I’m a single dad, not a child molester

Let’s play a game.
Let’s say there’s a little girl we’ll call Brittany. Now Brittany is in the secound grade at a school she’s been attending since kindergarten. She’s outgoing and cute, dresses odd at times, can be very funny, is a tad bookwormish, and is most definitively a Taylor Swift fan.

Brittany meets and becomes fast friends with another little girl in her class named Mallory. They both like the TV show Good Luck Charlie and Tap Pet Shop on their iTouches, not to mention Mallory loves Taylor Swift to. They quickly become inseparable pals eating lunch together every day, playing during recess, and drawing pictures of one another under rainbow and butterfly filled skies.
One afternoon Mallory comes running home from school asking her mom and dad if she can have a sleepover at Brittany’s house this weekend. It seems Brittany recently got Just Dance 3 for the Wii and they plan on having a dance party late into the night.

The usual next step entails Brittany and Mallory’s mom talking on the phone or maybe meeting up for a quick ‘get-to-know’ and it’s party on. But if that was all it wouldn’t be much of a post. Well it isn’t all because there’s one small detail I left out. In this story you’re Mallory’s mom or dad and the sleepover she wants with Brittany, well, it’s going to be at my home – her unmarried, and single father.

If the quality of a parent is based on aptitude and performance I’ll be in the Mommy and Daddy Hall of Fame.

Now let me ask you this question. What is the very first thought going through your mind after realizing the place where your daughter is going to spend the night is a single dad’s house?
You don’t have to answer that because I already know. It’s something like this…
Not a chance in hell!
And here’s a secret, it would probably be the same for me.

Next month marks seven years since her mom and I broke up. That’s seven years of co-parenting on my own. That’s 2,555 days full of diaper changes, potty training episodes, nursing nosebleeds, performing tuck-ins, and reciting bedtime stories. I’ve doctored diaper rashes, attended parent/teacher conferences, and sat through a dozen God-awful elementary school musicals. I’ve read to classrooms, been a teacher’s helper, and ate $2.30 school lunches with a table of seven year olds. There are only two feats I’ve yet to check-off from the parenting manual – breast feeding and giving birth and that’s only because I don’t come with the necessary accessories.
If you’re going to judge a parent based upon his or her aptitude and performance, go ahead and induct me into the Mommy and Daddy Hall of Fame, right now.
So why is it when Mallory asked if she could have a sleepover at my house you looked at your spouse and thought “how are we going to get out of this?”

It’s one of the harshest realities I’ve ever faced as an man, and a father – since I don’t live with a woman I’m less of a parent. In the court of public opinion I’m a dad who’s guilty until proven innocent and even if I am acquitted I still need an ankle bracelet and must check in with my parole officer once a month. Because I failed to be married I’m no less inclined to fail as a parent.

Why, and this question is directed at me as much as anyone else, do I feel way more uneasy if my kids are in a home where the responsible parent isn’t a woman? Why do I believe it isn’t a good idea since there isn’t going to be a mom around and therefore I make up some lame lie excuse about why my kid can’t spend the night with her friend? Why do feel I need to ask around, run a complete background check, and ask for blood and urine samples because the dad isn’t married? And why would I be more relaxed if it were at moms?

The fact isn’t lost on me that my daughter has tons of sleepovers but none of them are at my home. In the last 2 years she has only had one friend spend the night and it was a neighbor who lived 200 yards away and her parents had me on speed dial. Sure, my daughter wants friends over but it never seems to materialize, as if by magic the other kids are always busy…until the next weekend she’s at her moms.

Why are single dads looked upon more critically than any another parent? While single moms are virtually sanctified to the level of Mother Theresa for their seemingly endless supply of self-sacrifice; single dads are expected to be self-centered, negligent, and unreliable – especially as a parent. It’s undeniable that a single father is first and foremost regarded as single. Because I’m not with a woman why is it assumed I must have the parenting skills of a green sea turtle? That I will invariably let my and your kids watch too much television, drink gallons of soda, and run with knives.

But let’s be completely honest. The actual reason there’s a problem, whether you want to admit it or not, is the idea of your daughter or son staying at my house fills your mind with dreadful images better left unsaid.

I could tell you that I, like most dads, just want the best for my kids and for them to have happy and joyful childhoods. I could also tell you that as a single dad I guarantee I work harder towards that than any married dad ever will. I could mention it offends me that you think your child would be any less safe and secure with me just because a woman isn’t under my roof. And I could bring up that if you actually got to know me you’d quickly realize I, and many other single dads like me, aren’t anything like the deadbeats you hear about in the media.
But chances are it wouldn’t do any good, so instead I’ll just leave you with this remainder

I’m a single dad not a child molester.

Why math is important. Science too.

"I mean, some cars tires turn faster than others…”


Chelsea

Tuesday night my Muse texted me with a link to a YouTube video and implored me to watch it because, “The dumb bitch really had me laughing.” Having nothing better to do at the moment, I clicked on the link and proceeded to be surprised at just how stupid graduates of the American high school system can be.




Why was I surprised? Not by the fact that the guy (Travis) was filming himself with his phone as he was driving (as we would soon find out) 80 MPH across Idaho. The first thing Travis said was “I just proposed a math question to my beautiful wife Chelsea.” That didn’t surprise me either. (Yo Einstein, you “presented” her with a math question, not “proposed” one to her) The question was, “How long does it take to drive 80 miles if you’re driving 80 MPH.”

When did the surprise happen? It happened right after he flipped the phone over to show his blond wife, Chelsea. Chelsea quickly stared the math off by discussing how fast she can run a mile when she’s in shape and when she’s out. It only gets more confusing after that because she starts talking about cutting things in half before yammering about God knows what. The good news is that is I feel WAY better about myself after watching the video. I really do.
I think the only video funnier than this would be to video Sheldon Cooper (Big Bang Theory) as he’s watching this video. He would be in a straight jacket by the end of the first minute. Guaranteed.

Also, Chelsea might not understand sarcasm but I guarantee that pretty much everyone else in America does. The driver might want to remember that when Chelsea throws him out (if she hasn’t already) and he needs to find another woman. I’m hoping that Chelsea was having a bad day and that she’s really not that mathematically challenged, but I’m not overly optimistic.
I swear to God that any time a kid wants to drop out of school, they should be shown this video. I’m not even sure where to begin, so I’m going to let you watch this and leave me your comments. Please leave me your comments. I really want to read them.





P.S. In case anyone wants to argue that “propose” is correct, I leave you with this:

pro·pose

-pos·ing. verb (used with object)

1. to offer or suggest (a matter, subject, case, etc.) for consideration, acceptance, or action: to propose a new method.

2. to offer (a toast).

3. to suggest: He proposed that a messenger be sent.

4. to present or nominate (a person) for some position, office, membership, etc.

5. to put before oneself as something to be done; design; intend.

The baby at the gas station

You are truly rad. Your friend? Not so much.

UPDATE: It’s now being reported that the mother GAVE the baby to the woman at the gas station and that the baby was never actually dumped in a bag. Let’s go ahead and add “What kind of crazy bitch fakes this story?” to the mix.

I’m gonna start with the obvious and ask, what kind of a lowlife douche abandons a baby at a damn gas station? How much crack do you have to be smoking to think that’s a good idea? I mean, why not drop the kid off at a safe place on your way to the methadone clinic?
In case you haven’t heard, some soulless person abandoned a baby at a gas station in Long Beach Monday night. Picture this. You head over to the convenience store in a sketchy part of town to buy your Lotto ticket. [You don't win if you don't play.] Suddenly you see a bag against the wall and since you’re nosy, you look inside. There’s another bag inside the first bag so you open that as well. Imagine your surprise at finding a baby with the umbilical cord still attached.
I love the fact that in the video below, the woman rats her friend out by saying the friend told her to “just leave it” and the reporter doesn’t even flinch. If I was the reporter I’m pretty sure I would have bitch slapped the friend for being straight up mean.
All kidding aside, who the hell does something like this? I mean, if you don’t want the baby take it to a church or hospital. Just because you’re some kinda disturbed doesn’t mean your child has to die. I seriously cannot envision a single scenario that would end with me dumping my baby at a gas station. I can’t envision dumping her at all, but if I had to do it I would take her to a hospital or a fire station.
I don’t know what to say other than, I don’t get it. I really don’t. My Drama Queen is everything to me. She’s partially the reason I’m greying but she’s the reason I get out of bed every morning. If you think I’m mean with that greying comment, chill. You know every parent goes bald or gets grey at the amusement of their children.
When she’s in school I worry that she’s not paying attention in class or that she didn’t study hard enough for a test. When she’s at tennis I wonder if she’s paying attention to the coach so that she can reach her goal of going from frosh/soph to JV next fall. When she’s at home I worry that she may be trying to read her Kindle instead of her science notes. We worry because we care and we care because we’re parents. And because we want our children to have good jobs so they don’t have to put is in a home someday.
I hope they find the loser who did this and I hope that person never gets out. I won’t go so far as to say they should be shanked in the yard, but I could see it happening. The baby is alive and thankfully in stable condition at a local hospital. I pray that baby gets a home with people who love it. I’m totally at a loss for words right now, so I’ll keep it short and sweet. Thank you to the lady who took the baby home and called 911. You are truly rad. Your friend? Not so much.


Watch local news video

P.S. I’m in a slightly classier neighborhood. Slightly.

My Two Cents–Penn State

I apologize in advance if this gets, uh, animated. It could possibly be the best 4:45 of your day. Or maybe not. I guess you’ll have to look and find out.