Ms. Maxwell writes:

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?

BusyDad:

I need a standing eight count. Jenna Fischer makes me woozy in a good way. And it doesn't help that my name is Jim.

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.

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.

Dean writes:

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.

Mr Lady:

Are your cat's shots up to date?

We've taught our kidss 'Give Love' and 'Soft Hands', and that worked for a while, but when push comes to shove, there are just some things your kids are going to insist on learning on their own.  The sooner you come to terms with that, the longer you'll postpone going gray.

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.

BusyDad:

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.

Matt @ RedSparks writes:

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

Clearly, Matt hates us and doesn't want us to succeed.  What the hell kind of question is this, Matt?  Um, bait much?

I kid, I kid.

Screw it, I'm busting out a calculator for this one.  Let's use Cre8Buzz as our control.  Cre8Buzz has 625 Mom Bloggers signed up.  They have 91 Dad Bloggers.  So, 6.86% of CreBuzz's parents bloggers are men.  Assuming that every one of those bloggers will post 3X a week, 147 of the 2,022 ensuing posts will come from men. 

Now, mommy blogs tend to be way more, how shall we say this, about the bodily fluids than the guys?  Yeah, that'll do.  And bodily fluids are fucking hilarious.  But, and this is a big but, I find that for every three post a mom is going to put up, at least ONE of them is going to be serious.  However, unless you're Jeremy or BackPackingDad, a dad blog is going to tend to be more light-hearted more frequently.  Like, say, NukeDad.  I have read every single stinking post he's every written (he looks like my ex-boyfriend, shut up) and I think there's maybe 3 serious posts in there of the 100 he's written.  So, though maybe, MAYBE, the moms are funnier when they're funny, I find the dads to be more consistently funny, which should count for something.

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.

The dads have it.

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.

You know  why it seems like dads are funnier? Because there are so few of us. In my experience, it almost seems as if 'dad blog' is merely another category within this thing we call mom blogs. I mean, hell, no one can look at all those pictures of me and my mom blog friends partying it up at Blogher and tell me I wasn't just 'one of the girls' that night (after I cropped out the hands grabbing my bum, of course).

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.

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>