Back To Work

So I haven't posted in forever. I no longer have the free time of an international man of leisure. I have a job. It's been about seven years since I stopped working as a designer for Verizon and started being a stay at home dad and I'm pretty happy to be working again. About a million years ago I helped turn a 45 year old stationary store in Chestnut Hill into a destination toy store: no easy feat. Now I'm back, and I really love it. Gone are the empty hours during the day that I tried to fill with housework and other "fulfilling" activities, gone is the forced smalltalk of the play date, gone are the cliquey moms at the playground. Eat my dust.

I never realized how much time I spent trying to convince myself that being a stay at home dad was fulfilling until I started working and had blissfully little time to think about anything. Truth be told, there's no real fulfillment in being a stay at home parent, it's great to be around for your kids and all, but mostly it's tedious. No wonder so many stay at home moms drink. And some do drink, even on play dates and during birthday parties. No one on the face of the earth can begrudge them that, there's only so much "look at me! look at this! see my gum? see it?" you can take without having something to help you avoid a voluntary lobotomy.

I'm only working about 23 hours a week, but I'm buying toys, merchandising toys and marketing toys and events. What's not to like? I'm still on dad duty during the week, breakfast, clothes, pack lunches out the door, pick the kids up, meet buses and make dinner. In between I get to have work, doing something I like with people over the age of seven. My kids are great and I love them but ALL kids can be a giant pain in the ass if your exposure levels are too high. It's in their nature; they're narcissists and all narcissists are annoying. Toy reps and customers can be a pain in the ass but I'm not required to love them, wipe their noses or fawn over their every doodle.

Some people truly love staying home with their kids and I have the highest respect for them but I really don't know how they keep it together. Seven years almost killed me. I feel like Papillon floating away on his coconut raft.

A few words about multiple sclerosis

It fucking blows. I actually have a few more words about MS. I've had it for a little over 20 years and for the most part have been in the "closet" about it. When I was 23 I went to a New Years Eve party at a nice hotel with friends, drank a lot of booze and did some drugs. The next morning I was numb in all of my extremities and tripping over my tongue. I went to the ER and they told me I was drunk. Fair enough. Within a week my entire right side was paralyzed and I was in the hospital for a week. I was eventually diagnosed as having had a stroke and accepted that. As freakish as it is to have a stroke at 23 it was a hell of a lot better than the alternatives.

Over the next few years I started taking better care of myself. I quit smoking, started eating healthier and started running. I kept running for about seven years, even finished a half marathon. The whole time I had bizarre symptoms, numb fingers, double vision, toe paralysis. I'm not a fucking idiot - I knew I had MS but I just didn't want the confirmation. By the time I was 30 I was tired all the time, having regular flare ups, and a fiance who wanted to know what was happening and what it meant for our future. Looking back I can see that I was being selfish by hiding from the diagnosis - giving myself short term comfort instead of a long term plan.

Finally at around the age of thirty I decided to get diagnosed and see if there was anything I could do about the flare ups and the fatigue. Diagnosis means a spinal tap, which is pretty scary just to imagine. I lay on a cold gurney in a hospital hallway I watched the doctor prepare the six inch needle she was about to insert into my spine thinking "this is what it means to be sick". Oona drove me home, lying in the back of our crappy car flinching with every turn and imaging the air bubble travelling up my spine to my brain and killing me. We waited a week to find out, me in Mt. Airy and Oona in Ohio where she'd had to go for work. I went into the office and was told what I already knew. Already knowing didn't change the crushing sadness. My neurologist then listed all of the possible diagnosis that were so much worse that I didn't have - lupus, brain tumor - which was nice but didn't help at all. Thankfully she was able to tell me that with the history of my symptoms she was confident that I had relapsing remitting MS - which is exactly what it sounds like. As far as MS diagnoses go, RRMS is the best case and most common. Small comfort at the time. She told me about all of her success stories like the 80 year old guy who takes boy scouts camping. She did her best to buoy me but I felt like I was experiencing every single symptom I'd ever had right at that moment.

I started doing research into the disease, and reading every book I could get my hands on. I'd mark this as the biggest mistake I ever made. I became convinced that I'd never live a normal life. I was certain to end up bed-ridden or at the very least in a wheelchair. I knew - without a doubt - that my life was over. I sank into a pretty major depression while treating the MS through mainstream medicine.

Treatment for MS means one of three medicines, all of which you have to inject subcutaneously (right below the skin). I used a drug called Copaxone for a few years and was still having flare ups on top of getting to stick a needle in my leg every day. The flare ups meant an intravenous course of steroids over three days with varying degrees of success. MS sucks and it costs a shit load of money. It was beginning to feel like voodoo because none of the medications changed anything - the point of them is to hold the MS at bay and to keep it from getting worse, not fixing what's already wrong.

I decided to go off the grid, stop thinking about MS, stop talking about MS and stay away from people with MS. Crazy right? Apparently not. Over the last seven years I've had two flare ups and bounced back fairly well from both. I think it helps that I slowed my life down a little by staying home with the kids instead of working full time. Yes, I know how lucky I am to be able to do that.

The thing with MS is that it's different for everyone, like a snowflake, a shitty, shitty snowflake. For some like me it's mostly an annoyance. I get very tired sometimes and the roulette wheel of symptoms is hard to live with because you can never prepare. For others it's a nightmare, a slow descent into a wheelchair or worse. The bottom line is that you can have a major effect on the course of your MS. A positive attitude, exercise, diet and enough rest can do a lot in addition to or independent of a medical course of treatment.

One piece of advice to the recently diagnosed- stay away from the literature and "medical" websites, they paint a bleak worst-case scenario and will scare the living shit out of you. Stay positive and don't be afraid to try things even if they're something people with MS shouldn't be able to do. Since my diagnosis I've run 5ks, danced at weddings (drunk), hiked up and down mountains, played street hockey, freeze tag, soccer - you name the kid game I've played it.

Just keep moving and living. If you have to take a knee people will understand.

44

So I'm staring down the barrel of my 44th birthday, past middle age and cruising towards death. I feel like all that's left is trying to not be a hairy eared old man telling the same anecdotes over and over again. I don't want to become totally irrelevant. Let's face it, the only old men who aren't irrelevant are the very smart, the very rich or the very funny. I'm kind of funny but mostly I'm fucked.

I decided to do a little research - looking into what successful people were doing at 44. But what fields of success to look at? Honestly I'm a pretty shallow person so philosophers, writers, scientists and political figures were out of the question. That pretty much left celebrities.

When researching celebrities at 44 do NOT look at rock stars; you will start looking for a building tall enough to jump out of without the risk of just getting paralyzed. Mick Jagger? Dirty Work. Sure it went platinum but it sucked platinum ass. Pete Townshend? The Iron Man Musical, hated by grownups and children alike. (ok, I'm Not Going To Run Anymore was good) David Bowie? Two words - Tin Machine. Springsteen released two albums on the same day, Lucky Town and Human Touch, both were universally ignored so they just stuck him in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame to distract him. Lou Reed? Became a Honda Spokesman and performed at Farm Aid to a generously luke warm reception. So where to look? Professional athletes? F-that, you get hailed as an iron man for being able to walk after 40.

I realized that what I was looking for wasn't about accomplishments or notoriety, it was about the half way point actually being half way. I was looking for hope that there was more to come, perhaps even something fun or exciting. So I looked to the people I know could give me hope - A-list Hollywood actors.

At the age of 44 Paul Newman had just released Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid. He still had The Sting, Slap Shot and The Verdict ahead of him. At 44 Clint Eastwood released High Plains Drifter which he directed and starred in, still ahead for Clint? Four Dirty Harry movies, Escape From Alcatraz and The Unforgiven which brought him his first Oscar at the age of 64. Max Von Sydow did the Exorcist at 44 and would go on to appear in almost 90 more movies.

At 44 Samuel L. Jackson was still a year away from the release of Pulp Fiction, Viggo Mortenson was Aragorn in The Fellowship of the Ring. Although both had been around for a while many would cite these films as career breakouts. Hope! There it was. Yes, I know that I'm just another schlub who won't do anything spectacular. I'm cool with that. It's not about fame or fortune, it's about how these guys kept going into middle age or reinvented their careers. I just need to find a spark to do something interesting or fun with the second half of my life.

NOTE- All celebrity ages at time of said accomplishments are guesstimates based on birthdays and release dates. Could be way off so don't quote me.

a word about stay at home dads

Today was "Camp Olympics" day: children dressed all in either green or blue while the parents wore the same color as their child to show support. In a line of about twenty cars there is one car wrapped in green crepe paper with green balloons and a giant "Green rocks!!!" sign in the back window. When I see this kind of "look at what a great parent I am" behavior, the sexist in me thinks it's a bored housewife looking for something to talk about. When the car rounded a curve I was shocked to see a dude, a dude wearing douche-bag wrap around sunglasses trying to ruin shit for other stay at home dads.

Since I've been a S.A.D. for the last seven years it's been great to see our numbers swell, it's a sign that the lines that shouldn't even exist are getting blurred. Women who would rather have a career now have an option other than daycare, fathers now have an chance to be a bigger part of their children's lives and men who have been laid off or downsized to feel less emasculated and know that they're providing a valuable service to their family. So why are some dads trying to fuck this up?

Gentlemen, we stand at a great turning point in American cultural history. We can shape the future of the stay at home dad. So no more fucking baby talk! No more rolling luggage bags full of supplies for a trip to the playground! STOP OVERCOMPENSATING!!!!! Kick back and watch how the moms do it, they've got a cultural collective of experience and know how it's done. I can't believe I'm saying we need to look to the housewife to learn to be cool but we do. They pack exactly what they need, no more, no less. They praise and discipline their children without being all up in their grill -- and in a normal voice, they talk to other adults or read and apply sunblock. Mission accomplished.

Almost every stay at home dad I see at the pool or playground is overly engaged in "playing" with their kids. Not only is this annoying to watch, it robs your kids of the opportunity to meet and play with other kids. And speaking in a high pitched voice doesn't bridge some sort of communications gap with your child -- it just makes you sound like a guy who's trying to do a hilarious "gay" voice at a party. Stop it. When you sit in the kiddy pool splashing with your five year old you look more like a pedophile than a good dad. So knock it the hell off, talk to a grown up, read a book or play solitaire on your phone, look up when they yell "hey dad" and wave or give a thumbs up, if they need a push on the swings go do it, but if you start swinging on the seat next to theirs I swear to god I will KILL you. Seriously, I will do it.

Valuable Awards

So father's day came and went and I'm apparently still a father. Not that I didn't expect to be but I thought there might be some kind of "Get out of fathering for a day" card or something. The day after father's day it was back to the lunch packing, bus stop walking, feigning interest world of the stay at home dad. It's not easy pretending everything your child does, says or makes is super awesome, but I do it. It's not easy packing a lunch that won't get eaten because it was squished or gross, but I do. It's not easy refereeing every fight, misunderstanding and insult fest, but I do. I'm actually thinking of driving to the Home Depot and buying a shitload of plexiglass, brackets, hinges and a bench to build my own penalty box. They can sit there and think about what they've done while they watch me play video games, drink tequilla and smoke cigarettes.

My son got an "award" at the end of the school year for being such a good kid. The award? A free kids meal at Chili's®. For real? Are you fucking kidding me? So of course he wants to use his valuable award for father's day. A little bit about what kind of a food snob I am: I think food is mostly a pain in the ass necessity, so if I'm going to a restaurant it better be really fucking good. Chili's is not really fucking good, it's not fucking good nor is it even just good. A Chili's coupon is a lot like the "Small Fry" thing that the Sixers do, a shitty prize that your kid won't let go and forces you to go to culinary hell. Really a coupon for a free small fries at McDonalds? Why not just hammer a nail into my forehead for a "prize".

So I spent my father's day at Chili's thanks to the Cheltenham School District. Five grand a year in school taxes and I'm sitting in Chili's. Bastards. I hate prizes, they ALWAYS inconvenience me in some way. Free museum tickets? I still have to actually go and it always costs me at the stupid gift shop. Anything free with purchase is just another thing for kids to fight over. The only prize I want is a hot dog from the Fanatic's air canon.

Fellow Travelers

I love watching people travel. It's a fascinating state of the human condition and a free perk when traveling. I tend to think of myself as a relaxed, reserved and observant traveler but I'm sure other travelers have a category for people like me, maybe "creepy guy who won't stop staring at me" or "don't make eye contact". I have my categories because they make make it easier to dehumanize people and judge them, laugh at them or marvel at them with no guilt.

It's amazing to me how people tend to fall so easily into their categories. The guys with monogram cufflinks and bluetooth headset? Always speaking at top volume in a condescending voice to someone who's existence is questionable at best. The Southern guys with the polo shirt, wrap around shades and sunburn? Always smiling, always. What the fuck are you smiling about? You have painful looking sunburn. When this guy finally says something so riotously funny that he needs to flip his shades up and wipe away the tears of hilarity, he invariably has pure white circles around his eyes.

I really like the bohemian twenty somethings with the overpriced REI backpack, organic hats and sandals. They take traveling very seriously. I bet they never freeze their asses off when they get off a plane 800 miles to the North because they wore shorts and a t-shirt. Some travelers I kind of fear like the middle aged, tightly wound and slightly attractive business woman. She's smiling on the outside, but I get the idea that she would slice, skewer and feed me to the tiger she's hiding in her carry on if I even remotely got in her way. Then there's her opposite number: the over thirty, overweight and childishly dressed woman in the Pooh Bear sweatshirt. I call her the Chunky Brewster.

My favorites are the anomalies, the ones that I can't glibly file into a category and laugh at. These travelers are not the sweet old couple going wherever the hell they've always dreamed of or the college kids traveling together to some enviable, boozy destination, no these are the people who come to the airport in all of their quirky individuality. Which brings me to.......

My wife and I were in the Chicky & Pete's (I know) at the Philadelphia airport when a young African American traveler sidles up to the bar holding a very large, very sparkly silver cup with rhinestone (or diamond, who knows?) lettering. We dubbed him Pimp Cup. Pimp Cup proceeds to order a double Hennessy with ginger ale, which the bartender served him in a pint glass. He proceeded to pour it into his pimp cup. Amidst the giggles from the staff and wide eyed stares from the tourists and business class he leaned back, smiled and took a big sip.

I hope Pimp Cup had a great trip.

Dear Baltimore...

Today we visited you, Baltimore. I have some suggestions and criticisms. First and foremost? Your aquarium, the crown jewel of your Inner Harbor, is second rate thanks to the Camden Aquarium. Yes, you have a LOT of sharks and rays but so does every other aquarium; Camden has hippos for Christ's sake, not to mention the coolest jellyfish exhibit ever. You guys need a new "money shot" - the rainforest is an impressive structure but it has about four birds and some crickets. Woo hoo. Most aquariums are letting you touch shit now, sharks, mantas and starfish can be "pet" at any self respecting aquarium. Lastly, you have too many big brown and grey fish, they come in crazy colors you know...

Where to begin with the rest of the day? I'll start with the overpriced seafood restaurant. I won't say which restaurant because they're all a little overpriced for the average food you get. This one charged too much and had no AC on a 90º day, so that by the time your waiter got there with your food he was drenched in sweat. Tasty.

Then we get to the "Historic Ships in Baltimore," which has a very cool submarine tour. I love a good sub tour. I have to say that it was pretty awesome to sit on a torpedo like Slim Pickins in Dr. Strangelove. Even if I wasn't really supposed to. My only criticisms are these: In this day and age you can air condition any enclosed structure, even a submarine. Your sub smells like old people and wet dogs.

Well, after a super fun day we wanted ice cream. Our first try was the Historic Ships snack bar, we waited in line only to learn that they were out of EVERYTHING. So across to the markets we go to find ice cream and are pleased to find a Ben and Jerry's. We wait in line for some smoothies and ice cream. When we order we're told that there's no ice (really Baltimore? No ice in your ICE cream stores?) so they can't make smoothies. Ok, fine. When we order our various ice cream treats we're told there is no ice cream. Why the fuck was the guy in the stupid hat even standing there? Why Baltimore? Why? So off we go to a convenience store where we get some Jack n Jill shit from a cooler and eat it outside watching smooth jazz musicians wilt in the blazing heat. Surreal.

Parking was no better. We entered on Gay street and exited on Lombard to make our way to the aquarium. When we went to get our car we tried to enter on Gay Street. NO. We went to Lombard with confidence high. NO. Turns out we needed to go to Market street to re-enter the garage and get our car. What the fuck Baltimore?

We parked on the "Manatee" level and when we got in the elevator there were buttons for every fucking fish and sea mammal ever. But not the manatee. Twilight fucking zone. We flag down a friendly garage employee patrolling in his golf cart (really, Baltimore?) who tells us there is NO manatee level. But then he pauses to think, "......oh you mean the M level? That's one flight down" Every goddamn button in the elevator had a stupid picture of a stupid fish. The manatee? A letter M.

So Baltimore, next time I think I'll try Hartford or maybe Dover, home of tax free shopping.