This just in: Dads aren’t dimwits.

I have noticed recently that Dads in the media are portrayed increasingly as dolts, dummies and dimwits. This post is going to attempt to alter the course of that nonsense.

How dare you!

As a single Dad to four teens, I have been the grounding voice of discipline, authority, wisdom and common sense in lives of my kids. I'm their Rock of Gibraltar. Now, I'm pretty damn far from perfect. But I can cook, I can clean, I am college educated and I'm the holder of all the highest high-scores in the family. I have the best jump shot and make the best omelet in the house. (butter, not oil).

Sit down, dummy. According to TV, women get the job done better.

So why does Hollywood, TV and advertising portray Dads as clueless dolts and dopey dudes who can barely tie their own shoes, know nothing about fashion and can’t boil a pot of water without their wife or girlfriend? Give me a brake! I'm the first to admit, women offer an amazingly diverse perspective on everything from raising kids to shopping to running a household. I cherish every suggestion my girlfriend has offered over the years. But that's not because I'm some doofus who wouldn’t be able to function without some woman telling him what to do. 

I know how to iron, I know how to tie a half-windsor, I know how to bake bread, I’ve made lobster croquettes and bake a mean lemon cake (yes with lemon-shards and ground vanilla). As a classically trained artist, I can paint, build furniture, organize color schemes and cook better than most women I know. So sorry Hollywood, I’m pounding an angry fist on the BS button on your views of men!

Double tuning the carbondifibulometer with a 3” torque ratchet… thingie. 

I played organized softball, volleyball, football and basketball. I bench-press a considerable portion of my 270+ pounds. I do indeed, enjoy watching sports. Pretty manly stuff, right? But lift the hood of an automobile engine, and you might as well be showing me the operating schematics to a rocket propulsion system. In arabic. Backwards. Upside down. In short, I'm lost. 

I understand (fundamentally) how internal combustion works. But that's as far as it goes. I know nothing, repeat, noting about cars. I did not spend time as a grease monkey, huddled under a hood or a cranked ’72 Chevy Bartooga (or whatever) learning why the chronic flan-ger-ator doesn’t syphon off properly. With today’s computer-driven cars and repair systems, this seems completely unnecessary to me. 

Dad or bust.

Given the mixed messaging from society and the media, men have an increasingly convoluted picture about what it means to be a man. Or a father. Actually its really quite simple. Mothers give a caring, nurturing and loving perspective to life. And so does a man. A woman can have patience, compassion and emotionally ground. And so does a man. What women CANNOT show a child, is what it means to be man. To be there, to be engaged, to be a stern voice of authority when necessary, to show both daughters and sons what manhood really means. To take care of business, problems and your family. 

So, Hollywood, take out your notepads. Anyone can lay down and make babies. The real test of manhood is to stand up and take care of them. Everything else is a careful mix of common sense, fear, intelligence, lede expereince and blind guesswork. We all trip, stumble and make mistakes. Just admit when you’re wrong, apologize for any mistakes and pain you have caused, hold your head up and persevere when you would rather quit. I don't need a woman to help me with any of that. 

So that’s what it means to be a father and to be a man, according to me. Its not easy but its pretty simple, right? That's because it.

P.S., For the record, my Dad was never around. Which taught me the #1 most important part of being a Dad. Being there. 

No plan B–Just Me.

As it turns out my Plan B… is me.

I remember having the 'Plan B' discussion with various, adults as I was growing up. "What do you want to be when you grow up?" was a favorite question of any Baby Boomer or adult I would meet. I was a pretty big kid, so I would always hear the same lame-o suggestions. "... what a big fella! You should be a football player!" To which I would reply, "... actually, I want to draw comic books." Which was THE BEST answer you could give because no adult had any frame of reference as to even how to respond. They would always expect something vapid and unimaginative like Policeman, Pilot or Plumber. Mostly jobs they either did or could relate to. [TIME OUT: If you are saying to yourself, 'hey, my Dad's a cop or 'Pilot's make lots of money' I want to applaud you for completely missing the point–you may click away here, it won't get any better from here forward].

Of course now–decades later–I have great answers I would LOVE to give my seven-year-old self. Like 'New Media Content Developer', 'Ad Agency Copywriter' or 'Digital Illustrator' (all positions I have held). I would give just about anything to watch those closed-minded, uninformed heads burst like watermelons on the pavement while trying to figure out what these answers even meant!

Later as I got older, it was evident I wasn't going into the NFL (especially since I really didn't play), the inane questions would cease, mostly because I had declared I was going to art school–and that was where the REAL fun would begin. "Well, that's all well and good, but if it doesn't work out, what's your 'Plan B'?"

Plan-B? What the heck is THAT?

"That's a back-up plan to your life–in case things don't pan out?" What the hell does 'things working out' have to do with my life ambitions? Even at age 11, I knew NOTHING in life went according to plan. Why would I have a 'back-up' plan? I didn't even have a primary plan fully figured out. A back up–what am I, a hard drive?

Look, we all do what we have to do to survive, some borrow money from wealthy parents, others mooch off spouses, some wear paper hats and super-size value meals, some manage hedge funds (whatever THAT means) and others sling rocks. Whatever you do, that is what you have decided is your best, most reasonable path to making a living. But YOU are the plan. What you do does not define who you are, it is simply what you do. Your "plan A" should be to become a success. Period.

Here's the steak: One of my sons wants to be a doctor. I told him he must do everything he can to stack the deck in his favor. You have to put the time in,"pay your dues" get great grades, research the best medical schools and so on. At age 11, he is already asking about Harvard medical school and has human anatomy flash cards.

Success means hard work (or the good fortune of having a wealthy family). I have found many are NOT willing to do what it takes to make their dreams a reality. To conceive of a "Plan B" means the of failure of Plan A is a possibility. At that point, you're lost. You must have a single, cyclopian focus on achieving success. Turns out, that can be much harder than most think. Only a single, driven focus will get you what you're after in life. Everything else is just bad advice.

Legendary east coast ad man, Ernie Schenck had a great dissertation concerning "Plan B". When asking his teenage daughter about her plans for college she shared she wanted to become an actress. He asked her about her plan B to which she replied: "Funny thing about Plan B, Dad. It's amazing how fast it can become plan A."

Amen, young lady. I couldn't have said it better myself.

There and back again... a Dad's journey

"What happens when we grow up?"

I asked this when I was nine years old and I don't know if the question ever got answered. I was an only child growing up under the watchful, loving eye of a single Mom. I don't know if I've ever understood adults. As it is, I only tolerate them now. Think about it; they're always grumpy, always angry at stuff like politics and unemployment, always telling us stuff that doesn't make any sense, like "if you eat your vegetables you'll grow up big and strong." What kid has THAT twisted goal?! Adults never watched cartoons, they couldn't run very fast and they never seemed to have any toys I ever wanted to play with.

Heck, they still don't.

So I made a decision, at age nine, to never truly "grow up." Now of course, I have to pay insurance, the cable bill, take sick kids to the emergency room so they tell me how useless my expensive insurance is and, yes, eat my vegetables. As of the posting of this, my very first e-blog-thingie, I think I've still managed to maintain a lot of my child-like (as opposed to childish) ways. I recently just turned 42. I still collect comic books, and I still read them. I still play basketball. I still make cooler space-ship sound effects with my mouth than any kid I know and I still hate going to bed early.

Now as a single Dad of four, things are a bit different. I never had siblings growing up so a multi-child household is a huge learning experience. My oldest, my daughter Jessica, is 13. Now every woman shakes her head when they hear that and say "...oh boy, you're in for it now." I don't know what they're talking about. She's cool, she's fun... albeit a little moody, but still one of my favoritest people. I also have three boys (yes, "My three sons" single Dad, the irony of it all). Ages 12 and twins 10. They're always fussy and fighting (mostly with each other), but I would play with any one of them if I was their age.

However, as cool as I may think the kids are, my job isn't to be their friend, it's to be their Dad. And that's where I had to learn to be the 'G'-word... a grown up.

Parenting is an adventure, for sure, you're never ready, from birth to having "the talk."But I embrace it, cherish it and I kick everyone's butt in Halo. So, if you've read this far, thanks. In the near future, I will be talking about family, TV, career, divorce, dating, the Avenger's Movie, the White Light, the best ways to waste an an entire weekend, boring kids, exciting adults, things that make you go Hmmm, and how Shake & Bake pork chops and Kraft Macaroni & Cheese is the dinner of champions! (Hey, if you want to talk about Granola and healthy eating, go start your own blog!)

I have had a decent little life. Got to be a kid for almost 42 years now. I did go to college, got married, divorced, watched soap Operas and went to Museums. Y'know, I did a bunch of adult stuff. Being an adult is over-rated. To me, it's kind of like Caviar. You hear about how wonderful it is and how it's a an amazing taste only for the "truly sophisticated". Then you try it and it sucks. I think weird, boring adults eat that stuff and make the rest of us try it as a gag. Because that's what it makes you do. I'll stick with the classics, my kids have taught me that! Go with what makes you happy, right? That's what I would do if I were nine. As for being an adult, you can have it. When it comes to being young at heart, I've been there and back again.