Put together a new bouncy toy that mom got him. He watched. Drank coffee, me not Greyson. Put him in it.

He seemed to enjoy it.

Made waffles and bacon for Taffy. I had some too. They were good.

Put together some potato salad for the get together with the boys in the afternoon.

Good Saturday Morning, I say.

At 3pm mom was brought to the operating room. The doctors made a cut slowly into mom's tummy until they finally saw me, and brought me out to this world! That was amazing!

The nurses gave my first bath and brought me to the nursery. I was placed in a small plastic crib which was later pushed near the glass window. On the other side of the window, I saw my relatives for the first time. They were all smiling. They seemed to be very happy with my arrival!

Thanks for the very warm welcome! I am so glad to see all of you!

I was still sleeping when my wife called me up around 6am from her OB’s clinic in the Philippines. They were 4 hours advance in my home country so it should be 10am there. She wanted me to talk to her doctor so I could ask her some details about the status of her pregnancy. We were expecting her delivery tomorrow and she was due for a check up today with her OB gyn.

Dra. Villanueva informed me that it seemed the baby would not fit into her pelvis and a caesarean section might be necessary. They could schedule her up this afternoon, instead of tomorrow, since tomorrow is a Sunday and it would cost us a bit more if it will be done on that day.

I agreed on her suggestions, and Didith’s voice over the phone seemed like she was all ready and prepared. She was scheduled for the operation at 3pm (11am UAE). She was admitted after her clinic check up and was prepared for surgery.

I tried to go back to sleep since I have had only a few hours of sleep before I got the call. My son entered into my dreams, and I dreamt of having him in my arms. I was with my wife and we were in my parents’ house in Bulacan. Suddenly, may baby disappeared from where I laid him, and that was the time I got awakened. I knew that the subconscious mind works when we sleep, and it has picked up a sense of fear in my inner being. Who would not be? My wife is undergoing a major surgery.

30 minutes before the scheduled surgery, I called my wife using my mobile and gave her some moral support. I knew that’s the most I can make being away from her at this time, when most fathers-to-be are at their wife’s bedside.

I was working a night shift in the evening, but I knew I would not be able to sleep in this situation. On my next call, my sister told me she was already in the operating room. It felt as if my hands were caught in chains and I could not do much. I am a medical professional but I am away for my wife’s medical situation.

Like her surgery last March, I started sending text messages to everybody on my cell’s contacts. My message read: Hi po. My wife Didith is in OR right now undergoing Caesarian Section. Please pray for her. It was overwhelming to receive text replies, and even calls from friends who gave very encouraging words.

It was almost 1pm here when I got a call from my sister, and she announced that the baby was out already. He was a healthy 7-pound baby with long limbs as my wife’s! My sister tried to describe my son as I tried to imagine what he looks like. She said he looks like me. He had a fair skin and very red lips. She was standing in front of the nursery window as she vividly described my baby’s features on the phone. I envied her, and wished I was the one looking at my precious child.

My wife was still inside OR that time. I wondered if she has seen our baby. I knew she would forget all the pains once she sees our child.

My cousin was fast trying to send pictures of my baby. When I opened my yahoo, I saw my son for the first time and it felt the most wonderful of all the emotions. I was teary eyed as I looked each and every pictures of him. He is the small me!

My sister later on called again to inform that my wife has come out from surgery and is now resting in her room. It was a big relief knowing my wife is safe, and my baby is out healthy.

I will be working tonight, and though I haven’t slept during the day, I knew that I was charged with a powerful energy within my veins. I will be working carrying a different perspective in life.

As fathers, most of us know the feeling of desperately trying to get our children’s attention in a effort to help them improve their position.  Too many times have I tried to explain the faults of a logical position taken by one of my children only to have them continue to move along the same path, often taking the more painful approach to the learning they were destined to receive.

I even remember my own father and mother trying to "talk some sense" into me.  We often seem to be so focused on what we have done and where it is taking us, that we miss the opportunity to realize a greater blessing.  As fathers we are often focused on providing a life for our family, so much so, that we often miss the whole experience of fatherhood.  We watch as the ball of our career, or accomplishments, or even self pursuits, flies higher and higher.  We are so amazed at what we have done that we take our eyes off the coach and miss the real opportunity to make a lasting difference in the lives of our children and families.

Keeping our eyes on the coach is the true discipline.  More often than not overlooked or ignored.  Psalms 105:4-5 tells us; “Keep your eyes open for God, watch for his works; be alert for signs of his presence. Remember the world of wonders he has made, his miracles, and the verdicts he's rendered."  If we grow beyond the stage of the amazed little boy, into the stage of the strong disciplined father, we will know that every ball we hit will surely be a home run.

En servicio como padre

Dave

Add ten years and a kid. And you get them.

By the time she's old enough to be quizzing us on our misspent youth we'll be so straight she won't even believe what we tell her. Probably a good thing.  

P.S. Love you two.

Now here's the story: Jasper was running around the playground and he hit a patch of sand. He then went tummy first onto the pavement, scraping his knee and elbow, and immediately started to cry. Another father nearby commented, either intentionally as a metaphor or simply as something to say: "You know, we all fall down at some point."

That's when it hit me, how true, beautiful and eloquent those words are.

Falling is necessary if we're to rise. Scrapes and bruises are necessary if we're to live a life engaged with Christ, because nothing hurts more than to fall on your face. As a father, I know that Jasper will have to fall a few more time. I'm hoping that I'll be there to help him get up, give him a brush off and a hug, and be there to reassure him that everything's okay. One day, he'll get the hang of things, but he'll "fall" in other ways. I'm praying that I'll be there to help him, or, even better, that he'll come to know how God raises him up when he does fall.

So many people who read these words on this blog have felt the same kind of shattering effect that I've felt. Being broken in today's world doesn't make sense, and it's often a sign of weakness or unmasculine. But in God's sovereign realm, it's crucial. We might think that we've got it all under control, but we can have everything slip out from underneath. Then we're on our knees begging and praying, "Oh Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner." And because our hearts are contrite, and because we see the need, Jesus enters our lives and transforms us.

Our falls are simply that: they're temporary falls. With Jesus at our side, we're lifted up, raised from the dead, healed of our sicknesses, eased of our burdens, released from our chains. Now how cool is that?

BLOG and MABLOG

What are fathers called to? Fathers give. Fathers protect. Fathers bestow. Fathers yearn and long for the good of their children. Fathers delight. Fathers sacrifice. Fathers are jovial and open-handed. Fathers create abundance, and if lean times come they take the leanest portion themselves and create a sense of gratitude and abundance for the rest. Fathers love birthdays and Christmas because it provides them with yet another excuse to give some more to the kids. When fathers say no, as good fathers do from time to time, it is only because they are giving a more subtle gift, one that is a bit more complicated than a cookie. They must include among their gifts things like self-control and discipline and a work ethic, but they are giving these things, not taking something else away just for the sake of taking. Fathers are not looking for excuses to say no. Their default mode is not no.

The canard that is frequently applied to the Puritans does not apply to the historical Puritans, but it does apply to a certain kind of dour, pinched personality. This is the kind of person who says that God is up in heaven, looking down on us, trying to find someone who is having a good time. When he finds such a one, He tells him to stop it right now. H.L. Mencken defined puritanism as the haunting fear that somehow, somewhere, someone might be happy. That is, as I said, a slander on the Puritans, but there is a kind of person that it does apply to. That kind of person fills up the lives of others with "this is bad for you," "so is that," and "so is this," and "that too over there." I ache for children growing up in such homes, not because they are "eating healthy" (because they usually aren't which is another subject), but because the spiritual environment is so unhealthy. What statement is being made in all this about fatherhood and provision? The kids grow up in "a garden," but not the Father's kind where all the trees are permitted but one. They grow up in something called a garden, where all the trees but one are forbidden, and the one that is allowed grows ricecake-like globules that taste like bits of styrofoam glued together in a nutrient ball. And so the children are surrounded by delightful fruit that their father could afford, but refuses to provide them, and which other kids get to eat freely. They have a father who does not provide, although he could, which means that he must not want to. They have a father who does not provide, who does not bestow, who does not overflow. They come to think that God the Father is like that, and they conclude that they must not be worth very much. That sense of guilt for just existing carries over into adulthood, and they then do the same thing to their kids. We need more guilt over sin, and a lot less guilt over breathing, maintaining a temperature of 98.6, and needing a certain amount of glucose for the brain. Slandering the character of God is one of the sins we need to reject as sin. There are people who need to start feeling guilty for feeling guilty all the time, if you follow me here.

Such folks still need to have a father who delights in them objectively. They need a father who delights in them the way Joseph delighted in Benjamin, by heaping up his plate. But with a lot of these people, that's not going to happen any time soon. How many children in Christian homes think that the universe is governed by a pinched, censorious face because that is the face that is presented to them? Many Christian parents need to confront the fact that they are no fun at all, and that when the kids show up at dinner for their gruel such a dinner is a fitting metaphor for what is going on everywhere else in that home.

The prodigal son famously veered off into excess. The older brother was a dutiful fusser. The yearning father was the one who had kept the fatted calf for just such an occasion as this return, and directed that it be prepared for his wayward son, now repentant. Did the returning prodigal really need to go to another party? Yes, apparently he did, but it needed to happen in his father's house.

"A record number of babies were born in the USA in 2007, according to early federal data released Wednesday that some demographers say could signal an impending baby "boomlet.
...
The last time the number was this high was in 1957, in the middle of the baby boom years; about 78 million Americans were born from 1946 to 1964. Demographers have been monitoring gradual increases in recent years; data for 2006, which won't be made final until September, show a 3% increase over 2005. That's the largest single-year increase since 1989. -- USA Today, July 16, 2008

I'm proud to say that I added to that statistic in November with a baby boy.  Within my office, there are three other new dads in the last 6 months who work in my department.  We give each other the the bleary eyed nod passing in the hallways.

My wife has been pretty fabulous taking care of the little drool machine, and the pink tornado that is my daughter has really warmed up to the newest competition for our attention so I've probably managed to get a lot more sleep that most new dads.  That being said, I still need my morning cup of coffee before starting the day.  Maybe Starbucks won't need to close those 600 stores after all, they just need to add an express lane for new parents.

There is something counterintuitive here, something that fathers with problem children must embrace as the first step out. However much your child's behavior is displeasing you, you have to come to grips with the fact that the behavior is something which, at some level, you have required of him. This is another way of saying that the first step out is confession, not accusation. If your child is your adversary, then make your accusations. But if your child is still your child, then the place to begin is confession. You don't have to confess how you required this of him (because you don't know that yet), but you should confess to God as sin the fact that you did require this of him.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago when we were discussing our upcoming camping trip with the Younger Daughter. She informed us that she would like to learn how to fish. I have actually been wanting to take the girls fishing for a number of years, but things just never fell into place. I decided that this time, nothing was going to stand in the way of making it happen.

Last weekend, we went down to the local sporting goods store. I was a deer in the headlights looking at the overwhelming variety of gear available. Thankfully, a friendly and helpful lady helped us to pick out the appropriate pole, hooks, sinkers, bobbers, and bait that we would need to catch some tasty trout. Just a smidge over $100 later, we were out of there.

Now it seems that she was simply too excited to wait a week for the camping trip to commence and wanted to give it a whirl yesterday evening. Not wanting to disappoint, I relented. Given my typical bad luck, I was sure that I would fall in the water, end up hopelessly tangled up in fishing line, have fishing hooks stuck in my face, and get arrested for catching some obscure fish that is on the endangered species list.

Thankfully, things were not even close to being that bad. Yes, some things went wrong. We did have some minor tangling of line here and there. Oh, and I managed to drop the pliars through the slats of the dock...never to be seen again. But it was an amazingly relaxing and peaceful time together. It was quiet except for the birds and the sounds of fish jumping.

So, after 25 years, I again have the patience to enjoy sitting in a chair, lazily waiting for a fish to bite. Whether one actually bites or not doesn't really matter. It's amazing sitting with my daugher and enjoying some very special together time in a peacful setting. I realize that in all likelyhood, she'll one day find this to be boring and move on. But I'm going to enjoy every moment until then.

• Everything is a sword: if it's long and straight then it's either a light saber or a pirate's sword.  I gave them three foam swords when I got home...there's been some serious swashbuckling since.
• How they carry their swords: a sword is either shoved down a pant leg (sometimes inside the underwear) or down the shirt in the back (ninja style).
• They want to go to my meetings:  it's funny because as adults we avoid meetings (or too many meetings).  The boys want to attend meetings.  I've always told myself that I will bring my family on as many ministry trips as possible.
• They like to draw: usually volcanoes and spiders.
• They like to come into my home office:  this morning I think I had 5 boys in my office (2 were being babysat).  They like to draw on my whiteboard.  The current drawing is of a volcano covering a whole village in fiery lava.
• They like to wrestle: first one to tears loses.
• They have great imaginations: they've introduced me to galactic cities, epic battles, monstrous fighter vehicles, fearsome armies, and deadly dinosaurs.
• They pray really cute:  The innocent, sincere, and simple prayers of a child gotta sound sweet to Jesus.
• They have unique personalities:  each one has a certain trait that I gravitate toward: Josiah's physical-ness, Micah's inquisitiveness, and Aaron's independence.  That's why I love them all the same.
• They are growing up fast: my prayer is that they will grow up to be men who love God and lead others to do the same.

"It is often said that great achievement requires in one's formative years two teachers: a stern taskmaster who teaches the rules and an inspirational guru who teaches one to break the rules. But they must come in that order. Childhood training in Bach can prepare one to play free jazz and ballet instruction can prepare one to be a modern dancer, but it doe s not work the other way around. One cannot be liberated from fetters one has never worn; all one can do is to make pastiches of the liberations of others."

(Michael Lewis, an art professor, in the WSJ)

I can't get much sleep lately because my wife can't.  She tosses and turns, elbows and kicks, steals pillows and blankets, and generally takes up 3/4ths of a queen-sized bed despite the fact that I am 6'3" and she is 5'2".  I haven't made it past 7AM in three weekends, and have been up before 5AM every day in the past week.   The basement futon where my dog sometimes cleans himself is looking awfully inviting.

If this happens to you, do not tell anyone without a penis.

No matter how much goodwill you may have built up with your stories to your female friends about how supportive you've been for your pregnant wife, the mere passing mention of a bit of your own physical discomfort will immediately transform you into a whining boor.

Remember, you, my friend, are only incidental to this entire process.  You should feel lucky that your wife was willing to accept your wretched seed and is accommodating your spawn for nine months in her beautiful body.  You should feel deep remorse that you yourself cannot pass the baby through an orifice in your body.  You should pay her back with compliments, chores and diamonds.   And you should shut up.  For the rest of your life.

Okay, that sounded harsher than it is.  But the bottom line is that you should keep in mind that every complaint that you might have will always be seen as minor compared to the things she's dealing with.

The only people that will understand are other men with pregnant wives.  Men with kids generally think you're a big whiny baby too.  Men who haven't gone through pregnancy at all will actually not even be able to physically hear you when you discuss it, because when you talk about pregnancy, without knowing, you actually do it at an extremely low pitch that is discernible only to fathers and nematodes.

In fact, I may be the only one who understands how you feel.   Feel free to email me or comment here about how no one cares about you.    I'll nod knowingly and go back to rubbing my wife's feet.

Here I am in a public park with 11 babies and 11 moms talking about getting their bodies back, and I am being invited to do jogger jazzercise! I couldn't help but laugh at myself for having gotten into this situation. I am talking "kick and reach and squeeze", the whole nine yards.

You know that saying "fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me"? Well shame on me!  On my second visit the husband of the instructor stops by toward the end, he extends a hand an tells me that other dads are missing this week and some of them are even former NCAA D1 ball players.  He obviously didn't remember seeing me out there the week before (sole dad then too).

Any time spent with my wife and son is great, and the ladies are all very nice. The group is great for moms and dads (so I am told) who don't get to the gym like they use to before Jr. arrived. Perhaps this is one time where being a Primo Papa doesn't mean you have to be an "everywhere, all the time" Papa.

But if Grandma's advice fails, try Betsy Brown Braun's. A child development specialist and mother of triplets, Braun has been counseling families for 37 years on the above topics and more.

Now, in Just Tell Me What To Say: Sensible Tips and Scripts for Perplexed Parents, she offers advice that may raise eyebrows among old-school moms and dads. For instance:

Do not demand eye contact from a child, Braun says. (He actually can hear you. Plus, the "look into my eyes" demand takes focus and may detract from the message you are trying to send.)

Don't force children to share. (It might lead to resentment and cause them to hold on more tightly to the object.)

And implement a no-tattling rule, unless there's an emergency. (Respond to regular snitching with a casual, "Oh," and nothing else.)

THE VERDICT: If kids came with an instruction manual, it would be Just Tell Me What To Say. Deemed "the parenting guru" by The New York Times, Braun covers a lot of ground in 222 pages. Thankfully, she doesn't come off as preachy here, just a wise mom who knows her stuff.

WHERE TO GET IT: Just Tell Me What to Say: Sensible Tips and Scripts for Perplexed Parents, by Betsy Brown Braun (Collins, $15.95), available wherever books are sold.

SURF'S UP: www.justtellmewhattosay.com

This review was originally published in various McClatchy publications and Web sites. Send product review requests to felicia@themombeat.com.

Daddy Brain is scheduled to be a guest on At Issue With Ben Merens, 
a daily radio show on Wisconsin Public Radio.

When: Thursday, July 24th, 2008
Time: 5 pm (CST)
Where: Wisconsin Public Radio, The Ideas Network

At Issue with Ben Merens, is an hour-long talk show that is "dedicated to current events and hard news, includes expert guests, policy-makers, commentators, and authors." 

The show gives listeners the opportunity to call in, be heard, and be part of the conversation. Just dial (800) 486-8655.

You can listen to the show live from anywhere in the world with online streaming audio. Click here to hear it through iTunes, Windows Media Player or RealPlayer.

You can also listen on any of the following Wisconsin radio stations:

- WHA-AM 970 Madison
- WERN-FM 88.7 Madison
- KUWS-FM 91.3 Superior
- WHRM-FM 90.9 Wausau
- WHAD-FM 90.7 Delafield/Milwaukee
- WPNE-FM 89.3 Green Bay
- WLSU-FM 88.9 La Crosse

I hope you get a chance to tune in. Feel free to call and talk with us! Please spread the word.

And remember, you are not alone...

Related links:
Ben Merens Web Site: Author, Speaker and Communications Professional
Talk Radio Should be Forum, Not Soapbox, by Ben Merens

Cracked put together this hysterical list of actual baby products that just shouldn't be. At left is the "Daddle," and at right is the "Po-Knee." Apparently the father's early role is very equine in nature.

But this is just the beginning. The other products are actually much more terrifying.

Thanks to jhoetzel for pointing this one out.

The father’s role so far seems to be just a glorified version of the schoolyard favorite, Follow the Leader*, which, contrary to the patriarchal stereotype, I embrace. This is something simple, something I can do. I once followed Chinese Vice President Xi Jinping through a cornfield for six hours. Why? Because it was simple, and I could do it.

While, the domestic version of Follow the Leader may involve fewer world leaders, the measure of success is surprisingly similar between the two forms. Victory is determined simply by the amount of following a single player will endure. And when that number of players drops to one (or starts at one, as in my case), the remaining participant is declared “Father of the Day.” If playing with political world leaders, the remaining participant is more appropriately declared “Martyr of the Day.”

Many of the preggies were far enough along to perhaps justify an absent companion. After enough of these checkups I can imagine becoming numbed by routine, and where there is routine there is a perceived unimportance. I’m sure the husbands had reasons for missing the appointments: work, kid hating, or maybe forced overtime at the kid hating factory. Despite the reasons, though, one fact remains clear: I am the greatest father in the world.

EDIT: Remained. Was.

Like too many great men of our time, when presented with a choice between maintaining the status I had so lazily acquired, and risking it all for potential gains otherwise, I chose the funnier option. After the examination, my wife stepped from the room, proudly walked back through the waiting area, and entered a separate laboratory office. She completed this entire journey with her pants left unzipped**, in what I contend was an animalistic approach at boasting that she is “with child.” Female Huntsman spiders accomplish this by filling their jaws with egg sacks. She insists otherwise; that it was a way of boasting that she is “with a jerk.” I’m not sure what that means.

This is sure to remain a constant battle in both this blog and in family life: play to the audience vs. play to the inherently funny.

However, the mere fact that I've begun this post, is probably a pretty good assurance that I'll dive into the subject matter.  However, I have to warn you, it is a touchy subject for some, if not all.

When I was growing up, sex and nudity were forbidden topics.  We never learned correct anatomical names, nor were basic bodily functions explained.  Sex was dirty, nudity was dirty, boundaries were unheard of.  When I was about 12 or 13, my dad took us into the garage for "the talk."  It was a full 22 words long.  "You guys have probably learned everything you need to know in the locker-room, so there's nothing I can really tell you."

And with that, he was back in the house and watching TV again.  My brother and I stood there looking at the floor.  He, probably too young to really know what that conversation was about; and me, thinking, "Dad, have you not realized how shy and introverted I am?"  I spent the next several years self-educating via dictionaries, encyclopedias, and Playboy magazines.

So, with this healthy foundation, is it any wonder I have had issues with sex and nudity.  On top of that, I was the shy kid that no one noticed.  If one of those popular, cute, friendly girls smiled at me (or even gave me the time of day), I was certain that she liked me.

Now it's not because I've continued to be sheltered, or have lived a prudish life.  Quite the contrary, I overcompensated for that sheltered childhood and did a little more self-educating.  But amazingly, I have an even more damaged view on the whole sex and nudity issue.  So, I'd like to delve into this subject, based on an event that happened to me yesterday.  Can I trust you?

As I was walking back to my motel, I received a phone call from the school board chair.  He wanted to fill me in on the meeting I missed.  To fill the time, and thanks to the marvels of wireless phones, I thought I'd walk down and see the old swimming hole: High Rocks.

When I arrived, there were two or three groups of mid-teen kids.  They were swimming, drinking, playing - you know, the High Rocks thing.  It doesn't seem that long ago that I was right there; but it doesn't seem that I was ever that young.

Just then, I look up, and across the river there was a group of 10 boys and two girls.  The boys had on shorts, but the girls were naked.  Twenty-five or so years ago, I would have been right there.  But I could swear that girls didn't get naked that easily - no matter how much beer we provided.

Several thoughts went instantly through my head, and none of them involved arousal.  Now, I'm an old fart dad and I have a little girl who will be a teen in less than 10 years.  And in my experience, boys and girls only get naked for three reasons: to bathe, to change clothes, or to have sex.

My world was rocked.  I stumbled up the hill trying to process these thoughts.  I reached a point a long time ago where I no longer find women under the age of oh, about 30, attractive.  So to me, these were little girls - plus, they were too far away to see anything.

Anyway, I don't have anything more than questions at this point.  I have no deep thoughts.  I have no point to make.  I don't even know where to go with this.

• Why would little 15 year old girls get naked with a bunch of clothed guys?

I used to be intrigued by any girl who would smile at me.  When a woman takes her clothes off in my presence, it generally signals some availability.

• Is this the way women look at it?

Now of course, I've been naked hot-tubbing in groups, and all those women weren't offering to have sex with me, but from a man's point of view, it is certainly in our heads.

• Do women not know what we're thinking?  Or do they; is that the allure?

As I finished my phone call, and on the walk back home, I became even more resolved to be a good dad, a good father, and a solid influence in my kids lives.  I know that my promiscuous past, certainly caused some additional heartache in my life and the lives of some of my former girlfriends.  I would like to do everything I can to help my kids avoid as much heartbreak as possible.

My availability (emotional, physical, geographical, and psychological) will help provide a solid foundation under my kids.  I'm hoping they can bypass some of the pain I experienced in my 20s.

• In the meantime, can someone please help me understand this event?

You see, McCain isn't the type to need to lie, or control when it comes to his masculinity. He probably doesn't need to visit whores with little black books in Washington D.C. and pray that the word doesn't get out. His machismo, American-style is already evident. Just read that book. It's got charm nonpareil, when you read about all his wild exploits. When we talk about McCain, we are talking about a MAN. And probably the biggest McMAN Washington has EVER KNOWN.

Isn't it time to realize that the generation we have all lived in is SEXUALLY EXPERIENCED. That's right. There may be some of you men who aren't, but, women know how to recognize a "leader of the pack" with balls when they see one. On the pages of a memoir, no less.

Men like John McCain don't treat American women like Democratic Men do. They don't make jokes about women, let stand up comedians defile them publicly, give the finger to them, and they certainly don't have questionable associations to other guys named Sinclair who did interesting things to them in limos. Do they? Nope.

Men like John McCain are breathtaking behind closed doors.

They are the type of men who always take responsibility for birth control too, just in case. Usually because they figured all of this out for themselves, or some older guy taught them about women early on.

In fact, I'd venture to guess that few men around Washington have a tenth of the experience a man like McCain has! He has that lost rare quality of not only being a gentleman, but also a maverick rogue...

Men like McCain are usually known for "doing the RIGHT THING" when it comes to the female sex. That's why, I think if Carly Fiorina has a little chat about what the current administration wants to enforce, read Politico on all this birth control nonsense, she is going to be straight with him. As any of us feminists would expect her to.

Now, why you ask?

Let me refer you to Ms. Magazine, and then you can have some sense of how the tail end Baby Boom women think! Do you have any idea how many votes this group represents? Millions. And, we can't stand Obama. That is why we wanted Hillary Clinton. She is sane. When it comes to Women's Issues.

What strikes me as funny is all the members of the Religious Right, right now. Like that Polygamy sect down in Texas. Losers. Men like that are sick, no? Really sick. My sense is they are the biggest weaklings sexually on earth, and frankly they ought to be punished for being such imbeciles, and for indoctrinating children into sick abusive cults.

A guy like McCain? He'd never stand for things like that, as an AMERICAN MALE.

Also, it would probably be fiscally prudent in a time when the job and housing market in America has been swept down the river to expect people would resort to sex for amusement, no? Except, there isn't any health insurance! So, how is GOVERNMENT going to pick up the tab for THE WELFARE STATE that not having access to BIRTH CONTROL is going to create? My sense is that the Republican Party must be thinking about these things because they don't believe in WELFARE in the first place.

So, in this election, who is the "girlie-man" and who is the "ladies-man."

McCain is the EXPERIENCED MAN. McCain is the MAN's man. Men like McCain don't need to take things like Viagra. Perhaps this is why he wasn't sure how to answer that question, publicly.

Men like McCain are Westerners. Their forte has everything to do with climaxes.

And now you are saying, but Valentine, do you mean there are actually men like that left on the face of this planet? My answer to you is yes.

The wimpy types? Right now they are hanging with the mayor of Los Angeles. His poor wife, no? Look what happened with that reporter, and his marriage! We laugh like the wicked, experienced, feminists we are at that one, knowing it's only a matter of time before we start reading about the breakup of NON-CAMELOT in a similar fashion, because -- it's bound to happen, especially with friends like that guy hanging around.

Latino men are going to recognize McCain's machismo. Just like American women do.

It's that simple.

Men like John McCain could teach all those poor little simpering, praying, sexless worms a thing or two about what real manhood looks like, couldn't he? As far as I'm concerned he doesn't have an equal in this respect in our Government right now. Why, even California's governor looks like a total pansy stacked up against McCain and what he is made out of...

This post has been bubbling around in my head since Father’s Day.

Do any other dads feel this way? I’m frustrated with the way I seem to always think of myself (or just my stuff) before my kid. I have two stories that seem to cement this in my head.

After a short afternoon playing in the park, Jack was walking back to the car with me, and tripped over his feet. He scraped his lip on the sidewalk, and blood started dripping everywhere. Instead of cradling him on my shoulder (like he needed), I was afraid I’d get blood on my shirt, and held him out awkwardly so it dripped on the ground.

What a schmuck (that’s what my journal says too)! How did I get hired for this gig anyway; valuing my clothes over the love my son needs.

The second time actually happened on Father’s Day weekend. Jack was working on a painting project for grandpas (red handprints and smears on bird feeders). Jack was freaked out after smearing the latex paint all over himself, and wanted to be held. We had the tub filling, but I had to transport him there. Instead of holding him close and taking him back, I grabbed his shoulders (upper arms) and held him out in front of me as I took him back to the tub.

Second time, what a schmuck!

What kind of a dad am I that I value my own crap over my kid? A shirt is easily replaced, that moment to comfort my child is not.

Am I the only one who struggles with this? How have you overcome it? What steps do you take to make sure your actions show you value your child(ren) more than your self or your stuff? I could really use advice on this.

No dice. I'm going with what I've got, at the risk you'll think me a misanthrope.

So it was six weeks long, once a week, for two hours per session. That's twelve hours of instruction on pregnancy, labor, delivery and early infant care. There was definitely some good information in there. But if I could teach the class to my former self of eight weeks ago, the whole thing would take about two hours.

I'll grant that kind of efficiency is impossible when you're teaching a diverse group of nervous people who are desperate for information. It's even less possible when half of them are morons.

I'll be upfront here - I'm not particularly patient when it comes to adult incompetence. I have high standards for the people with whom I associate during my free time. I prefer hanging with people who can sit in one place for 15-20 minute periods without feeling the need to be validated. Or people who, in the face of the specter of a growing human within their belly, think it might be a good idea to read a book about it.

The birth class was a strange experience, to say the least, and it wasn't really because of the subject matter. It was just an odd mix of students. Some were like us, and because they were like us, will escape my mean-spirited and unnecessary criticism. Thank you for conforming.

Others were just bizarre. There was one woman in the class who had to be corrected like seven times by the instructor because she kept referring to her uterus as her stomach. She raised her hand once just to let everyone know she was horrified by the notion that the baby would be swallowing the same amniotic fluid in which it urinates. In one of the later sessions, she asked if there was cable in the birthing room.

By that point, I immediately hoped with all my heart that she had a 48-hour labor where the TV was stuck on the Golf Channel the whole time.

Another woman insisted on starting all her questions with, "If my baby has to go to the NICU, would..." I mean, I understand if someone feels she in particular has a reason to be concerned. But that's what private conversations with your doctor are for - or even with the instructor after class or during one of the breaks. But there are 12 other couples in there she was unnecessarily freaking out. Debbie Downer much?

One of the guys in the class seemed to be from a military background, and I'd guess he was someone who does work where detail is highly important, like logistics or IT. He'd ask these 25-part questions that were clearly intended to be very comprehensive while showing his firm grasp of the terms and concepts. They were like a syllabus in themselves. Sometimes they'd go on for like a full minute. The instructor was really patient and realized she needed to tell him that he had posed good questions or he'd feel obligated to try again. I'd have interrupted him and told him he had a 1000 word limit. Actually I probably wouldn't have, because he looked like he could kung-fu my ass.

I felt really bad for one particular woman and her future child. Her husband obviously was the kind of guy that was a perfectionist and expected the same of her. We were discussing colostrum, which happens to be the most amazing substance known to man. It's the first milk after birth, and it contains not just nutrients but genetically personalized building blocks that seed your baby's immune system. The instructor had been using superlatives in describing this stuff because it's pretty much the best thing ever. For some reason, this jerk raises his hand and says, "How can my wife make her colostrum better? Like diet, or...?" That's like how can my wife do better than an A+? She looked worried. The instructor looked angry. She explained there was no way to improve something that was already perfect. He seemed unconvinced.

Then there was John Kruk Guy, who looked exactly like the former Philadelphia Phillies player and current ESPN analyst. He was well behaved but I couldn't stop staring. I decided he must be John Kruk's less talented brother. He was married to Open Mouth Breather Woman who was actually relatively pretty when she wasn't audibly exhaling peanut butter breath.

She had peanut butter breath because the instructor provided snacks during a break at the one-hour mark. This dimension was also fascinating.

The snacks were there for the moms, who need to keep their energy up. So that makes a certain amount of sense. I still wouldn't have served peanut butter crackers to a group of people in a poorly ventilated room, but hey.

But what was interesting to me is how so many of the guys loaded up their little pastel plates as well, or kept taking trips to the mini-cooler for 4 oz. cups of Crystal Light. What are we, seven? Just sit there for two hours and learn, damn it. Don't make it two and a half hours because you want to graze on a pile of Quaker Chewy granola bars or because you want to show people you are smart or because you require that every answer to every question be personalized to your precise situation.

That was the other one - the fake theoretical question. "What if your husband works from home mostly at night and kind of wants to feed the baby too but isn't sure when he should do it - also he likes the band Squirrel Nut Zippers and wants to name the baby Leia if a girl and Luke if a boy." I wanted to suggest divorce.

That was my overriding complaint really - the pace. I couldn't believe adults wanted to learn so slowly, or that they actually preferred sitting in a non-air conditioned room to their own homes just because there was access to M&Ms.

At the risk of sounding like an ass, some of the people in there were clearly the kids in high school who you only knew from gym and shop class. These were also the people who were most enamored with the birth class diploma we received at the end.

Some people actually love their birth classes and make a ton of friends. They have reunions and the like. I think we were just unlucky on the draw.

My advice to you is to try to attend one with another couple with whom you are already friends. The two couples like that in our class seemed to be having a much better time. The other thing is that I've heard there are classes that meet less often for longer - even one-time, 8 hour cram sessions. That would have been my preference, although I don't think my wife would loved that idea.

If I were designing the curriculum for one of these classes, I'd assign a book or packet to read and hold Q&A sessions on the assigned reading once a week. That was really all people wanted, I think - someone who would answer questions, no matter how dumb they seemed. And I would have been fine with the dumb questions if there were no other material we were trying to get through during the sessions. I think.