Five Rules For Mommy and Daddy

Posted on December 22, 2011 by Mendte

I was angry about something.  I don’t remember what. It’s not important now.  I am fairly certain it wasn’t important then.  I just gave in to paternal frustration and its base instinct to yell when nothing else works.

Every time I give in to my dark parental angels I feel guilty and walk away.  I don’t want to be that kind of parent.  More importantly, I don’t want my two little boys David and Michael to be that kind of parent when they grow up.

I don’t think I yelled as much when Stacia and Jonathan were little.  She is 28 and he is 27 now.  I thought you were supposed to have more patience the second time around.  I find I have less.

It was 7 year old Michael I yelled at this time.  He was probably fighting with his 5 year old brother and his brother probably started it.  Again, I don’t remember and I didn’t care. I just wanted to stop whatever it was and yelling seemed to be the quickest route to accomplishment, although it is also the worst possible route.

Michael has the sweetest soul I have encountered in sometime and he always teaches me how to be a better father and a better person.   On the day of the yelling with no good reason, I got another lesson.

Michael went to his room and wrote a note.  On the paper were five rules for parents that he gave to my wife Dawn and not me.  As Dawn read them, Michael explained each one.

1) Don’t Yell Michael explained that little kids can hear better than grownups and so you don’t need to yell because yelling just scares little kids.

2) Relax Michael told my wife that he gets worried when I get mad and that getting mad can cause your heart to get sick.  He suggested I breathe deep and count to ten.

3) Have Fun All parents have to make sure that they stop what they are doing and have fun.  Michael has noticed that parents don’t have fun as much as kids.  He thinks maybe we forgot.  He told Dawn he would like to teach me to have more fun and not work so much.

4) Laugh Michael explained that he always feels good when he laughs, but he feels even better when Mommy and Daddy laugh.  He complained that we don’t laugh enough and offered to do silly things if it would help.

5) Kiss when no one is looking This is the rule that really got made us smile.  He specifically requested that Daddy kiss Mommy when no one is around.  It may be because he doesn’t want to have to see it, but he knows it’s important.  Either way, it was the sweetest rule.

It is the perfect list.  I kissed my wife Dawn when she showed it to me and we both agreed Michael is amazing.

I am proud to say I have a son who is wise beyond his years and certainly wiser that his Dad.

 

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Why Hasn’t Anyone Arrested the Easter Bunny?

Posted on December 6, 2011 by Mendte

A Deja Vu Dad has only a short respite between children’s movies.

Since the late 1980′s, I may have seen every kid’s movie ever produced.  I have been through all of the Disney princess movies with my daughter Stacia, who is now 28.  She was seven when we went to see Beauty and the Beast.    I took my son Jonathan, now 27, to see the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles when he was 7.

I thought of all of the children’s movies of the past 30 years while I was taking my two youngest sons, Michael, 7 and David, 5 to see Arthur Christmas (which is wonderful).  On the ride, Michael asked the inevitable question, “Is Santa real?’

Being an experienced Dad, I have dealt with this one before.  I don’t want to lie to my children, so this is what I say.  “There once was a Greek man name Nicholas who gave toys to poor children in Europe a long time ago.  When he died they canonized him as a saint or Santa Nick.  His spirit has lived on through the years inspiring people to give presents to each other and to children on Christmas.  Saint Nick or Santa Claus inspired the magic of Christmas and that is real.  We see and feel it every year.”

That seemed to work.  But I was not ready for the follow up.  “Is the Easter Bunny real?’

Uh oh.

I hate the story of the Easter Bunny.  I don’t get it.  A bunny delivering eggs?  Was that a drug induced fantasy?

So I said, “I don’t know about that one buddy.  I mean have you ever seen a rabbit that big?”  Michael thought about it and said “no.”  I continued.  And even if there was a bunny that big, how could he hold the basket?  And where does he get all of those eggs, bunnies don’t lay eggs?

I could see Michael and David both thinking about it.  I went for the closer.  “And in all those years of a giant bunny breaking into home with a basket, how come no one ever reported him to police.  He’s lucky he doesn’t get shot”  I quickly looked for their reaction.  All I need is for them now to break into tears and tell my wife later “Dad said someone is going to shoot the Easter Bunny.”  I held my breath.  They both laughed.  Whew

And then I said, “But they are fun stories to believe in aren’t they.”  Both kids answered with an enthusiastic yes.  Double whew.

I am so glad I didn’t go see the Tooth Fairy.

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The Acting Debut of Michael and David

Posted on November 27, 2011 by Mendte

I told you in a previous post that my two little boys are addicted to videos featuring Nerf gun battles. They will sit and watch them for hours. The networks spend millions for children’s programming and my kids would rather watch amateur videos featuring air guns and sponge bullets.

I have directed several documentaries and I have been in television production for 30 years. So I thought, what kind of Dad would I be if I didn’t shoot a video starring my 7 year old and 5 year old. My idea was a good old fashioned gun battle the famous theme from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. For inspiration I watched the ending of that movie, brilliantly directed by Sirgio Leone.  I even had Michael and David watch it.  When you watch their video below, you’ll notice they both took turns trying the Eastwood squint.

We put together wardrobe with some things around the house - scarves, my wife Dawn’s suede jacket - the brown coat David is wearing is from a Luke Skywalker Halloween costume.  Dawn not only served as Wardrobe Director, but as Special Effects Master, meaning she handled the leaf blower.

I knew I had to shoot quickly because the a five year old’s attention span can end abruptly.   As I pushed the kids through the scenes, Mommy warned that I was probably violating several child labor laws.  David was fading quick.  Mommy ran in and got some chocolate chip cookies.  So she also was Kraft Services for the day.

Here is the finished product -

Afterwards, Michal told me that he wants to shoot his idea about a Nerf Assassin.  He told me how he wants it shot and it is brilliant.  He wants the first batch kids, Stacia and Jonathan in the movie too.  It will be a Mendte extravaganza.

But most importantly, Michael is inspired.  He wants to write little movies, direct them and start in them.  He watched the tedium of shooting a small scene take after take and was still not deterred.

He’s got the bug.  And I couldn’t be prouder.  When he walks up to collect his Academy Award, you’ll be able to brag that you saw his first project.

It is these moments that being a Dad is all about.  People are always shocked to here I have small children and say things like – “I guess there goes retirement” – or – “What were you thinking.”  I smile to myself because they will never understand.  I can’t think of anything I would rather do with the rest of my life than raise children.

The light I saw go off in Michael’s eyes during a simple video shoot is more valuable than any cruise or a meal at a fine restaurant.

And so I should correct myself.  What you saw above is not a final product, but the first step in a creative work in progress – Michael.  He is already asking for explosions, better sound, a tripod and slow motion.  7 years old and he’s already over budget.

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Family Nerf Wars

Posted on November 20, 2011 by Mendte

Family Nerf Wars have become a tradition in my family.  Thanks You Tube.  If you have much better things to do with your life, let me explain that a Nerf War is a gun battle with toy guns that shoot harmless Nerf bullets.

I blame You Tube because the Internet video site is filled with homemade movies featuring families engaged in the activity.  This on has over 2.5 Million hits!

My oldest son Jonathan, 27, first batch of kids, came over the other night with his girlfriend Kaitlyn.  My too youngest sons, Michael, 7 and David, 5, second batchers, were ready with their Nerf guns for an ambush.  When the front door opened, Jonathan and Kaitlyn were met with a hail of flying orange sponges.  It was like the ending of Bonnie and Clyde, only this was the beginning of something special. 

Jonathan, somehow uninjured and unphased by the Nerf barrage, exclaimed “Oh, it’s on!”  He and Kaitlyn then went out to their car, opened the trunk, and exposed an arsenal of Nerf weaponry that took Michael and David’s breath away.    

I was stunned too. “What are you a Nerf arms dealer?  I hope these aren’t getting into the hands of Nerf terrorists.”  Jonathan explained that Nerf guns are big with 20 somethings too.  One of his friends got a job in Chicago and gave away his Nerf cache.  I do think there is some relationship between getting a job and giving up the Nerf.  Economic recovery will hurt the Nerf industry.

This was all just a prelude to a Nerf Night at the Mendtes.  Orange streaks and laughter filled the air.  And when it was over, Jonathan gave all the guns to his two little brothers.

After they left, Michael looked at me and said, “That was the best play date ever.” 

 

 

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The Scary Circus

Posted on November 14, 2011 by Mendte

I love Cirque Du Soleil.  My older kids love Cirque Du Soleil.  And so I figured my two younger kids, the second batch kids, would love it too.

Important Deja Vu Dad note here – never ever try to replay moments that you had with your older children with your younger children.  It’s like a movie sequel without the A-list actors from the original; it rarely works.  Almost everything about the first batch of children and the second batch is different.  You are the only common thread and you’ve changed too.

We went to see the the Quidam show at Temple University’s Liacouras Center in Philadelphia.  I got seats on the floor, which are supposed to be VIP seats.  VIP, in this case, stands for Visibility Impaired by People.  It didn’t help that the family with the biggest heads in America sat in front of us.  The man of the crew had an abnormally large noggin, Oprah or Elephant Man large.  To top it off he had curly hair that he allowed to grow out into an old man from.  It was like sitting in back of a frayed Macy’s Parade sized Q-tip.

And speaking of unusual heads.  When did Cirque du Soliel add a bald cone-headed boxing zombie to its cast?  The thing scared the heck out of 5 year old, 7 year and 53 year old Larry.  My wife was scared too, but I couldn’t add her to the lineup because her age is unmentionable.  In the second act when he came out and acted particularly strange, David yelled out “I want to get out of here.”  We did.  So did several other people.

We are all going to have nightmares tonight.  I can guarantee  a rough night and a full bed.  Thanks cone head zombie.

I remember when Cirque used to come to town and set up its own tent.  There wasn’t a bad seat in the house.  I guess they play arena’s now because they can sell more tickets.  Although there were a lot of empty seats today.  I think part of the experience was the intimate setting, so the arenas are self-defeating.  My family will be among the no-shows next time.

Although we did have one extremely entertaining moment.  It was on the ride home.  David fell asleep in his car seat in the back.  But when his favorite song came on, he went into a dancing lip-syncing frenzy, with his eyes close the whole time.  That was worth the price of admission, even if the show was not.

Here is David’s car nap performance shot with my wife’s I-Phone:

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The First Snow

Posted on October 29, 2011 by Mendte

“SNOW!?!?”  My son Michael was sound asleep, but somehow was able to hear the forecaster on the Weather Channel this morning say a seven year old’s second favorite word after ‘Toy.”  After making his exclamation, he sat straight up and watched the TV on our bedroom wall. (I guess I should point out that sometime during the night Michael ends up in our bed.  We plan to stop him from doing this sometime before he registers to vote.)

“I hope they get it right this time,” Michael said as he watched the man with make-up and maps.   I was so proud.  Seven years old and he already knows not to trust the TV weatherman.  That mixture of hope and scepticism will serve him well in life.

This time the forecast didn’t disappoint.  At 9:30 AM on October 29, 2011, the Philadelphia area got an early snowfall.  Michael and his little brother David were ecstatic.  “No school?” they asked.  I didn’t have the heart to tell them it was Saturday, not to mention that the dusting wouldn’t even have warranted a late arrival.  So I just said, “No school.”  They both jumped and yelled with excitement.  Who am I to kill their snow moment?

Michael prefers to admire the snow from the window.  Five year old David prefers to be out in it.  When I opened the backdoor to tell him he should come in, he had formed a small projectile with the snow from our patio table.  He turned and let it fly.  I tried to close the door in time, but the mini-snowball just made it through and hit me in the neck.

My wife Dawn immediately yelled, “No snow in the house.”  I stuck my head out the door and followed up her instructions with a much softer, “Nice throw!”  I was hit in the forehead this time.  Among the stars I saw was David accepting his sports scholarship to college.

David then decided to try and shovel the patio table.  (I know, I know, Don’t judge me. I should have put it in the garage by now.  Who knew there would be snow in October?) I guess I should have cared that he was using a metal shovel on a glass table and that he was barely able to lift the shovel.  As I wrote that last sentence I now realize the extent of the chance I was taking.  No parent wants to give the other parent that “What were you thinking moment?’  Mine would have been legendary as I picked up chards of glass out of the slush.  But I just got lost in my son’s moment and I really didn’t care about the consequences.  (Okay now you can judge me.)

When Michael finally decided to come off his window perch and go outside, it was still snowing and he was smart enough to get an umbrella.  Of course, he forgot to put on a coat.  I sprang into action.  I grabbed my IPhone and ran outside.  As Michael pleaded “But Dad I’m cold.”  I comforted him with “Just one quick picture.”  Thank goodness Dawn was at the store at this point.  Double thank goodness she doesn’t read this blog.

As we study the Deja Vu Dad phenomena, these are all important moments.  The way I reacted to the snowball in the forehead, the shovel on the table and the no coat photo-op are all consistent with recorded DVD behavior.   Being a father again later in life makes you appreciate moments.  You don’t want to ruin them with a predictable “put that down” or “get your coat on right now.”   A table is replaceble, the moment isn’t.

Just don’t tell Dawn.

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“The Cleaner”

Posted on October 16, 2011 by Mendte

When I was a child, I was told “clean your plate.”  That meant eat all of the food on your plate.  A Dozen bad things would happen if you didn’t “clean your plate,” no dessert, no TV, no seconds of your favorite food, no playing – the “no’s” were endless.

Truthfully, I had no problem cleaning my plate.  On television they used to have Public Service Announcements about the “Johnny Clean Your Plate Club.”  I was a proud member.  No one had to remind me about the starving kids in Africa.  Sorry, they were getting nothing from me.

These days, with childhood obesity a national issue, the Clean Your Plate Club is frowned upon.  Children should be allowed to eat until they are full and no more.

So the kids of today have not been indoctrinated, but the parents are still in the club.  So here are the dynamics at the kitchen table.   My seven year old son Michael may be the only vegetarian in the world who does not eat vegetables.  His diet consists of pasta, pizza, bread, peanut butter pancakes and cereal.  That’s it.  He only drinks water and doesn’t like candy.  There is pasta or pizza left over every night of the week.  My five year old will eat anything unless he is spotted by Michael, who says something like, “Ewww, Hot Dogs, disgusting!”  And then David won’t eat the hot dog.  There is nothing worse than GSP – Gastral Sibling Pressure.  David usually leaves food on his SECOND plate of food.

My wife Dawn always has to leave something on her plate.  She would love to eat it, but it is a psychological game she plays with themselves.  It’s not just her.  If you look at the plates of four woman who just had dinner, there will be a smidgen of food left on all of the plates.  That morsel of food somehow means they did not pig out.  The women may have eaten an entire canned ham.  As long as they leave a little, they can claim later that they couldn’t finish.  Dawn once ate a huge bowel of pasta and left just a few lonely strands of Angel Hair at the bottom.  Then she said, “That was so much food.  I can’t possibly finish.”  I looked at the couple of strings at the bottom of the bowel thinking, “Oh sure you could.”  But I really didn’t want to suffer for the next week.  So I remained silent as Dawn ordered desert and left .01 percent of it on her plate that she “can’t possibly finish.”

Me?  I am Harvey Kietel from Pulp Fiction.  I am the cleaner.  For I am still a member of the club.  Every plate must be cleaned.  I finish my food and then I am a human Zamboni machine leaving just a shimmering sheet of white on each plate.  This morning we went out for brunch.  I ate my eggs, then the remainder of Dawn’s quiche, a 1/2 a muffin, some syrup soggy pancakes, the rest of the fruit bowel and the yogurt and granola at the bottom of David’s parfait glass.  Johnny Clean Your Plate would be proud.

If you read this blog, you know I have two older children.  That’s what makes me a Deja Vu Dad.  They have always been big eaters.  The childhood food police hadn’t started their national campaign and I think I inflicted Stacia and Jonathan with my plate cleaning habits.  They are both big eaters.

For my health, I should have Stacia and Jonathan over for meals more often.  We could all hang back like the Hyenas from Jungle Book waiting for the leftovers.  They could cut my intake significantly.  I am sure not going to cut back on my own.  After all, I’m in a club.

 

 

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I Love To See you Smile

Posted on October 15, 2011 by Mendte

I have been raising children almost all of my adult life.  Of all the titles I have had and have now, I am proudest of Dad.

I do think that sometimes young men walk into Fatherhood not knowing what it is all about.

Understand this.  It will be all encompassing.  Away from work, you exist to make your children happy.  Take today for instance -

I wake up with a seven year old boy’s head on my head.  This has to be as uncomfortable for him as it is for me.  My head is big, very big, OPRAH BIG, and hard.  It cannot feel anything like a down filled pillow.  But Michael likes this arrangement and so I lay there allowing him to smoosh his cheeks against mine.  I don’t dare get up until he moves.

A little later it is homecoming at David and Michael’s elementary school.  You heard me right.  They have a homecoming.  David is in kindergarten and Michael is in second grade.  One day David will return to Kindergarten homecoming to remember the wild playdates, the time he drank way too much milk with his cookies at snack time and his best friend what’s his name.

Then it was on to soccer practice where I spent much of the time trying to convince a crying David to play.  ”I guess Michael is going to get a toy and your not,” I whispered in his ear.  Don’t judge me, it worked.

Then I headed over to the Diner where I pre-ordered for the kids.  Their favorites – grilled cheese and fries.  Only they got there and wanted pancakes even though THEY
ORDERED GRILLED CHEESE THE LAST THREE WEEKS.  Pancakes they get.

And guess what?  It’s Harry Potter weekend in our neighborhood!!!  The main street is closed down for Harry Potter crafts and games.  Oh Joy!  Forget those silly college football games you had hoped to watch.  How about some Quidditch?

“Can you set up my castle?”  That is what you get as soon as you walk in the door after and hour of Hogwart Hell.  And then after a 1/2 hour constructing the toy castle comes the search for the lost toy knights.  Sir Galahad was found chewed and mauled by the giant closet monster know as Buddy the Mutt.  Alas, poor Galahad, I knew him well.

Tonight we will watch Harry Potter two on HBO, because they have only seen the first one.  And that will be my Saturday after working all week.  Tomorrow we go to the movie theater.  I would love to see Money Ball.  Forget it.  I may have to sit through Smurfs for the third time.

Your life is theirs.  You don’t have kids.  They have you.  They control the TV the time and every room in the house.  They decide what you watch, what you eat, what you read and where you go….

and how you spend your money.  Later in the day my 28 year old daughter Stacia came to the house to get a check for the wedding photographer deposit.  Not only do they control you.  It never ends.  Ever!

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.  Randy Neumann wrote a wonderful song called “I Love To See You Smile.”  And that is what Fatherhood is all about.  All I want to do is see my children smile.

I know there are “parenting experts” reading this who are aghast at my parenting style.  Save it.  I have never liked fancy hotels, fancy restaurants or expensive things.  If my children are happy, I’m happy.  I just want to see them smile. The more smiles – the richer I am.

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Star of the Game

Posted on October 9, 2011 by Mendte

I have established that I am a soccer Dad.  Every Saturday morning I strap tiny shin guards and cleats on my 7 year old son Michael and my 5 year old son David and we join dozens of other Beckhams in training for drills and a scrimmage.

My boys are big.  And let me state the obvious here, they are going to get bigger, much bigger.  Every Dad clings to the pediatrician’s percentile chart like an NFL scout.  For the un-enlightened, the percentile chart compares your child’s height and weight against all others in his or her age group.  Michael is taller than 97% of the kids his age, David is taller than 99% of his age group.  When both children hit the age of two, the pediatrician made predictions about their adult heights.  Both children were expected to be between 6’4″ and 6’7″.   It was like Deja Vu Dad Christmas.  Visions of scholarships danced in my head.

The only problem  Neither seems too interested in sports.  They both love Star Wars.  I am raising two future Wookies.

And still I try.  During the most recent soccer scrimmage, Michael showed a complete lack of aggressiveness.   On the other hand, there was another kid on his scrimmage team who was a one man highlight reel….that is if they actually kept highlight reels of 7 year old soccer scrimmage….and if he was was a man.  Oh, you get the point.  The little boy wearing #7 was talented and aggressive.

In the scrimmages no one is supposed to keep score, but that is more for the new age parents who want a “non-competitive environment.”  The kids keep score and so do I.  #7 knew the score when he charged down field to try and tie a scrimmage that his squad was losing.  I was pleading for Michael to run down with him.  ”Michael, come down in front of the goal.”  Yep, I was THAT guy.

As my son slowly made his way down the field, I turned to my wife and said “He just doesn’t have it in him.”  I was visibly disappointed.  I grumbled to myself.  I know what you are thinking and I agree.  I was being a jerk.

Time ran out and my son and #7′s team lost.  Michael was fine with that.  #7 fell to the ground and burst into tears.  His father tried to console him and he ran away to be by himself.  Michael was the only person to follow him.

My son had his arm around his teammate when I walked over.  Michael was saying  ”It’s only a game” and “You were the best player.  You did everything you could do.”

When I said, “Michael, we have to go,” my son raised his index finger looked at me and said, “Dad, give us a minute.”

I stood there stunned as my son consoled his new friend.

When we got int he car, Michael said “I hope he’s okay.  I can’t believe he got so upset over a game.”  I looked at my wife who smiled at me.

A father is supposed to teach his children, but all to often it is the child who teaches the father.  This is one of those cases, as my son gently gave me a powerful dose of perspective from his child safety back seat.

I was wrong.  Michael was the star of the game, as he had something much more important that aggression inside of him – he had compassion.

 

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Soccer Dads Unite!

Posted on October 8, 2011 by Mendte

During the 1992 Presidential campaign,  ”soccer Mom” became a hot political term.  It described a block of voters that elected Bill Clinton President; young, suburban white Moms who drive their kids to soccer practice.  In 2008, Sarah Palin famously changed “soccer moms” to “hockey moms.”  Different sport, same Moms.

I am of the forgotten class.  I am a soccer Dad.  I am also a basketball Dad and a T-ball Dad.  And since I have been down this road more than once, I am a Deja Vu Soccer Dad.  So I have some redux expertise on the topic.

Nothing against the Moms, as my wife goes to every game and practice too, but there are more Dads at these games than Moms, all of the volunteer coaches are Dads and the kids seem to want to impress their Dads.  I am certain there are exceptions, but sports seems to be a Dad-child bonding moment.

In commercials, sit-coms, movies and the news, Dads get the short end of the stick.  In real life there are wonderful Dads that I see every day.  They are smart caring and thoroughly involved with their kids.

So lets hear it for the soccer Dads.  You may not get the media or political recognition, but I see you and you should be proud.

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