Eighteen Father's Days: What I've Learned.

Sunday is Father's Day.

It'll be my eighteenth paternal celebration, but make no mistake—I'm not an expert.

All along this climb, every time I've felt a solid foothold beneath my crampon, the rock has crumbled and I've dangled by my fingertips over the abyss of parental disequilibrium.

In other words, each time I've thought I've figured out how to deal with my kids, they've changed the password on me.

I've never been the type of dad who stands equipped with the perfect word or two to motivate my children. Whether its concocting a split-second consequence for disrespectful behavior or conjuring the ideal phrase to console a child's raw heartbreak, I haven't exactly excelled.

Quick with a one-liner? I've got that one covered, but it's a tactic which I've often utilized as a distraction rather than a solution.

But, oh, how I've learned. As cliché as it sounds, the wisdom my two daughters have imparted upon my leathery old carcass overwhelms any amount of knowledge I've barked at them from the south end of our IKEA sectional.

Yep, eighteen years, eighteen Father's Days and thousands of pointers, both monumental and obscure. Here are a few, but they're certainly not in chronological order:

When your kids are little, like meatloaf-sized-little, they possess a fire-hose-like ability to spray you with their bodily fluids. Yes, girls can do it, too. And that's why the Roman centurion approach works when changing his or her diaper—one Pamper in each hand. The sword hand maneuvers the child, wipes and blow dries if necessary, while the shield hand staves off biological attack.

Keep your face and head at an angle not vulnerable to a direct salvo. I sustained a direct hit once, and completed the diaper change looking like Popeye.

Don't adopt your kids' phrases and slang terms. You may think it sounds cool and hip, but it doesn't. I tried this once, when I told my daughter how well her basketball dribbling was going. I said something like, "Yo, those drizzle moves are mos' def' hella sick."

The last time she looked at me like that, I was at Target trying on skinny jeans.

If your kid says she's going to throw up, believe it. Don't try to talk her out of it with some lame "mind over matter" lecture. In the time it would've taken you to fetch the metal punch bowl, you opted for the Vince Freaking Lombardi approach, and now you're trying to sop up half-digested Sprite and saltine stew from the soaked thighs of her Power Puff Girl jammies.

Try to read them books in which you're also interested, like anything Dr. Seuss. Otherwise, you'll be tempted to skip ahead. You're child will notice, because she's memorized every book to make it seem like she knows how to read. She will then brand you a loser who believes in cutting corners.

If you let them watch too many Disney movies, they'll try to relate them to real-life scenarios. I realized this when my four-year-old saw an elderly lady with osteoporosis and loudly remarked, "Look, Dad. It's a hunchback."

Always bring food and water, no matter how small the excursion. I've been burned too many times walking to the mailbox with my daughter and not packing a baggie of cheddar goldfish.

Invest in one of those stadium chairs which provides back support when placed on bleachers or metal folding chairs. Most middle school band concerts outlast a '78 Springsteen show.

If your kid's been invited to a birthday party but you don't know the parents, it's not necessary to hang out the whole time and make small talk. Just shake hands with the dad while casually scanning his ankle area for any type of home monitoring device. After you've ascertained that no clowns are coming later, go home and take a nice nap.

Never go to Chuck E. Cheese's. Ever. Make excuses. Lie if you must, but do not enter that smarmy palace of Babylon.

Happy Father's Day, all you dads and granddads and step dads and foster dads. Have a relaxing Sunday because if you don't, I will turn this car around.

A DAMN Father's Day Gift Guide

Father's Day is two weeks away.

Since almost all of us have at least a father or stepfather or ex-stepfather whom we still like but our mom and sister hate after that Fourth of July slip-n-slide incident, we need to begin brainstorming about a decent gift.

Fourteen days allows us enough time to utilize any means at our disposal to procure a memorable token of appreciation, whether via the internet, the sketchy, yet convenient, local mall, or Target.

And since nearly half of the adult men in this country are fathers, including this bloggist, I'd like to grab the conch of speakership for a new group I've founded, known as Dads Against Mediocre Niceties (heretofore to be known as DAMN). Our purpose is to raise public awareness about what we really like versus what you believe we like (I had considered calling my group Fathers United, but F.U. isn't a good organizational moniker when looking a gift horse in the mouth.).

We at DAMN also would like to declare a couple of items off limits in our critical analysis of Father's Day gifts: Any arts and crafts created by youthful offspring, such as unidentifiable, shiny ceramic wads, stick-figure crayon drawings or painted rocks are always welcome. The cute factor creates immunity for the young.

This guide pertains more to those who have the time and resources to consider a gift, but are swayed by advertising, stereotypes or procrastination. So, without further ado, here is the DAMN Gift Guide:

–You may think that we want a nice tie or expensive shirt, but we don't. Even if we wear a shirt and tie to work every day, we especially don't want this on Father's Day. It's like giving Sarah Palin a yard full of crazed racists for Mother's Day.

–We actually do like stuff to use around the house, like hammers, drills or even a new garden hose. Hey, it's not Freudian and I'm not overcompensating.

–Slippers are always good, but since it's June, they're not exactly a season-friendly gift. Most of us dads yearn for instant gratification on this day, so consider just handing us a Guinness and a pair of flip flops from the dollar section.

–Breakfast in bed is totally cool. And please don't argue with the kids when they suggest serving their favorite meal of Blueberry Pop Tarts with Strawberry Pop Tarts. We can be very flexible.

–Gift cards, while nice, aren't always carefully considered. Please peer a month into the future, after we've come home with an pseudo-vintage Jethro Tull concert T-shirt and our forty-second pair of Chuck Taylors, which we've purchased with that seventy-five-dollar Macy's Father's Day gift card, and you say, "Oh, those are useful." That's what we buy when we get those things.

We hope our DAMN Gift Guide has proven useful for those of you who have a fatherish figure to toast on June 19. Most of us don't want an expensive gift; we just ask for a kind word or a laugh. As my favorite philosopher, Jack Handey, once said:

"Dad always thought that laughter was the best medicine, which I guess is why several of us died of tuberculosis."

Hey, Dad, how come there isn't a Kids' Day?

It seems like, every time Mother's or Father's Day rolls around, one of the kids remarks, "Why isn't there a Kids' Day?"

Our standard response, which I'm sure matches most parents', is "Every day is Kids' Day." We moms and dads own superior skills vis-à-vis  pulling out the guilty stick and waving it with the skill of Luke's light saber when we feel the need.

The fact is, Father's Day is a fantastic opportunity for us to feel grateful for these pesky, little creatures who spend most of their time up in our grills. I learn so much from them, on a daily basis, and I often spend far too much time immersed in daily routines to really listen to what they're saying.

"Dad, I feel sorry for racehorses. What if they don't like running in mud? They have no choice." I heard this yesterday when my brood and I went to the local track with friends." Are the jockeys nice to them?"

Naturally, I couldn't answer either question, which made me wonder what the truth was. We've already decided to not attend any more circuses as the result of conversations like this.

"Dad, you should hug mom. She looks like she needs a hug." Another piece of solid advice given from my compassionate younger daughter one Tuesday evening.

"You're absolutely right. I'll do that."

So, fellow dads, today, on this 100th Father's Day (which I just looked up), let's celebrate our kids, too. Without them, chances are we'd be those slightly self-absorbed, immature males we were before they came along to set things right.

Happy Kids' Day!

The best TV dads since the beginning of time

I know, I know—another list. And this one is highly subjective, so please feel free to add to, subtract from, or destroy this list entirely.

Since we're approaching the Father's Day exit from this interstate freeway called life, I've decided to compile my top ten television dads. After closely examining each of these characters, I've discovered traits which I consciously or subconsciously acquired from these guys, for better or worse. Here goes.

10) George Bluth—The patriarch of the highly dysfunctional family of Arrested Development, the man is dishonest and self-centered, yet endearing nonetheless. Hmm, didn't I just say I've managed to acquire his traits? Got to rethink that one.

9) Herman Munster—Why is it that most TV dads are bumbling yet lovable? Herman definitely fits both categories. He means well, but always manages to screw up somehow. That one definitely hits home.
I've got a theory that John Kerry's striking resemblance to him may have cost Kerry the 2004 election.

8) Frank Constanza—Serenity now!

7) Ozzy Osbourne—He taught me that mumbling can get you through some tough spots. Embrace your hidden mumbler.

6) Howard Cunningham—He steadily held a firm grip on his composure, even during the later years of Happy Days, when Chachi sported a mullet during what was supposed to be the early 1960s.

5) Cliff Huxtable—I've always aspired to parent like Cliff. He could impose punishments on his kids in such a humorous way that they'd be wiping tears from their eyes as they began cleaning the oven.

4) Fred Flintstone—I'm hoping some day we'll see an adult version of this cartoon, where Fred and Betty Rubble get a little prehistoric in the parking lot of the Water Buffalo Lodge.

3) Mike Brady—If he were a baseball player, he'd have batted 1.000. Mike was the anti-Herman Munster, since he didn't screw up...ever. I'm not sure what the point of this photo is, but there's some definite long, waxy chemistry between those two.

2) Ward Cleaver—Also nearly flawless, Ward rarely got ruffled. He never appeared hungover or in need of a shave, and whenever June was concerned about the Beaver, he was up to the task.

1) Homer Simpson—As much as we dads may hate to admit it, we've all got some Homer in us. Who hasn't, after gazing at the ad for that mouth-watering new sandwich by KFC, muttered, "Mmmm...Double Down."





Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there. Yabba Dabba Doo!