What does it cost to be right? What is it that you gain?

Now let me preface this by saying, I’m not talking about being right at work or while bs’ing with friends. What I am talking about hits home with many of the men I know. I am talking about those times when seeing eye-to-eye is harder than usual with your significant other. You know, the BIG ones. And the big ones that started off as small ones.

As a man, at least for many of us, we equate being right with strength, with power, with leverage.

But what do we gain?

I ask because I’ve never really given it much thought. Thinking about the spats, minor tiffs and full out fight between mami and I…what was there to gain. In the grand scheme of my day-to-day life, I can’t honestly think about a plus, anything truly gained, from being right in those situations.

An exchange of harsh words, repressed resentment and even momentary hatred. That is the cost of right. Hurt feelings and tears. That is the cost of right.

I am pretty damn stubborn (working on it). And knowing that, why won’t I budge? Give an inch? Because of right.

I’m not sure why the importance of right has been drilled into me as a person. Not even sure by who. And honestly, the issue isn’t with “right,” it’s when I have to be right. When it’s my way or no way.

I’m beginning to appreciate “wrong” and it’s only taken me 5 years of marriage to latch onto the idea. I’m a work in progress, but I could be in worse shape.

Here’s to getting it wrong every now and then.

Laugh love and live people.

-UsD

Few things get a rise in me like the topic of reparations. I know what some people’s views are on the topic, but I could care less. I demand and deserve reparations. Not forty-acres or 100 head of cattle, but time.

I demand time.

Time from all the idiots in the world that have stolen precious moments from me. Time with my wife. Time with my daughter. Time for myself.

That guy at supermarket yesterday who felt he should take the time to argue with the cashier about his “right” to take a handful of extra plastic bags, give me back my 3 minutes and 30 seconds.

The fool who decided to jump out of his car to grab something from the trunk, got locked out and caused a back-up that made me late getting home, that’s another 17 minutes.

When I think back over my life and add up ALL those moments, dammit, I want them back.

Stupid is the thief of time.

I’m not sure if people do it intentionally or not. Depending on the situation, I’m sure it could be either. But if one thing gets under my skin, is time being wasted. I think I do enough of that on my own. So to have someone come and steal time from me with stupidity, uh, it’s a slap in the face.

Could you imagine if we could recoup all that lost time? We’d probably add a good year or two to our lifetime. You could have written the Great American novel or trekked across the country or sat mindlessly on the couch for a record-breaking amount of time (off you own accord).

Now I am sure, from time to time, I have been “that guy,” and to those around me, should my dream be reality, I would gladly return that time to you. You may consider this post a waste of your time, if so, stop reading immediately and go on about your day.

Been a while since my last post, but the 9 to 5 hasn’t been, what I would call, “inspiring” me to get home and sit in front of the computer for a hour or two more.  Add to that my desire to start freelancing again and we have too few hours, for quite a few task.

Finding balance is tough.

People do it, everyday, but right now I am just not feeling like one of those people. And being that I am basically a super-sized kid, I just want to come home and play with my daughter before it’s bath-n-bed time.

How do you organize the everyday?

Set priorities? Yeah I do that (or at least I try). But my “zest to do” is often drained by a LONG day at work. When all is said and done, the only thing I feel like I have time to do is spend a few moments with my little lady and usher her off to bed.

I guess we are all in the same boat (at least I think so), but I do hope to get things together soon. Me doing more, would mean more. For both myself and my family.

If anyone has a tip that would be useful to me or anyone really, pass it along.  Enjoy your day folks.

-USD

I’m pretty sure my daughter is dead-set on stopping my ability to reproduce. Maybe she feels one is enough or another kid might cramp her style. Whatever it is - her forehead, elbow, knee or anything handy always seems to find its way “there” during our little play sessions. I try to dodge or block it, but somehow I am always caught off guard. It’s the stuff of blooper reels and crappy home video shows.

What is this innate ability that toddlers possess that allows them to inflict such pain upon an unsuspecting father?

My kid is only two (and in her “why” phase), so my wife and I are having some difficulty explaining the sensitive nature of daddy’s private parts. But until the message gets across, daddy suffers. This morning (which inspired me to write this post), she actually used my groin as a step to reach the couch while running from the living room.

I am sure I still have at least one “member of the team” that is missing in action.

Thank goodness for gravity, right?

The sad part is that she always looks at me like, “I think I broke my daddy.” I know she doesn’t mean it, but the grimace on my face makes her think I’m upset.

What makes it funny anyway (to everyone but the recipient of the blow at least)? I mean this excruciating gag is timeless. Pie-in-the-face, slipping on a banana peel, kinda timeless.

I can remember having countless laughs watching others receive this punishment. No more. I am so sorry. I didn’t know. I mean, I knew….but didn’t KNOW.

Ok, it’s an obvious exaggeration, but I think my daughter just had her first boyfriend-thing happen at our neighborhood picnic.

Me, mini-mami and the missus capped off a pretty good day with an appearance at our HOA’s first annual picnic.  Lots of kids, food, and a bounce house. A pretty good time to be honest. But I couldn’t happen to notice, this one little guy who kept appearing in constant close proximity to my little lady. Helping her on the bounce house, making sure people didn’t cut her in line and other little things.

I mean, it was cute, but as I sat there with a plate of barbecue in my lap, I couldn’t help but flash-forward to those “tween” and teenage years.  I am really not looking forward to it.  I really want to believe I will be a reasonable, sane person, but I can’t honestly make any promises.

I know what boys think about, I mean, I was one. I know the tricks, the lines, the mindset.

How do I prepare her for that?

How do I prepare myself?

Lord help me. I just need to make it through long enough for her not to hate me by the end of it.

The end of it. HA. As if there is one.

Flashback to the barbecue and little Preston appears to let me and mini-mami know that he’s about to head home.

Now, with all that was going through my mind, I just wanted to pull that little guy aside and let him know that I knew what he was after, where his mind was, that my sweet little princess was off limits!

But, reason hasn’t left me just yet. I’ll save that talk for when they turn 9.

LOL. You know, it seems people throw it around quite a bit. But thus far, in my short time as a “blogger,” it seems people at large have forgotten how to laugh.

Lighten up folks, it’s only life. Enjoy it.

I got to tell you, my initial reaction to a comment on a posting I did recently was of utter confusion. But, I am not sure why. I see it everyday. People just take themselves and things WAY too seriously.

Well, I refuse to! I enjoy seeing the little humor in everyday things and when it suits my fancy, I share it. With my wife, my friends and (whenever I can get around to it) with you fine folks. So to the “super politically-correct,” the uptight and the general wet napkin…sucks to be you.

LAUGH, love and live people.

Children are a pure source of inspiration on living.

Today, while blankly staring off into the deep, dark corners of my shared, open-air work space *cough* cubicle *cough*, that thought began to resonate in my head.

I’m sure we’ve all thought it, wow, to be a kid again. Well, since that isn’t happening, I realized I just need to start applying some of the little lessons learned from my own little lady. I have let the magic of living elude me and I’m not really sure when it happened.

Work is work, still having fun being a daddy and being married, but in the grand scheme of things, the spark is gone. That one thing that gets you excited, makes you feel wonder and awe.

I want a “bubble-moment.”

I want to enjoy something, anything, as much as my daughter enjoys a bubble. A lighter than air, glassy, wobbly bubble. I’ve watched that little girl rile herself into a frenzy wild enough to run into a wall. All of that, over some soap and water. A seemingly simple thing, but the level of appreciation she applies to those little moments is something I need to apply to life in general.

In some respects, many respects, I’ve always felt watching mini-mami (my daughter) grow up has given me many a “bubble-moment,” but that feels like cheating.

Should I have a thing? Am I living through my daughter’s moments? Is there something wrong with that?

I don’t believe so, but still, it would be nice to be a little more self-sustaining. In any instance, until I find it, I’ll continue to enjoy my little family moments and will title this coming chapter of my life “an exercise in introspection.”

Later days. Laugh, Love and Live people.

It’s been around for years now.  Unchecked, unnoticed or just disregarded.

Why is Mickey wearing pants and Donald isn’t? Yet, Goofy and Pete are fully dressed. Why is it when Piglet is cold, he puts on a hat and scarf…and that seems to be enough to keep him warm?

Yes, I AM reading too much into it. But it’s something I always find odd when people create characters. The overall choices made for character “wardrobe” seems really odd on some of these shows. Case in point.

Little Bear. Cute show, nice messages, but the bear is completely naked. Yes true to nature, but when Father Bear is walking around in a three-piece suit, the contexts shifts just a bit.

What’s the deal with Wubzy? As far as I’ve seen, she/he (haven’t quite figured that one out yet) is the only one on the planet that is running around naked as a jaybird.

I’d just like to know the reasoning behind some of these choices.

One of our favorite shows, the Backyardigans brings about these same questions in my mind. Everyone is dressed in some shape or fashion. But Pablo is wearing a hat. A hat does not clothing make.

I would just like some consistency. I don’t think that’s asking too much. If we are going to dress them, dress them, otherwise leave’em naked.

Is it just me? Drop me a line in the comments with your thoughts.

I’m not what you would call a “budgeter” or “frugal,” so chances are, if there’s a big purchase in my household, I’m behind it. But I do make an effort to avoid “spoiling” my baby girl. Though this mindset that people have developed disturbs me.

Buying things for a child equates instantly to spoiling them. You’ll often hear it from other parents (who I am sure at some point or another have done the same), from people without kids (which really irritates me frankly) and from grandparents (don’t get me started on that one).

I think that when and why purchases are made make the difference. I’ve developed some rules for spending on my lil lady that help me in making the decision to buy or not to buy. They aren’t for everyone, you don’t have to agree, but here they are:

Try not to make an unplanned purchase

I am for spur of the moment buying, but I find that a trip to the store can easily inspire an unexpected purchase of something that my daughter truly won’t play with for more than 15 minutes.

“I want” or “Gimme”

A child is pretty much after whatever they can get. An aisle-by-aisle trip is sure to bring about a few “Can I haves” or “Daddy pleases.” But, I try to let my kid know before I put her in the situation what the rules are (and be sure to follow through on the agreed upon trip purpose). If you make a list (mine is typically provided by my wife), let them hold on to it and check off things as you find them. Most purchase requests are from boredom, so this may curb a few “gimmes.”

The Incentive Program

“If you do this, then we’ll get you…” is never a good way to go. I’m not judging, just saying that if my daughter were to make that connection, my household would be a turbulent environment. I do try to reward special things, but they are usually smaller scale items and never “on the spot”. I’ll typically agree to go on a specific day and to a specific store and get a particular item. Even at a young age, children can begin to understand the value of earning something they want and/or begin to understand that you can’t always get what you want. I try to pass these lessons on when I can.

All that being said, I buy for my daughter whenever I feel like it. She’s obedient, well-behaved and thoughtful, so if I decided to pick up something on the way home from work, believe I could care less what anyone thinks about.

Enjoy your children and your day.

To my great surprise and the apparent delight of my better half, I finally took the time to setup a blog of my own.

Unscripted Dad is a place I hope to share my viewpoints, beliefs and completely random thoughts I have about my day to day and life in general. I’ve been a husband for 5 years (going strong) and a dad for 2 and because of that, I’ve had a pretty good reason to smile pretty much every moment of the day.

Want to learn more about me?  (And why wouldn’t you? I’m a pretty good guy.) Then head on over to my About page.

I look forward to getting connected with you all.

Welcome!