Tag: dad

Dad Brog #107: Finally had to use the Ladies’ Room

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

One specific dad story/milestone I have from the cruise, is that for the first time ever, I’ve had to take my children into a women’s bathroom.  Typically I’ve just taken them into the men’s room with me, but with at least #1 needing actual toilets since she’s potty trained, it’s imperative that I have to have a stall available to me when I enter.  And as I’ve alluded to, the Magic is smaller than my previous Disney cruise (Fantasy), and it never felt more like it than the availability of restrooms.

Naturally, #1 says she has to go potty right after I’m left with both kids on my own, and thankfully there’s a set of restrooms nearby.  I go into the men’s room and sure enough both stalls are occupied, and after about two minutes it’s obvious the assholes in them are taking vacations, so I leave.  I see a cast member nearby, and I ask him if it’s okay if I use the women’s room since I have two daughters in tow, and they give me the green light.  I enter the women’s room, see one of the stalls is occupied, so I announce my male presence, I have daughters, the men’s room is full, and I need to use the stall.  I get the green light from an understanding woman, and it’s into the stall for my girls and I.

As #1 is doing her business, I hear the door open and a woman enters, so I announce my presence again, as to not freak out any women who hears a man in the room, even if I’m speaking to daughters.  She’s cool about it too, and I start making jokes about how I’m proud of my daughters and how a bunch of gross boys are hogging the men’s room, and we take care of business and get out hastily.

Ultimately, this was one of those situations where I’ve read about how other dads have handled it on the internet, but I didn’t think I’d really ever run into the situation myself.  But as I’ve said, the Magic isn’t the Fantasy and felt like it in terms of size, and into the ladies’ room I went.  Hopefully this will not be a regular occurrence over the next few years, but if it does, I only hope it goes as positively as this one did.

Dad of the year, right chere’.

Dad Brog #106: the Girls’ first Disney Cruise

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

For #1’s third birthday, mythical wife made the decision that we should go on a Disney cruise.  I’m usually so drowning in dad life that I don’t really have much capacity to think about vacations and trips, and I’m pretty much down to go along with any of mythical wife’s ideas as long as it doesn’t tank us financially and I have the capability to take the time off of work for it, and this was no exception.

It would be a daunting task taking a three-year old and an 20-month old, but we were also being accompanied by my mother in-law as well as our au pair, so with an adult-to-kid ratio of 2:1, it seemed more plausible.

Overall, despite the fact that there were points of the trip where everyone, including myself, hit burnout points of exasperation in dealing with a kid or kids, I would still say it was a positive and memorable trip as a whole.  Sure, it’s not something I like to admit that I lose my cool at times, but the combination of my kids being so drastically out of their routines, not napping, the choppy rocking of a vessel that I had expected to be a little smoother, and piss-poor air conditioning all over led to some instances where it was easy to boil over and get pretty annoyed at circumstances, but that’s basically what parenting is sometimes, having expectations that don’t get met, and being flustered as a result.

Countless times throughout the trip one or both of my kids would be fussy and intolerably cranky, and when this occurred, it just sandbagged everything around us.  I didn’t want to be the parents of the loudest kids in the room, which fortunately rarely occurred, but at the same time I’d like it of my kids behaved like angels all the time, which is the utmost pipedream for parents all over.

A thought I had is that my kids have been raised with such structure and routine, that putting them in an environment such as a vacation cruise, where their settings and beds are different, the food is richer and restrictions have been relaxed, and they’re basically not on a very structured schedule anymore, leads to what felt like chaos.

It was these moments of frustration and despair that I began to think about all the other parents I know, who have basically stated that they don’t feel that it’s worth taking their kids to Disney or any Disney-related things like cruises, until they were like 8-10 years old, where they might be a little more manageable than basically two toddlers.

But on that same token, I’m grateful and glad that my kids can already say they’ve been outside of the United States, and although they won’t really remember much, I’m happy that my girls have stepped foot in Mexico and been outside the country, which is something that I really couldn’t say until I was an adult.

And no matter how much my kids might have acted like pills at times, one of the consistent things was that the sight of any Disney princess or seeing Minnie or Donald Duck, immediately snapped them out of their angst and into awe-struck children who were all smiles and hugs when given the opportunity to meet them.

I had the foresight to go ahead and plunk down for the unlimited photo package, and I would highly recommend it to really anyone who takes a Disney cruise and has the expectation of wanting at least 5-6 good photos from the on-site photographers, because that’s the threshold in which it basically pays for itself.  My party ended up with 142 photos, which are basically the best souvenirs I could ask for.

Overall, this was a vast improvement over the vacation experience from two years ago where I was taking a 16- and a 2-month old to Disney World and absolutely everything in the world was a colossal undertaking, and I know that as the kids age these things will become easier.  I had high expectations for the Magic based on my experience on the Fantasy, and they fell short because of all the differences I was unaware of.

But damn, after this vacation, I could use a vacation.  I love my kids, but I’m completely incapable of relaxation when I have to be a dad.  I wanted to at least one opportunity to run a train on the breakfast buffet at Cabana’s, but that didn’t happen because of needing to tend to my kids’ needs first, and the fact that the lines and demand for it was way harsher than I had expected, and it was impossible to get in line.

But at least I was able to get another La Parka lucha libre mask when #2 and I spent a few hours walking around Cozumel on our one shore day.  Shit was so cheap that I didn’t feel right trying to haggle with the locals, even though I used to enjoy such in the past.

Dad Brog (#105): when the Karens become real

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

It’s no secret that many of us of a certain demographic love good Karen stories. Stories of uppity white women making outlandish entitled demands, asking to speak with managers, getting off on generally being pains in the ass to millennials, minorities, and society in general. 

We love when the internet feeds us stories of them, exposing their bullshit, low-key doxxing them and revealing them left and right, but I have to say it’s not nearly as entertaining when the Karens start targeting you, or attacking your personal world, proving themselves to be real-life insufferable c-words, and not just demons from stories on the internet.

On my daughter’s birthday, we went out to eat; a rare occurrence considering my two toddlers, but the grownups outnumbered the runts, so we braved the excursion.  My group was sequestered in a wing of the restaurant that it became quickly apparent that this was where all larger groups, parties with kids, diners needing special accommodation, and ironically, black people (this is a pretty white area), were all stashed away.

The booth seat in which I was sitting at with my daughter, had small openings in the wall behind, that can peek into the booth behind us, if she stood up.  And being a curious now-three year old, of course she stood up and took a peek at the neighboring booth.  Despite my quick admonishing her to not do such, the woman in the adjacent booth wasn’t slow to hide her displeasure at being seated near some young children.

I get it, I’ve been them before too. When I was in my teens and twenties and had no consideration of the challenges of being parents dining out with toddlers.  And she probably was too 40 years prior, the old fucking Karen hag who started making remarks about “it was so empty here” and clearly voicing her displeasure at being near my kids.

I took #1 to the bathroom and when we came back, I noticed that they were gone.  They had moved somewhere else in the restaurant, because they didn’t want to be near my kids.

Here’s the thing, had they stuck it out 10-15 minutes, I wouldn’t have blamed them one bit for wanting to move.  My girls did get noisy for some bursts, and #1 did poke her head over the partition again.  If they moved after those little annoyances, I wouldn’t have taken it as a slight.

But the fact that they did, in advance of any troubling behavior, irked the shit out of me.  It’s like they banked and hoped that my kids would do some mischief to justify their self-important moving so they could continue to have their trite white people conversations about probably how colored folks are ruining their town or some shit.

I felt insulted and unfortunately triggered by it, and it was a stinky moment in what was supposed to be an entirely great dinner with family for my daughter’s birthday. 

Continue reading “Dad Brog (#105): when the Karens become real” →

Year three of forever

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

And just like that, my eldest is three years old.  As many of us parents like to opine and ponder, where has the time gone?

It’s surreal to think that three years ago, #1 showed up five weeks early, and spent nearly the first month of her life in the hospital’s NICU.  Hooked up to machines and tubes until her body was strong enough for her to be allowed to come home, where she spent another seven weeks tethered to a portable heart rate monitor.

Eventually the monitor would go, she kept growing like a weed, we stopped referring to her as “adjusted age” and it’s been a veritable roller coaster throughout the last three years of watching her grow, learn, develop and transform from the frail tiny preemie into the little threenager that’s full of opinions, emotions, energy and bursting with lifeWhy this is important and warranting a thoughtful blathering beyond the obvious every day and every birthday is important, is that three is the age in which I feel like I can recall beginning to have my own memories and really feeling like my own human being.

I have fuzzy memories of playing in the living room of my old house, which was something that was pretty rare in later years of life, because we had a family room in which most activities would take place, but looking back at these memories that might’ve been the family room back then.

I was playing wiffleball with my dad, more specifically I was throwing a ball as hard as my little kid body could muster, but no matter what I threw, my dad would catch it.  I remember thinking how incredible it was, and that he could catch absolutely anything in the world and being amazed an in awe of my own dad.

As it’s supremely important to be a fixture of my children’s lives, I can only hope that as I continue to play and spend time with my kids every day, that memories of playing and hanging out with dad and mom start taking root and becoming the things that both my kids will reminisce and wax poetic about it in their own lives when they become teens and adults of their own.

Hopefully, #1 will remember dad making her birthday cake for her, because she still can’t eat eggs, and there was absolutely no way I was going to let her birthday pass without a cake.  So I found a recipe for an eggless cake and did my best to make it, and although I don’t think I’ll be getting any Paul Hollywood handshakes for it, she seemed to like it, and that is all that mattered.

But man, three years.  Born in perilous conditions, made worse by a global pandemic, and here she is, healthy, strong and smart as a whip, reading and using the bathroom on her own.  Although she’ll always be a baby to me, she’s a far cry from the baby she was once.

Next thing I know, I’ll blink and she’ll be getting ready for high school, her first job, and if she chooses, moving out and going to college.  Hopefully then, I’ll still be completely smitten with her and her sister, and just as in love with being their dad then as I am now.

Dad Brog (#104) – The impending threenager

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

I don’t want to give off the impression that these dad brogs are only reserved for when there are aspects of parenting that are only stressful and infuriating, because contrary to such logic, there are tons of times in which there’s nothing I love more in existence than being the dad to my children.

The last time I wrote a dad brog was when burnt-out dad went on his blow-off trip to visit his brother in Texas, and frankly it was a tremendous help and I felt that a lot of good came out of it.  It’s amazing what just two days of getting to sleep in without any semblance of an alarm can do for one’s mind and mental well-being.  Since returning from that trip, I think things have been pretty well overall, and in the world of parenting, no news should be considered good news, and it’s on me that good news goes quiet when it really shouldn’t.

In fact, the image above was something I made that I wanted to write a blurb about, how my oldest loves her maple syrup, and has this amusing ritual on waffle mornings, where she’s conservative about how much syrup she uses while dipping in her waffle strips, with the seeming express intent so that she can drink the rest off her plate at the end instead.  Immediately, I’m reminded of Super Troopers whenever she pulls that off, and such photoshop work is the ensuing result.

But such is the nature of parenting, is having the time to actually embark on hobbies of mine, such as writing.  Not to mention I’m such a neurotic kook about my writing habits that if one thing is off, regardless of if I have the time, and writing just doesn’t happen.  Instead, it’s kind of put on the shelf until parenting gets difficult again, and it just so happens to be convenient that the impulse to write again happens only when I’m getting annoyed by a parenting trope.

A few weeks ago, my entire household got sick.  It wasn’t coronavirus, it wasn’t the flu, it wasn’t strep throat; it was just some nasty bug that started with #1, passed on to #2, and then slowly picked off everyone else in my household, including our au pair.  It was during this time that #1 had some truly miserable times while she was dealing with the worst of the sickness.  Massive emotional meltdowns, crying and snot screaming over anything and everything, and mood swings that changed at the drop of a hat at times.

During the peak of the plague, she kind of got a pass on the exasperating behavior, because there was the possibility that it was onset by just feeling like crap.  But I remember having this dreadful thought in my mind, and asking mythical wife on what if this wasn’t just sickness, and this was the new norm of her development?

Welp, the household is just about entirely on the mend at this point, nobody’s nearly as sick as they were last weekend, and sure enough, the emotional instability of #1 remains as it did when she was sick.  #1 is less than a month from becoming three years old, which means we’re embarking on the journey of having a threenager in the house.

Heaven have mercy on our souls, it’s been trying at times.  Every event throughout every day has the potential to turn into a nuclear meltdown, and it’s a Christmas miracle whenever I can have a morning that doesn’t turn into a disaster zone for breakfast. 

Fortunately, #2 is at the stage in life where most everything is fairly predictable and she’s the chill kid of my two, because if she were still Civilization nuclear Gandhi at the same time as #1 being her own rage demon, I’d probably want to jump off a cliff.  Unfortunately, whenever #1 goes into one of her tantrums, she occasionally takes it out on her little sister, which requires some Pat Riley defense to anticipate and prevent sometimes.

Either way, this is where life is at in the journey of parenthood currently.  Taking a break a month ago was a critical success, and is something I and we, as in mythical wife and I, need to embark on from time to time in order to not lose our heads, and it better prepares us mentally for when shit like raising a threenager starts to heat up.

Dad brog (#103): Dad’s solo blow off trip

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

I think any of my zero readers might have been able to tell through tone and topic, especially in these dad brogs, that parenthood has been challenging throughout the last year or so.  Two kids at their ages in the conditions we are in societally, have taken their toll on me, and I’ll be the first to admit that since the start of COVID which coincided almost perfectly with the birth of #1 have put me into a bubble that I often struggle to get out of and it’s up for debate on whether or not I’m even out of it at all.

I know that I’ve struggled tremendously with keeping my cool, and that I will never accept the perceived shortcomings of the rest of the world as being the norm now, as reasons for my mental wellbeing, or lack of it.  I’m extremely irritable, little makes me happy, I struggle to enjoy just about anything and I’ve basically forgotten how to live for myself because so much of my life is spent being a parent and taking care of just about everything but myself.

It’s hard for me to really let go of things and unwind, when I’m constantly in this state of feeling overworked and taken for granted.  That if I don’t do things, things don’t get done, at work or at home, and that there are many instances where if the result of me taking any sort of time off is just a backlog of bullshit for me to have to deal with when I get back, then I question having taken it in the first place.

The last few trips I’ve taken with my family have been challenging, because two kids as young as my own are a tremendous handful and I’m always trying to be cognizant of their safety and wellbeing to the point where I can’t enjoy myself at any point.  Any time I am afforded to have to unwind always feels inadequate and too short and I’m left wondering why bother, like an ungrateful ingrate.

Regardless, what this all amounts to is the very obvious need for me to have some time away from dad mode, even if it’s on my own.  An opportunity to where I can not be a dad for a few days and try and hope to unwind and relax and recharge just a little bit.  Stare at a walls or screens and not have to worry about clocks or the schedules of other people for a few days.  Let other people feed my kids and hope that they don’t fall victim to their pickiness and that it’s really just dada’s shitty cooking they’re tired of and not really hating things.  Not being the only one cleaning my house on a nightly basis, preparing for the next day when it all has to get done all over again.  Go to sleep with no alarms on, and hope I can actually stay asleep for at least eight hours.

Yes, dada needs this little break.  If it were any more overdue, it would have already been fully foreclosed upon, and being prepared for demolition and the property already sold to CubeSmart.

And in true burned out dada fashion, I slept through my morning alarm to get to the airport, and if not for the Lyft driver to call me at 5 am to ask me where I was, I probably would’ve fucked everything up and everything would’ve been 690% worse.

Better believe I tipped my driver well this morning.  Here’s hoping the rest of my weekend will be successful.

Dad brog (#102): We’ve reached the picky eating stage

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

It’s been a while since I busted out a dad brog; the last time I had a daddy bitching session, it was because of stage of life in which kids inexplicably decide that biting each other seems like a great idea.  Not much has changed since then, #1 is still biting her little sister and unfortunately #2 has learned how to bite just as #1 had learned from shitbag in her pre-K, but at least I can take solace in the fact that there haven’t been any biting incidents at school that requires mythical wife or I to have to sign any waivers of acknowledgement of said bitings.

No, today’s daddy bitching session is going to be about how my kids have entered a picky eating phase, to which if I’m writing about it, means it drives be bonkers.  And I unfortunately use the terminology “kids” as in plural, as in both my kids, because both of my kids are being picky, by virtue of #1 is the one truly having entered the picky eater stage, but #2 being the younger sibling that copies just about everything her big sister does, has decided to be picky about certain foods too.

It makes little sense to me too, because prior to entering this stage, #1 was a voracious eater whom I applauded being good at eating just about everything other than eggs, products with egg in it, because she’s intolerant, and bell peppers, which are the foods eaten on the same day with eggs to which she’s mentally deduced are just as bad as eggs are, which I can understand because there’ve been foods in my life that I’ve avoided from a bad association.

But she would eat just about everything else we put in front of her; meats, veggies, dairy, American, Korean, Italian; there was little limit to what she would not be willing to power through at least one meal.  As most parenting resources state, variety isn’t just the spice of life, it’s also the building blocks to prevent kids from getting picky, so they don’t fall into the pigeon hole of where they’ll ultimately only want to eat chicken tenders and pizza.

Now though, over the last few weeks, I’d say about 66% of the food I make and present to my kids is usually met with disgust, disinterest, and usually the words “I don’t like this” before #1 decides to eat slower than a Galapagos turtle or just not eat outright, with her little sister soon to follow regardless of how she actually feels about the food herself.

I’m sure this is a shocker, but let me tell you just how infuriating this is to me.  I bust my ass and spend a lot of time in my life cooking and making food for the girls.  I don’t cook for myself or mythical wife a fraction of what I cook for the kids, so when they turn their nose up at most everything I make, or refuse to eat something without trying something, it basically makes my head explode.

And when they’re sick, which is often, then the things they touch and pick at or spit out, I can’t save this stuff, and then I have to throw it out.  For a person who’s as anti-food waste as I am, this kills me every time I have to do it, and I’m left feeling ragey and pissed at my kids for making me have to waste food.  I know it’s not their faults and this is a phase that the vast majority of children go through, but it doesn’t make it any less maddening for those who have to go through it.

All I can really hope is that this really is just a phase, and will eventually pass.  Because I’m developing a complex at meal time, because my kids pretty much hate everything I make for them, where any successful meals feel like scoring a goal in the World Cup, but the vast majority of the time, the reactions are tepid and leave me feeling rejected and inadequate as a parent, which is kind of a metaphor in itself of raising kids.