The Disconnect.

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     I'm not a computer genius. I think I'm better than most, but there are a lot of people out there better than me, and I'm better than all the people that currently live in my house. This means that when something electronic does goes haywire, it immediately gets passed to me. A friend who's in the same electronic situation I am laughs about this with me. What our wives don't seem to understand is that we don't know right away what's wrong either! We do some poking around, do some research online, take a best guess, try to see if anyone else has had a similar problem, and just keep trying until we find a solution. But the wives, they don't want to know this. I think they truly want to believe I have some magical power over all things computerized. I've talked about this in a little more detail in a previous post. Well, apparently I am to computers as Catie is to Evy.
     There are times when Evy cries, I have no idea what the problem is. She's clean, she's fed, she's the right temperature, but nothing seems to make her happy. At a certain point, I just hand her off to Catie. Nine times out of ten, Evy stops crying, goes all limp and slack-jawed, and then her eyes close. It's like magic! I ask Catie about this, and she says, "Oh, she just wanted to be bounced..." Bounced? That's what she wanted? How in the world did you divine "she just wanted to be bounced" out of that particular cry? It makes no sense to me. Catie and I sit down and start talking about this, because I can't pass Evy off to Catie every time she cries. Partially because it wouldn't be fair, but also because I'm going to stay home with Evy while Catie's at work. So, Catie asks me how I fix problems with computers.
     I tell her there's nothing really to it, I just poke around and see what I can do on my own. If that doesn't work, I look for other people online that may have had similar problems, and try what worked for them. She starts laughing and says, "that's exactly what I do with Evy!" When I think about it, she's right. When Evy was colicky, we tried a bunch of things on our own, none of them worked, so we went out and did some research. We bought a book, tried several new things, and found something that worked. When she cries now, I feel way more empowered. I sort of look at her like a computer, and just try stuff until the disks stop making that noise. And I guess when it comes to parenting I'm a lot like I am with computers: I'm better than a lot of people, but there's a lot of people better than me. Which gives me a little bit of hope. It lets me know I can help a few people out there with their children, and it tells me there's a lot of people out there who can help me. I'm not alone, and neither are you.

The Takeover.

Have you ever heard of a corporate takeover? It's when someone buys more than 50% of corporate stock without announcing it, then they roll in and tell everyone to kiss up to the new boss. The kid isn't even here yet and her stuff has slowly, but surely, been taking up more than 50% of our space. It's crazy! Then people tell us all these things we're still missing... I don't get it! This is a private takeover. Well, as private as can be. No one else seems to be surprised. She's not even here and she has more clothes than me! Being a GQ reader, that's saying something.

The Dream.

     Down the street from where I live there's a nice family.  They have a very productive lime tree in their front yard and they freely offer the fruits to anyone walking by.  There's also a little shoe box with a slot cut in the top and a sign taped to cardboard and attached to the back of the shoe box.  It says the little girl who lives there is trying to collect money for animals in shelters.  I'm not really sure about the details, but it says she's setting up a foundation for animals.  This started about four months ago, and now, the box is just laying on its side in front of the house, all wrinkled and water damaged.  I wonder if she checks it every day to see if some passersby put cash in.  Has she just forgotten about it or is she still hopeful every time she cracks the top of that box?  Is her dream of saving every animal everywhere just dying?  It's ironic because the animals the dream was supposed to save are dying as well.  Okay, maybe not ironic, but it is sad.  I guess that little box makes me wonder about my little girls dreams.  I know they won't all come true, but that doesn't mean they all have to die; either.  Any suggestions?  Short of using a plastic shoebox...

The Scare.

     For some reason, when I was little I lived to take years off my father's life, one scare at a time. I would hide in a closet, behind the over stuffed chair, or under a table for hours (read minutes as experienced by a kid with ADD) just so I could jump out and scare him. The only problem was, I would lay in wait, perfectly still, biding my time, until my dad would unwittingly stumble into my trap...then I would start giggling until my scare was about as surprising as getting junk mail. You know what he did though? He acted surprised. His acting wasn't all that convincing, but it worked on me. I felt like I really get the drop on my dad. It was cool! I think that's why I like Halloween so much. The Simpsons have their Tree House of Horror thing, SyFy (stupid name change, by the way) plays scary movies all month, and people get into a spirit I really dig. Any ideas on what Catie and I can dress up as? I was thinking we dress up real hillbilly like and tell everyone we're Brittney and K-Fed. Good?

The Steering.

     Went and saw "Couples Retreat" this weekend, HILARIOUS. Seriously, go and see it. As the credits are rolling they are on jet ski's, in pairs, screaming across these crystal blue bays and inlets. It's a great scene, and I couldn't help but think of the first concert I ever went to: Smashing Pumpkins. I know it doesn't make sense yet, but stay with me to the end.
     It was high school and three of us piled into a girls car and took off down the highway toward the Pumpkins and good 'ol Billy C. Getting to that amphitheatre was kinda like getting to Rome, most of the roads in that part of Kansas led there. Well, this turned out to be a problem. The girl who was driving didn't really know how to get there, so the directions she was getting from me and the other guy were different. While they were both correct individually, if you tried to take them together you'd never get anywhere. Then, as we're speeding toward a busy interchange on the highway, I'm telling her to stay in the lane she's in while Michael was telling her to exit. At this point, her brain just locked up and she, along with the car, came to a screeching halt in the middle of the highway. I don't know if you've ever driven on a highway before, but I wouldn't recommend going any less than 55, much less stopping. There was no pulling over, no slowing down, no warning lights, just immediate and panicked stopping. While Michael and I couldn't agree on how to get there, we did agree in a very loud and insistent voice that stopping in the middle of the highway with cars whizzing by at 75 was a bad idea. I'm sure it was only a few seconds, but it seemed like we sat there for about five full minutes before Michael reached over and pushed the gas on the driver's side, forcing the car forward, and forcing the driver to make a decision. No one died and we got to the concert without further incident, but that little experience has stuck in my brain.
     This is where the story ties back into jet ski's, relationships, and driving. Just like driving, only one person can be in charge at a time in a relationship. This doesn't mean it's the same person all the time in every situation, just that only one person can drive a car at a time. Now, the driver can get input from whoever's in the car, but too much input or conflicting advice can make it pretty hard to know where you're really going. I guess what I'm trying to say is we should be careful who we let in the car of our relationships. I mean, Catie and I do a pretty good job of switching off between navigator and captain, but we're getting ready to have a new passenger. Not only do we have to make sure we agree on where we're heading, but also how we're going to get there. Otherwise, we may end up at a crossroads, and if we're not careful our marriage can come to a screaming halt in the middle of a busy road and we may just get hit by the proverbial MAC truck of divorce.
     That's how it goes, doesn't it? Two people, in a relationship, each one going different directions? How long can that really last? I'm not even sure how long I would want it to last. Even worse than that is getting tied to the bumper and dragged along like that dog on Family Vacation. How are you going to put any input into the relationship without being in the car? You could reach your destination and not even realize it. What a terrible and bitter way to go through something. That has actually happened to one of my dear friends and I miss him terribly. But she's got her foot on the gas, staring straight ahead, with no concern for him because he's on the outside of the car.
     Please hear me when I say this: I do not think men should always steer. Lord know's we got lost just as easily as anyone else and some comedian's have built entire careers on how we won't ask for directions. But I don't think women should be in control all the time either. It should be a group decision with input all along the way. Well, I'm starting to preach now, and I apologize. Anyway, let me know what you think. See you tomorrow with the new post.

The THX.

     So, just ran across this and I think it's a brilliant idea. If your local movie theater doesn't have a "Crybaby Matinee" thing, it totally should. It's a great move and you should call your local theater if they don't do it.

The News.

     Have you guys watched Fox News lately? As near as I can figure, they're only producing fodder for the Daily Show. Seriously. What is with these people? Every once in awhile CNN will hit it wrong and completely contradict themselves withing twenty-four hours, but Fox, what are you doing? Now that I think about it, if Fox News had been around when I was a kid, I would've been able to watch more cartoons.
     I remember my dad walking into the room on Saturday mornings, grabbing the remote, and flipping to news. He would tell me that important things are happening in the world and I would never know what they were if I sat around watching cartoons. Don't think my dad was all mean though; I was 17 the last time he did that...so it wasn't like he was picking on a little kid. Still, had we gotten Fox News back then it probably wouldn't have happened at all. He would have walked in, sat down, and asked me to turn up the cartoons because Japanimation is the best thing happening. I would rather sit around all day trying to find out if there was ever a time when the old guy dressed up a ghost actually did get away with it, in spite of those "darn kids" than watch twelve seconds of Glenn Beck blubber on while his chins wag in silent discontent. It's just asinine gibberish and I can't believe they have a following.
     And yes, I realize this isn't about my daughter, but not everything's about her...is it?

The Divine.

     I can honestly say I've never seen that movie about girls trading pants and they some how make a deep and touching, even divine, connection with each other. Personally, I think it's ridiculous. Pants? Really? That's supposed to pull people together? The only way pants could pull people together is if you get those giant novelty pants, cram fifty people in there, then yank it shut Jethro style; with a rope. That's how pants can pull people together. Otherwise, the only thing they would have in common is rope burn.
     Today, Catie and I are walking around our potentially new condo, when we see another family moving out. The guys wife looks thirteen months pregnant. Now, they guy moving out sees me, I see him, and his wife sees Catie. Him and I don't even look at each other. He's in the middle of moving, looks like he's got his brother and buddy out there helping him, he's busy! There's not even a nod. But I notice his wife and my wife have made eye contact, look at the others stomach, and then flash these big, knowing, we-share-something smiles. Guys don't do that. I have never looked at a guy, seen that his wife is pregnant, and flashed a big ol' smile, and been like, "Aw man, I know just what you're going through!" Because, I don't. Besides, when I do see a guy with a pregnant woman, he's too busy to notice anyone else on the planet...

The Worth.

     While helping a friend (Mark) pick up some new furniture at an über trendy Swedish furniture company where they refuse to sell anything that's already put together, we toyed with the idea of having the stuff delivered to his house instead of hauling it ourselves. They can usually do same day shipping and it only costs 50 bucks. We got the stuff, loaded it on the cart, went through the check out line, and then sent to the "we can probably get this stuff home ourselves but we're not sure if it's worth our sanity" line. In front of us was a complete idiot. That may sound harsh, but it's true and I have proof. Now, I'll give her some credit, she was paying the extra money to get the brand new refrigerator she just bought shipped to her house. There's a lot of people that would have tried to manhandle the thing into a buddy's truck, wrestle it inside, and proceed to remove the existing kitchen floor by dragging it from the entryway to where ever it's supposed to end up. She chose not to do that, so that elevated her above complete buffoon.
     So where's my proof of her idiocy? After paying at least 1200.00 clams for a new fridge and 50.00 dollars for delivery, she begins to argue with the clerk over the fee to hook up the new appliance. Had the fee been a hundred dollars, I would have conceded the point and been content to wait behind her. But it wasn't a hundred dollars; it was fifteen. One five dollars. Why was she arguing this? Because she believed she might be able to hook it up herself...but she just wasn't sure. Which we all know is a giant crock.
     What she really wanted was for some powerless clerk to be like, "Aw lady! Thank you so much for buying this! We were going to go broke if you didn't. Just to say 'thank you', we're going to waive this 15.00 fee because you're the best customer we have ever had; EVER!" It was clear to the huge line forming behind her that it wasn't going to happen, but she kept at it. Eventually the clerk grew a pair and just said, "Do you want to install it or not?" The customer seemed taken aback, but caved and agreed to let someone else do the work. As soon as she acquiesced and signed the paper there was a group sigh that almost came in unison. I looked at Mark and said, "It's really a no brainer. Let someone else set it up, that way, if everything just falls apart, it starts leaking water all over the floor, then falls through the ceiling of the people living beneath you, it's their fault, not yours..." But what I've come to realize now is that it's not just the liability issue, or the fact that 15 dollars is such a small price to pay when compared to the delivery charge or the price of the refrigerator: It's a good value because it would save me time, frustration, and effort. I can change my own oil, but I'd rather pay someone else to do it for me.
     This led to the real question: how much is my time worth? Catie and I have been struggling with this, trying to decide if it's more cost effective for me to stay home and not have to pay a sitter or day-care, or if it's more practical to put the kiddo in some stranger's house and both of us work. In all honesty it'd probably be about the same, with me spending my income on her care. But the question comes back to how much is my time worth? Is it more important that I do whatever it is I do, or is it more important for me to be with my child? We all know the right answer, but that's not always the answer when reality knocks on the door.

The Schedule.

     Grad school is back in full swing again. Normally this wouldn't be news, and I have tried to make these posts generalized, but this is just too huge. I have my practicum (internship) coming up, after the baby is born. What am I going to do? Practicum's usually don't pay anything, and they usually take about 45 to 50 hours a week. The plan was for me to stay home with the kiddo while Catie works. But now, what are we going to do? Paying someone to watch the baby is out of the question because it's just too expensive. Plus, I'll be done with my practicum by the time she's 1ish, so it's not that long of a time, but I don't think taking an infant with me is an option. How am I going to do this?

The Flowers.

     I figure, since the baby is going to suck down our income like a roided up AIG going after your mother's retirement funds, now's the time to spend, right? So, go out and buy your pregnant wife some flowers. Partially because she's wonderful, partially because it may temporarily assuage the ever raging tide of hormones, and it may also get you points that can be redeemed in the evening hours... Seriously though, buy some flowers for your baby momma. If you think you can't afford it now, just wait. Gentlemen, start your wallets.

• 1-800 Flowers
  
• FTD (by the way, does anyone know what FTD actually stands for? I don't)
  
• Pro Flowers
  

The Cart.

     I was walking walking around Target, shopping, and I see this guy with a little girl in the seat of the grocery cart. But there was something different about this set of shoppers. While the father was physically there with his daughter, he wasn't "there". It was like they happened to be in the same place, but were total strangers. Anyone else ever see this?
     Is it possible there is a lesson in this? I've seen parents that are physically part of their children's life, but they just aren't emotionally part of their life. There's a level of intent that's important here. Instead of people who happen to be in the same room together, there can be a family that is actively participating in the lives of one another. This is what I want. I want to take my daughter to the grocery store, not go shopping with her in the cart. Does that make sense?

The Car.

     I've already written about my car in The Transformer, but it keeps coming up. We have yet to change our car situation. We're still upside down on Catie's car and right side up on mine, but her's is the one we need to dump off on someone. Anyone. Having a two door, now that I've seen all the junk that goes with having a baby, just doesn't seem like an option. In addition to looking around for cars, we're still looking for a house and we've just finished with the financing process, so more credit checks are a bad thing at this point. The kid isn't even here yet and money is getting tighter already. Trading in a brand new car for a four door piece of junk seems odd, especially because we're going to end up putting more money into fixing and maintaining a 1982 P.O.S. I'm still feeling a minivan type of thing. Maybe not the full fledged minivan, but a cross-over or something.
     We've looked at the SX4 from Suzuki, but as long as I was a mechanic for, I have yet to see a Suzuki impress me. But it looks like they've stepped it up a bit. Still though, all I want is something that will get us around without entirely castrating me. Is that so much to ask?

The Hand.

     Not sure if you've ever ridden in a cheap wagon with a kid who was battling childhood obesity sitting right behind you, but it's not as exciting as you'd think. First of all, the steering is not what I'd call responsive; it's actually not even sluggish. It's awful. Wagons either go straight or instantly turn 90 degrees. Plus, if I'm ever on a bobsled team, I'll know from experience where to put the big guy. If you put him in the back, you'll go way faster than you actually want, the only problem being stopping. There are no breaks on a Red Flyer Wagon; I've checked. Using my feet and hands far more than my brains, I tried to slow us down, only to have my hand stay in place while the wagon continued forward. After having my hand run over, and hearing an odd crunch, I decided that wherever the wagon stopped moving was the perfect place for me to get out and go home.
     I walked back home, pretty sure I broke something in my hand, wanting my mom to fix it. I went up to her, told her what happened, and asked her to take a look. She poked and prodded, then asked me if I could move my thumb, and wiggled stuff around. Her "professional" opinion? I was fine, now go play outside. I went out and started playing basketball by myself. Then, without warning, someone apparently inserted a tennis ball where my hand was supposed to be. It looked like I was wearing an inflated medical glove. The days of my mother being a doctor were over.
     Naturally, it was broken, which x-rays and a trained doctor proved. The thing that I still wonder about is how my mom could tell me it was okay, and all of a sudden it was! That kind of power is amazing to me. How is it that "kissing a boo-boo" is the salve of the god's? I hope I'll be able to illicit that type of calming affect in my children, but I won't be surprised if I can't. That's a mother's power. The best I can hope for is telling her to walk it of...

The Pokemon.

     I'll watch Saturday morning cartoons with the best of them. No problem. I can even sit through the occasional Scooby Doo episode if only to see if it's actually going to be a ghost this time instead of an angry old man who would have succeeded if it hadn't been for those darn kids. But there has been a significant decline in the quality of...something. That's the thing, and I can't put my finger on it. The animation quality has gotten better, the story's are more in depth and full, the character development is, well, there actually is character development! On every level cartoons seem to be getting more adult, complex, and better quality but they just suck. Pokemon is (hopefully) starting to slip out of style, but I'm sure it's going to be replaced by some equally shoddy toon all about a boy and his magical hair brush...or something just as stupid. There's no doubt about it.
     The thing is, I'm probably going to be forced to watch the Wiggles, or some other similarly mundane, inane, and insane show that just has a bunch of guys on it that couldn't hack it in the real world. I'm tempted to agree with Mitch Hedberg when he said that any book is a children's book if the kid can read it. So why do the cartoons feel so dumbed down? Now you may want to say that because I've gotten older, smarter, and more mature it would make sense for animated shows to no longer hold the same sway over my adult mind. Well, you'd be wrong. I still like cartoons from my youth, but I also like some of the newer ones. Of course the staples like South Park, Family Guy, and the Simpsons are cornerstones of late night viewing, but I also enjoy the occasional Robot Chicken and Harvey Birdman, attorney at law. Love them! But they're probably not suitable for a newborn to enjoy. It seems inevitable I will be left sitting in a small room watching morons bumble around, but I'll enjoy it because it entertains my daughter. I'll do everything I can to keep my TV from becoming a babysitter, but I make no promises. There are times when parents need breaks, otherwise they go crazy. I've seen it, and it's not pretty.

The Sweeping.

     There's an asteroid called Asclepius that came close to hitting Earth back in 1989. Then, in 1996, the Near-Earth Asteroid Tracking (NEAT) project was started by the JPL in order to monitor big hunks of stuff floating through space that cross the same path of Earth's orbit in case we turn out to be on a collision course. Everyone with me on this? There are people, who go to work five days a week, and get paid moderate sums of money, in order to figure out if a giant chunk of space dookie is going to not allow us to merge on the solar system's version of a highway. Good. Just one question: say we figure out we're going to be side swiped by a drunk driving celestial body with malicious intent, then what? While it wasn't necessarily a high point in my life, I can admit I've seen Armageddon, but the fiction part of that movie is more accurate than the science part. We're not going to a comet to blow it up. It's not going to happen. And a nuke? Well, have you ever wondered what would happen if you urinated on a forest fire? I think you get the picture. Why are we monitoring something we can do nothing about? I'd rather be surprised.
     What does this have to do with Fatherade? Well, the last down of the up's and down's of fatherhood is Sweeping Down. I think this is the one that comes naturally to most fathers. Catie is probably going to be more nurturing, more comforting, and better at anticipating the acts of our children than me, but this one is just built for men. This is the reason comic books sell, it's why guys work out (or at least say they do), it's why we polish shotguns when our daughter's first date comes over: We want to be hero's. Hero's save people, often miraculously or with super powers. Jerry Seinfeld once said, "All men think of themselves as some kind of low level superheros in their own world. When men are growing up and they're reading about Batman, Spiderman, Superman,.. these aren't fantasies, these are OPTIONS! This the deep inner secret of the male mind." It's true. What he neglected to talk about is the motivation behind this desire. I like saving people, I really do. I'm looking forward to saving my kids from something...anything really. That's what dad's do! We "sweep" in, and save the day! Mom's get all the credit on game day ("HI MOM!!!"), but who gets the call when a car breaks down in the middle of the night in central downtown and they don't know what to do? We're the ones! We get the call! And we love it, even when we act like we don't. It makes us feel (finally) useful. That's what father's do.

The Who.

     "Who do you think you are?" It's a good question...I haven't technically had a kid yet but I have the guts to start a blog trying to help fathers. I could see how there might be some confusion. I could give you some of my resume and background experience, how I've worked with children and youth for the last fourteen years, how I've been on panels to speak about effective communication with children with ADD/ADHD, and how I'm currently in my masters program for marriage and family therapy. But really, ultimately, none of that matters. Each child is different, each parent is different, and each parent/child pair is going to have different needs. This means, that regardless of what people say, there really are no experts. They just don't exist when it comes to family. Actually, there's some evidence that experts don't exist at all. Also here...
     Please understand I'm not claiming to be an expert. Not even a little bit. I'm not saying I have all the answers, but I am saying I can offer men skills they don't already have. Generalized skills that can help any relationship, including the one with your child. This is where men, in general, tend to fall short. They are just confused when it comes to relationships. This is what I'm good at. Part of it is a natural talent, some has come from experience, some I'm hoping that by seeing trends in fathers and drawing from my resources, I may be able to help fathers, which will help strengthen families.
     It comes down to this: even if I never have a child, I could still teach fathers ways to better their relationships with their children. This is because I've been in relationship with other people, I've lived with them, there are commonalities that are nearly universal. And when I do officially become a father, that won't matter much either because my relationship with my child will be very different than the one you have with your child. If I do it right, I should be able to package my information into something that's useful, not just theoretical. This can be through the blog, a book, speaking/conventions, affecting social change through raising awareness, or by all trying to use all of the above. As long as my recommendations and observations are true, useful, and create more robust and fulfilling family relationships, I'm doing my job.
     This is one of the reasons I value your comments so much. It helps me see what is the most useful of my posts, it helps me know what you want more of, and it helps me know what you're frustrated with. These things are important to me. Not only because they will better prepare me to be a father, but because they will better prepare me to prepare other fathers. Whether we know it or not, we are living in community. Until lately, that community has been fragmented and compartmentalized into gender roles, social assumptions, and a whole random assortment of invisible rules. But a father being physically, mentally, and spiritually available to his family is crucial. Don't get me wrong, mothers are important as well, but it's always going to be better with two people working together. America has a 50% divorce rate right now; this will have an impact on our children and future generations. While I'm not nearly naive enough to admit all divorce is avoidable, I'm also not stupid enough to think that a 50% failure rate is acceptable.
     Men of my generation are trying, and they're trying hard. They have a general lack of certain essential communication tools and concepts that can change their life, their family, and their community forever; but where do they turn? It's probably a pipe dream, but setting up national support centers for fathers would the best part. While men aren't supposed to stop and ask for directions, this is one trip where getting lost can have dire consequences. We're slowly realizing that and we know we need to do more than many of our fathers did. The good news is this: It can be done, and it can be done right now. That's why the next ten posts will cover certain ups and downs of fatherhood that men need to address. Please give feedback and let me know what you think

The Instructions.

     The comment about children not coming with an instruction manual has been said way too many times. I think the phrase has stuck around because it admits that every kid is different, no parent really knows what they're doing until after they've done it, and everyone is pretty much just guessing. There is no such thing as an expert on parenting. There can be good advice, general rules of thumb, or medical recommendations, but past a certain point none of them will work all the time in every situation. There has never been, there will never be, and there currently isn't a family like yours. That being said, there is one thing all children need in order to develop into healthy adults: good relationships with their parents. Without this, everything else pretty much falls apart. If you don't believe me, check out Harlow's monkey's. So what's the best Fatherade? Show up! I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Show Up! That's the first and most important step in being a father.
     One statistic I've heard many times during studying family therapy is that children in an abusive family have a forty percent chance of being abusing their family later. Every time I've read this, it's been stated this way. Why don't they say children in an abusive family have a sixty percent chance of NOT abusing their family later. It's saying the same thing, right? That means more people who come from abused families don't abuse! That means people are not doomed to repeat what their parents taught them. However, it doesn't mean it's going to be easy.
     You want an instruction book for fatherhood? I'll let you have it cheap: FREE. Be there, and don't leave or quit. Everything else can be fixed. We're going to make mistakes, that's a promise. Some will be worse than others, but there is only one mistake that can't be fixed and that's leaving. And there is more than one way to leave a family, the physical act is just the most noticeable. Many fathers are absentee's long before they leave, many times it's not intentional. There are fathers who desperately want to be involved in their families and their children, but they just don't know how. Fatherade will eventually host seminars for fathers who lack some of the skills required to get involved in the lives of their children. Expect a calendar early 2012. If you have any suggestions or requests, please email me.

The Security.

     It's a form of light torture when the Tiger Direct catalog comes to my house. The deals they offer are great and I have ordered several things from them and been very happy. But with the economy still down turned and a baby on the way, I have very little money to splurge on electronics. The other thing is that some of the products they offer seem somewhat ridiculous to me. I use to think the security cameras they offered were pretty strange. But now that I'm having a daughter, a nine camera security system with night vision and networking capabilities seems like a reasonable purchase.

The Ugg-o.

     If I have a girl, there is a part of me that wants her to be really ugly. Before you start sending hate-mail, let me explain.
     There is only a part of me that would want my daughter to be ugly. That is the part that wants to protect her from all the men in the world. I want to make sure she is kept from becoming one of those girls who uses her looks instead of her brains to get things. Pretty girls get all the attention in high school and college, but eventually looks fade. Then I'm left with this vapid offspring with some sense of entitlement that is totally undeserved. At that point, I will have failed.
     On the other hand, if she's ugly, she's going to have to work extra hard to get what she deserves. It's like naming a boy Sue. It will force her to be hard working and she will be proud of her accomplishments because they will be hers. And when the looks of the pretty girls fades to match hers, she'll be far above the rest of the women because her strength will come from her abilities instead of her looks. Plus I won't have to worry about her dating. Ever.
     Yet, the pain and heartache she'll experience if she's a real ugg-o is pretty brutal. Why would I wish so much pain on my child? Kids are mean, why would I want it to be worse?
     Maybe what I really want is a child that is confident for a good reason, and not just because of their looks. I know too many women who are good looking and they know they're good looking and they expect to be treated differently. If I can have a beautiful child without them becoming stuck up and self-involved, that would be my preference, but that seems to be the exception rather than the rule.