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Isn’t God good? We got some cloudy, murky news yesterday that left me muddled. We don’t have enough information to worry yet. But the mind tends to wander through potential – all of the worse-case scenarios. When I finally got home, I sat thinking, “I need a verse.” But nothing would come to mind. My mind was literally empty. Tabula Rasa. Clean slate.

God didn’t let me flounder long. He reached into the blankness nearly instantly through a text message of an old friend who was praying with us.

Cue the Led Zep, let loose some fragrant belches, drag your nose across your sleeve, and get ready to scratch something! It’s Car Day, YES! The manliness day of the year that doesn’t involve a chainsaw. YES! Line ‘em up – three cars, three oil changes and a brake job. YES! Can you just feel the testosterone surging?

I felt it yesterday – a perfect Saturday for Car Day. I drove to the auto parts store to get my supplies and surround myself with other manly men. I didn’t shower, I wanted some manstink. I plopped brake supplies and three jugs of motor oil on the counter, grunted a few times, and swapped tales of bravado with the snaggle-toothed clerk. Yes, a day for men, indeed.

I love working on cars but there are only about four things left I can do on today’s automobiles. If anything else is wrong, I can only raise the hood and say, “hmmmm” before calling a tow truck. But on Car Day, I get to use my limited knowledge (aided by YouTube) to be a master mechanic. I refuse wash my hands after. Even though Car Day plus one is Sunday, I leave the black gunk under my nails. When I shake the preacher’s hand, he’ll know: ‘That’s a car guy.’ Oh yeah.

I started with my truck, affectionately called the Blue Pearl.  After I drained it and changed the filter, I checked three times to make sure the plug was re-installed. I’m very diligent to check ever since the unfortunate day I poured ten quarts straight through the engine and onto the pavement. Yes, the plug was in this time. Car one complete.

Our van, Russell’s oil change went quickly. Next was Kevin, our oldest daughter’s car. I don’t like to drive Kevin, mostly because of the frilly, purple monogram on the back. Not so masculine. This would be my inaugural oil change on Kev. I surveyed the little white car, noticing just how narrow the gap between it and the ground. Man, it was low. All of the sudden, I remembered ramps! I have ramps and rarely get to use them. Car Day just got better.

I set the ramps at the edge of the concrete, inched Kevin up to them, checked their position, and proceeded to roll right over top of them. Uh-oh. Now the ramps lay wedged between Kevin and the ground with his front wheels dangling in the air. That’s bad.

I’ve heard of superhuman strength caused by adrenaline rushes in life-or-death situations. Maybe that would work here. I spit on my hands and rubbed them together before lifting  just because it looks tough when they do it in old movies. Abject humiliation must not qualify as a life-or-death situation because I couldn’t make it budge. I gave up and let it sit there a few hours while I pondered. A neighbor’s garage jack came to the rescue.

My machismo waned mightily. Don’t tell the guys at the auto parts store, but I decided to bag it and go to Quicklube where a young man with a tattoo of Charlie Brown shooting himself in the head changed my oil.

“Nice decal,” he chuckled as he wrote down the license plate number.

“Just change the oil,” I replied gruffly, hoping to salvage a slice of manhood.

He complied and descended to the pit underneath me. “Dude, where’d the yellow come from?” he asked when he discovered scratches left by my ramps.

“Crap,” I mumbled. I hadn’t noticed.

“No, it ain’t crap,” replied Charlie Brown’s killer, wiping at the marks. “That’s like, paint. It ain’t coming off. But how’d it get down here?”

“Just change the oil, Dude…”

Man, I’m sick of cars.

Tom Selleck owes me an apology. Anyone my age knows the unobtainable standard he set for a teenage boy just coming into maturity. Why, do you ask, am I seeking contrition from him?

Good looks? No.

Suave disposition? No.

All the ladies? No…well maybe.

I’m talking about the hair…his stinking perfect hair.

When all of the girls had a picture of the Magnum PI in mind, how could any of us real boys measure up? Curly coiffure, bushy mustache, chest hair, leg hair… There it is! Leg hair. Recently, smooth has become stylish and I would have been perfect for this new generation. But that isn’t my generation. When I was in high school and college, the girls wanted hair and lots of it. Hair I didn’t have.  Well, that’s not absolutely true. Science should study my leg hair because it is translucent like that of a polar bear. It’s there, just not to the naked eye. It only shows up if I have a deep tan, which is near impossible for someone of Swedish/Germanic descent. Undaunted, I went to the pool, laid out, and held my legs just right so that passing females might possibly get the proper angle to spot a few strands.

As a freshman in college, I went so far as to purchase a tanning package. I donned little glasses and laid on top of the plastic surface to bake. And bake I did. Remember the shorts Magnum used to wear? Not long like they are today, 80′s shorts came way up on the thigh. Hoping my tan would expose leg hair from the top of my leg to my toes, I even pulled them up higher. Oh yeah, I got burned in very sensitive areas. It hurt for weeks and didn’t help my hair stand out whatsoever.

We all have physical characteristics we would rather minimize or hide completely. Just the other day, I was talking with a friend who told me her 10 year-old daughter E had been called fat by another girl. My heart sank. Her sweet little girl is now self-conscious about something as irrelevant as my smooth legs. She is active and isn’t overweight in the least, but also isn’t waif-thin like so many women our society seems to put on a pedestal. Such a tragedy.

I want so much for her and other little girls to see what truly matters about themselves instead of what is fleeting.

Your beauty should not consist of outward things … Instead, it should consist of what is inside the heart with the imperishable quality of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is very valuable in God’s eyes.

That’s what is important. I hope my daughters know that. I pray little E learns that too. We have to tell them they are beautiful and keep on telling them until they understand. That’s how God sees them.

◊

So Tom, whenever you are ready, it has taken 25 years, but I am finally over your provocation and prepared to accept your apology. It’s been a long time coming.

Photo credit to Alan Light

When our children were younger, I used to love taking them in the truck with me to run errands. With so many kids, the trips were a necessity and provided rare one-on-one time with whichever child agreed to go. I loved it right up until one unfortunate ride with my youngest. Here is text from that fateful trip.

Dad, drivers have all kinds of signs don’t they?

Yes, there are road signs to tell us when to stop and how fast to go.

No, that’s not what I mean. I mean drivers have signs they give…with their hands.

Sure, they wave to each other after one lets the other in front of them. That’s a kind thing to do.

Yes, but what does this mean? (giving me the perfect one finger salute)

Where did you see that? (Spoken calmly so she wouldn’t adopt this as a favorite gesture) 

That man over there did it. Did you let him in front of you?

No, that means I must have done something wrong and he was telling me about it.

What did you do?

I don’t know, maybe I cut him off or he thought I drove too close to him.

Do you use that sign?

No, honey, I don’t use that sign.

Does Mommy?

No, Mommy doesn’t use that sign.

What if Mommy does something wrong, would you do that to show her? (Once again, saluting me in the mirror)

No, we would never use that sign to Mommy. It isn’t a nice sign.

Oh. So we shouldn’t use that sign?

No, we shouldn’t use that sign. (she examines her finger wonderingly)

How about we listen to the radio?

Okay! I like the radio.

(I fumble through the dial and settle on a station where the song quickly yields to a woman’s voice)

Women, do you suffer from low libido… (frantic push of the search button)

Daddy, what’s a libido?

Um, I think it’s an animal found in darkest Peru.

Like Paddington?

Exactly.

I’ve never heard of it in his books.

Maybe we haven’t gotten to that one yet.

Why is it low?

I don’t know, Sweety (how is this kid hearing every stinking thing? New station)

Men, listen to me. erectile disfunction is a serious problem… (FRANTIC PUSH as I fall victim to a conspiracy of the evil gods of radio)

Daddy…

…Er…How would you like to go to McDonalds for a chocolate milkshake?

YAY!!!!  McDonalds!!!! 

But it’s almost lunchtime. Will it be okay with Mommy?

Baby, if all Mommy hears about from this trip is the milkshake, I’m in great shape.

◊

Photo Credit: By JPRoche (Own work) CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)

When our children were younger, I used to love taking them in the truck with me to run errands. With so many kids, the trips were a necessity and provided rare one-on-one time with whichever child agreed to go. I loved it right up until one unfortunate ride with my youngest. Here is text from that fateful trip.

Dad, drivers have all kinds of signs don’t they?

Yes, there are road signs to tell us when to stop and how fast to go.

No, that’s not what I mean. I mean drivers have signs they give…with their hands.

Sure, they wave to each other after one lets the other in front of them. That’s a kind thing to do.

Yes, but what does this mean? (giving me the perfect one finger salute)

Where did you see that? (Spoken calmly so she wouldn’t adopt this as a favorite gesture) 

That man over there did it. Did you let him in front of you?

No, that means I must have done something wrong and he was telling me about it.

What did you do?

I don’t know, maybe I cut him off or he thought I drove too close to him.

Do you use that sign?

No, honey, I don’t use that sign.

Does Mommy?

No, Mommy doesn’t use that sign.

What if Mommy does something wrong, would you do that to show her? (Once again, saluting me in the mirror)

No, we would never use that sign to Mommy. It isn’t a nice sign.

Oh. So we shouldn’t use that sign?

No, we shouldn’t use that sign. (she examines her finger wonderingly)

How about we listen to the radio?

Okay! I like the radio.

(I fumble through the dial and settle on a station where the song quickly yields to a woman’s voice)

Women, do you suffer from low libido… (frantic push of the search button)

Daddy, what’s a libido?

Um, I think it’s an animal found in darkest Peru.

Like Paddington?

Exactly.

I’ve never heard of it in his books.

Maybe we haven’t gotten to that one yet.

Why is it low?

I don’t know, Sweety (how is this kid hearing every stinking thing? New station)

Men, listen to me. erectile disfunction is a serious problem… (FRANTIC PUSH as I fall victim to a conspiracy of the evil gods of radio)

Daddy…

…Er…How would you like to go to McDonalds for a chocolate milkshake?

YAY!!!!  McDonalds!!!! 

But it’s almost lunchtime. Will it be okay with Mommy?

Baby, if all Mommy hears about from this trip is the milkshake, I’m in great shape.

◊

Photo Credit: By JPRoche (Own work) CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)

Although outwardly it may appear that I am in full possession of my life’s reigns, I’ve come to realize that I control very few things besides my attitude. Most events occur around me while I jab at the air to try to influence their outcome. Like a giant game of cornhole, I throw the bean bag in the air, lean left, hold my tongue just right, and hope it goes in the hole. To give my analogy an Olympic flair, I’m swishing a broom violently in the hopes of pushing the stone to the left. I think we are all very reactionary in how we approach life because the demands of family, creditors, employers, government (and the list goes on) dictate most of our schedule.

I enjoyed my college philosophy classes, but remember nothing except my professor who had spindly legs supporting a massive belly. His poor knees creaked and cracked as he paced around the room. I’m sure he would say my theory is some type of classic Plato “–ism” where we are sitting back watching our lives on screens, only able to choose between limited outcomes.

Don’t overestimate my depth. I’m not philosophical at all. I only know that I have no choice in many things – even in my house. But at home, at least I am the Sadistic Overlord of Technology! Don’t you love the title? I gave it to myself. I should probably put it in bold. The Sadistic Overlord of Technology. If anything remotely technological doesn’t work the way one of my family hoped it would, I am to blame. I get blame, ergo, I get the title.

Take, for instance, our printer. It was one of the first wireless printers and worked perfectly for a long time. It still works fine…for some of us. Three of us have Windows 8 and it seems to like that OS. But it gave up trying for Windows 7. My wife and oldest daughter have Windows 7. I have updated the drivers and tried everything I know to do. But when they push print, it will print no more than one page before it dies. Usually it prints about half a page, violently spits the paper onto the floor, and goes into some form of cleaning mode that makes them scream in frustration. Since both are night owls, this nearly always occurs after the Overlord has gone to bed.

My attitude when awoken to fix the printer is where the word Sadistic got added to my title. I’m not much help after I’ve gone to sleep – part by mental capacity and part by groggy choice, I admit. The help desk is closed! I come out of the bedroom like Jack Nicholson poking his head through the door in The Shining – “Here’s Johnny!”

We’ve been dealing with this for a while and I’ve been dragging my heels on getting a new printer. I guess in some way, my sub-conscious sees this as one thing I can control. As you can imagine, there are ripple effects – mainly in attitude towards the overlord.

Come to think of it, control can be a dangerous thing…

Anyone have a recommendation for a wireless printer?

Photo credit: Jack & some cool app on my iPad

The List goes on.

Unending…Daunting…Disheartening

Until I reach a breaking point…

My dismal attempt at poetry? No, just my mind reeling after I read an email this morning. It is build weekend for our high school thespians and once again, I didn’t see everyone else take a step backwards when they asked for a volunteer to lead the charge. Actually, I love being around the kids (who call me PartyMark) and having a small part in the production. This is my fifth build and we’ve done some incredible shows.

Legally Blonde

Moon Over Buffalo

Little Women

The problem is that when I’m meeting with the director about the task at hand, she shows me the large pieces and that’s where my mind stops. She keeps telling me about the other things they will need and I hear Charlie Brown’s teacher, “wapwapwa-wa!” So after finishing the three big pieces yesterday and feeling quite smug in the accomplishment, I got an email with a 20 item list of things to do today. TWENTY! I nearly lost it and decided to do what I always do when I get stressed, go for a run.

When my toasty skin hit the cool air outside, I got a mild skin irritation in an unfortunate location. I figured it would go away, but it didn’t. At the top of my street, I was so distracted with it that I turned right toward the hilly 6-mile course instead of left to the flat 4. The sun rose above the tree line in front of me as I scratched. At first I tried to be discreet and wait for times when there were no cars around. But after a couple of miles, I quit caring. The unrelenting butt-itch won – for the moment.

At about mile four, something funny happened. I guess I didn’t hit my usual run playlist and some songs from the shows the girls have done streamed through my earbuds. They weren’t the best running songs, but they took my mind off the butt-itch and made me focus more on why I’m doing the building than the list. For me, it’s about the kids, specifically my daughters.

We all have lists. Sometimes they are unrelenting butt-itches that won’t seem to go away. I have to remember why I have the list and be grateful that I have the wherewithal to accomplish it. I keep up with Caringbridge posts from a friend who is watching her husband struggle with a brain tumor. He would love to have my list. I take my health for granted too often.

Today, I’m going to go to church, worship well, then hammer out 20 things – one at a time.

How are you going to attack your list?

The List goes on.

Unending…Daunting…Disheartening

Until I reach a breaking point…

My dismal attempt at poetry? No, just my mind reeling after I read an email this morning. It is build weekend for our high school thespians and once again, I didn’t see everyone else take a step backwards when they asked for a volunteer to lead the charge. Actually, I love being around the kids (who call me PartyMark) and having a small part in the production. This is my fifth build and we’ve done some incredible shows.

Legally Blonde

Moon Over Buffalo

Little Women

The problem is that when I’m meeting with the director about the task at hand, she shows me the large pieces and that’s where my mind stops. She keeps telling me about the other things they will need and I hear Charlie Brown’s teacher, “wapwapwa-wa!” So after finishing the three big pieces yesterday and feeling quite smug in the accomplishment, I got an email with a 20 item list of things to do today. TWENTY! I nearly lost it and decided to do what I always do when I get stressed, go for a run.

When my toasty skin hit the cool air outside, I got a mild skin irritation in an unfortunate location. I figured it would go away, but it didn’t. At the top of my street, I was so distracted with it that I turned right toward the hilly 6-mile course instead of left to the flat 4. The sun rose above the tree line in front of me as I scratched. At first I tried to be discreet and wait for times when there were no cars around. But after a couple of miles, I quit caring. The unrelenting butt-itch won – for the moment.

At about mile four, something funny happened. I guess I didn’t hit my usual run playlist and some songs from the shows the girls have done streamed through my earbuds. They weren’t the best running songs, but they took my mind off the butt-itch and made me focus more on why I’m doing the building than the list. For me, it’s about the kids, specifically my daughters.

We all have lists. Sometimes they are unrelenting butt-itches that won’t seem to go away. I have to remember why I have the list and be grateful that I have the wherewithal to accomplish it. I keep up with Caringbridge posts from a friend who is watching her husband struggle with a brain tumor. He would love to have my list. I take my health for granted too often.

Today, I’m going to go to church, worship well, then hammer out 20 things – one at a time.

How are you going to attack your list?

By Simone Frizell Reiter

According to Statistics Norway, around 10,000 children under the age of 18 in Norway experience divorce every year. These numbers do not take into account non-married couples that split up. Therefore, in reality far more children experience parental separation.

Status of knowledge

Focus has been on the adversity of parental divorce, emphasising the support and safety an intact family gives. The child may experience conflict, neglect or parental alienation, and insecurity about who belongs to the family. Not only the separation itself but also the period preceding and following the divorce may disturb the child’s well-being. Several studies show that parental conflict, that may be harmful to the child, is perpetuated even after the divorce. However, other studies show that when the parents are able to reduce the level of conflict after the divorce, the divorce is not exclusively negative if the child is moved from a family situation with conflicts to a more harmonious one. Society’s attitude toward divorce has changed as divorce has become more common. Prejudice and stigma are less pronounced. A natural assumption is therefore that mental problems related to divorce are also reduced. However, more recent studies conclude that adults, who experienced divorce in childhood, have more mental health problems than adults from intact families.

Divorce and reduced parental contact are closely linked. Children with loss of parental contact after divorce report more mental health complaints compared to children with preserved contact. Lack of attention, support, and economic insecurity may explain some of the negative effects of a parent’s absence. However, even when provided with at step-parent after divorce, these children report a lower level of well-being than children with preserved parental contact. Biological parents therefore seem to be of particular importance. Regular and frequent contact with both parents after divorce may also reduce the potential harmful effects of parental absence as seen in sole-custody households. Parental support is an important, independent risk factor to children’s sense of achievement and well-being. It is shown that as children’s relationship with their fathers weakens after divorce, they also lose contact with paternal grandparents and stepfamily.

Studies show that when divorce is followed by strong conflict, children may be used as a weapon between the parents. In such conflicts contact with one of the parents may be limited or brought to an end. The child is forced to ally with one of the parents, and suffers from the psychological stress this causes.

What is the concern?

Family law in Western societies generally aims at preserving dual parental contact for the child after divorce. This is also the aim of the Norwegian legislation. The Norwegian Child Act states that the parents may come to an agreement on where the child should primarily reside. However, if the parents cannot agree on this, the court has to decide which one of the parents the child should stay with. In practical life this has, in most cases, been the mother, while the father has been reduced to a weekend parent. Due to this, the experience in Norway is that when it comes to loss of parental contact, children of divorce primarily lose contact with the father. This effect is in some cases strengthened by the primary caregiver intentionally sabotaging the other parent’s visitation rights. To prevent this, the Norwegian legislation has sanctions, but these are very rarely used. A suggestion has been to introduce shared residence as a preferred solution after parental divorce, and that parents who sabotage this agreement may get restrictions on their contact with the child.

Most parents choose to take an active role in their child’s upbringing, and only a small group is absent, either by choice or circumstances. Therefore, social benefit systems have built in mechanisms to compensate the lacking of the absent parent by high financial contributions to sole providers left alone in charge. The downside of these benefits is that one of the parents can gain financially on monopolising the contact with the child and in some cases the sole provider actively sabotages or reduces the other parent’s contact, only to gain financially. This mechanism is strengthened by the Norwegian child maintenance system, where the level of economic support is linked to the amount of time spent with the child. Parents who share the custody in equal parts do not pay any child maintenance to each other. The combination of the systems has turned many fathers in to “child maintenance machines” because the mother would lose so much financially, sharing the custody of the child with the father. The benefits therefore undermine the aim to gain shared custody, and deprive the father of the possibility to have a close relationship with his child.

The concept of “parental alienation syndrome” is used to describe the condition where the child is alienated against one of the parents. If the government wants the children’s voice to be heard in custody conflicts, they must take into account that the child is already involved in a process of demonization and slander of one of the parents. From the literature, we know the term folie à deux. The government should be careful not to act in a game that can be characterized as folie à troi (madness shared by three).

In practice, it is difficult to have an equal amount of contact with both parents unless the child lives in two places equally. What is important to consider is whether advantages of maintaining a close relationship with both parents outweigh the disadvantages of having to change residence, for instance every week or every second week. Equally shared legal custody is not the same as having the child living in two residences fifty-fifty.

The experience is that the Child Act’s intention of parental agreement on a solution of custody between equal parties does not work. This is because the court, when presented the case, is legally bound to choose a single residence and almost exclusively chooses the mother.

On the basis of this knowledge it is important that the government puts effort in protecting the child’s right to have contact with both parents. This work must be as unprejudiced as possible. It is not acceptable that we continue with a practice in which the legislation allows the systematic favoring of one part in conflicted divorces.

Simone Frizell Reiter is a PhD candidate in the Department of Clinical Medicine at the University of Bergen, Norway, and the author of the paper ‘Impact of divorce and loss of parental contact on health complaints among adolescents’, which appears in The Journal of Public Health.

The Journal of Public Health aims to promote the highest standards of public health practice internationally through the timely communication of current, best scientific evidence.

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Image credit: Divorce and child custody. By Brian Jackson, iStockphoto.

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The Shape of the Eye by George Estreich

Review by Chris Singer

About the author:

George Estreich’s collection of poems, Textbook Illustrations of the Human Body, won the Gorsline Prize and was published in 2004. A woodworker, fly-fisherman, and guitar player, he has taught composition, creative writing, and literature at several universities. He lives in Corvallis with his wife Theresa, a research scientist, and his two daughters, Ellie and Laura.

About the book:

When Laura Estreich is born, her appearance presents a puzzle: does the shape of her eyes indicate Down syndrome, or the fact that she has a Japanese grandmother? In this powerful memoir, George Estreich, a poet and stay-at-home dad, tells his daughter’s story, reflecting on her inheritance — from the literal legacy of her genes, to the family history that precedes her, to the Victorian physician John Langdon Down’s diagnostic error of “Mongolian idiocy.” Against this backdrop, Laura takes her place in the Estreich family as a unique child loved, like her sister, for everything ordinary and extraordinary about her.

My take on the book:

Occasionally I come across a book in which I struggle to find the right words to describe it in my review. There’s a variety of reasons I think for this. As a stay-at-home and work-at-home dad, sometimes it’s just plain fatigue. Other times I almost feel that anything I say won’t do the book the justice it deserves. George Estreich’s The Shape of the Eye is a perfect example of the latter reason.

On it’s most simply expressed level, I can definitely vouch that the book is extraordinary. Written and researched over the course of a decade, Estreich gives readers a touching and poignant perspective of life with a child with special needs. But it’s more than that. It’s a parenting book I would not hesitate to recommend to any parent, whether they have children with special needs or not (although I’m of the school of thought that ALL children have special needs, but I digress).

The Shape of the Eye is also an account of the history of Down Syndrome. Personally, after almost a decade of work with children with developmental disabilities, I was a bit embarrassed that I didn’t know the correct term is indeed Down and not Down’s Syndrome. I also didn’t realize I would have quite a visceral response to just reading the term “mongoloid” as it would almost make me sick to my stomach to think of the stigmatization associated with a word like that. Estreich provides readers with a look at how far society has come in dealing with individuals diagnosed with Down Syndrome, and while doing that inspired me to reflect on my own personal preconceptions, prejudices and attitudes about family, ethnicity and especially the “inheritances” I carry within me.

I think it’s important to note that my hope for readers is that they will appreciate The Shape of the Eye for another reason: because it comes from a dad. I think other dads, whether they have a child with a developmental disability or not (see my comment above), can especially appreciate Estreich’s search for answers and explanations as well as his sharing of the impact it’s had on his marriage and daughter Ellie. As readers, we’re done an incredibly service here and Estreich is to be commended for his courageous storytelling and for sharing his family with us.

Perhaps my biggest takeaway from the book wa

Dad and Pop: (An Ode to Fathers & Stepfathers) by Kelly Bennett (Illustrated by Paul Meisel)

Review by: Chris Singer

About the author:

Kelly Bennett is the author of many books for children, including Not Norman: A Goldfish Story. About Dad and Pop, she says, “My children, Max and Lexi, and the loving relationship they have with their fathers inspired this story.” Kelly Bennett lives part-time in Houston, Texas, and part-time in Jakarta, Indonesia.

About the illustrator:

Paul Meisel is the illustrator of many books, including Harriet’s Had Enough! by Elissa Haden Guest and What’s the Matter in Mr. Whiskers’ Room? by Michael Elsohn Ross, among many others. About Dad and Pop, he says, “Creating this book brought to mind a quote from the Dalai Lama I once read: ‘Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries.’” Paul Meisel lives in Newtown, Connecticut.

About the book:

I have two fathers. I call this one Dad, and this one Pop.

Dad is tall and wears suits. Pop is bald and wears boots. Dad’s into gadgets and Pop’s into plants; one paints on easels, the other on walls; and they certainly don’t share the same taste in music! In this funny, affectionate ode to fathers and stepfathers, a young girl explains that while Dad and Pop may seem completely different, in one crucial way they’re exactly the same — they both love her.

My take on the book:

I’ve been remiss in not having enough books on the site about stepfathers so when Candlewick Press sent this along with another book I request to review, I knew it was something I wanted to review.

As the title says, Dad and Pop is a wonderfully written and illustrated ode to fathers and stepfathers. I like how the story shows both the differences and the similarities between Dad and Pop with the similarities essentially being how much they both care for and love the little girl. I enjoyed seeing the little girl being doted on by both her Dad and Pop – an important thing to see in any family and little girls reading the story will enjoy seeing this as well. My favorite scene was during the soccer game when both dads are on the sideline cheering their little girl on.

This is a really nice book showing a beautiful and positive portrayal of a blended family. I really like the focus on the dad and stepfather as well. I would have to do a little research but I would guess this is very unique to see in picture books about blended families. I would recommend this for blended families as well as teachers and counselors who might be working with kids struggling to adapt to family changes such as having a new stepfather or stepmother.

Daddies Are For Catching Fireflies by Harriet Ziefert (Illustrated by Cynthia Jabar)

Review by: Ryan LaLonde

About the author:

Harriet Ziefert began her career as a teacher, then entered the publishing field where she developed a language arts and social studies curriculum for kindergarteners. For the past 25 years she has been writing books for young children. As an author, her main focus has been to create age-appropriate content, in an age-appropriate format — content that considers kids’ emotional and intellectual development together.

Harriet has written more than 200 children’s books and is currently the Publisher of Blue Apple Books and the Publisher of Begin Smart Books. She also created the “I’m Going to Read!” series for Sterling Publishing.

About the illustrator:

Cynthia Jabar lives on a small island off the coast of Maine where she loves to paint, to kayak, and to illustrate books for children. Other books she’s illustrated include The Greatest Gymnast of All by Stuart J. Murphy and Mommies are for Counting Stars by Harriet Ziefert. She doesn’t love washing her car or the dishes!

About the book:

Daddies do so many terrific things. A daddy always gives you the best seat at the parade, he reads you bedtime stories, and he tries his best to fix your toys when they break (even if he doesn’t always succeed). Filled with soft, beauti-ful watercolor artwork and lilting text, this lift-the-flap book about all the great things fathers do is perfect for young children.

My take on the book:

Many years before our son was born, we spent a great deal of time playing with our nieces and nephews in Memphis, Tennessee. I’d create games like I Spy and kickball – basically anything I could think of doing in the backyard. As day turned to night, hordes of fireflies began to appear. As I pointed the bugs in the air – the kids seemed amazed – as if they had never seen them before. When I told them they could actually catch them like I did when I was their age – they bolted for the house to find anything that could catch them in. The containers they choose were outlandish, pots and pans, plastic bags and a school backpack.

I went in the house and grabbed the cliché Mason jar for the perfect vessel. To them I was a genius. I explained this is best and to make sure to put holes in the lid. We then began the task of catching them. The art of graceful catches was lost on their eager hands. We lost many fireflies that night. But the ones that survived the trip to the jar were perfect.

We piled into a closet inside, with the filled jar. The eight of us crammed in small coat closet was worth it for the firework display we watched. The kids never saw anything like it. And

The Manwife Chronicles: As Pantless As I Want To Be by David Kaa

Review by: Chris Singer

About the author:

David brings over 746 days of experience in unemployment. There he has been responsible for sorting sock drawers, and making sure his kids don’t go to school with their shirts tucked into their underwear.

Prior to that, he did a bunch of stuff in marketing but, apparently, wasn’t very good at it. Because it always ended with him standing in the driveway, holding a cardboard box with that dead plant he’d been trying to resurrect the past six months.

David then went on to launch an initiative to perfect the afternoon nap, and write about his findings on TheManwifeChronicles.com.

David resides with his wife and two kids in Albuquerque, which looks something like a cross between the face of Mars and a cat’s litter box.

About the book:

Over six years ago I relocated from Boston to Albuquerque, which resembles something between the face of the moon and a cat’s litter box. I went from the intellectual center of the universe to a cleaner version of Mexico. It’s an understatement to say that things are a bit “different” from the Northeast. Actually, A LOT different. Darn close to ass backwards.

After a year of interviewing with every mom and pop laundry map, taco stand and fly by night company, I finally landed a job as Marketing Manager. However, things didn’t work out so well and after three and a half years it all came to an end. Now my worst nightmare has come true – unemployed in the desert without even a tree tall enough to hang myself from. That’s when I discovered the Internets to keep my sanity.

One day, in the course of a Twitter conversation, I posed a stupid question. Not surprisingly, I get a stupid answer, and it was funny. So every day I’d post a random question. Every day I would think up some stupid question, and repost some of the best answers. Questions ranged from “Uses for a throw blanket,” to “Things not to say in an interview,” and anything my unemployed mind could think up in between.

This is a collection of those posts… that I have made funnier. As well as given you the correct answers.

My take on the book:

I stayed up later than I should have last night thinking I would start this book and read a bit before going to sleep. Instead, I finished it all in one sitting while having a few too many laughing fits in the process — resulting in me getting banished to the couch to finish reading.

The author deserves a lot of credit. When you’ve been unemployed for 435 days and counting, it’s got to be hard to keep not just your sense of humor, but also find a way to keep your creative juices flowing as well.

The book is a success

Pop Culture: Politics, Puns, and Poohbutt from a Liberal Stay-at-Home Dad by Bill Campbell

Reviewed by: James Rohl

About the author:

Bill Campbell is the author of two novels, Sunshine Patriots and My Booty Novel. He has also been a music critic and published his own zine, Contraband and a music trade publication, CD Revolutions. Currently, he lives in the DC area (missing his beloved Cleveland Park) with his wife and daughter.

About the book:

Two years ago, Bill Campbell (author of My Booty Novel and Sunshine Patriots) decided to stay home with his newborn daughter and write a new novel. Of course, as every parent can guess, it didn’t quite work out that way. As “Poohbutt” went from crawling to taking her first steps and as presidential politics turned into one historic election, Bill turned the chaos around him into an iconoclastic, incendiary blog, Tome of the Unknown Writer. Pop Culture compiles the best that the blog has to offer into an entertaining, witty collection that will have you laughing out loud and loving the day Poohbutt had her first solid meal.

My take on the book:

After deciding to stay at home with his new daughter, affectionately named Poohbutt, and write a novel Bill Campbell became so worked up over the news coverage of Obama playing the ‘Race Card’ in the 2008 Presidential Election that he created a blog and wrote a response. That response starts this collection of essays. Along with that first post, originally posted on his blog Tome of the Unknown Writer, Campbell goes on to cover a wide range of topics from politics to the zenith of the hip hop in the 80′s, parenting to pop culture and he does it with wit and candor and an unmistaken powerful voice.

The beauty of this book is that you can pick an choose where to start and stop, if you get your fill of the politics you can move into the hilarious stories of Poohbutt, his daughter he is raising as a stay at home dad. After a story or two on parenting you can move right back into an essay like Cold Case: The Hip Hop Saga where he pictures what the CBS show would do with unsolved rap murders. Politics are always close by in these essays and it is where Campbell shines. If you are wary of too much politics in your daddy blog than this is one to stay away from but I found his posts interesting, enlightening, and always entertaining.

Fatherhood – Philosophy for Everyone: The Dao of Daddy by Lon Nease (Editor), Michael W. Austin (Editor), Fritz Allhoff (Series Editor), Adrienne Burgess (Foreword)

Reviewed by: Dad of Divas

About the Editors:

Lon Nease is a Ph.D. student in the Philosophy department at the University of Cincinnati. He holds a M.A. in Philosophy from the University of Kentucky where he studied phenomenology and existentialism. Nease has published on post-Kantian ethical theory. Michael W. Austin is an associate professor of Philosophy at Eastern Kentucky University. His primary interests are ethics and philosophy of religion. His books include Running and Philosophy (Wiley-Blackwell, 2007), Conceptions of Parenthood (2007), Football and Philosophy: Going Deep (2008), and Wise Stewards (2009). Fritz Allhoff is the Series Editor of the Philosophy for Everyone series. He is an Assistant Professor in the Philosophy Department at Western Michigan University, as well as a Senior Research Fellow at The Australian National University’s Centre for Applied Philosophy and Public Ethics.  In addition to editing the Philosophy for Everyone series, Allhoff is also the volume editor or co-editor for several titles, including Wine & Philosophy (W