Just A Guy Recognizing They Do Grow Up!

Posted on August 15, 2009 by Bruce Sallan

My best friend’s son, his youngest, has been house and teen-sitting for us. He’s 20 now and he’s really grown up in so many ways. It seems the alien pod has left his body and the sane human being his parents raised has returned. Such a relief, as it gives me hope for my two to know that they do grow up!

When he was my teen’s age I remember an incident that really stuck with me, when his family moved. I had offered to help and was horrified at how they allowed and indulged their youngest to basically sit around and do nothing, while we worked tirelessly. He was that self-absorbed.

Just A Guy Wishing His Kids Said “Yes” Once In a While

Posted on August 7, 2009 by Bruce Sallan

What happened to kids listening to their parents? It seems whatever I ask my boys to do, the response is always some sort of “No,” whether it be questioning why I won’t do it myself or saying “later.” Am I missing something or have I just become a total wimp of a dad?

When did it become okay to disobey our parents with relative impunity? I guess when us boomers became parents and began spoiling our kids by giving them everything they wanted.

Just A Guy That Misses His Heroes

Posted on July 31, 2009 by Bruce Sallan

I’m just a guy that misses his heroes. When I grew up, it was easy to know the good guys from the bad guys. In some cases they actually wore white hats. Or, in my first exposure to a movie hero that I remember, it was Steve McQueen as Hilts, the motorcycle-riding, Nazi-defying loner who comes through, in the end, for the guys, in The Great Escape. He was the epitome of cool. I thought policemen were also cool and politicians looked like JFK and were to be respected. Nostalgic times, for sure.

But, it changed. Changed with the sixties, changed with Watergate, changed with Vietnam, and more. The legacy of those years is what our children now live with. Who are their heroes? Do we really want them worshipping all the NBA superstars who are covered with tattoos and whose personal lives are best left for the tabloids? My sports heroes were like Sandy Koufax who stood by his principles and didn’t pitch a World Series game on a religious holiday of significance to him.

Just A Guy Without His Wife

Posted on July 25, 2009 by Bruce Sallan

I’m just a guy without his wife. She is out of town and, gulp, I have to admit I sort of like it. The reason she’s gone I don’t like, as her mother is having some serious surgery, and we’re all concerned. Putting that aside, I must say I’m enjoying the alone time. In short order, I will miss her as I love her dearly and appreciate all the good she brings into our house, for my boys and myself. But, for the moment, it’s sort of cool.

My parents were of that “other” generation. They met when they were 17 and 14, married in their early twenties, and were together EVERY day of their lives unless one of them was in the hospital. EVERY day, for 66 years. No typo. They also had lunch together nearly EVERY day. Theirs was a love for the ages.

Just A Guy Struggling With Whining Kids

Posted on July 18, 2009 by Bruce Sallan

“I HATE it,” or “I HATE my teacher,” or “I HATE that restaurant.” Sound familiar. When my younger son uses that word or is complaining or whining as much as he and his older brother do, I find myself going nuts on them. “You HATE” such and such? There are things to hate in this world, like terrorists, rapists, serial murderers, taxes, Britney Spears and Renee Zellweger, but an item of food, a less than terrific teacher?

This falls under the category of spoiled rotten. I must’ve done something to encourage this behavior and my new wife always gives me “the look” when they act that way; the look that says, “well, where do you think they got it from?” I then give her the look that says, “bug off,” and we go on to a fight from there. Okay, just kidding. Sort of.

Just A Guy Dealing with a Slight Role Reversal

Posted on July 11, 2009 by Bruce Sallan

Being the stay-at-home Dad is supposedly accepted in our diverse and accepting culture where role reversal has become quite common. But, the reality is different, as this dad has experienced, especially when introducing a new women, my new wife, into the family. Who does what and what we expect from each other is often murkier in reality than in the latest issue of “O.”

In a nutshell, she goes to work; I stay home with the boys. I take them to school and deal with all their extra-curricular activities. I carry the larger load of discipline issues and I do the majority of the shopping. She takes care of the house and does most of the cooking and cleaning. I’m the biological parent; she’s the step. She teaches them manners; I teach them how to burp louder.

Just A Guy That Looks

Posted on July 3, 2009 by Bruce Sallan

You will always find a guy that looks at women. Yes, there’s a time and place for doing it. But we will also do it when it’s not the time and place. It’s in our hard wiring. Two recent outings with my wife brought this to mind – because, yes, sometimes I am a guy that looks.

First, we were driving at night and pulled alongside a line of (young) people waiting to get in a club. My wife was driving but noticed that I “gazed” at the abundance of barely clad women. Now, of course, she would say, “slobbered.”

Just A Guy Who Misses Holding (His Boys) Hands

Posted on June 28, 2009 by Bruce Sallan

The other night we were in a restaurant, no kids, and we heard a little boys uproarious laughing. He was giggling while he watched a little wind-up toy jump and flip in front of his hands. His youngish parents were enjoying his pleasure and delight and I found myself equally caught up in the spirit.

But, it also created a moment of melancholy as I reflected on how so many of those childhood joys were over with my boys. Now, honestly, there are many of those so-called passages that I certainly don’t miss. First on that list is the smell of baby wipes, and everything else that went with the diaper, poop, and changing stages. For years after they were toilet trained, I’d get a whiff of those smells, out of thin air, and breathe a sigh of relief that that phase was over.

For every one of those stages that I don’t miss are those, like in the restaurant, that I actually long for. Like when my boys would reach up and grab a hold of my hand. When walking hand-in-hand was special to them, even when they were so small that their arms were stretched up to reach my hand. I contrast that with my teen now, looking down on me, as I shake my finger up at him and announce “you’re grounded.”