wouldn’t be worried about the lack of male influence. Regardless, I’m confident that things will take care of themselves, especially once school or daycare starts. And there’s this wonderful child-rearing tool called TV. With those two factors on your side you’ll be swimming in Autobots and Decepticons (more like stepping on them, so never walk barefoot once weapon-oriented toys are introduced to the household) before you can say “Transform! And Roll Out!”

Just go with the flow here. I am a strong believer in natural gender tendencies. Boys will be boys no matter what you do or don’t do, so there’s no need to steer his preferences, toward (or away from) anything. Just raise him with a strong sense of right and wrong. And good manners. The other stuff falls into place by itself.

Mr Lady:

Now, I am going on the assumption that dad IS around, given your usage of "our".  I'll tell you a little something; my husband cried, like WEPT, when each ultrasound came back boy after boy.  He is the only boy from a home with two sisters and a single mom.  He wore silk nightgowns until he was 8.  He knew nothing about raising boys.

The thing is, babies are just babies.  They all like the same things (boobs, onesies, a good poop) and you won't even have to WORRY about gender for a long time.  You'll, in fact, be so bloody f'ing tired, you won't notice if you birth a cheetah for the first 4 months.

When the little personality pops out, then you'll start getting into the swing of it.  And dad will SO teach you the boy ropes.  Master the art of "Pull My Finger", practice up on your Lego building, and cover any open outlets, lest that little man attempts to re-wire your home.  Don't worry about craving the pink frill; there are plenty of totally bangin' boys things, too.  Wanna get really psyched?  Check out www.babywit.com.  That should keep you fairly occupied for a while.  Works for a boy or a girl, but who can resist the power of 3 inch Vans?  If you can, you're dead inside.  That's all I'm saying.

Also important to know is that girls are NOT easier, not by a lot.  Sure, they wipe their own butts earlier and do better in elementary school, but they come out with pom poms in their hands and tiaras on their heads and their first word is MINE.  (Oh, and they're not at all discreet about masturbating.  Just so you know.) 

My first two little bundles of tax deductions were boys, and I couldn't be happier about that.  Boys are awesome.  They are rough and tumble.  They are fun.  You're going to do great. 

My husband whispered to me one morning this weekend as I was changing our son's diaper that someone had another "first" this week. Someone had woken up with a morning woody. And that "someone" wasn't my husband. No. That's right. He was gleefully sharing with me that his off-spring had produced a ..woody. All curious and surprised and dare I say IMPRESSED...he proceeded to ask me which of the toddler girls did I think our son was dreaming about...Our not quite 2 yr old son.
I just ignored him. Maybe elbowed him too. Not sure.
The next thing I know he is telling his friends on the phone. "Good morning! hey. Yeah. Guess what my kid did..."
So here's my question: Do men always announce to the world these kinds of facts? How should I respond in the future?

BusyDad:
WOO HOO!! ROCK ON KID! Get the beer. Where’s the beer? Hell, give the kid a beer! He’s obviously ready. And line up the chicks!

See that? That’s elation. And it’s not even my kid. When that first happened to my son, I almost rented out Hooters for a gala celebration with my drinking buddies to welcome him into our wolfpack.

Let your husband revel in this glory. This is his first validation that this baby thing is a real man in the making. Every father wants to be Mufasa hoisting little Simba up for the entire African plain to witness. That’s pride for you! There is nothing wrong with that.

Because this moment has already passed, let me just prime you for the next ones on the horizon, so that when it happens you can just step back and savor the pure unharnessed joy you are witnessing:

• The first time your son sings one of your hubby’s favorite songs.
• The first time your son reads one of your hubby’s favorite beer or booze labels.
• The first time your son expresses interest in your hubby’s favorite sports team/athlete.
• The first time he defends himself physically.
• The first time he clogs the toilet.
• The first time he belches real loud, on purpose.
• The first time he expresses interest in girls.
• His first hit, goal, touchdown, KO.

There are more, but this should cover you for a few years. Come back in about 7 years for a few more...

Mr Lady:

Well, welcome back, BusyDad, and way to totally answer that.  Just because I go a week without a post doesn't mean you have to totally leave me NO FUNNY ROOM. :)

Yes, Trixie, they always make a big deal out of it.  They continue to make a big deal out of it until puberty begins to rear it's ugly head, at which point you'll hear a lot of I have to work late tonight's and ums and errrs and When does sex ed start in school exactly's and Have YOU had the talk with him yet's. 

What they don't tell you when you have a boy is that from the second he is born, you will sayand hear penis or willy on weinerschnitzle or whatver it is you call it more time than you will inhale.  I say you brush up on your high five technique, and brace yourself for the talk you're doomed to have in 10 years. 

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!