More from our “Websites That Should Not Exist” file:

minihipster.com

Oh yes, it’s real. But if only they’d followed the lead set by Gawker.com and gone with a new expression of “hipster”, like “miniDoucheoisie.com” or “miniTrendSluts.” Part of me dislikes the child in the pic below, but I know that’s not rational.

We make so much of the baby’s firsts. First sneeze, smile, word, step. First everything.

But what about a parent’s firsts, specifically a dad’s?

I went on my first post-baby business trip this week, and it was hell. The travel wasn’t delayed nor difficult, the accomodations were fine, and the work was rather productive. It was hell because I was away from my family for the first time overnight. Sure I had a nice dinner and had a fine hotel bed, but that was about it.

There were no interruptions in my sleep, no looking over at the baby in the middle of the night to make sure he was still breathing. No sunrise diaper blowouts to change. I thought I’d love that break, but it turns out I really missed these things.

And if one night was hard, I can’t imagine a week of them away will be like (which is what happens next week when they visit my mother-in-law).

I’m sure I’ll have a few fun nights out, maybe experience what it’s like to have a hangover again (after so many months of reduced drinking). And I know I will someday soon be grateful for a few days of quiet. But I have to say, I’m glad that I miss them as much as I do.

–Sappy-ass dad out.

What did you do on your first night away from family? Get arrested? Go bar-hopping? Fall asleep early?

You know that sweet honeymoon a new family experiences from about 5 months pregnant on? When everyone beams big smiles at your wife’s swollen belly in awe of the promise your future holds. When strangers, thugs, cops, and robbers look at your wife, stop what they’re doing, and guess at the baby’s gender and wish you well. When you’re pushing your stroller with the new addition and everyone—from children to octogenarians—coo and ahh and talk baby talk to him, repeatedly exclaiming how gorgeous he is?

When does that honeymoon end?

At the exact moment the baby’s annoyingness outweighs his general cuteness.

I’m sure that soon we will be transitioning from that cloud nine feeling to asking the same question that strangers inevitably will: “Who is this demon hellchild running down the street screaming at the top of his lungs?”

We’re still in the phase where people are glad to see us and our baby in a restaurant. Only because they think he’s cute and will manage to sleep the entire time we’re there. But soon, soon, he’ll be super squirmy and way more vocal, and then we’ll be forced to get dinner at 4pm before anyone else even thinks to eat.

We’ve seen those terrible two and three year olds in restaurants and on our block, screaming at the top of their lungs in the throes of an unspeakably meaningless tantrum. And we feel so sorry for his parents. But then we realize that will be us all too soon.

Unless, of course, we have the perfect child. And who of us doesn’t?

When did the baby honeymoon end for you and your family?

Could Cormac McCarthy’s “The Road” be the ultimate father & son story?

I’m not necessarily talking about the movie version (which was “Meh +”). I’m talking about the full-on depressing book version.

Some would point to biblical stories as being more intense (Abraham sacrificing Isaac anyone?). But for my money, the end-of-the-world survival tale of “The Road” wins every time.

I’ll even go so far as to say it’s required reading for fathers new and old. Why? Because it distills the essence of what it means to love and protect someone. It prepares you for the concept of giving everything you have so that your child might live a better life than you did.

But why is it a story specific only to fathers and sons? That’s a good question. Swap the boy with a girl, and you’d still have a similar story of survival. But there’s just something different about that version—can you explain it for me?

As for us dads in the here and now? We can only deal in the hypothetical: what would we do in this kind of situation? How long would we survive? Would we be able to protect our children from dangers great and small (from cannibals to insect bites)? Until a crappy Roland Emmerich movie comes true (2012, Independence Day, The Day After Tomorrow), we’ll be sitting on our asses pondering these questions as our kids fetch us beers.

“Prepare to Die!” It sounds like dialogue straight from the movies. But this has nothing to do with a James Bond film, and everything to do with Life Insurance. I capitalized that because it seems like such an important thing—especially for dudes with a family. The well-organized among us probably signed up for a policy right after they got married. I let things slip a bit, but made sure to have it in effect just after our first child arrived on the scene.

Not to sound like a Liberty Mutual ad (complete with geriatrics sitting around a dining room table), but having the peace of mind that my family can go on without my income is gratifying. And anyone who’s been unemployed in the last couple of years (yours truly included) knows how difficult it is to live without an income. But this is different. Because the policy can pay for big, important things like my kid’s college if I’m not here to do it.

Sure, it’s a bit morbid, but the alternative is worse still.

The only advice I can offer is buy it earlier than later. Your monthly premium goes up significantly for every year you age. For example, you could get a 30 year term-life policy ($750K for example) when you’re 36 for $56/mo, or get it when you’re 38 for $68/mo. Over that 30 years, you’re paying roughly $4,500 more for the same coverage. Something to consider.

I’ve told my wife that there is one stipulation if she is to be named the sole beneficiary of my life insurance policy: she has to host a kick-ass funeral-party in my honor—preferably on an island—where she serves nothing but the finest malt-liquor beverages (such as Zima), and White Castle hamburgers.

Dads, when did you get life insurance…or are you putting it off because the process seems so foreboding?

I don’t know what school y’all attended, but none of them, I’m sure, started in July.

If you’re like my wife and love having the weekend paper delivered, you’ve seen how advertisers are already hyping Back To School to get parents freaked out and into the buying mode.

And no, they’re not talking about Summer School. This early-to-holiday advertising trend started with retailers looking to increase Christmas sales earlier in the season to show more black in their balance sheets. Which is how yuletide advertising shows up in October now (yes, even before Halloween). I remember a simpler time when Christmas advertising hit us the day after Thanksgiving, when it should.

I mean, consider the children (the ones who can read anyway) who see the words “back to school” in the paper: they think that the new school year is just around the corner…at the beginning of July? A full two months before they will actually see a teacher’s dirty looks?

Which leads to what I want to say to advertisers: give our holidays and summer vacations some room to breathe before you turn them into a marketing opportunity.

Get it? It’s an anthem that’s geared towards men.

Dove, the brand that brought love to the ladies for years, is now catering to your man-sized hygiene needs.

There are some nice scenes in here: particularly the guy at the art show about to hit on a woman just before her boyfriend walks up (we’ve all been there). And who wouldn’t want to live a life where their wife gave them an ’80s Porsche as a surprise birthday gift (especially if it came complete with “whale tale”)?

Question: as a dad, do you like being advertised to in such a way, or do you find it a bit condescending?

Ahh, the Zaky. Hand-like pillows that imitate for the wee one the sensation of being held by his parents.

The makers of the Zaky recommend warming them up first to make for a more “lifelike feel.” It’s easy, just put them in the dryer and wrap them around your child. Viola! Your child will think you’re loving him.

Beyond looking generally creepy, how can a product like this succeed? It couldn’t possibly replace the touch of the parent. I appreciate wanting to have a few minutes away from the child to get some things done (or simply take a break), but there are other, less ridiculous, “pillow systems” for that.

I think this one-star review provided on the website sums it up best:

What do you say guys? You going to run right out and get a “The Zaky”

Since it’s 100 degrees plus in NYC today (and my birthday), this story I wrote awhile back felt appropriate to reprint here:

You can’t fault parents for taking their kids on a cross-country summer road trip. You can start questioning their judgment when they take the southern route. In August. In a car without air conditioning. Should you ever find yourself in a similar situation, here’s a handy how-to guide on mobile pet-care.

Step 1: Get Yourself a Pet

After many sweltering hours on the road in our brand new 1980 Rabbit Diesel (with a lusty 48hp under the hood), relief was in sight as we’d soon reach my uncle’s place in Phoenix. It was my official “birthday month” and since we’d already stopped at the homes of four relatives, this was to be celebration #5 of my eighth birthday. But this one was different. Why? Because I got the coolest present yet: a light-green lizard plus a bag of live wax worms to feed it.

The little guy came complete with a clear plastic carrying case featuring rocks, a fake log, a spray-bottle, and some advice. My uncle said: “It’s gonna be hot in that box during your car trip, so spray him with lots of water.” I listened to his words of wisdom as I stared intently at my living gift, my finger jammed securely up my nose.

Step 2: Love That Pet Like No Other

“Dad, can I spritz my lizard?” I asked as we headed west out of Phoenix. “Sure,” he replied, happily tapping his fingers on the wheel. Traffic was moving smoothly, my mom was in front deciphering the TripTik map, my brother was in back memorizing the latest Archie & The Jugheads comic. This was a happy time in our speeding silver family capsule. How content Mr. Lizard looked in his box—despite it hovering around 120ºF in there—his green skin glistening with water, his little eyes smiling.

Our destination that day was the AAA-rated, and air-conditioned, Motel Quartzsite in western Arizona, 150 miles east of California. Upon arrival, I took my lizard into the bathroom to give him his wax worm dinner and we heard some funny noises through the wall. We investigated through a peephole; in the adjacent room were two nude people on the bed making strange noises, crawling around on each other. Weird, I thought, and went back to feeding my lizard. I pointed out the funny business going on through the peephole to my father who then strode straight across the parking lot to reception to change our room. A letter would be written to AAA.

Step 3: Attend to Your Pet’s Needs

The next morning, after a few more hundred miles of scorching pavement, dad was at his worst. We’d just run into major construction traffic that was putting us behind schedule to reach L.A. He was a tightly wound driver as a rule, even with one Sunday driver around…much less the thousands motoring along with us that day. During these ’sub-optimal stretches’ he’d often reach back and pinch our legs when we were being loud and obnoxious. By Rancho Cucamonga our legs had been pinched plenty, and Mr. Lizard was looking seriously depleted under his little log. He was beseeching me to spray with reckless abandon. I replied in wordless conversation, “But Dad’s in such a crappy mood, if I make any noise it’ll totally set him off!”

“I’m burning up in here, Todd,” cried the lizard, “Besides, the spray-bottle only makes a tiny whisper of a sound.”

Step 4: Go That Extra Mile for Your Pet

No longer able to bear the silent cries of Mr. Lizard, I asked ever-so-meekly: “Dad, can I spritz my lizard?” imploring him via the rear view mirror with my most puppy-dog look. After a moment of stony silence, he closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and replied, “No, you cannot.” All sound was sucked out of our nuclear family projectile. My mother, brother and I knew it was useless to contradict him. My lizard gave me a sad, resigned look, knowing I’d tried my best. When we rolled up to my aunt’s house in Costa Mesa, my lizard had funny black smudges under his eyes, and his fragile, miniature ribcage wasn’t moving. My birthday gift was dead.

Step 5: Remember Your Pet Fondly

I never understood why I even asked permission to spritz, as my dad would never have known (I think it was because when he got that keyed up we did everything we could to keep him from going nuclear). But Mr. Lizard did live on, in a way, for the next 25 years until my father’s passing. Whenever I wanted something from him and felt it necessary to break out the heavy firepower, I’d quietly ask, “Dad, can I spritz my lizard?” His face would soften, his eyes would grow sad, and he’d say guiltily, “Of course you can, son.”

It’s been quiet on the Band of Fathers front for a few days because the editor hasn’t been getting much sleep. However, we do have family in town which helps ease some of that burden (like if we’re going especially crazy at 4am, we can just hand him off to someone in the other room for a couple hours).

Family was also critical in helping us get away for our first date night. We count ourselves among the extremely lucky to have been able to go out on a date just eight days after he was born. EIGHT DAYS!? I’d imagine that’s unheard of. Some might think: “How did you manage to leave your baby that early—didn’t you feel guilty?” Answer: No. He was in the more-than-capable hands of my mother- and sister-in-law. They even walked with us and the baby in the stroller to the restaurant to “drop us off.” It was quite cute.

We’d heard horror stories of people who hadn’t been able to go on a date night for six months or a year after the child was born. And it seems pretty important for the parents to regain some of their connection after a majority of the effort has been (and will continue to be) about the baby.

Granted, we were only away from the kid for a bit over an hour (mostly because my wife can’t have more than half a glass of wine, what are we going to do, go to a bar so she can watch me drink?). Besides, we wanted to get back to see him. My wife was able to satisfy a long-standing wish: eating some oysters. As it was in the forbidden dietary category, she had to deny herself the pleasure for the entire pregnancy. Here’s a pic of her enjoying those bivalves and one of the finest sights a man can see: a cold glass of beer.

How about you, when did you get out for your first date night? Was it enjoyable or were you just worried about the babe?