- Putting on chapstick. Do you even know where your lips are?
- Being gentle. Repeat after me. Your baby brother is not a piñata. Yes, I know his head is big.
- Brushing teeth. Your molars are important. Or not. What do I know.
- Putting caps back on markers. Thanks, I’ve always wanted to slip and almost shatter my femur.
- Putting on lotion. Fantastic. Now I have to figure out what to do with these 14 pumps of CeraVe you thought you needed for your tiny little hands.
- Eating. Gusts of wind are not meals.
- Letting me sleep in. Yes, 5am on Saturday is exactly the time you should practice howling like a coyote.
- Restaurants. Hi, where do I check-in my coat and this child?
- Helping. Hey, great job stirring the pancake mix! The ceiling has been overdue for a cleaning anyway.
- Staying small. Remember when you shook my hand, crossed your heart, and promised me you’d never grow up? Yeah, you’ve been terrible at keeping your end of this deal. I hope you realize that no matter where you are, or what size you get, you’ll always be my baby.
I can’t believe we didn’t listen. Our new President is absolutely right: all Muslims, Mexicans, and people of the LGBT community are rapists, murderers, and drug dealers. I mean, I’m surprised the earth is still rotating after reading all these true facts from Fox News and Breitbart.
So as a reminder, here are a list of things you should continue doing to protect yourself from all these dirty immigrants and homosexuals taking over our beloved country.
1. Kiss a Bear
Most of you know this, but if you see a Muslim on the street, immediately run and put your head in a bear’s mouth. It will keep you safe. I mean, have you been inside a bear’s mouth lately? It’s so roomy. It’s definitely better than these dumb San Francisco rent prices.
2. Swing a chainsaw
If your gay neighbor tries to say hi to you, stop whatever you are doing, and start swinging a live chainsaw. This will create a wind vortex around you, preventing the gayness from coming into to your yard. Also, guess what? You’ll be able to trim your hedges at the same time. Hashtag winning.
3. Guns, Guns, Guns
I keep repeating myself here, but make sure to pick up a gun even if you don’t know how to use it. Just by holding it, you will feel empowered and safe. Let freedom ring.
4. Hide in boxes
Look, if the Mexicans break the wall and start pouring into our cities like the zombies in World War Z, you will need to know how to find shelter. So get a group of your friends and start practicing today by rolling yourselves down the stairs.
5. Use Stairs
Never trust an escalator. These are traps set up by Muslims.
6. Have an escape plan
Heaven forbid, what happens if a minority knocks on your door? You flee into nature, that’s what.
7. Take shortcuts
Forget the rules. If you want something, grab it like your President does.
8. Keep twerking
If you accidentally shake hands with a gay person, the best way to get rid of the gay is to immediately start twerking. This will also confuse them, so you have enough sneak out of the situation.
9. Keep innovating
Once America is great again (*praise the lord*), and after our economy plunges into a deep depression, we need to figure out how to rebuild this broken nation. So please, never stop using your imagination.
10. Trust the 1%
Listen, the people at the top always have our best interests in their minds, so we must have faith in the system. And with President elect appointing white supremacists to help him lead the nation, I’m sure they’ll make the best decisions for all of us to last a lifetime.
If you need more tips on how to prepare yourself, click here. Good luck, and remember, please keep these lists handy if a minority tries to give you a hug. Ew, right?
Also, here is a good definition of satire in case you need it.
As a Dad, I don’t have much of an attention span these days, but sometimes a TV spot or YouTube ad will stop me in dead in my tracks. Here is my list of my favorite ads targeted at Dads like me.
State Farm: “Never”
Does State Farm have a time machine that sees into my future? I’ve never had a commercial follow every stage of my life so perfectly. The ending gets me every time.
I watched this and I laughed and I laughed and I laughed…
Toyota: “Swagger Wagon”
This rap is basically romantic poetry whispering softly in my ears.
Vicks DayQuil: “Sick Day”
The only thing worse than being sick around your baby is being hungover around your baby.
Amazon Echo: “The Break Up”
The voice activated sprinklers at the end made me fist pump with joy.
The woman reminds me of my wife. Luckily, I wasn’t eating Doritos when my daughter was born.
Kraft: “Officer Dan”
I can see one of my offspring doing something like this. I’m already mentally preparing for my conversation with the police in the future.
The little girl here is so adorable, I want to squeeze her. I also want to hug the Dad because I feel for his loss.
Cheerios: “Father Friendly”
No joke, the first 15 seconds with the horse mask was so fantastic, I had to rewind and re-watch that part twice.
Subaru: “Legacy Driver”
Because babies acting like adults are always funny.
Volkswagen: “Throw baseball”
Luckily I know how to throw a baseball, but I can’t wait to instill some awkward knowledge to my children, like when they ask me how to “juju on that beat” (Re: #TZanthemchallenge)
Toys”R”Us: “Like Father, Like Daughter
I don’t know why this commercial made me feel the fuzzies. I guess it’s because I really felt for the Dad, especially at the beginning, where he’s trying his best to make the baby happy, but the only person who can soothe the baby is Mom (we Dads know that helpless feeling). So when then the daughter goes all in at the end in the Toys”R”Us aisle, my heart started pumping like I was right there. Kudos to the Director for pulling me into this world and sparking that emotion.
When I first saw this spot, I didn’t even laugh. I stood up and clapped.
Halos Mandarin: “Stealing”
My 2-year old caught me eating her string cheese once and it was bad news. No joke, baby’s are mean, especially if they catch you trying to being sneaky.
This commercial is everything. Also, the last two seconds made me have a full blown giggle fiesta.
Walmart: “The Dad Pack”
I want to give this Dad a high-five because I know exactly what he’s thinking.
Kohl’s: “First the workout, then the waffles”
I too, have also almost forgotten the baby because of truffle fries.
A lot of moms and dads are on their baby’s schedule. This is how good parenting should be executed, however, we often see our new parent friends locking themselves up in their homes and never seeing sunlight because of an intensely over-scheduled calendar full of nap times, feeding sessions, whatever.
My wife and I take a more liberal approach: the baby is on our schedule. From the start, we’ve always set flexible windows for baby needs, but skew outside of the choreographed box most first-time parents put themselves in. Don’t get me wrong, this method often backfires on us, but it’s definitely made for some solid memories. One of which, I will explain in this story.
We love to travel and are often on the hunt for a good deal and a getaway. Because of this, our 2-year old has already been around the world. She’s a super chill baby and crushes long distance international flights. Here she is watching Elmo on an Airbus A380 in 2015:
Let me take a step back and tell you the truth. You see, this picture is a double edged sword. We actually had a little secret up our sleeves which got her to behave this way. We introduced a pacifier.
It wasn’t until we started traveling, when my daughter was ~9 months old, that she got her hands on this magic contraption. If she ever started getting impatient on flights, we’d hand it to her, and she’d instantly cool her jets and chill the F out. This product (aka the tantrum buster aka the sound soother aka the peacemaker) was such a hit, we started using it on longer car rides soon thereafter. Then, like a casual smoker, both we and the baby, got addicted. It was our clutch and we handed it to her whenever turbulence hit (both in the sky and at home).
After her first birthday, my wife and I held an executive team meeting, and acknowledged it was time to ditch the sucker. We hit up the best credible source — the internet, of course — but none of the tactics worked. Everything we tried failed like Wiley Coyote (or maybe we were just too weak?). Then, my wife’s friend shared a secret. It was exactly the kind of spark we needed to get the parental gears in motion.
We decided to staged a pacivention.
I quickly assembled the team who would help perform this mediation: me, my wife, my sister, and of course, Wrigley and Darwin.
Here was the plan: I take my daughter to my sisters place where Wrigley and Darwin were hanging out so all three can run in circles, scream, and bark at each (that’s what babies and puppies do when they see each other). Then, I casually bring the pacifier out. I try to hand it to the baby, when oops, I accidentally fumble. And guess whose sitting right next to me waiting for treats? Wrigley and Darwin.
I FaceTimed with Wrigley and Darwin beforehand, and they were gracious enough to agree to play the antagonists (they’ll do anything for food).
So on one lovely Sunday afternoon, my daughter watched the scene unfold. Holding back tears, she came to terms with what just happened: Wrigley and Darwin had eaten the paci.
Here is the video from February 2016:
If you need help with a pacivention, Wrigley and Darwin are available for hire.
No doubt, my daughter and wife have changed my life. Looking back, I used to be a totally different person before this gangster suburbia lifestyle took over (free street parking for days, saywhaaaat). Here are 11 ways my life has changed before and after having a baby.
Before Baby: 30 minutes of scheduled cardio
Now: Yelling at people trying to catch Pokemon near my front lawn. Should I use my hose?
Drink of choice:
Before Baby: A splash of good whiskey and an ice cube
Now: Sometimes when I take a shower, I close my eyes and can almost taste coffee coming out of the shower head. Is that a weird fantasy?
Before Baby: Aspiring filmmaker
Now: Director of Waste Management
Before Baby: Owning the 3 DVD Netflix account and inhaling movies on the regular
Now: Freaking out because my daughter just touched a used band-aid at the park. You can probably still hear my screams from space.
Before Baby: Laughing and waving to people with a smile on my face
Now: Crying and waving goodbye to my paycheck with tears rolling down my face
Before Baby: Juggling multiple tasks
Now: Juggling multiple groceries bags
Before Baby: Going all the way up
Now: Trying to convince my daughter that rain doesn’t come from reindeer’s
Before Baby: Changing channels
Now: Changing diapers
Before Baby: Should we go to the Amazon?
Now: I’m tired, let’s just buy it on Amazon
Before baby: Rapping all the lyrics to Ludacris in the car
Now: Rapping all the lyrics to Mother Goose Club in the car
Before Baby: Get dressed up and going out to dinner
Now: Let’s drop the baby off at grandma’s house so we can both take a nap
We all have that one Uncle. You know, the one who asks you awkward life questions, tells ridiculous dad-jokes and laughs the loudest at the punchlines, and gets overly political at family parties after one too many glasses of whiskey?
I am that Uncle.
I’m only 32 and never thought it would happen so quickly. I always thought the transition would be slow, one Christmas party at a time, but it seems to have hit me all at once like a werewolf during a full moon. Here are 10 ways I’ve definitely turned into that one Uncle.
- I will text you to make sure you received my snapchat.
- I will leave you a voicemail. If I don’t get a call back within 10 minutes, I will snapchat you, then text to make sure you received my voicemail.
- I have no idea how to use snapchat.
- Oh, you’re single? Let’s have a discussion why. I am here to help (examine?) your love life.
- Oh, you’re married? Where is the baby? Give me the baby.
- Speaking of babies, what do you call Iron Man throwing a tantrum as a kid? Robert Meltdowny Junior. YOU’RE WELCOME FOR THIS JOKE PLEASE USE IT WHENEVER YOU NEED TO.
- Sorry, I don’t remember your name. Yes, I realize we just shook hands. No, you don’t need to bother repeating it — I honestly don’t care enough.
- I see you over there F-ing up my garden, Zippy, Oscar, and Samantha! Yes, my daughter named these three SOB squirrels who frequent our home because she thinks they’re all “so cute”. But these bushy-tailed demon creatures are lucky this isn’t the Oregon Trail. Is it bad to wonder what squirrel tastes like?
- I will take off my shirt and be the first to jump in a pool. I mean, it took years to shape this dad-bod into the visual masterpiece it is. If you got it, flaunt it, amiright?
- I rarely get ashamed. I’m not even embarrassed about this post.
If you need words written for your brand, drop me a line via my website. Oh, and don’t forget to read my other dad stuff on Medium or watch my film on Netflix. You know, so my daughter can go to college or whatever.
I curse all you childless humans with your stamina, ambition, and free time you can waste just watching each other whip and nae-nae. Here are 13 reasons why people without babies are super annoying:
- You’re so happy. Like, actually happy. How can you smile and be so good-looking all the time? Rude.
- You have the energy to go on a run. Sit down, you’re making me tired. Seriously.
- You can watch TV and not yell at it. Last night, I accidentally came across “the news” and threw the remote at the TV. I was too tired to go pick it up so I just sat and moaned for 4 minutes. 4 minutes, you guys. Like a bloated walrus.
- You can take a nap whenever you want. Oh, you’re feeling refreshed? What are you? A cucumber?
- You can go to happy hour, take an Uber home, and everything will be fine. This summer, someone offered my wife and me a shot of alcohol at a wedding, and we both started laughing so hard we started crying. Actually, the crying might have started first? Who knows.
- You can make rational decisions. My wife bought organic sunblock for our child, which turns out, was also gluten free. I agreed with her smart purchase choice. WHAT IN THE ACTUAL F.
- You can binge watch a cool TV series and be part of pop-culture discussions. Does anyone else think Caillou is a jerk? I’m all about that Justin Time on Netflix. Wanna talk about it?
- Do single people even do the dishes? Why are there so many dishes in the sink? WHY? I just did them. Who put more in here? WHO? ANSWER ME. Are they reproducing? Where are they coming from?
- You can use cool, trendy lingo. I’m still using the phrase “two thousand and late.” Is that still on fleek? How do you quantify a fleek? Can someone explain this?
- You can actually save money if you wanted to. Our garage is basically an Amazon distribution center littered with empty cardboard boxes of baby stuff (shout out to Prime). And the emotional roller coaster I feel logging into my Wells Fargo account every morning, HO-LEE-SHIT.
- You smell so nice all the time. Every Sunday — the day before trash pick up day on our street — our house smells like a moose walked through our living room. Where is this ghost-smell coming from? Did one of you dumb millennials help my child set up a petting zoo in the attic?
- You can go eat tacos right now. I’m a grown man and my wife won’t let me eat Mexican food for every meal. It’s the worst.
- You can stay up at night. We got invited to a birthday party which started at 10pm in San Francisco. On the real-real — have you ever been so angry you actually yelled at an evite? I literally watched my wife shout at her phone for 10 minutes like it was a person after viewing this “absurd” electronic invitation which was “way past everyone on earth’s bedtime.” I tried to calm her down by suggesting we get tacos, and it all backfired even further.
Preface: I’m throwing this idea out to the universe for free. It’s no doubt the next Silicon Valley unicorn so go ahead and run with it. Just let me know when it’s ready, because as a dad, I could use this yesterday.
My wife works late most days, so from 5–7pm, I’m on daddy-duties. This is an important chunk of solo-parent time where I give my daughter 100% of my attention. We laugh, run-around, play, read books, and more importantly, spend time together.
In fact, I have this time blocked off on my calendar. Unless you’re my wife, I won’t pick up or look at my phone (emergencies pending). For these two hours everyday, I mentally check out of email-land and check into fostering my child.
Like my wife, my 2 year old has a giant personality, and of course, sass. She started walking and talking early, so we’re hoping after preschool, she lands a job at a cool start up — I mean, somebody’s gotta pay the mortgage, right? Jokes aside, even with my wife’s strong genetics, I have to remind myself that she’s still my little baby and figuring out the world one day at a time.
Earlier this summer, during one of our daddy-daughter moments, I was exhausted from trying to be an adult with responsibilities, so I thought a good way to give both of our brains a boost was to make one of my famous berry smoothies (shout out to Vitamix and blueberries in general). She was old enough where I thought she could handle a cup with a straw like a “big girl”. After repeatedly telling her to use two hands, and her nodding that she understood this new drinking procedure and workflow, I turned to get a straw from the drawer.
I turn back, and in literally 2.9 seconds, she is dripping purple.
Do you guys remember Nickelodeon slime? Just like that, it was all over her. All over the kitchen. All over my soul. She looked up with smoothie-soaked eyelashes (seriously, how did you miss your mouth!?) and said “sowee daddy, I made a mess.”
I mean, how can you even be mad at this level of adorableness, right? I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and after muttering a few F-words inaudibly, thought to myself: “I could really use a beer after all this.”
So after 20 minutes of wiping, changing, and getting the situation under control, I quickly checked the fridge, crossing my fingers in hopes that somehow a lost Lagunitas IPA was hiding behind the milk, just waiting to jump out like a high-school cheerleader with spirit-fingers.
No luck. The fridge was empty. This is how the idea was born:
The product: Beer Chaperone
How it works:
- You open the app on your phone.
- You press a large button which says: “I need a beer chaperone”
- After placing your order (Basic Chaperone Package), a certified, and sober, beer chaperone in your area will come to your house.
- They will deliver, and watch you drink, 1 beer of your choice while also entertaining your toddler for a 30 minute window.
- The chaperone is required to listen to you while you share your dream about how you should have bought that boat in 2014.
- The chaperone will also tell you how your dream of becoming a filmmaker is valid and give you compliments on your beard.
- Additional 30 minutes of chaperone-time can be added if more compliments are needed. Your CC will automatically be charged.
- Like Uber, you can see a map and eta of your chaperone.
Additional add on: Chaperone Prime Package
After 1 beer, and 30 minutes of conversation, the dad has the option to order a 2nd and final beer.
Important Product Note: the chaperone will only have 2 cold beers on hand. 2 beers is the limit with this service since there is a baby involved (come on, we’re not sloppy fathers. We’re just stressed out of our minds).
Once this order is placed, the chaperone is required to call the wife. Beer 2 will not be given unless permission from the wife is requested. There will be lots of yelling on the line (obviously), so the chaperone is trained and required to share details of the events leading up to this app purchase (ie, smoothie story).
Once beer 2 limit is consumed and reached, the chaperone will take away the dad’s phone and wait until the wife gets home. This is to A) supervise and prevent dad from taking the stroller and baby to the closest happy hour, and B) to avoid further yelling by the wife over the phone/text because “it’s Tuesday” and “you’re supposed to be a responsible adult” or whatever.
Additional add on: Chaperone VIP Package
The dad has the ability to pay for this premium package service, whereas once the wife gets home, the chaperone must help articulate face-to-face the reason for why the beer was needed, convince her that it he is making valid life choices, and remind her why she fell in love with him in the first place.
Dad has ability to tip chaperone generously if he/she can convince wife to buy a boat.
Good idea? Comment and let me know what you think.
My wife is like an ant. She works hard and is a straight-shooter. She’s able to see the big picture and can turn parts of her brain off and on to get shit done. I, on the other hand, am a lazy grasshopper. I sing songs in the summer, prance around in the grass, and get upset because nobody ever taught me how to dougie.
But somehow, this grasshopper convinced the ant to get married. Can you believe that? And miraculously, the system works. In fact, you should see us dealing with our toddler. We’re like a NASCAR pit stop. We’re like two WWE wrestlers at dinnertime — if she needs to tag out, I tag right in. And like NSYNC in the 90’s, we’re able to make great music together, until the grasshopper changes the rhythm and tune unexpectedly, of course.
I’m about to tell you about one of the most ridiculous arguments my wife and I have ever had.
Before settling into suburbia, our apartment in San Francisco was “cozy” (shout out to thesaurus.com in helping make small things sound larger than they actually are). Our space was limited, but intimate, which meant we were up in each others faces often. This is fine because I like my wife’s face. She however, may or may not like my face depending on which day of the week it is, so hide and seek was a terrible game for her. There was literally no place she could run away to and I would always find her (oh hey gurl whatcha doing?). To add, we only had one tiny bathroom, causing a lot of shared personal space.
One day, while we were both running around trying to get ready for an event, I went in for a shower. I turned the water on and that’s when the yelling started.
My wife runs in and grabs her toothbrush. As she’s brushing, she sees my awkward dad-body getting into the shower. Usually she wouldn’t even notice my one and a half abs (out of 6) which I’ve been flexing so generously for her, but in this moment for some reason she stops, spits out her paste, and says “Wait, what are you doing?”
I turn with a smirk, “Taking a shower? Why, you want to jump in and save on our water bill?”
“Ew no. You’re getting into the shower wrong.”
“What?” I reply.
Let me back up and share what our shower looked like. Here is a Google image I found, which gives you a good idea of our bathroom layout (just imagine our scenario being 2x smaller). Our shower had two sliding doors just like this, and I’ve labeled them A and B here. This will be important, so pay attention.
Now how does any sane person enter the shower, you ask? I will tell you. You slide open Door A. You turn the shower on. You wait for it to get hot. Then, you enter the shower through Door A so you can immediately adjust the temperature if necessary.
My wife shook her head in disbelief. This, according to her, was extremely incorrect.
“The right way” she explained, was open door A and turn the shower on. You wait for it to get hot, close Door A, and then enter the shower through Door B.
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” I exclaimed.
First off, if you enter through Door B, you have to get wet and reach through the water to adjust. Imagine if the water is too cold. You’re telling me you get cold water on you and then flop around adjusting the temperature? No way, Jose. Not a chance, Lance. Get outta here, Sameer.
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” she shouted back.
The toilet is right next to Door A. There is no space to adjust if you enter through Door A — it’s way too cramped! With Door B, you have the flexibility to maneuver. Also, you do not enter through Door B until the temperature is the correct likeliness via Door A first.
We went silent, trying to catch our breaths. Thanks to the thin walls, we both realized we’d probably shared our shower squabbles with everyone living on 24th street.
“You’re wrong,” I calmly asserted, as my wife continued to clinch her toothbrush like it was a weapon.
“I’m never wrong,” she re-reminded me.
“So what’s up, you want to save on our water bill or what?”
“Gross,” she said as she slammed the door.
“Your loss!” I shouted as I entered through Door A.
Do you guys feel the heat? Oh sorry, it’s actually just my Dad-vibes coming in hotter than your hair straightener ever since I found my true fashion calling: patterned shirts.
These days you’ll find me chasing after toddlers while rocking an exclusive wardrobe, which contains only the most unique form of artwork and design. This lifestyle choice requires precision, craft, and several years of fatherhood, so please don’t try this at home without proper training.
That being said, I’m going to take you behind the scenes into my closet and share some of my favorite Dad-shirts, so you can get a glimpse into the level of mastery and maybe try for yourself if you’re ready.
The “Girl, oh no he Didn’t”
No logic can explain the sheer exquisiteness of this floral arrangement. I saw this shirt hanging in the streets of Hyderabad, India and I said to myself, “party on.” What you’re seeing is an intricate labyrinth of artistry. Do not — I repeat, do not — stare at this for too long because you will get lost in its complexity. Please use precaution when shaking my hands.
“Are you wearing a carpet?”
Was the question my wife asked me. “Only to the untrained eye,” I replied. It is said that a pattern like this only comes along every 12 blue moons. This shirt is yelling even when I’m quiet.
The Polka Party
The multi-color dots are a subtle way of letting people know you are ready. Ready for what, you ask? Ha. Only when you wear this shirt will you know the answer.
What is the Speed of Swag?
Have you ever seen a jet fly by, the speed of sound catches up, and then you hear the boom only after it passes? That’s what happens when I’m in this shirt. I have to remind myself to slow down when having conversations because I’ve accidentally blown people away with this assortment of scooters and palm trees.
This shirt leaves people asking questions as they watch me transform into a deck of cards right before their eyes. What is he thinking? What is he about to say? What is he pulling out of the front pocket? Is that a chapstick? You bet it is, Debra. You bet it is.
The title is misleading because there are no pandas. In fact, what are you are looking at are Zebras. And that’s exactly what I am talking about. If you put this long sleeves shirt on, add a jacket, you’re automatically transported to level 100. Plain and simple.
Swag at your own Risk
Caution. Danger. Beware. I wear this ocean feeding frenzy only if I have to “attack” something important — like sitting down to eat a California burrito.
I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw this magic piece of cotton on the store rack. I took a deep breath, checked the tag, and it was in fact my size. I went to the cashier and lifted my hand slowly for a high five. Up high. Down low. Too slow. I was already out the door riding this shirt into the sunset. He had no idea what hit him.
The Party Shirt
This is it. What you are looking at is my holy grail of Dad-shirts. I only take this bad boy out on rare occasions that there is a need to turn up the volume — which doesn’t happen often since my wife and I are usually out cold by 930pm. If you see me in this shirt then you know it’s about to go down, so go ahead and tighten your belt buckle up one notch. The sunglasses and sailboats literally give me energy. I almost bought a boat because of this shirt (a story I’ll save for later). I mean, can you feel the wind in my hair? I can.
Well, there it is, folks. A rare glimpse into my Dad-fashion. I look forward to seeing other Fashionable Fathers on the streets and giving the secret Dad-nod in public.