Star Wars, FOMO & Getting Ready for The Force Awakens

As my family’s Year of Star Wars Part 1 is coming to an end, when my boys become indoctrinated, initiated and almost institutionalized with Star Wars Fever, it has occurred to me that I’m suffering from a retroactive case of FOMO, or Fear of Missing Out.

FOMO is an acronym defined as ”anxiety that an exciting or interesting event may currently be happening elsewhere, often aroused by posts seen on a social media website.”

I’m generally not a jealous person and am generally happy for people who post their trips-of-a-lifetime pics on Facebook (as long as they don’t post 300), so that’s not really a point of FOMO for me. Though we all have our regrets, the one that has been on my mind lately is ironically something that I missed out on even though I was actually there.

Earlier this year at the Dad 2.0 Summit in San Francisco, one night we were bussed into the Presidio for an event at Lucasfilm. It was pretty cool walking on the hallowed grounds where so much movie magic has taken shape, yet at the same time I have to admit that I was a bit tuned out. I’d always been into Star Wars, but at the time I hadn’t seen any of the movies in quite a while and since becoming a parent my memory of the two moons of Tatooine had been replaced with a permanent memorization of Goodnight Moon. Needless to say at the time my kids’ interests were attuned elsewhere beyond a galaxy far, far away.

It’s not as though I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings, it’s more that I just wasn’t in a Star Wars frame of mind, so it was an amazing place to be, but I was elsewhere while I was there. That being said:

I was lucky to be greeted at the event by the wisest Jedi of all:

Given directions by these two gents dressed in reverse tuxedos:

And greeted by one of the more notorious parents in film history:

Fortunately I got a warm hug from this trusty little Droid:

I was given a sneak peak that night of the hilariously clever and pithy Lego Star Wars: Droid Tales and that kickstarted some of those memories for me. I was eager to introduce that series and the larger series it inspired to my boys, and a few months later I did. Hesitantly. I wasn’t sure if (then) 5 1/2 & 2 1/2 year old boys would really understand the movies, but I can honestly say that from the first loud blast of the Star Wars theme preceding Episode IV, they were hooked. We spent the summer watching all six movies, debating their merits, highlights and lowlights and wishing we all had real lightsabers of our own.

We’ve learned a lot along the way about family, relationships and communication, because when you really look at the root of the Star Wars saga, it’s about a troubled man who sacrificed everything for the woman he loved (and lost) and again, later in life, for his son. Anakin Skywalker suffered from the ultimate case of FOMO and thankfully he was able to redeem himself as his life concluded. Though he did miss out on most of his children’s lives, at least he saw that his son became the success he never could. So his fear of missing out was extinguished as his soul was put to rest.

I’ve also erased the thoughts that I missed out on my night at Lucasfilm with the few memories of amazing things I saw there, not the least of which was this LEGO bust of George Lucas, which quasi-resembled Burt Reynolds in Boogie Nights. 

Now, I’m ready to absorb The Force Awakens with my family on the big screen, opening weekend. To paraphrase Yoda, “miss out, we will not.”

5 Things I Learned about Parenting from Star Wars

Spoiler Alert: There are key Star Wars plot points inside this piece. I shouldn’t need to warn anyone, as the original movies were all released 30+ years ago, so if you haven’t seen them and are shocked by any revelations here, that’s on you.

During both of Mrs. Dude’s pregnancies I received suggestions of must-read pregnancy and parenting books from more than a few people I knew and myriad more that I didn’t. I did explore a couple, partially to pacify those who had shared their recommendations and also, more frequently, to help me fall asleep on those I-can’t-freakin’-do-this pre-delivery sleepless nights.

But there is another source of parenting tips I’ve reflected upon countless times over the last 5+ years since the Little Dude was born. And now, with Father’s Day once again upon us, I want to share with you some of the great parenting dos and don’ts I learned from one of the most infamous movie fathers of all time, Darth Vader.

1) Be present for, and with, your children: As Vader was pretty much a deadbeat dad, albeit for very atypical reasons, his son was lucky to have his old man’s former mentor (aka Obi-Wan Kenobi) looking out for him during his most impressionable period. Sure, being raised on a farm in Tatooine by his father’s stepbrother Owen was probably not nearly as exciting as a childhood spent roaming the Death Star, but Luke received a good education (also from Mr. Kenobi), had a large outdoor area for playtime and ultimately proved to be a high moral character Jedi…despite his father’s best/worst/completely nonexistent efforts.

2) Don’t give your kids trendy names: Luke & Leia were excellent choices given their time and place in history. Context and family history are important, but when selecting names for your children, consider that they are the ones who will have to live with them for the rest of their lives, and it’s got to be difficult to be taken seriously in a professional workplace with a first name like Boba, Qui-Gon or Jar Jar.

3) Support & encourage your children’s interests: Luke was a skilled farmer thanks to his uncle’s tutelage, but he always yearned for something more than a normal (i.e. boring) desert life.  If not for Obi-Wan and Yoda, both of whom were contemporaries of Luke’s father, Luke might not have achieved his true destiny as a Jedi Knight. As it turned out, Luke was probably subconsciously hoping to earn his father’s respect, or at least attention, when he trained to become a skilled Lightsaber user. I doubt either of them anticipated how that one was going to turn out.

If only Vader had used his Lightsaber for dental hygiene instead of evil.

4) Use Your Words: In both The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi, father and son Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader were brought together via one-on-one physical combat. They shared a common dearth of quality time together, so it might have behooved them and their nonexistent relationship to air their grievances (i.e. Luke about his abandonment and Vader over his son’s refusal to join the family business and join him over on the Dark Side). When children are not mature enough to fully express themselves as they wish, they often resort to hitting, hair pulling or other physical actions and reactions as a method of communicating a message or getting the response and/or attention they truly crave. “Use Your Words” is teaching them that verbal communication is a more effective method for earning a desired outcome. Had Vader been a stronger communicator with better grasp of his emotions, he might have been able to convince his son to join him in the family business. Does it matter that said business was less than legit? Not really, after all, family is family.

5) Don’t Be a Jerk: Vader sliced his son’s hand off with a Lightsaber AND THEN finally revealed that he was Luke’s father. It’s well known that children learn both positive and negative behaviors from observing their parents’ habits and actions. Vader shouldn’t have been surprised when after forcefully removing Luke’s limb in the heat of battle, that Luke returned a year later and did the same exact thing to him. Darth should have considered the Golden Rule: Do unto others as you’d have them do unto you, which Luke obviously took quite literally.

All of the above being said, the Star Wars saga is about family, relationships and dealing with others you may not see eye to eye with. There will always be issues up for debate (maybe Luke should have listened to his father and joined the Dark Side, with the goal of turning everyone good again?) but maintaining open lines of communication can help clear murky things up. I haven’t shown the Star Wars films to my son yet, but I think he may soon be due. After all, I know I can hardly wait for Part VII, aka The Force Awakens, which will be released later this year, on December 18!. Maybe we’ll find out if Luke settled down and had a family of his own. I’m hoping he taught his own son a lesson or two, unlike his father ever did for him.

Happy Father’s Day and May the Force be with you.

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Disclaimer: I wrote this post as part of my participation in the Fandango Family Digital Network. I was compensated accordingly, but all content and opinions contained within are mine entirely, for better or worse. Come hang with the FF team on Facebook, too. 

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The Nosiest Question Parents Get from Strangers

We know each other extremely casually. Our paths cross a few times per week, usually for a couple minutes at most. Why would you think it’s OK to be so nosy? Do I ask you about that prominent scar on your forehead, which must have an interesting story behind it? Do I ask you how much money you make? No. So please stay out of my bedroom.

Having almost made the mistake once, I would never consider asking a woman who is not my wife if she is pregnant. Even if she is currently crowning while in stirrups, you can never be too sure and rather than risk embarrassing either myself or a female I don’t know well enough, and by well enough I mean biblically, I know better than to wonder – at least out loud.

But for some reason there’s a tangential subject that people have absolutely no hesitation about asking: are you going to have more kids? I wrote a while back about people asking if we were going to "try for a girl", which is a very presumptuous subject, IMO, as we're perfectly thrilled with our two boys and don’t need a girl to “complete” our family. The same goes for a third kid.

So I usually tap dance around this more-frequent-than-I’d-like query with a non-committal answer like "You never know...", but I'm pretty sure I know. 

Would our duo sound better as a trio?

I’ve been thinking recently about why this question from people who don’t mean much to me gets me so worked up and I think I’ve finally figured it out. It’s because the truth is that I 

don’t know if we’re going to have a third kid and that makes me a little sad.

I’ve long considered parental age to be an important factor in many facets of parenting. This year my boys will turn 6 & 3 years old while Mrs. Dude and I round 3^rd on our 30s and slide into the abyss that is 40. That’s old. Well, it’s not old, but it’s old. Betty White is still going strong at 90-something, but then again she never had children.

40 isn’t as old as it used to be, like 150 years ago when the average American's lifespan was about 45 to 50. But 40 isn’t 30, no matter how badly we might want it to be. In retrospect do I wish I’d started having kids younger than I actually did? Yes! And no. I was trying to carve my life's path during my 20s and early 30s, all of which led me to where I sit today: stuck in this quandary of what to do with the rest of my life, however long that might be.

My mother passed away at 65 and a year later her mother departed shortly after passing 90. Tomorrow is promised to no one, which might be why I’m feeling nervous about my current situation with two small boys who I need to carefully help mold as they progress through school and life.

My lap is currently featuring seating for two.

Since the Littler Dude recently turned 2 ½, it’s not lost on me that my wife and I may have unknowingly smelled the last new baby smell of our own varietal. That scent is indescribably perfect and unique to every child ever born, even when it’s stinky and needs a new diaper. Now we are in the stages of sand-filled socks and still about seven or eight years away from tween boy B.O.  For that, I’m in no rush.

I’m already feeling anxious that I’ll be well into my 50s when my boys finish high school, probably because my parents had three college graduates by that age. It’s absolutely a different time and place now from when I grew up and despite TiVo and iPhones it’s not necessarily a better one. 

I always thought I wanted three kids because I’m a third kid. Mrs. Dude always wanted two because that’s how she was raised and people are often drawn to situations reminiscent of those they were raised in. While I was growing up, my 4- & 7- year older siblings were generally too old to be my playmates.  It wasn’t until during, or more likely after, college when we finally reached the same social stratosphere. If my wife and I were to have a third, he would be almost exactly the same age difference younger from his brothers that my brother and sister are to me. Beyond just the age gap, we’re almost out of diapers and I’m not sure I’m ready to dive back into the Diaper Genie again. I think we have a solid family dynamic with our quartet right now, so is taking a chance on a wild card worth it for us at this point in our almost-40 lives? Or are we missing the jewel of the crown? I don’t have the answer, but the clock is ticking.

So where does this leave me in regard to my nosy acquaintances? Unfortunately not much further ahead than before. All I can say is that if I have something to announce, believe me I will. This decision is grueling enough without your random piqued curiosity. All I ask of you is that next time you see me, please feel free to ask me how my day is, about the weather or the score of last night’s game. Please just don’t ask if we’re having another kid. Those other questions are much simpler, and inifinitely less stressful, to answer. 

Four is the perfect size for man-to-man defense & theme park rides. 

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If you like the pictures in this post, and why wouldn't you, come follow me on Instagram where I post some of my favorites daily: instagram.com/dudeofthehouse

My Life as a Dad

Because I write about parenting, I often get asked questions by parents unsure how to handle various situations with their own kids. While I would never claim to be a parenting expert, mainly because I’ve only actually been a parent for 4 ½ years, I’m flattered when asked for advice. That being said, advice is a slippery slope so I tend to give answers based on my experiences and let the questioners figure things out based on their unique family situations.

I’m happy to tell you which car seats, pacifiers and diaper bags I like best, if you ask, but those are my opinions. My parenting experience is different from yours, your neighbors and a random Eskimo in the Yukon’s.  Just as no two snowflakes are alike, just ask that Eskimo, no two kids or family situations are either. What I do love to share is stories about my experiences with my kids. The wins and losses, highs and lows, trophies and boo-boos – the meat of parenting. 

Because of this, I was excited to learn recently about a new parenting show called “My Life as a Dad” (MLAAD). On it, Robert “Daddy” Nickell, the man behind Daddy Scrubs, interviews well-known men, who also happen to be fathers, who discuss their takes on parenting. Did I mention that Daddy Nickell has 6 kids of his own? The man knows his way around a nursery.  

MLAAD is fascinating because while the public knows how great of a basketball player LA Clippers star Chris Paul is, he is much less known for how he regrets missing his own son’s basketball games while traveling during the NBA season. There’s a common misconception that celebrities lives are easier than “regular” people’s because they might have more money or cars or bigger houses.  MLAAD pulls back the celebrity curtain to reveal the human side of athletes, actors and other famous dudes.

So why am I telling you all this? Beyond the fact that it’s a really enjoyable series that debuts new episodes on their YouTube channel every week, I was asked to be a guest on the show.

Me.

The Dude of the House.

Can you believe it?

Mid-interview, me and Robert Nickell

I’m (at least slightly) less famous than former NFL star Eddie George, despite the fact that he and I took an Economics class together at The Ohio State University shortly after he won the Heisman Trophy.  But as you’ll see on the show, we are both dedicated fathers who are passionate about being good parents and role models for our kids.

My episodes of MLAAD were just released and I want to share them with you first. I’ll call it The Dude’s 

broadcast debut. In the 4 video clips, you’ll hear about my experiences with potty training, the challenges caused by letting my boys watch TV and movies and more.

It’s not advice unless you want to take it that way. I consider it to be reflections on how I’ve chosen to parent my family. Sometimes the decisions work out great and often they are disastrous, but I have to keep trying. With 4 ½ years down and hopefully dozens more to go, that’s My Life as a Dad.

The Dude On Work & Family

The Dude on Kids and TV

The Dude on Potty Training

The Dude on Teaching Moments

Note: I was not compensated for my appearance on MLAAD, though I was given this rad Camo Daddy Diaper Pack filled with sweet Daddy & Co. gear for me and my boys. 

Subscribe here to the My Life as a Dad YouTube channel to keep up with their latest videos.


Hey, I'm all about Instagram these days.
Come hang with me there: @DudeOfTheHouse

Keep Your Chin Up

Having been raised in the Midwest, I’ve been amazed by the lack of weather preparedness most Southern Californians possess for pretty much the entire 13+ years I’ve lived here.  I’ve never owned a raincoat during that time, or probably since I was 5 years old, but was appreciative of the generosity of a relative who dropped one off for the Little Dude recently.  He’s the lucky recipient of many hand-me-downs from some older cousins and this was one more for the collection though it didn’t really seem essential given our climate.  Of course, I’m the type of genius who says something like that and then it immediately starts raining. As it did that night.

When the Little Dude woke up the next morning he wanted to check out the bright yellow raincoat he’d received. And as I was headed out the door to take him to preschool, Mrs. Dude handed it to me to bring for him. When we got to school, I took the coat and his backpack out of my car and put them on the Little Dude for our short walk to his classroom. We climbed the slippery steps as a light mist coated our heads. I was content wearing a t-shirt and light fleece sweatshirt. Most of the other parents and kids appeared dressed for upcoming cruises on Noah’s Ark.

After we ascended the steps, we reached the courtyard which is where the Little Dude usually starts to get really excited for school. He started to take off his backpack, as he often does, and when we reached his room he was ready to play. I started to take off his jacket as he entered the room, but apparently the cuffs were a bit small and his hands got stuck while he walked. As his momentum carried him forward, his arms moved behind him like a bird taking flight.  When his feet touched the slippery tile floor below him, the Little Dude dropped to the ground. Chin first. Ouch.

I didn’t know what to do as I watched my first born crying on the floor. I hoped it was just due to shock and not actual injury, but couldn’t tell from my angle. I dropped his jacket, which I’d finally wrestled off his wrists and went to pick him up.

There is no worse feeling as a parent than watching your child crying for a legitimate reason.  Not “I want ice cream!” or “I don’t want to go to bed” crying, but rather “This freakin’ hurts! Help me!”

I picked him up and he clung to me like stink on a sardine. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t pry his face from my chest to assess the damage. We went to sit in the nearby school office, to avoid scaring the other kids, when I finally got a peak. His light-blue tie-dyed shirt now bore a significant red pattern. I was thankful that my sweatshirt was both zipped up and a dark maroonish color, aka the lone option that wouldn’t show any blood leakage.

Someone brought him a bag of ice, but he wasn’t interested. After what felt like 20 minutes, but was probably 3 or 4, of hysteria. I spotted some Hot Wheels and model cars directly next to us. I used a yellow Lamborghini as a distraction and within a few minutes the Little Dude resumed breathing again.

I asked the teacher what the protocol is in a situation like that, but honestly didn’t hear her answer. She said that despite the blood, it didn’t look too bad and he probably didn’t need further attention beyond the Band-Aid they’d administered. Once calm, we headed back to the classroom and I stayed for another 15 minutes to play and observe before heading out once things seemed copacetic. 

The tricky part came next: what to tell Mrs. Dude. I didn’t want to make a big deal about it, partly because I was led to believe by two teachers who are mothers that it wasn’t that big of a deal. I called her from the car and told her just that.  I explained what had transpired and said he’d be fine.  Of course I was disproven when she picked him up and saw the wound herself.  As a guy, I didn’t think it was that bad. To a mother, I can understand how it might be. So she called the doctor and I met them there a couple hours later.

As we waited in the waiting room, the wound opened up again. His yellow shirt turned brownish when the red spots started falling and spreading. Our regular pediatrician wasn’t available, so we saw another who used words like “plastic surgeon” and “sedation”. He said that the cut, which is under the chin and only visible if you look for it, probably wasn’t worth the trouble for something that wouldn’t be noticeable. For several reasons, we agreed and left with a new Band-Aid, a plastic millipede, some stickers and 3 lollipops. Fortunately my little patient had something to show for the $30 co-pay.

I took him in my car and Mrs. Dude took his brother in hers. As the stressful day wound down, my 3-year-old passed out. But I knew there was something else we had to do. So we stopped by the local Vons grocery store and I let him pick out a Hot Wheels car, which he’d told his mother earlier was what would make him feel better. I wasn’t sure if that was sufficient, so as my guilt over possible neglect set in, we walked a few doors down to Baskin Robbins with his new car to wash everything down with some Cookies and Cream. Though I’m not usually a big fan, I now understand why people say Oreos make them feel better. They certainly did the trick for us that day.  

The Evil Child

At the recent birthday party of one of the Little Dude’s friends, I learned that some kids are just pure evil. And I didn’t know how to handle it.

Like the majority of parties we’ve gone to over the last few years this one was at an “indoor play place”. If you are a parent of young kids, you probably know the type: a very brightly fluorescent lit room filled with primary colors and runny-nosed kids. And some toys.  

Some kids are better sharers than others. My Little Dude happens to be an excellent sharer and I’m not just saying that because he’s my kid. In the interest of full disclosure, my son is a Thomas the Train addict and every time he goes to a place with a train table, he usually spends the majority of his time there. He likes to carry the trains around as he checks out the table, sometimes six or eight trains at a time.  But whenever another kid comes to play, he shares what he’s holding.

At this particular party, after the requisite cheese pizza and sheet-cake, the kids had free play time. The Little Dude spotted a Razor-type scooter and was enamored by it, despite never having been on one before. I watched him as he watched some of the older kids riding and knew he wanted to try it out.

He followed one boy who rode the scooter to the back of the playroom. The boy stepped off the scooter and laid it on the ground nearby as he went to play air hockey with another kid. Clearly he was moving on to something else, as kids tend to do frequently at places like this that offer myriad opportunities for play.  The Little Dude spotted the scooter on the ground from about 25 feet away and eagerly started running toward it. As he was getting close, the other boy noticed him, turned around and stuck his leg out. My Little Dude crashed to the carpet.

The boy, who was at least double my son’s age, looked proud of himself. “Ha, I tricked that little kid”, his face screamed. Until he noticed me watching.  I ran to my son, who was shaken up and confused. Probably more shocked by his fall than anything, he was clearly upset.  At 2 ½ he was too young to verbalize what he was thinking, but the sadness on his face which had radiated pure excitement 20 seconds earlier was heartbreaking.

I turned to the boy and asked him why he did that. He had no response. After a few carefully chosen words from me, which he shrugged off, he turned back to his air hockey game. We took the scooter and headed in the other direction. I was baffled. I’d seen kids play rough before, but never so blatantly toward my kid.

The tricky part of the situation was that I know Evil Boy’s parents. Not well at all, but extremely casually.  I don’t know them well enough to know whether this was his usual behavior or an isolated incident. I looked around and saw the parents on the other side of the room, not watching what any of their kids were doing.  I made sure my son was OK and as expected, within a couple minutes he lost interest in the scooter and headed back to see Thomas, Percy and company. He was over the incident. I was not.

I was faced with the dilemma of whether or not to say something to the obviously inattentive parents.  I didn’t want to cause a scene at someone else’s party, but the reality was, their kid acted like an A-hole. They needed to know. 

I debated various ways of broaching the subject with the parents. A few times I saw Evil Boy cross my path. Each time, I gave him a very stern look. And each time, I saw a nervous look on his face before he took off in the opposite direction.  If the kid and his family were strangers, it might have been easier. But they weren’t.

For half an hour, my mind raced. Would my confronting the parents lead to further confrontation? I knew that I didn’t want to cause a problem, but I was unhappy and they needed to know so that other kids wouldn’t fall victim to their son the bully.

As I debated internally, I watched my son playing with the trains. He had a chain of 3 going up and down bridges along the tracks & smiled each time they cruised down the hill. If he was already over it, maybe I should be too. I decided to not tell the parents.  Hopefully karma will someday.

What would you have done if you were in my position?

I'm hanging with the Yeah Write crew again this week.
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The Dude

Random 10 for July 1

As a writer, the hardest part of the gig is coming up with brilliant topics to write about. Sometimes inspiration punches you in the face and you can’t type fast enough. And sometimes you pull an all-nighter to finish something dumpster-worthy.

One fun way of writing is taking prompts, of which the blogosphere possesses no shortage, and seeing what you come up with versus a slew of other clever scribes. The great majority are just not my style. But the wonderful Stasha from The good life is always a lock for intelligent and thought-provoking topics as part of her “Monday Listicles” series.

When I saw this week’s prompt, I knew had to participate.  It’s a list of 10 totally random questions. With my mind approaching mush lately, and with at least a half-dozen blog posts started-but-not-nearly-finished, this was right up my alley. So without further ado:

1)      Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, and find line 4. What is it?

Given that I have a 6 month pregnant wife, it’s not super surprising that the nearest book to me is a baby name book. Truth be told, the SIX closest books to me are baby name books. The one on top is beyond ava & aiden: the enlightened guide to naming your baby. What’s written on the instructed page is not going to help me at all, though: “Clementine” & “Julia”.  I’m semi-enlightened and all, but since we are having a boy, those names are not even close to my radar.  

2)      How many times a day do you say “Hi”?

I have a 2 ½ year old son, so without counting, I’d have to guess several hundred.

3)      Have you ever worn a uniform?

Does Little League count?

4)      What do you think about the most?

As I mentioned, I have a spirited toddler and will have another kid in 3 months. They occupy an increasingly high percentage of my cranium. How I will take care of them. How I will parent them. How I will teach them. Knowing that my actions and behavior will have a lasting long-term effect on them, I try to be very conscientious. Or as much as I can be without being completely OCD.

5)      How many keys are on your keyring?

Two: car & work. I don’t even have a house key. Weird, right?

 

6)      What was the last thing you bought?

On the way home last night, I bought a supermarket chicken to bring home for dinner. Full disclosure: it was fried.  

Fuller disclosure: I bought a box of Honeycomb, too.  

7)      Are you growing anything these days?

Older: Hopefully wiser.

Wider: Unfortunately.

Kids: And sanguinely more patient with them.

8)      What is under your bed?

A slew of shoes, in no orderly fashion. Not necessarily in contemporary fashion, either.  

And enough dustballs to make a Dyson weep.

9)      What is most important in life?

See #4 above.

10)   What is the strangest word you used this week?

Listicle

Hey, I'd love to hear your answers to any or all of the above questions. 

Leave it in the comments below.