Looky, Daddy!

Pass Out the Cigars

Life Ain't Nuthin' But a Funny, Funny Riddle

"Tell him. Tell him what the lady said."

"What lady?"

"The lady at the car rental place."

My father-in-law looks at me, a smile already beginning to spread across his face. My father-in-law was born and raised in Dill City, Oklahoma. Dill City is about as far removed from a real city as you can imagine. You could stand on the roof of the tallest building in town, which would either be the Dairy Queen or the church, and you would see nothing for hundreds of miles that even remotely resembled a city. Or even another Dairy Queen. Or church.

My father-in-law has lived in Oklahoma for most of his life, but don't let that fool you. He has been around the world more times than I can count. He and my mother-in-law go on trips that last for months to Ecuador, to Myanmar, to Japan, to Antarctica, to Jordan, and sometimes, to New York and New Jersey. Still, despite his travels, he has the look of an Oklahoman farmer who grew up to be an accountant, which is exactly what he is.

"So this lady at the car rental place in Manhattan..." he began.

"She was black," my mother-in-law added.

"...asked me, when she gave me my keys, if I needed directions to my destination," my father-in-law continued.

"She was black and middle-aged," my mother-in-law interjected again.

"So I said no. Then she asked me again if I needed directions, and I said no, thank you. Then, before she handed me the keys, she asked me again if I needed directions. So I said, no, I don't need directions.

"Then she put the car keys down on the counter, looked at me straight and said, 'Country boy, you know you're not in Oklahoma anymore.'"

My father-in-law does not laugh a lot. He's a serious man. But after telling us this story, he fell to laughing so hard I thought he might just keel over right there in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner. I could just imagine the headline in his hometown paper. "67 Year-Old Dill City Native Killed by Middle-Aged Black Woman in Manhattan."

Ask The Dad

Dear The Dad

My husband and I are expecting our first child in April. We are both currently working, but my job pays better than his plus it has better benefits. Once or twice I spoke with him about maybe staying home with the baby while I continue to work, but he said he's not interested. Actually, he said being a stay-at-home dad wasn't "manly" enough.

My husband would be great with a kid, I know, plus it makes A LOT more sense financially if he stays home instead of me. What do you think I should do?

Thanks,

Wife of a Manly Man, Cedar Park, TX

Dear Wifely Wife,

Not manly enough? NOT MANLY ENOUGH? Ma'am, your husband clearly has no idea about the definition of manly.

Commuting to and from work is not manly. Sitting behind a desk is not manly. Attending meetings is not manly. Reading emails, memos, or quarterly reports is not manly. Working for the Man is not manly.

Manly means one thing and one thing only: Having sex. And not just any old sex. It means having good sex, life-changing sex, baby-making sex.

Being a stay-at-home dad is the only job I know of  in which you push around, in a stroller, for all the world to see, the evidence of really great sex. What could be manlier than that?

I walk around my town, pushing my girls in their big, massive SUV of a stroller, yelling out in my booming voice, "Look upon me, housewives of New Jersey! See what I hath wrought! I am the twin-maker, the maker of twins! Look upon my deeds with awe and wonder!"

Women, both young and old, swoon before me. Men, their manliness dulled by years of pencil-pushing, quake in my presence. I am easily the most manly man you will ever meet.

So tell your wuss of a husband that he's wrong, but it doesn't really matter anyway. Tell him he's not nearly manly enough to be a stay-at-home dad. Very few men are.

And that is probably a good thing.

Cheers,

The Dad

Got a question for The Dad? Email me.

Email The Dad

Melitta Mill & Brew Dies at Age 2

Obituary

Melitta Mill & Brew, the coffee maker whom some credit with the survival of the twins to this date, died on the kitchen counter of its modest New Jersey home on Wednesday. The cause of death has yet to be determined, but sources close to the family suspect it was exhaustion. The Mill & Brew was less than two years old.

The Mill & Brew spent much of its life trying to be all things to all people. It not only made a good, strong cup of coffee, it also ground the roasted beans itself. "It never complained," said The Dad. "French roast, New York roast, hazelnut, it brewed them all. It even brewed a pot of decaf we had bought by mistake."

The Melitta product had a rocky start in the Looky, Daddy! household. "From the moment we opened the box and read those words, 'Not dishwasher safe,' we knew that our Mill & Brew would be a challenge," said The Mom. "But we accepted it for what it was and we learned to love it anyway."

The timing made the adjustment especially hard. The Mill & Brew was welcomed into the home at the same time as two other newborns, Lila and Victoria. As a result, the coffee maker had to fight for attention in its challenging and often chaotic suburban New Jersey house. Two months after being unpacked, the signs of tension began to show: A small latch at the back of the coffee maker broke off. Looking back on it now, said a source close to the family, it was clearly a cry for help.

But the family, waist deep in the trouble and travails of having twin newborns, ignored the problem and used the coffee maker anyway. Day in and day out the Mill & Brew made coffee for the family and its guests, including an impressive list of movers, shakers, grandparents, and even the occasional babysitter. "It was a hard life, and a thankless one," recalls a grandparent. "But without that little guy brewing its heart out on that counter, I doubt the twins would be alive today." The grandparent then offered to show this reporter the approximately 200 pictures of the twins and their big sister that she keeps in her purse. There were no pictures of the Melitta Mill & Brew.

The end came this weekend when Thanksgiving brought a rush of visitors to the house. While grinding a fresh basket of dark roast, a small but crucial plastic piece broke off. The Dad, in the kitchen at the time, knew something was wrong immediately. "It was quiet. So quiet. The poor thing just stopped." When asked if he thought it was poor quality or craftmanship that cut the coffee maker's life so short, The Dad replied, "Our Melitta had problems, there's no doubt about that. Toward the end it took forever to brew just a small pot, but it was a good coffee maker--a brave coffee maker. I think its life was so brief because the Lord has other plans for it. He called it to His kitchen countertop in heaven."

The Melitta Mill & Brew was preceded in death by two Mr. Coffees, a Krupps espresso machine, a thermal press, and a poorly conceived automatic ice-tea maker.

There will be a small, family-only service held at an undisclosed New Jersey location. The family informs that, in lieu of flowers, they are accepting donations for a replacement coffee maker.

"Life must go on," The Dad said.

Happy Thanksgiving

The Thanksgiving rush is finally over and lo I am back at my computer again. The time away has given me some important time to reflect about the nature of this special holiday and the truly amazing list of blessings for which I am thankful. So I hope you, Gentle Reader, will indulge me for a moment as I share some of those things with you.

I am thankful that a child's mouth can only hold twenty teeth.

I am thankful for Children's Television Workshop.

I am thankful that a professional nutritionist is not present at my house during mealtimes.

I am thankful for parenting magazines. How else could I learn invaluable tips for a stay-at-home dad such as these that I copied from the magazines at my pediatrician's office?

• Fabulous Looks for Mom's-to-Be
• Enjoy Mom Time
• Mom's Best PMS Home Remedies
• The New Mom Workout
• 8 Ways to Be a Happier Mom
  and the only article whose title mentioned dads:
• Getting Dad To Do His Fair Share

I am thankful for the entertainment properties of common household objects that look dangerous but aren't.

I am thankful that I own only cheap furniture, so that when I'm in the kitchen and I hear an earsplitting crash from the living room, I don't need to be too concerned.

I am thankful that I have an extra baby, so that when I'm in the kitchen and I hear an earsplitting crash from the living room, I don't need to be too concerned.

I am thankful that the pre-school I covet for the girls offers a whopping 5% twin discount. Now I can finally afford to stay home and blog all day.

I am thankful that the twins have not been kicked out of our library's free story time. Yet.

I am thankful that there are enough additives and fillers in a hot dog that surely it counts as more than just one food group.

I am thankful that having "one more"  kid was my wife's idea so I can imagine myself utterly blameless for this entire escapade.

I am thankful that vasectomies are covered under my health insurance policy.

I am thankful that there are a lot of restaurants in my town, as there is no way we'd ever be allowed to take the girls to the same place more than once.

And finally, as the Looky, Daddy! family spends this special holiday season on the East Coast, I am thankful that the sun sets by 4:30 PM. "Look, children! It's dark outside. Everybody to your beds!"

It works for in-laws, too.

It's Late. Again.

I am sometimes asked how, while taking care of my girls, I could possibly have time to write. The answer is, of course, that I don't. I don't have time for any of this.

It's not that I don't have time to come up with material. Just today I had a supermarket epiphany, I discovered a deep-seated resentment toward animals that I have been harboring for well over six years now, and my daughter told me that tomorrow at recess she is planning on marrying another girl. All of these will someday make truly hysterical posts.

But not tonight. Tonight I'm going to bed.

And by the way, my in-laws are arriving in town for a Thanksgiving feast that I am singlehandly preparing (please don't misunderstand--I am happy to be preparing all of the food myself; it means someone else is taking care of the kids. "No, I'm sorry. I can't change that diaper, I'm in the middle of a very complicated spinach dip.") so if I don't post again before Thursday, here's wishing you all a mighty happy holiday. Cheers.

Mr The Dad Goes to Washington

Today's post will be a short one, as I just got back from a quick weekend trip to DC to listen to my dad deliver a speech to a museum full of important people that would have easily laughed themselves out of their chairs had they known a stay-at-home dad was in their midst. (And no, thankfully, my dad is not a politician. He's a homebuilder. Actually, he's the National Homebuilder of the Year due to his remarkably high-performing building techniques and his recent construction of a "zero-energy" house outside of Dallas. Not that I'm proud of him or anything.)

Anyway, on the Friday morning before I felt, as I was driving Kathryn and Camilo to school, Kathryn asked me in her timid (read: whiney) voice, "Daddy, how long are you going to be gone?"

I explained that I would only be gone for two nights (two nights! Just remembering it causes me to get a little weak in the knees) and that I'd be back in time to take her to school again Monday morning.

Kathryn is just a tiny bit attached to her dad and she replied with a very sad, almost teary, "Okay."

Silence followed. Impossibly, Camilo and the twins were even quiet, too, perhaps sensing the gravity of the situation in Kathryn's mind. So I lamely tried to make light of my little trip with a couple of dumb jokes. It didn't work.

"Dad?" Kathryn began, her whine approaching the upper register of human hearing.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Can you be gone longer? Momma said we would have ice cream every day that you are gone."

Weekend Weblink

The Looky, Daddy! team is always looking for opportunities to educate as well as entertain. And if that education also coincides with really freaky videos, well then, all the better.

Check out the following freaky-deaky movies of people with too much time and cornstarch on their hands. (Thanks, Sue, for the tip.)

Cornstarch lifeform

Cornstarch swimming pool

Cornstarch monster

Cornstarch music

Cornstarch boring University of Texas explanation

See you, Monday!

And the Winner Is...

Before I announce the winner, although I must say it is hard to build up suspence when all you have to do is go click on the poll and you'll know who won, I'd like to take a moment and thank all of you. Your participation in this haiku contest has set the bar really, really high for any future contests that the Looky, Daddy! team might organize. (The team, by the way, consists of me and me alone. If I let the The Mom help plan contests, we'd have the see-how-quickly-The-Dad-can-stop-blogging-and-put-away-these-three-baskets-of-clean-laundry contest with the prize being The-Mom-not-unplugging-his-computer-again.)

Many, many thanks are in order for our guest-judge, Emily, from Dream/Baby Haiku. She had an unenviable task and handled it with the same grace, style, and wit which makes her blog such a fun read. Thank you, Emily.

Re-reading your 134 haiku, (134 haiku!), I feel that they contain some lessons that I would be remiss not to extract and share with you. They are:

• Most parents only like their kids while their kids are sleeping.
• Poop up to the neck is a sublime literary device.
• It takes six syllables for a baby to fall down the stairs.
• Having twins keeps many parents awake at night. The thought of having twins keeps the rest awake, too.
• Babies are messy. Really, really messy. Over a quarter of the submissions were about poop, pee, spit-up, or spilled milk.
• The more sleep deprived you are, the more likely thinking in haiku will drive you over the brink.
• Our species would have become extinct long ago if children didn't smile and giggle at just the right moments.
• In a house with kids, quiet moments are moments to be feared.
• "Sensory integration dysfunction" has ten syllables. "Homeostasis" has five.
• I'm glad I don't lactate.
• Cuddle and swaddle your kids all you like, they'll still pee on you when they get the chance. (Or in their own ear. Who knew?)
• Anonymous off-topic submissions to my blog are most often made by the dad of The Dad.
• I should not read, or even re-read your submissions while drinking hot coffee.
• And most importantly, the good people at Vizu polls have no math skills whatsoever. I hope nobody calls for a recount on this thing, because at last glance, the top five entries each received over 20% of the vote for a total of 119%, with the other five entries garnering an additional 45% of the vote for a grand total of 164%. That is a figure even Florida would have to question. So, not to take the wind out of the winner's sails, but, honestly, God only knows who really won. Or maybe JHC.

But nevertheless, we are gathered here to present you with a champion so, without further ado, I hereby announce that champion to be Uneven Exchange by EOMama.

Uneven Exchange

Once worked for money

Now work for tyrants who pay

In boogers and poo

Now, EOMama, if for some reason you are unable to accept your prize of coffee, chocolate-covered espresso beans, and donuts (perchance you are Mormon or there is no Krispy Kreme near you) then the aforementioned Looky, Daddy! team will happily accept the prize on your behalf.

Otherwise, EOMama, I'll send the prizes out to you tout de suite. That way they can sit there in your house, teasing you as you slowly recover from that stomach virus your kids gave you yesterday.

Enjoy!

The 10 Haiku Finalists

Well, here they are. Emily did a truly heroic job of narrowing down our entries (and I'm not just saying that because The Mom's haiku made the cut) and now it is up to you. Check out the finalists below and then vote for your two favorite haiku in the poll that follows.

Feel free to campaign all you want in the comments section. Finalists, why should they choose yours? Readers, why do you like the ones you chose? Authors who didn't make the cut, why has your genius been ignored? But remember, at LookyDaddy, everyone is a winner. Except for you. That's just the way it goes sometimes.

To begin, here's a haiku from Emily:

With Honor to All

What a bright display

Of literary loving -

How lucky we are!

Now, I present the Finalists:

#1 The Breast Pump

Black Backpack Pulses

In a Quiet Room Mom Hides

Milk Overflowing

posted by Amy

EM's comment: This has rhythm and a really clear image. Been there, done that, too.

#2 Watch What You Say

Sweet girl two years old

Playing with toys, frustrated

When she says, "Oh fut."

posted by John

EM's comment: Very futty.

#3 Little and Sweet

Cooing "swim like fish"

Baby butts are adorable

Hineys in the bath

posted by The Mom

EM's comment: Too cute. Extra points for using the word "hineys".

#4 Dad Is Not Confused

Nipple Confusion

No question if bad or good

They Are Never Bad

posted by Noodad

EM's comment: Sound Like Confucius. Wink Like Grasshopper.

#5 Uneven Exchange

Once worked for money

Now work for tyrants who pay

In boogers and poo

posted by EOMama

EM's comment: Special award for best use of the p-word.

#6 Untitled

your dirty face, socks

rolled down, i relive my youth

chocolate kisses

posted by cstarling

EM's comment: Daring yet precise use of form, elegant thought.

#7 Life with the Atypical Child: A Haiku in Five Parts

when the crying stops

the laughter spills from your breath

ah, the joy of you

they told me you had

sensory integration

dysfunction at four

it all makes sense this

diagnosis. Not a bad

boy, just needs some help

now with therapy

your grin is as wide as Earth

I can do it mom!

you have come so far

have worked so hard, we know now

success is your smile

posted by Liesel Elliott

EM's comment: Okay, I'm counting this one as one big epic haiku. Call it accommodation. The subject warrants it. Rock on, boy!

# 8 Untitled

the smooth, velvety

skin on your round cheek gives like

a ripe peach when kissed

posted by G

EM's comment: That's so darn right I can smell it.

#9 The Joy of Sucks

Passy is like crack

She may never give it up

Binky at college?

posted by Farley

EM's comment: I do like a little humor in my haiku, but this would never pass the content controls at schools. My blog doesn't either.

#10 Untitled

Little smile so sweet

And then you scream for hours

All so wonderful

posted by Don Emerson

EM's comment: Up and down and up again, zen-like balance.