CW Hinch's Mr.Mom Blog

The end of this road

2006-10-25T14:20:00.000-04:00

I am nearing the end of this road I think. I miss working or working toward something more tangible than "raising my kids." Moreover, they have started to enter preschool.

How is it that people can feel able to homeschool? I am a trained teacher, albeit a secondary one, but still, I have the basics. I do not feel qualified or able or willing to tackle my girls education... Perhaps I can supplement it or enrich it?

So it is with a mixed heart that I embrace the enivitable return to real work that is coming. I have begun to apply for teaching jobs and LSAT and Law School and PhD's...

Philadelphia for the Final Four

2006-05-24T15:45:00.000-04:00

Stay tuned

2006-03-23T08:53:00.000-05:00

If you love out-of-date blogs you must love this one. The computer hard drive went down and I lost everything and time. Several live human beings expressed an interest in the blogs at my friend's wedding. They have probably lost interest as that was a few days ago and now is the first time I am blogging in weeks.

Stay tuned, the ideas are welling up.

For the Initiated

2006-02-03T13:38:00.000-05:00

The uninitiated will tell you that staying-at-home must be great. They often begin to tally off the wonderful places they'd go. It provides a myriad of internal reactions. Outwardly it is best to simply smile and nod. There's no use ranting until they've been in your shoes.

First foray out of the house with the girls, alone deserves an entire chapter and maybe even a book in the eternally planned and procrastinated Idiodtyssey, my phantom autiobiography.

Finally to my point, Moe's Southwest Grill (particularly the Orchard Park, New York) is great. It's child portions are reasonably priced considering they include a cookie and drink. And the coup de grace are the kids' cups. The "straw" is not rigid so that small kids have to hold it awkwardly. It is a piece of clear rubber/plastic tubing infinitely adaptable. The tops are cone shaped and don't fly off as the kid tips the cup (not knowing the difference between cups with straws and regular). I was a fan but today went beyond mere enjoyment.

Alas, I pushed the envelope and tried to finish my meal. The girls weren't into being patient. Lily climbed under the table and made a break. At least I'd finished the "Homewrecker" Burrito and only had to sacrifice the chips and salsa.

New Hobbies

2006-02-02T08:52:00.000-05:00

Despite my adament aversion to running for running's sake, I seem to be drawn to races. I finished the Marine Corps Marathon and never really want to do that to myself again...but it would be nice to do better than 5 hours? Still it was an expensive little challenge all said and done.

Maybe I can convert the per mile times and just tryt o beat those on short local races? I missed the Turkey Trot in an effort to be accomodatingt o my wife. It was a mistake because I really regret not running.

Oh well, the Shamrock Run will be a nice one for March. Short and with the promise of Beer at the finish.

The one thing about running is that its solitary. That is fine sometimes but toddlers hardly provide "comraderie." I guess that's why I'm falling for Rugby and Gaelic/Irish Football.

Paying Bills

2006-02-01T14:55:00.000-05:00

One of the Stay-at-Home duties is to pay bills. I am woefully adroit at putting this off. Part of it is that we're basically broke. Our income is slightly less than the out-flow. That means alternating late bills in order to stay solvent.

Anyway, the point of this post is to link to this article, Young and Broke. It is depressinga dn thought provoking. But it also provides some cheer. The knid of misery loves company stuff. Still, it's keeping me from paying the bills.

Calvin and Hobbes as required reading

2006-01-23T15:14:00.000-05:00

From Calvin and Hobbes: Attack of the Snow Goons, by Bill Waterson:

This one's for Clancy--Initial Potty Training Research

2006-01-23T14:09:00.000-05:00

It never really occurred to me that anybody would really be reading my Mr. Mom blog. I think I intended it as more of an outlet and motivator. Byt hat I mean that the ambitious side of me sees the need for a book for us Dad's and my ability to produce one. The daily part of me is stuck coping with the daily parts of life.

With that said, I haven't been a disciplined writer. But one of my Rugby teammates, Clancy, seemed to find great humor in a couple of my posts here. So here's to you Clancy. And may you remember that you won't realize how right I am until you need this too.

Anna is reaching 2 1/2 years old and I am told potty training. We had a couple of shining moments back a few weeks ago, but nothing prodigious happened. What I mean is that I kind of half hoped my genius daughter would train herself. Moreover, one of the downfalls of being Mr. Mom is that the lines of duty are blurred.

My wife did the lion share of prep-work for having children. She read the books and enrolled us in classes. As Anna reached the Potty age I figured that Mommy, being female, might again take the reins. Yes, I know I am passive.

The obvious can only be avoided so long...like Machiavelli's advice about war (The Prince). Anna isn't going to do this on her own and Mommy actually has to work during the day. Finally, agreeing to be Mr. Mom means that you are now responsible for many formerly motherly duties.

So I am actually using my internet time to look up job-related duties... I'll include some of the better links and paste some of my favorite advice.

As a young teacher a colleague lamented her 2 year old's new found love of unrolling the TP. It reminded me of Calvin and Hobbes.
Squash the roll. If your toddler likes to unroll the toilet paper, try this. Before you put a new roll on the roller, squash the roll so that the cardboard roll inside is no longer round. This way, it will not unroll as fast. Also, little ones who are potty training will not get too much paper per tug on the roll. (from pottytrainingtips.com)

I think this article's title says it all, “Potty Training Works When it is Fun.” Pottying is fun. What athletes among us have not traded “my poo was this long” or a diarrhea story?

I just came across a webring (circle of links to sites on) Infant Potty Training. I wonder if this is where Freud got his theory of being anal retentive? I'll leave that research for later as I merely want to stop changing diapers.

I scanned my Calvin and Hobbes books for the TP cartoon. I might need to study them more to prepare for sentient children. Right now their destructive capabilities are pretty easily contained.

Getting Out

2006-01-12T08:36:00.000-05:00

A lot of the un-initiated comment aebout the ability to get out and do things. Some are so naive as to tell stay-at-home-parents that they'd go here and there and ... .

Last night I made our second trip to the local library. Both girls had pooped so I thought we couldn't repeat the last library incident. I left Anna a few rows away to sit in the children's section and peruse her choices. She propmptly and loudly (for a library) announced: "Daddy, I POOPED, pooped Daddy."

So the trip last night lasted a bit longer, 25 minutes. Lily was pulling book after book off the shelves. Keeping up was nearly impossible. Finally I scooped her up in order to contain the havoc. She wrestled me so that I almost dropped her several times. When I'd had enough I told Anna. She apparently hadn't and threw a loud fit (loud even for a store, but not quite to playground volume).

Needless to say the only way to get better is practice...so I'm off to the Buffalo Zoo to wear them down before trying the Library...

Need to Vent as a Routine

2005-12-22T16:03:00.000-05:00

I would like to say that the holidays and the winter weather are approaching simultaneously. This, in Buffalo, is not the case. Snow (and that trapped indoors feeling) arrived just before Thanksgiving. Stress levels are very high because of these factors.

I need to be tactful and a day without getting to the Y for exercise is not the day for tactfulness. The girls need the time there for something. It is clear when they have missed a day. Stuff starts breaking post-nap. My nerves being most obvious.

My wife says I yell too much. Maybe I do vent that way. We missed the Y today and for some reason my wife finds ways to add to-do's on her days off. This is day four of her vacation. She's yet to be here to relieve me. (She's off somewhere running errands for her sister...

Ok I better wait until tact is available.

OK NOW A CHRISTMAS BULB JUST BROKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Don't say bad words Daddy. Mommy says bad words."

Academia, Ambition, and Opportunity

2005-11-16T14:05:00.000-05:00

Perhaps this post is only (best) suited for my Mr. Mom Blog?

I assumed my time here as Mr. Mom might be professionally productive, in addition to its obvious and superficial personal rewards. It was a chance to dabble and contemplate a life in post-secondary Academia. My Domestic Engineering stint began immediately after completing my St. John’s Master’s Degree.

The great books have instilled a deep appreciation in true liberal arts. I think my father instilled the need for production. Please, please do not read into this that I harbor some deep resentment for my father. I do, but it is not the blame-assigning type. His brand of ambition for production has gotten me very far. Farther than if he had been more liberal.

He is proud of me. I know that and the fact that our family, even my uncles and aunts, tends towards loving mockery. We hide most of our pride and our embarrassment in jokes. Anyway it is rare for us to come out and say something directly. It took several attempts for my dad to finally blurt out his thoughts on my stay-at-home-dad tenure, “but all that money on education will be wasted.”

And so it is that I set some major goals for myself. The first was the easiest, to run the Marine Corps Marathon. It was so tangible and superficial. I talked about reading through the library I have amassed. Like Gatsby I have a library with real books. Unlike him it is small and I have only read a few of the books. My wife rightly dismissed two of my other goals, a PhD and JD. I say rightly because the financial strain is too much, at least for now. “If you go to Law School the girls won’t have money for college.” True.

Still, I could start down that road. I could take time each day to study Greek, Latin, and German. I think any stay-at-home-parent can see how ridiculous I am being. Study language and read my library. Just listen to the song “Mr. Mom” by Lonestar. Sure I aim slightly higher than watching ESPN and taking naps but it is all fanciful with toddlers around. (Even as I write we’re thirty minutes into supposed naptime and both have pooped and continue to scream and jump in their cribs. My wife would shutter to know I am using most of my cognitive-power to ignore them as the frustration rises. Now apparently some snake is coming for the two year old…its November in Buffalo. Snakes are as rare as Buffaloes).

Finally I have digressed to my point. Last year I retained some of the 50’s masculinity my dad wanted. I was an adjunct at my Alma Mater. It was eye-opening. There is an immense hassle in finding part-time childcare. With that hurdle skirted there was the prep time. It’s tough to create a lesson plan for The Prince or The Inferno with Dora the Explorer teaching Spanish in the background. In the end though, the classes were great. I stumbled a bit and learned a lot. I could be a great professor given the chance. It was pure teaching without the high school hi-jinks. I longed to teach without keeping so and so seated or passing notes or sleeping…

But the good comes with the bad. One can probably see from the sporadic entries on my blogs that I lack the self-discipline to write and publish. These two things were the corner stones to ward of my father and our familial need for productivity. If I was not going to create tangible business at least my writing could function as production.

Moreover, my Department Chair was quite honest about the prospects of finding work as a professor. Being my former Shakespeare professor, I have kept in touch with him. I can only thank him for sending me back to the ranks of secondary teachers. So my final educational career goal must be turned aside. It is a sad event when you realize that getting old means closing doors. Still, I cannot bring myself to ignore the door. Perhaps I can come back to it. Maybe all those TV commercials about retiring bringing fulfillment instead of submission can come true?

This inability to close the door brings a need for affirmation. I came to Garret Bauman’s article through Arts and Letters Daily. But Can You Teach?

I think this all leaves me with the fact that I had better learn to accept the real value some intangibles. My resentment towards my father is actually self-loathing. I know what I say to be true but do not practice it. Maybe this is the how I move toward telling my dad that I am happy? That being Mr. Mom is an opportunity. It is my chance to embrace what I know Plato meant by being “educated” and not what our American society means when they value education’s credit hours. Being well-read is being something. Writing is not just a thing to accomplish.

No, maybe I can sell Real Estate part-time?
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Monikers and Epithets: Mr. Mom v Mrs. Doubtfire

2005-11-10T09:59:00.000-05:00

Ideally, this would be a follow-up to previous writing. If you look at the post from September you’ll understand…If I get on this at all and you stick with me or are a stay-at-home yourself you’ll understand…

I am fine with calling myself Mr. Mom. I met this lady once who handed me her business card. She was a stay-at-home-mom and clearly felt the way I do. Her card found a way to professionalize our career choice. It is work! It is a career. I guess it may not be “professional” because all it requires is sperm and eggs. Sex and parenting are two very, very important societal functions. As far as I know only the Spartans and Plato actually proposed “licensing” them. Alas, in current America they are free and require little or no education. This lack of formal education, I guess, is what makes being Mr. Mom “unprofessional.”

All this leads to me point. I made a comment about doing laundry and it was very domestic (notice I avoid saying feminine). My pseudo-brother-in-law, it’s been well over four years and he hasn’t proposed yet, laughed and told me not to talk about that again. He was only half-joking and I can’t accept his judgment because he’s all but married and at the same time isn’t. Our condescension cancels each other out.

My rugby team seems to thrive on assigning nicknames. It is clearly part of the right of passage…akin to some ancient tribal custom, or Catholic Confirmation, where inclusion into a society requires rebirth and renaming. I think the levels of naming coincide with the levels of acceptance. Some are strong enough figures or names that their actual name functions well, especially last names. This last is true of many, many men’s and women’s teams. My last name is too long because names with more than two syllables are tricky. Other people often get by with a simple twist on their name: Hinch for Hinchcliffe or Q for McKeown. The Q one is bit more than simple twisting in that the rugby guys see it as clever. Clever-ness is important. More important is a mocking aspect. Some guys get two or three nicknames. One, Pillsy, is interested in initiation rituals. Some might go so far as to call it hazing. I did and he made me chug a beer. Now some guys use “The Hazer” when referring to Pillsy (incidentally, Pillsy is his primary nickname. His Polish last name is tough to spell if you don’t look it up). So nicknames are important.

It is important to note that one can only name himself if it is ratified. I often sign emails as “Hinch.” Everyone knows that it is me. But, they don’t call me that. They added a “y” to create “Hinchy.” This is a subtle promulgation that naming yourself isn’t really kosher. Sometimes a guy called me Mr. Mom but it did not stick well. It was too easy and I accepted it readily. Obviously it cannot function in the ritual.

Last weekend Q began calling me Mrs. Doubtfire. Luckily for me it was our last game until the spring so that repetition is doubtful. Moreover, only Q used it. He was quite enamored with his wittiness. Ok, I have to admit that I longed to be named and confirmed. As much as possible when you’ve been drinking beer for six hours, I made the conscious decision to say I didn’t like it. I knew this would seal the name for Q. Rejecting a name is almost surely to make them pin it to you. I am not sure how you are supposed to refer to yourself. Many of the guys still use their own names to do it. This is true even if the name is derisive.

As I write I guess I can accept being called Mrs. Doubtfire. They all know I am not a transvestite. I am not divorced and desperately separated from my children. I am a good father, albeit in progress. Robin Williams is an awesome actor and comedian. It’ll probably only be used in rugby. Finally, it could help elevate me above rookie status and the dregs of that category?

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My Dream as Writer AND Stay-at-home-Dad

2005-09-30T20:27:00.000-04:00

I think I've fianlly come to accept that my real problem is that I am sedentary (or lazy if you hate PC). Anyway, the problem is that I find it easier to semi-passively surf the net instead of actively engaging myself and others as a blogger (or better yet, a writer).

I found a Boston Globe book review/article through Arts and Letters Daily. It sounds like a good book and a humorous pretense. Maybe it'll work. Mr. Mom's are as close to perfect husbands and it sure ain't easy being this good. It actually backfires.

Anna, my older daughter, fell off the bed while my wife was in our room. I was watching TV or schecking email... Amanda tried to comfort her but Anna cried for me. Then, Amanda cried. Tonight I tried to explain to Amanda that Anna called for Sara, Amanda's sister, when she got hurt on the way to babysitting her two boys. I think Amanda missed it.

Mom's Day

2005-05-09T10:00:00.000-04:00

As I, lamely, prepare my mom and wife’s Mother’s Day messages I am struck by the meaning of the Day.

What is it that is being honored here? Was the Day dreamed up in some Utopian Leave it to Beaver idea? Are we honoring the June Cleaver types but not really the send-my-kid-to-boarding-school type of mother’s? If the first is the case, then is Father’s Day for the Ward Cleaver type?

Where, then, do I fit in? This is the first Mother’s Day that I think I actually appreciate, in a more perfect way, what my Mother has done for me. I’m a slob and a brat. My girls, so far, seem to be neither. I still go nuts keeping this small house tidy. In fact, I fail at it on a pretty regular basis (and that’s just keeping the kitchen and living room neat). How did my Mother do it?

Because of her career, my wife is a busy woman. We both were back before the girls. Neither one of us made picking-up after ourselves a part of our daily routine. In the beginning, we’d spend a day ahead getting the apartment clean. Soon it digressed into scurrying around our apartment and straightening immediately before people came over to visit. In steps it became worse and so did we. When we became close friends and they visited we would just make room for them and apologize. Eventually we reverted to college mentality and made no preparations for them (other than having beer on hand). It was at once sad and beautiful in that we made no pretensions and showed our true colors (which, I’d like to say were buried beneath our daily leavings, but were, in fact, our daily leavings; piled upon the previous days’). We comforted ourselves in saying that we were messy but not dirty. Our mess was sanitary.

My mom was somehow both neat and clean. Not to the point of being museum-like and unlivable. I don’t remember any specific times when she pushed us to clean. There is a general memory of being nagged, but it’s more of a “created” memory; one that is more true in hindsight than in reality. It was never “go clean your room or you can’t…” Once in a while, when it was out of hand she’d get on us, but mostly not. In the end, she just did it behind us. As a teacher I can see how this has spun into my lazy character and it’d be easy to blame her for that. But what is really amazing is that she just did it. I’m doing it for my girls because they are too little. Still, I’m trying to habitualize Anna to pick up behind her. I think it is working but time will tell.

What I really want to get at here is my father. He doesn’t seem to be very methodical in his tidying around the house. He can be in his workspace (the yard or the garage) but not enough to label him as “neat.” Our old next-door neighbor, Mr. Sapp, is clean, neat, and more than methodical about it. His lawn and garage were impeccable. There was no last minute picking up for him when people were coming over it was already perfect. My dad was always angry with us, rightfully, for leaving his tools around. Several were found rusty and ruined in the yard. This seems to have been something he took personally. Yet, I don’t think he transferred to the house.

This is all leading to the one of the most trying adjustments of being a Mr. Mom. How does a man clean the house and not lose his manliness? My wife often joked with people that I was a good Dad but a terrible Househusband. Her mother urged me to tell people that I was a teacher (a was teaching a class at my college). Both of them like to make “jokes.” Anyway, I rebelled against cleaning and the house became nearly unlivable. At one point, my wife simply told me that cleaning was part of my new job. Still, I was passive. I couldn’t bring myself to that. I’m consciously un-chauvinistic, but who knows about the subconscious? Eventually the feng shui of the house was destroyed.

I’m open to many non-traditional ideas, especially Eastern ideas. I guess that’s why my dad fears that I’m an ultra-liberal. feng shui always sounded interesting to me on the surface. When I taught high school I would always have my desk at least partway facing the door. I’d never, never have my back to the students. It seems like that might be just plain common sense, and I’m not sure if that’s purely feng shui but it can’t be too far off the theory.

So I had to break down and get the house neater. Since I’ve done that I’ve been mobilized to become a lot more methodical in other areas of my life. It has been pretty great when I don’t lapse. But Amanda still hasn’t seen the light. She is often messier than our two girls. I became a nag. I felt like a stereotypical “wife.” The kind of wife that men make bar-buddy jokes about. Finally it came to a head and we exploded on one another.

In the end I had to remember that you can only really change yourself. We had a Mother’s Day party last night and I quickly unloaded the dishwasher so that it could be reloaded. I’ve come to realize that it is too distressing to have a few beers and come into a sink overflowing with dishes. My mother-in-law joked that Amanda had me trained well. I laughed and realized she was right in her mind. I don’t think she can appreciate this new family dynamic. Amanda, for her part, stayed in with her sisters and mom and worked. I helped the guys outside clear our patio. But I wonder if they knew that the lines weren’t so clear anymore.

I can’t remember a time when any of the men outside made more than a token attempt to clean after a party. Not even Mr. Sapp really. My mom just did it. Could I really accept that my part in our little utopia is not a traditionally Man’s Man role?

My mom just accepted her role and kept on. Happy Mother’s Day. I’d like to say I appreciate her fully, but it’ll take a few more years of experience to say that.

And I put Lily to bed and say that my wife has the hamper filled. I try to help myself and say “at least it’s in the hamper now.”