Baby Daddy 53: My Son Beat Me Up

Once upon a time, I trained in Krav Maga. As a Krav practicioner, I learned to fight against knives, guns, fists, feet, even long sticks. I would fight against the biggest fuckers in the room, and out work them. I would fight against the fastest fuckers in the room, and overpower them. I was everyone's favorite training partner because I brought a physicality and "realness" to the training.

So why do I say all of this? Because my son broke my nose.

Now for those uninitiated, my son is two and half years old. And for the record, I earned it.

About a month ago, I was trying to get my son to sleep. Anyone with a toddler knows that this is no easy task. Unfortunately, he will usually run around and play for 30-45 minutes before he sleeps. Even then, he struggles to fall asleep until something happens and he throws a mini-tantrum.

Knowing this, and being the horrible parents that we are, my wife and I will sometimes provoke our son. We aren't necessarily rude about it, but we will insist that he sleep. That is usually all it takes. There are other times that we will lay down in his room. Our son gets mad because he knows we are ready to sleep, and he does not want to. For the record: do not do this.

One night, I decided to lay down. Normally, this would not be a terrible ordeal. I lay down, my son gets upset, he realizes he needs to sleep, and he passes right the fuck out. Unfortunately, on this night, my son decided to climb into a chair in his room. As he starts climbing into the chair, I start to legitimately fall asleep in his room. As I am starting to dose off, I see my son open his arms wide. That's fine, he likely wants help into the chair. Right? Wrong!

My son decided to swan dive backwards, off the chair and into the bed. The bed that I was laying down in. He landed, I saw black, and I immediately yelled "fucker!" I wasn't yelling at him, mind you, but out of pain. My boy started crying, and I hugged him to make sure he was okay. My wife runs up, and I tell her to take care of the kiddo.

I immediately run to the bathroom, in case I have a concussion. As it turns out, I did not. I did, however, have a broken nose. While my pupils were not dilated, my nose was shifted a solid half centimeter to the right.

We managed to calm my son down and get him to sleep. I had surgery to fix my nose a few days later, and proceeded to spend a week in a nose splint. I'm healed up now, so that's cool.

Moral of the Story: I'm trained to fight grown-ass people with weapons, and my two-year-old son was able to break my nose. Also, never fall asleep before your toddler. Ever. Snort coffee or something, but never.

Baby Daddy 52: Corporal Punishment

Well I must say, I suck at keeping up with this. I do good, I do good, I do good, and then BAM! I lose a month. All the same, I am expecting, hoping, and praying that everything has settled down a bit. I am also hoping that I can force myself to write more, which would allow myself to write more. Something about habit and practice and what not. SO! On that note, I plan to catch up on some thoughts. Some are going to be may be long, some may be quick, and some may be dirty.

First thing first, my friend Craig is going to be a father. I don't know if I shared that before or not, but he is. We were talking one day, after he was getting some jitters, and started talking about how we parent kids. Craig was talking about how he knows that spanking and physical punishment don't work, but that he also had to keep the rod as an option for disciplining his kids. I reiterated that physical punishment does not work, to which he said that he is not creative enough to do something else. I told him it is easy. As a toddler, you say "no", they cry, and then they learn. I also told him that, as the kid gets older, he can simply use chores and such.

This got me to thinking about the idea of spanking and such. Of course, I immediately flashed on Shoot 'Em Up, with Clive Owen:

Now why did this flash into my mind? Well, probably because I don't believe in spanking, or any physical discipline on a child. But yesterday, I started to dig deeper. Why do people spank? To create a negative consequence for undesirable behavior. At the same time, it is something more than that. Craig's desire to have the rod as an option for punishment was a crutch to express his own frustration.

Now let me ask you something. What if you were not frustrated with a child, but with an adult? What if, instead of your son or daughter, you were frustrated with a 250-pound, muscle-bound motherfucker named Glenn? Would you try to spank or beat Glenn if he was upsetting you? What if you knew that Glenn was a 'roided out fighter? Odds are that you would suck it up, accept that Glenn is an asshole, and move on with your life.

What if the person that upset you was a co-worker? Unless you are planning a workplace shooting, you would likely find some petty way to get vengeance. For the record, do NOT plan a workplace shooting. If you plan to do that, do everyone a favor and start with yourself. If you are planning something petty -- such as stealing their stapler, or leaving the stapler and stealing the staples, or maybe a Whoopee Cushion! -- then do that! And then do that to your child! Not the Whoopee Cushion, because kids think it's funny. And not the stapler, because kids tend to find ways of hurting themselves. But you know, take away the toy that your kid threw. Force the kid to rake the yard or paint the house. Or even just enjoy letting the kid fuss for a bit.

For the record, I have taken the toys my son throws. I have removed my son from situations where he is being volatile. I have also let my son fuss, and just found a dark place in my soul that could find comfort in it. In the case of that last one, my son was extremely tired and needed to discharge his leftover energy to sleep.

Moral of the Story: If you are not willing to use physical discipline on Glenn, you should not do it to your child. Also, if you eat my lunch, I WILL TAKE YOUR GODDAMN STAPLES KAREN!

Time to Man Up (Listen to Terry!)

SO I don't know if I have already talked about this, or not. I know I tried to post in other social media, but fuck that. I can't link that shit to this shit until doing so doesn't put me at risk of losing my job. Let's be honest, telling the general public to go fuck themselves does not really meet with "civility training". Little known fact: If you don't act like a sexist, racist, shitty human being, civility training is really unnecessary. And if you do act like a sexist, racist, shitty human being, then kindly go fuck yourself and learn to suck less.

Speaking of shitty human beings, Starbucks is shutting down for a day to do training nationwide (in the U.S.). SO MANY people started talking shit about how Starbucks should not be doing this, how they are losing money, and how they will lose customers. My thought is that anyone who boycotts Starbucks because they are trying to do civlity training is a goddamn asshole. Starbucks is saying, "Hey, we had ambiguous policy and want to remind employees not to be racist dicks.". Anyone opposed to that has to reevaluate whether they, themselves, are racist dicks. As for me, I'mma get a trenta coffee and fucking snort the coffee grounds from the Starbucks counter. Also, I may be going through caffeine withdrawal.

BUT! That is not the point! The point is that I am sick and tired of the (failing) standard for men. Last week, I got bamboozled! I saw people posting on social media about being fathers and husbands, saying, "this is my most_____ job". You can fill in the blank with anything: rewarding, important, valuable, whatever-the-fuck. Sounds sweet and endearing, right? WRONG!

Here is my issue. You can quit a fucking job. If I scrub toilets at McDonald's, and I wake up and think, "Naw, I'm tired of that shitty ass job.", then I just fucking quit that job. I may be homeless, I may be broke, but I don't have that job. You don't get to quit being a father or a husband. That shit is part of you now. That is part of who you are. Whether you want it to be or not, tough shit. Sure, you can get a divorce. That's fine. You don't have to stay in a marriage. And half the people out there should not be in the marriages that they are.

But when it comes to being a father, you are pretty much stuck with that one. If I don't want to go to work, I call in sick or take leave time. If I don't want to work as a father, guess what? My kid is still expecting me to pick him up and hug him. And guess what? If my wife has a shit day and needs a night alone with a bottle of wine, I am on parent duty. It's called being a loving and considerate husband/father.

And I got news for anyone who's expecting a kid. Shit gets real. That first several weeks is sucks hard. I spent so much time worrying about my wife and postpartum depression. I spent so much time worrying over how to properly care for the kid. It is hard. And fuck Hollywood. I see more shows about how the husband is off drinking with his buddies, while the wife is home - caring for the baby and miserable. That is bullshit. Anyone in that position needs to act like a goddamn adult and take care of their family.

This leads to the next issue I have. I hate when people say, "I found my princess" or "I married my prince". I'm sorry, but fuck that. In most stories, the princess is a helpless damsel, looking to be saved. In modern society, calling someone a princess can suggest that they are entitled and looking for a sugar-daddy. The title of prince is....okay.....(ugh). In story tales, the prince usually stops the antagonist and saves the girl. In modern society, Prince was a phenomenal artist and may he rest in peace.

BUT! I fucking hate the idea of people saying they found a prince or princess. I never once had that notion. When I first met my wife, I told her that I viewed her as a queen. For her part, she referred to me as a king. What's more, we view ourselves as warriors. If we are to follow the allegory, she and I view each other as warrior rulers. I have never considered my wife to be a girl needing saving. She is a woman that can destroy any obstacle. I don't consider myself to be some prince, seeking to save a damsel. I am a man who will build an empire.

At what point did it become okay for men to settle? If you look at what is depicted these days, it is half-way expected that a guy will come in, find a girl, marry her, have a kid with her, and go off gallivanting while she takes care of the child. Keep in mind that we are assuming the marriage before birth thing. How the fuck did that become the expectation?

I believe in the man that views himself a king, and seeks a queen. I believe in the man that has vision for himself and his future, and enters a relationship seeking a partner - not some girl to save. I believe in the man that builds his empire, along side his queen. I believe in the man that has a child, and takes active interest in the upbringing of that child. I believe in the man that does what he can, and does what he must, to protect his queen and his offspring. And I believe in the man that raising his children to be young kings and queens, themselves.

Moral of the Story: We need to set a better standard for men, as well as all people. Also, I really want Starbucks.