Bottled Anger: Seven Ways People Have Annoyed Me in Parenthood

Due to my younger son's persistently invasive reflux, I've had less sleep and more back-aches than I'd like. So, expect this blog entry to be especially hostile. Instead of focusing on my actual children, today I'll be talking about how others in my life have reacted to my fatherhood. Particularly the ones who have reacted poorly. So yeah, let's get into that.

I Googled "Annoyed Man + Middle Aged" and this is what it yielded

For starters, when you walk into that delivery room, you're essentially signing a contract that reads:

I understand that from this point forward any of my personal interests, needs, wants or desires will be of no importance. I will never sleep more than six hours in a given night until I'm 50, my shirts will never be clean beyond the first five minutes I have them on, and any lingering curiosities about life I have will mean nothing once the afterbirth has made its grand appearance.

Of course, I never signed such a document, so I assumed everything would be okay. But it's not, is it? They say your life is never the same once you have a child, and this time the cliche is actually true. It's not all bad, mind you, but there's certainly plenty of bad (enough to fill this blog, anyway!). I'm not sure everyone fully understands the frustrations parents face, not only from our children, but from all of you! So, here is a list of the most aggravating things people have done to me since I became a dad.

1. Never asking me to do anything. Ever.

Okay, I'll admit that my social calendar has plenty of blackout dates now, but for Christ's sake, throw me a bone once in a while! A happy hour, a bachelor party, even to help you move a piano up a flight of stairs. Anything! My conceiving a child in no way impairs my ability to intake alcohol (in fact, it increases it) and it certainly does not mean I want to be home every single night for the rest of eternity scrubbing a vomit-stained carpet. Help a brother out!

2. Visiting with balloons when my first was born and forgetting where I lived for the second

Being a second child myself, I'm especially sensitive to this. We may have been born second, but that doesn't inherently make us inferior to the first, like movies! I saw approximately a 32% drop-off in visitors from kid #1 to kid #2. And I'm not talking gifts, I'm talking either stopping by to acknowledge the child's arrival on earth or a simple phone call to say congratulations. Why is one kid drive-worthy while the other one gets relegated to an "attaboy" text message or worse- no acknowledgment at all? If you ever star in a Broadway musical, I'm totally leaving during intermission.

3. Saying I look tired every time I see you

I literally have slept eight hours in one night twice since 2009. That's a seriously fucked up statistic. How could I NOT look tired with that situation going on? Saying I look tired implies with megaphone-like volumes that I look awful. What's sad is I still manage to look better than you. Sad for you, not me.

4. Giving my kid clothes that would have fit him last year or will fit him when he's 13

Let me fill you in on a little secret. Those numbers on the tags of children's clothes, they're kind of a guide. As in, a sized 3T shirt might have a chance of fitting my son when he's 3. So that's why it's frustrating when my kid is 2 and you're giving him clothes that say 12 months on the tag. My kids are special, but they cannot time travel quite yet, and I have a feeling they're only going to get larger, not smaller. For those of you who have gone the other way and gotten them stuff that's more likely to fit me, your offense isn't as bad, but it's still sort of a weird thing to do.

5. Scheduling a party at night and expecting me to bring the kids

When I do actually get invited to something, this is always what happens. And only people without kids (or have kids that are vampires) would expect me to be at their house with a child after 7 pm. And really, asking a kid to be anywhere but bed at 10 pm is like asking an adult to be at a party that starts at 3 am. RSVPing "no" for this one, but thanks.

6. Referring to either of my kids as "your little one"

How more obvious can you be that you don't remember my son's name? Not only is it insulting to what I thought was a close friendship we had, but being a man and hearing the words "your little one" make me feel totally inadequate.

7. Saying you need a vacation

Starving people in Africa need food. Humans need oxygen to breathe. You are single, have a moderately stressful job, get monthly massages, just came back from a trip to Barbados where the locals fed you mixed berries while exfoliating your body on a yacht, you have a trust fund, a live-in maid and are one of the first investors in Apple stock...You sleep nine uninterrupted hours a night, have flawless relationships with your parents and have no known restrictions on your overall happiness. Yet you NEED a vacation. Get the fuck over yourself and gift your miles to a parent for Christmas. Trust me when I say that the need to escape reality exists much stronger for us than it does for you. Although, I am all in favor of you leaving the country.


There's more, I'm sure, but this is enough for one entry. If you fall into any of the above categories, I'm sorry for being so honest. But I'm nothing if not forward. As always, post this to your social networking site of choice if you enjoyed it. And follow these posts!

Be strong,

Joe DeProspero
jdeprospero@gmail.com
Follow me on Twitter!
Buy my book on Kindle for $5 here!

Taming the Tantrum: Dealing with a Pain in the Ass Child

When you look at an iconic leader such as Vince Lombardi or Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., what's often overlooked is that they weren't just hatched from eggs as the people they are. Their parents conceived them, fed them, clothed them, and more often than not had a tremendous impact on the people they turned out to be. But can you imagine being mom to a young, upstart Martin Luther King? He wakes you up at 3 am on a Tuesday and announces, "I had a dream!" Your first reaction would not be to erect a statue in his honor. In fact, you'd probably say, "Who fucking cares?" and usher him back into his big-boy bed.

The point I'm trying desperately to make is that strong-minded adults were once incredibly annoying children. Now I'm not saying this applies directly to me. However, I will say that if Antonio doesn't grow up to be a man of strong conviction, those nights he absolutely insisted on changing his pajamas three times (before ultimately deciding on the first pair) will not at all seem worth the aggravation and screaming.

And if you're a parent who has never suffered the indignity of standing helplessly by as your child flails on the floor of Toys R' Us because you didn't let him carry five Buzz Lightyears simultaneously while drinking a juice box and eating a granola bar, then I'm happy for you. But if you're like me and have a child who has a fit if you so much as make eye contact with him when he's in a shitty mood, I think you'll relate to this more than you'd like.

From my experience, there are a series of questions you need to ask yourself when your kid starts doing a war chant/rain dance and becomes intolerably inconsolable.

You better be a model fucking citizen in high school, kid

1. Are you in public?

Being in public vs. the privacy on your own home is the difference between wordlessly pulling your screaming kid to the side while whispering strong threats into their ears and a full-on shitstorm of anger, ending in a police visit. Potentially the most difficult thing to pull off as a parent is disciplining your child without looking like a heartless asshole.

2. Does he/she have a point?

Seriously. I consider this. If I promised chocolate and gave celery, I deserve the tantrum. Kick me in the balls and get it over with. I shouldn't have been so misleading.

3. Are other parents watching me?

There is nothing worse than being watched by other people with kids while you're seriously considering violence against your own. You just KNOW they're judging you. The right move is to bottle the anger until your company leaves. They'll actually think you're level-headed, and you'll get your revenge in private.

4. Will I follow through on my promise of pain?

I can't tell you how many times I've threatened Antonio with something only to have Sonia remind me, "Joe, no bluffing. Only say it if you're gonna follow through." And she's absolutely right. But I found out the hard way one morning. Antonio was sitting way too close to the TV and flat out refused to move back an inch. Then, I said it. "Hey, if you don't move back, I'm throwing you in the shower!" I should note that this had been threatened once before and the idea terrorized him. Surely, he'd cringe at my stern warning. But nothing. I dragged him up the stairs (as my mother-in-law watched, mind you) literally kicking and screaming. I gave him one last fleeting chance to repent, but he was too busy convulsing. So in the shower he went! Neither of us could believe I'd followed through on a promise. But now I always have that as a viable threat in my back pocket. Score!

5. How badly can I punish him/her without feeling like an awful person?

This really is the most important question, when all is said and done. Some parents are perfectly okay with water-boarding their kids while others flinch at the thought of denying them a brownie sundae. I tend to float somewhere in the middle. I couldn't fathom truly hurting my children but refuse to be seen as a passive douche by letting my kid dump a bowl of Cheerios and milk over the head of a house guest. So I handle Antonio's freak-outs with a series of punishment levels.

The first and least severe is the time out. Frankly, I think this punishment technique is kind of bullshit, but it works half the time. I put him in a room by himself and leave, telling him not to move a muscle. This generally doesn't go over well (and he moves plenty of muscles), but at least he knows he's being punished. The next level is a time out with a closed-door kicker. If I put him in a room and close the door, woah boy! He knows I mean business. Unfortunately, this more often than not results in serious damage to the door, though. The next level of this disciplinary gauntlet is the dreaded shower. I swear, you'd think my son was a hippie by the sheer terror in his eyes when that water starts running. But like I said, if it works, it works.

I'm sure this isn't the last blog I'll be writing about taming the tantrum, as I'll constantly be learning new random reasons Antonio (and ultimately Nate) will find to explode in a fit of rage (one of Antonio's worst fits resulted from me moving his step stool from one side of the fridge to the other without consulting him first). In the meantime, feel free to share your stories with me! I'd love to compile a "Worst of" list of tantrums and the drastically different manner in which each parent handled it. If nothing else, it'll help me feel better about myself. But isn't that what this blog is about anyway?

As always, pass this along to your friends if you think they'd enjoy. I often hear parents say that they relate to my writing. What's even awesomer is people without kids seem to enjoy it even more!

Thanks guys,

Joe DeProspero
jdeprospero@gmail.com
Follow me on Twitter!
Buy the Kindle version of my book for only $5 here!

Pros and Mostly Cons of Going From One to Two Kids

Back in October of 2010, when I found out I was having a second child while my first was a mere 18 months old, I had several immediate thoughts that came rushing to my brain like anxious yentas to a Jersey Housewives book signing. Here were those thoughts, in order (sort of):

1. Can my wife out-run me if I make a dash for the door?

2. How the hell is this possible? It took us 12 months to have Antonio and now 12 minutes for this?!

3. Oh my God, our families will think we're irresponsible idiots.

4. Okay, it wasn't 12 minutes, but on a difficulty scale, Antonio was Mike Tyson and this new baby was Glass Joe.

5. Oh shit, her parents (who already watch my one son) will move back to Ecuador now. That'll make splitting time between the families on holidays (and dropping them off before work) way more difficult.

6. I wonder if they sell a garter belt/suit of armor/condom combo on eBay. Pfft, of course they do.

7. If this isn't a girl, I'm fucked!

8. If this IS a girl, I'm fucked!

9. This is supposed to be a joyous event, but since I look like I'm constipated right now, doing a cartwheel would come across as forced.

10. Having Lady Gaga on in the background feels totally weird and inappropriate for this moment.

11. I'm hungry.

12. I need to eat as much as I can before the new baby comes!

That's the last thing I remember thinking. Then I felt dizzy and needed to sit down for a while. My genitalia then retreated into my abdomen and refused to come out until I coaxed it out months later with a Coldwater Creek catalog.

They may be fighting. But at least they're out of my hair.

Nathaniel James was born on June 14, 2011. In ways, it was more surreal than Antonio's birth. In an instant, we went from outnumbering the children to the odds being even. It was like a back-alley knife fight we suddenly felt like we could lose, only cuter and with balloons. And almost immediately, it became apparent that our lives were over. I mean not OVER over, but kind of over. At least for the next decade.

It's relatively easy to pawn off one child on your parents. It's like asking them to watch your dog. Not a major commitment. But two? You might as well be asking them to drive you to the airport at 5 am through downtown Harlem. Get the fuck outta here, they might say.

But despite all of this, having two also has its perks. Here are some I've realized:

* When you're the only adult and desperately need to use the bathroom, put the older one in charge of the younger one and go do your thing. It's a solid lesson in project management. Well, we hope it turns out solid, anyway.

* Instant hand-me-downs. Normally, when you get baby clothes given to you from someone else, you have to wonder what those weird brown stains are near the crotch lining. But when you're handing down to yourself, you already know where the stains are from. It's a little less gross.

* When we ultimately form a band, the singer and guitarist don't have to be the same person.

* Tug of wars are more fair now.

* If one of the two starts failing in school, he can serve as the bad example to the other.

* One word: shoveling

* Two words: bunk beds

* Three words: competitive board games


In short, having two can be an enormous pain in the balls. At any given moment, there's a good chance one of them is crying while the other one is shitting. They make restaurant visits feel like excursions to Antarctica, and if they don't get along?! Well then, fuck me. I'm even more screwed than I thought! Overall, though, it's an experience that fills my heart with happiness on a daily basis. It just sucks that my wallet isn't quite as full.

Any other topic you'd like me to cover? Well let me know! I also welcome questions from readers, which I will turn into an "Answering Reader Questions" blog. Nothing too personal or gross. And by that I don't mean not to send me anything too personal or gross. I mean there is nothing you can send me that will be too personal or gross. Bring it on!

-Joe DeProspero
jdeprospero@gmail.com
Follow me on Twitter!

My book is now available on Kindle for $5! Get it here!
Or the hard copy here!

Advice to the Pre-Parent Me

I recently read a friend's blog where she wrote a letter to her 16-year-old self while in her 30s, as sort of a precautionary tale. At first, I thought it was melodramatic and weird. And almost immediately after that I realized that I'm both of those things. So, here is a series of advice I'd like to give to myself at 28, the year before I became a father for the first time.


Dear Me Four Years Ago,

For starters, shave that ridiculous excuse for a beard you've been trying to grow since 8th grade. It's not happening. Ever. Now that that's out of the way, here is a list of the things you should do before your son is born on April 21, 2009. In no particular order.

* Eat a meal. I mean REALLY eat it. Sit down by yourself, delicately place a napkin on your lap, take the time to cut your steak and inhale the enchanting aroma of the red wine reduction that is happily dancing into your nasal passage. Then, pour yourself a glass of red wine. Even use a decanter. Get fancy. It will absolutely be the last time you cut your meat, use a decanter, or eat a whole meal while it's still hot.

* Talk really loud. Once that baby comes, every sound your body makes will ultimately serve as a disturbance to their precious sleep patterns. So, just shout randomly whenever you can. It will be the last time you speak over a library whisper, aside from when shouting at said child.

* Watch a complete TV show or movie from start to finish. I mean this quite seriously. Take the longest movie you can stomach. Start it from the opening credits and don't stop it until someone is either married or dead or kissing Leo DiCaprio's cold hands in the Atlantic. Once your son is born, you will be forced to watch everything via DVR, in scattered 45-second increments that don't really even connect.

* Have a conversation with your wife. Once you're a dad, your chats will resemble this:

"So, what I wanted to..."- Joe

"Heyyyyyyy!"- Antonio

"Babe, daddy is saying something, wait your turn."- Sonia

"Nooooooo!"- Antonio

"I want to just...."- Joe

"Dahhhhh, dahhhhhhh, dahhhhhhhhh!"- Antonio

"Just try and shout it over him."- Sonia ( to Joe)

"Fuck this."- Joe (slumping into his chair)

* Get a haircut. Having a child bumps every single one of your priorities down a notch or two. Cut off as much of your hair as possible before the kid's born. Even consider electrolysis. You could use it, regardless of the lifestyle change.

* Take incredibly long dumps. For real. Grab a newspaper, iPad, or perhaps a Nintendo DS if you're feeling dexterous and place yourself on the bowl with no set end time. In fact, on April 20th, eat copious pieces of barbecued meat and wash them down with a case of beer. Then, just before Antonio is born, take your ceremonial "last shit." It will mark the end of the glory days when defecation was a form of relaxation. It will also be the last time you'll be able to take a crap without someone else in the room.

* Learn tae kwon do. Not only is there zero chance you'll get around to it when you're a parent, but it teaches you crucial self-defense techniques that, trust me, are going to come in handy soon.

* Walk into the soon-t0-be baby's room with the hardwood floors and intentionally step on all the panels that creak the loudest. Place brightly-colored stickers on said panels. THEN NEVER STEP ON THEM AGAIN.

* Get in shape. And by shape, I don't mean round. Do curls, squats, push-ups and plenty of cardio. Do enough to last you at least 20 years, because that's the next time you'll do any of those things again. Also, cancel your gym membership.

* Curse, pick your nose, talk with your mouth full, sit too close to the TV, leave urine on the toilet seat, put knives out and easily accessible on counter-tops, eat an entire donut in one bite, and send text messages while driving on a mountainside. Today, they're your quirks. Tomorrow, they're your bad example.

P.S. That iPad you just got. It won't be yours for much longer.

Sincerely,

Joe DeProspero, Parent of Two
jdeprospero@gmail.com

My book is still not available on e-readers, but will be soon. If you'd like a hard copy, physical book, you can pick it up here!

Thanks, as always, and send this to anyone who would enjoy a laugh (that's everyone).

Answering Five Absurdly Ridiculous Questions From Non-Parents

Blogs let you be as obnoxiously honest as you'd like to be. Here's an example of that.

Much like Motown sensation The Four Tops, I can't help myself. Whether I'm at a birthday party, Baptism, or even a bathroom stall, I frequently get questions from friends and bystanders alike regarding the struggles of parenthood. Some of them are better crafted than others. So, today I thought I'd go over some of the really awful ones that I had to answer politely at the time, but can answer truthfully in this here blog. Let's get started.





Question: Is it harder having two?

My Original In-Person Answer: Well, there are times when it's difficult. It really depends.

The Answer I Wanted to Give: Imagine you're being relentlessly flicked in the eye by a squirrel. Then imagine another squirrel starts relentlessly flicking your other eye. Then imagine while both said animals are flicking your eyes simultaneously, you need to get them dressed, fed and in the car to daycare. Then imagine those squirrels are children. How the hell could it NOT be harder?! Dumbest question ever.



Question: Who takes care of who?

My Original In-Person Answer: It varies based on the situation, really.

The Answer I Wanted to Give: Oh, isn't it obvious? I take care of Antonio and Sonia takes care of the baby. In fact, I haven't made physical contact with Nate since the doctor handed him to me straight from the womb, when she then snatched him away angrily. I weep at him through an invisible force field until my two year term is up. There is a clear, unyielding division of care. P.S. Are you fucking serious?


Question (regarding Nate): Is he sleeping at night?

My Original In-Person Answer: When I'm lucky! Ha!

The Answer I Wanted to Give: Why does everyone need to ask this question? No, he sleeps during the day. Everyday. he's a God damn vampire who feasts on the blood of the innocent. Of course he fucking sleeps at night. Just not the whole night.



Question: Can Antonio have some Kool Aid before bed?

My Original In-Person Answer: Thanks for offering, but I think milk is a better idea.

The Answer I Wanted to Give: Are you out of your fucking mind?! For starters, who still actually owns Kool Aid? Secondly, do you possess even a rudimentary understanding of the parts that make up such a beverage and the effects they have on a body? The answers to these questions, respectively, are absolutely, probably just you and apparently fucking not. Kool Aid will keep my child up till about 2 am. If you want to help, give me something that will knock him out for a while, like cyanide, so I can catch up on Words with Friends.



Question: Who does he look more like, you or Sonia?

My Original In-Person Answer: Antonio more like Sonia and Nate more like me, I think.

The Answer I Wanted to Give: Have you mistaken this face-to-face interaction with a conference call? How would I have further insight into the current appearance of my children than you, who is currently looking directly at me, my wife, and my two sons? You tell me! I spawn the kids, you analyze them. That's how this shit works.



Thanks for reading, as always. And feel free to share this with someone who'd enjoy it. Oh, and pick up my book! I'm currently in the process of converting the files to e-readers, but if you'd prefer the traditional hard copy, you can pick it up via Amazon!







-Joe DeProspero

jdeprospero@gmail.com


You can buy my debut fiction novel here!

Follow me on Twitter @JoeDeProspero.