← Older posts

Newer posts →

Dating Dad: Rabbit Stew

Posted on October 11, 2011 by Family Man

By Eric S. Elkins 

Simone and I have had pretty much the same bedtime routine for most of her life. It goes something like this:

1.  She gets ready for bed (“brush face, wash teeth, jammies on”) while I make her some Yogi Bedtime Tea

2.  She crawls into bed and I lay beside her, bedside lamp on, and I read a chapter of some epic novel to her (voices and all), while she drinks her tea out of a sippy cup

3.  I find a place to stop reading, she grouses about “one more page,” and then I turn out the light

4.  She sings the sh’ma, a very important Jewish prayer, and then we snuggle for a few minutes before I kiss her head and leave her to her slumbers

Many, many months ago, I decided it was time for us to read “The Hobbit” together. It took at least a month or two to get through. But we both loved it so much, we went right into the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy without even taking a break. After we’d finish each book, we’d watch Peter Jackson’s movie version.

Little did I know that this foray into Middle Earth would turn from a nighttime routine into a lifestyle decision for my daughter.

I wrote recently about the nascent geek goddess living in my house, but I didn’t explain just how deeply Simone loves the world created by Tolkien — not just the film versions, which were so well-wrought, but the books themselves. She re-read “Fellowship of the Rings” at least three times this summer, crafted her own hobbit tunic from a large T-shirt and fabric markers, and has even taken to reading the many pages of the appendix at the end of our collection — pages and pages of Middle Earth minutiae that she can recall at will. This includes the pronunciation guide, the backstories of several characters, and even some of the history of regions in the fictional world.

So it was Simone who brought it to my attention that September 22 was mentioned as both Frodo and Bilbo the hobbits’ birthdays in the novels. And she was the one who figured out the crazy coincidence that we would most likely finish the last book in the trilogy on that exact date! In fact, Simone had some specific ideas about how she wanted to celebrate her favorite characters’ birthdays.

And, once she told me what she had in mind, I knew I really had no choice but to make it happen. I mean, how could I deny a real-life celebration of the end of our literary adventure, especially when the date was so propitious?

So, the week before the big day, I started researching recipes. The day before, in spite of an unreal amount of work on my to-do list AND a speaking engagement at a local Tedx gathering (video to be posted soon), I found myself driving across the city to find the special ingredients I needed. Exhausted from a full day, after we read the penultimate chapter in the novel and Simone was settled in bed, I stayed up late making Lembas cakes (the elven food our heroes ate on their long journey).

After I woke Simone up early the next morning (and she opened the little elf leaf clasp I ordered for her, to wear to school that day), I made her an omelet with three kinds of mushrooms (she loves, loves, loves mushrooms, and so do the characters), and packed the Lembas in her lunch, wrapped in paper towel “leaves.” Once I dropped her off at school, I came home and taught myself how to make rabbit stew with ‘taters (another staple of Samwise Gamgee and Frodo Baggins).

We walked through the door that evening, a comfortable rustic scent of sage and thyme filling the house.

We filled our hobbit bellies with savory rabbit stew and fresh bread before starting our bedtime routine. And we finished “Return of the King” that night…the last chapter takes place on September 22, so it was all very lovely and poetic. For Simone, it was the perfect culmination of our time reading the book together. For me, it was a gesture of devotion; creating happy, memorable experiences for my little girl.

Friends and Twitter peeps who learned of my efforts were generous with their kudos — they saw me as a wonderful father who was creating lifelong memories of dad/daughter experiences for my little girl. And I appreciated those words of support. But I also couldn’t help wondering if I’d gone overboard; if I had taken on too much, more than I should have, considering how over-committed my life is right now, with work and my community organization and obligations and everything else. Was I spoiling my girl at the expense of my own well-being?

No. I don’t think so. Because making Simone smile, and feeding her passions (whether it’s dinosaurs or monotremes or geek lit) is good for her development and supremely satisfying for me.

Which got me thinking about something else…I just might make a kick-ass boyfriend someday.

Because being the kind of dad I am — one who goes to great lengths to identify and create opportunities for growth and joy for my daughter — comes from being a good listener. I know how to do fun stuff with and/or for Simone because I pay attention.

I’m betting that I’ll be able to do the same thing for a grown woman, too — I’m already in the habit of listening and scheming and coming up with little details and big surprises, so why wouldn’t that translate to a grownup relationship?

Actually, I know I have it in me already, because as early as the first date with someone I like, I’m listening for preferences and passions. Before the first kiss good night, I’m already thinking about gestures both grand and goofy that would make her smile. If it’s one of the rare occasions when I’m being smart, I’ll keep these ideas to myself until a later time when it would be appropriate to share. But…well…I think it’s established that “appropriate” is not an adjective that resonates for me very often.

But it’s interesting to wonder if being a father is also preparing me to be a better partner. Some women I’ve dated over the years have opted to not stick around because they wanted to be the number one person in my life. They didn’t relish the idea of sharing me, or knowing that I put Simone first. But there have been many more who saw my dedication to my daughter as a positive thing — a promise of something good that ran deep in me.

But what if it’s even more than that? What if my daily challenges and struggles (internal and external) to become a better father are actually strengthening my ability to sustain an adult relationship? What if my intention around raising Simone could make me a better spouse some day?

That’s some exciting stuff to think about.

I also learned this summer that having someone around who pays attention to me and the things I love and am interested in is pretty fulfilling, too. But that’s a story for another time.

Eric Elkins’ company WideFoc.us (http://widefoc.us) specializes in using social media and ePR strategies to develop constellations of brand experiences, delivering focused messages to targeted segments. He’s also the author of the young adult novel, Ray,Reflected. Read more of his Dating Dad chronicles at DatingDad.com , or tell him why he’s all wrong by emailing eric@datingdad.com.

Posted in Books, Dating Dad, Divorced Dads, Featured Moms & Dads | Leave a comment

What Dads Need to Know: The Long Ride Home

Posted on September 11, 2011 by Family Man

By Laura Diamond

The following is an excerpt from the journal about Laura Diamond’s cross-country experience with her husband and kids. You can read her entire travel journal at her Web site, linked below.

Moving from Stowe to Burlington, Vermont, meant moving up in population size from 5,000-ish to 40,000-ish. Like astronauts acclimating to earth’s gravitational pull after time in space, we were visiting increasingly larger places so that Los Angeles would not crack us upon re-entry.

Burlington, a bustling college town with views of Lake Champlain, was a boon to our license plate game.  Students gearing up for the start of classes at University of Vermont came from all over the country — Washington, Tennessee, Iowa, even California. Church Street Marketplace, several pedestrian blocks of stores and restaurants, was reminiscent of Santa Monica’s 3rd Street Promenade, minus the buskers. We walked along the bluffs of Lake Champlain, and could all but convince ourselves we were on Ocean Avenue looking at the Pacific Ocean, but for the minor fact of New York’s Adirondack mountains in the distance.  Our adjustment process was progressing.

Until we visited Shelburne Farms, a 1400-acre working farm, national historic site and nonprofit environmental education center located on the shores of Lake Champlain, which welcomes guests to milk a cow, gather eggs, watch cheese being made, and enjoy food grown on its grounds. Two steps back toward small town goodness.

We left Burlington loaded with goodies from Shelburne Farms’ gift shop – wine, maple syrup and chocolate – to enjoy and share with friends and family who would be hosting us on our path. We decided to skip Boston and gratefully accepted an old friend’s invitation to visit her in Amherst. It had been nearly twenty years since we’d seen each other. Among other things, one of the highlights of this trip was the chance to renew friendships, and inaugurate new ones between our families.

The next day, racing against Hurricane Irene’s arrival, we aimed to arrive in Washington Crossing, Pennsylvania in time for dinner. The route we chose was, nonetheless, along a path less taken.

Forgoing speed, we charted a course through Redding, Connecticut in order to visit the setting of My Brother Sam is Dead, a book we were reading to delve into American revolutionary history while in that neck of the woods. (Teacher extraordinaire Mr. Miguel Espinoza had pointed the way to GoogleLitTrips.com, which pointed the way to the places in the book, as did Redding’s own town website).

Despite initial griping, Aaron took the helm of the camera, and documented the places from the book, including gravestones of the real people we were reading about.

We continued on smaller roads, through New York towns like Chappaqua (of Clinton fame) and Tarrytown (of Washington Irving and Sleepy Hollow fame), crossing the Hudson at the Tappan Zee Bridge. We arrived in Washington Crossing in time for dinner with grandparents, aunt, friends and dogs, and hunkered down for Hurricane Irene. When the coast was clear, we bade farewell and set off to complete our journey.

The boys could smell home, just two days away. They’d had it with history. With sightseeing. They were done. But we had two days, and the wealth of potential activities in Washington, DC tormented me. How could we choose? Bicycle tour of the monuments; visiting the new Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial; tour the Bureau of Engraving & Printing to see money being made, the International Spy Museum?! These were all on our list of want-to’s. But time ran out, and they’ll be on our list again next time.

We decided to venture past Washington, D.C. (okay, we accidentally went to Virginia while looking for parking near the National Mall – my fault), to visit the home of George Washington in Mount Vernon, and historic Alexandria, Virginia.

I’m still not sure how I feel about Mount Vernon. On the one hand, I was curious to see how the first President lived, see the faded wooden floors where he stood, the chair where he sat, the bed where he died. On the other hand, I was sickened by imagining the horror of being enslaved there, as I walked on the same paths as the human beings he dominated to keep his house painted, his chamber pots cleaned, his family well-fed and pampered. I looked at the massive stately tomb of the most revered American, knowing that paces away nearly 300 slaves were buried without so much as a gravestone.

So, that was fun.

We lightened things up later that afternoon in Alexandria, eating crepes outdoors by the Town Hall, cruising the Potomac, and browsing some of the 62 artists’ studios at the Torpedo Factory Art Center. We drove our rented Chevy over cobblestone roads past charming brick buildings. I soaked up the other-ness of it, anticipating the mini-malls and wide avenues of L.A. in my future.

The following day, our last full day of this summer adventure, we spent with friends at the Newseum, a gleaming treasure trove of history and temple to the First Amendment.

Here’s a place I could visit again and again. The kids were enthralled by “the Death Tower,” one of the checkpoints the museum had imported from East Berlin along with sections of the Berlin Wall. They listened with astonishment as to its purpose — for guards to see and then shoot fellow citizens trying to escape to the other side — and noted that the West side of the wall was painted with murals and graffiti, the East side was dismally blank.

In another exhibit, I listened to a radio report of Jesse Owens winning four gold medals at the 1932 Berlin Olympics, then watched Tom Brokaw reporting the fall of the Berlin Wall. Everyone had a chance to try their hand as TV news reporters, joining their cross-country friends.

And then it was over.

We boarded an airplane headed for Los Angeles. On my right, the kids watched a Harry Potter movie for the tenth or twentieth time. On my left, Christopher read a magazine. In the middle, I typed these words. When we pulled up to the California grandparents’ home, they were waiting for us, along with the cousins and sister we’d missed more and more every day.

Everything is as it always was.

Thanks for reading.

Laura Diamond is the mother of two (frequently healthy) boys. She is the editor of the best-selling anthology  Deliver Me: True Confessions of Motherhood, and is now at work on her first novel. Read more of Laura’s essays at Laura Diamond Writes On…

Posted in Activities With Kids, Featured Moms & Dads, Travel, Traveling With Kids, What Dads Need to Know | Leave a comment

What Dads Need to Know: Helping Kids Learn from Mistakes

Posted on August 9, 2011 by Family Man

By Dr. Marilyn Price-Mitchell

As adults, we all know that making mistakes is part of life.  What’s important is how we learn from them.  Yet, many children are growing up in a society that pressures them to be perfect – to get the highest SAT scores, to land prized scholarships, to get into the best universities.  Some parents complete or correct children’s homework to get them a better grade. So how does all this focus on testing and perfection affect kid’s learning?  And how can we help them learn from mistakes?

I recently came across an article in Scientific American, Getting it Wrong: Surprising Tips on How to Learn that supports a number of learning and developmental theories.  Historically, many educators have created conditions for learning that do not encourage errors.  And parents have followed suit.  For example, if we drill children over and over again with the same math problem, they will eventually remember the answer. And if they are lucky, they will remember the answer on a standardized test.

This approach to learning assumes that if students are allowed to make mistakes, they will not learn the correct information.  However, recent research shows this to be an incorrect assumption. In fact, studies have found that learning is enhanced when children make mistakes!

Whether it involves homework, developing friendships, or playing soccer, learning is enriched through error.  Learning from mistakes is part of how kids are challenged to learn to do things differently. It motivates them to try new approaches.

Carol Dweck, a professor at Stanford, studies the importance of challenging children, even if they get things wrong.  Her research shows that praising children for their intelligence can actually make them less likely to persist in the face of challenge.  She and her colleagues followed hundreds of 5^th grade children in New York City schools.  One group was praised for their intelligence while the other group was praised for their effort.

When the 5^th graders were challenged with an extremely difficult test designed for 8^th graders, a surprising result occurred.  The students who had been praised for their effort worked very hard, even though they made a lot of mistakes.  The kids praised for being smart became discouraged and saw their mistakes as a sign of failure.  Intelligence testing for the kids praised for their effort increased by 30% while the kids praised for their intelligence dropped by 20%. I’ve written before about the value of specific rather than general praise in relation to developing character strengths.  It’s the same concept — and an important one.

Expressing Unconditional Love

I will never forget a ParentNet Meeting I facilitated when my daughter was in 8^th grade.  One father in the group, a business executive with Microsoft, asked the other parents, “How do I let my daughter know that I still love her even if she makes mistakes?” There was a brief silence. Then someone said, “Have you ever told her?”  Another silence. Then tears came to this father’s eyes.  “No,” he said, “I haven’t. But I will now.”

That moment of simple realization was profound for all of us. Do our kids really feel that our love is dependent upon being a perfect student?  I’m sure we all went home and reinforced this message of love to our kids – just in case it wasn’t already loud and clear!

Children make many kinds of mistakes – some are simple and some are more complex.  For example, some mistakes, like forgetting a homework assignment or not studying for an important test, have expected consequences. Others like lying, cheating, or actions that negatively affect friendships, have more complicated causes and are more complex to remedy. But all mistakes contain seeds of learning.

Learning from Mistakes: Ten Parenting Guidelines that Foster Positive Youth Development

• Acknowledge that you don’t expect them to be perfect.
• Let them know your love is unconditional, regardless of their mistakes or lapses in judgment.
• Don’t rescue children from their mistakes. Instead, focus on the solution.
• Provide examples of your own mistakes, the consequences, and how you learned from them.
• Encourage them to take responsibility for their mistakes and not blame others.
• Avoid pointing out their past mistakes. Instead, focus on the one at hand.
• Praise them for their ability to admit their mistakes.
• Praise them for their efforts and courage to overcome setbacks.
• Mentor them on how to apologize when their mistakes have hurt others.
• Help them look at the good side of getting things wrong!

©2011 Marilyn Price-Mitchell. All rights reserved. Reprinted with permission.

Dr. Marilyn Price-Mitchell is a developmental psychologist and researcher.  A mother, stepmother, and grandmother, she is founder of Roots of Action where she brings evidence-based research on youth development to popular audiences.  She writes a column for Psychology Today, The Moment of Youth. She is president of the National ParentNet Association, a nonprofit organization devoted to building parent-school-community partnerships that help kids succeed in school and life.  Connect with Marilyn on Facebook, Twitter or at www.mpricemitchell.com.

Posted in Adolescence, Child Development, Featured Moms & Dads, Values, What Dads Need to Know | Leave a comment

What Dads Need to Know: The Labors of Dad

Posted on July 7, 2011 by Family Man

By Laura Diamond

So the Family Man asked me to offer the world of fathers some words of wisdom – what should dads know? I consider the question — I confess I come up blank. It is hard enough to know what I should know. But Family Man was asking, and I needed an answer.

I decided to go to the source. I asked my husband. I began by buttering him up. “I can’t think of anything useful, because you’re so perfect.” He saw right through me, scoffed, snorted and rolled his eyes. But then, proving my point, he gave me the perfect prompt: “Tell them Dads should know what labor pains feel like.”

No doubt. Let’s back up a week. Last Sunday, 2 a.m., I awoke to find my husband not in bed. We’d already been up many nights that week with our six-year-old son Emmett suffering from a stomach virus. Now Emmett was sleeping through the night again – but where was Christopher? I got out of bed, stepped lightly downstairs, and whispered his name. “In here,” he groaned. I found him on the living room floor, prone and writhing. “I think I need to go to the hospital.” He may have had the same old virus as Emmett, but he had a new appreciation for the kid’s mettle.

I drove him to UCLA/Santa Monica E.R. They hooked him up to an I.V. and gave him drugs. Not strong enough. “Give him morphine!” I begged, channeling Shirley Maclaine in Terms of Endearment.

I watched him reeling with the pain, unable to be still, leaning over the hospital bed, body swaying, unable to focus on anything but the pain, and an unbelievable thought occurred to me: he looks like he’s in labor.

He said something to that effect to the nurse, a young woman who probably hadn’t yet experienced the joy of childbirth. But holding the torch for the sorority of womanhood, she verbally knocked him down without a thought: “No. Nothing compares to labor.” My husband dutifully apologized for the breach. It’s like denying the Holocaust, or uttering certain unmentionable words: It’s just not done.

I wanted to come to his defense. I wanted to tell her, “You know what? I’ve had two babies, and I’d give this man an epidural if I could.” But she was the woman in charge of his I.V. I didn’t want to piss her off.

We came home, morphine in his veins and vicodin prescription in hand. He had a new appreciation for what I’d experienced 10 and 7 years ago with the birth of our sons (without the benefit – or responsibility – of a baby at the end of the experience, of course.)

And me? I have a new appreciation for what he gives us every day. He is usually the life of our party. But thanks to this punk virus, his bright light is dimmed. He’s tired. He’s uncomfortable. He’s not himself. We all feel it. The kids ask him to play baseball, go on bike rides, and he has to decline. The energy in the house is gone. We miss him. We’re waiting for him to come back.

So what should dads know? They should know they matter in every family moment. They should know the zing they add to a morning, making breakfast and riffing on the Sports page. They should know that no matter how mommy-centric their kids might be when it comes to sharing hugs or secrets, when he’s down for the count, the joyfulness fades palpably. Dads should know that they deserve some down time to get rested and revived. Dads should know that their families are rooting for them to get their groove back. Dads should know how much they mean to us.

Of course, it doesn’t hurt to know about the labor pain. Just don’t tell a woman you hurt that much. It’ll get you nowhere. 

Laura Diamond is the mother of two (frequently healthy) boys. She is the editor of the best-selling anthology  Deliver Me: True Confessions of Motherhood, and is now at work on her first novel. Read more of Laura’s essays at Laura Diamond Writes On…

Posted in Featured Moms & Dads, Humor, Marriage, What Dads Need to Know | Leave a comment

Trends and Realities of Fatherhood

Posted on June 8, 2011 by Family Man

By Dr. Jenn Berman

This generation of fathers is very different than previous generations. In fact, a whopping 80 percent of fathers today want to take a more active role in parenting than their own fathers did. In addition to being more involved, modern dads consider their families to be more of a priority than ever before. Studies show that three out of four fathers consider family to be the most important aspect of their lives and more than 70 percent of married men ages 21 to 39 report that they would be willing to give up a portion of their pay to be able to spend more time with their wives and children.

Why Some Dads Face Barriers

Often, men find more impediments to being an involved father than they had expected. Sometimes new moms are ambivalent about handing over their newborns, even to their own husbands. Many moms feel such a strong bond with their babies that they have a hard time sharing that crucial bonding time — even with their husbands. Other mothers worry that the new fathers won’t know what to do or will accidentally hurt the baby.

Clearly, the only way for men to learn how to be a good parent to their babies is through experience. Unfortunately, few men have good role models guiding them in what a 21st century active dad looks like. Most men don’t share their parenting struggles and joys with one another and are therefore left in the dark. Job demands are probably the most common obstacles that most men face and, whether by choice or by necessity, only one- to three-percent of men take advantage of paternity leave. It is still uncommon enough that paternity leave is frequently unpaid, employers discourage it, and there are concerns about being put on the “daddy-track.”

Despite all of these obstacles, most men today realize that there is no more significant moment in a man’s life than when he becomes a father. Frequently, the responsibility, shift in identity, and sheer power of the love involved is overwhelming. How do you make that shift? What can you do to be a better father? How can you help your child grow to be a healthy well-adjusted person?

How a Child Benefits from a Father

The greatest gift you can give as a father is to have a healthy loving relationship with your child. Because that relationship is their first relationship with a man, it becomes the template for his/her relationships with men for a long time to come. According to a report by the National Fatherhood Initiative, father love (measured by children’s perceptions of paternal acceptance/rejection and affection/indifference) was as important as mother love in predicting the social, emotional, and cognitive development and functioning of children and young adults. Having a loving and nurturing father was as important for a child’s happiness, well-being, and social and academic success as having a loving and nurturing mother. It has also been shown that children with involved, loving fathers are significantly more likely to perform well in school, have healthy self-esteem, exhibit empathy and pro-social tendencies, and avoid high-risk behaviors such as: drug use, truancy and criminal activity compared to children who have uninvolved fathers.

How You Can Demonstrate a Grown-Up Relationship

Modeling a loving relationship with your spouse is another great way to be a super dad. The absence of familial hostility is the most consistent correlate of child adjustment, whereas marital conflict is the most consistently reliable correlate of child maladjustment. This is not to say every fight with your spouse is going to harm your child’s well being. Quite the contrary. Constructive marital disagreements may be a positive influence, teaching children valuable lessons about conflict expression and negotiation.

The problem occurs when there is consistent anger, hostility, and discord in the home. If this is something you are experiencing in your own home, I implore you to explore marital therapy. If you cannot do it for yourself or your spouse, do it for the sake of your child. A better relationship between the parents can foster a better relationship with the child. Research shows that fathers in close, confiding marriages have more positive attitudes toward their three-month-old infants and toward their roles as parents than did fathers in less successful marriages. The same studies showed that mothers in close confiding marriages were warmer and more sensitive.

Why You Should Respond to the Individual Child

Really listen to your child. It is easy to make assumptions or projections onto our kids or to zone out after a long day or to stop listening altogether. This is one of the most important skills you have in your arsenal. Feeling seen, heard, and understood by primary caregivers is one of the foundations of a child’s self esteem. In addition, sensitivity or the ability to evaluate a child’s signals or needs and respond appropriately is crucial to both involvement and closeness. Many of the studies dealing with paternal influences show that the closeness of the father-child relationship, which is itself a consequence of sufficiently extensive and sensitive interactions, is a crucial determinant of the father’s impact on child development and adjustment.

Why You Need to Be More Than a ‘Tall Friend’

In order for kids to feel a sense of safety and security, they need consistent rules and boundaries from their parents, especially their fathers. Too many parents today are overly concerned with being a friend to their child or being liked than they are about being good parents. Children do not need tall friends. They need a world where there are consequences to their actions and boundaries for their behaviors. They will always try to test you to see if you will bend. But deep down inside, children are comforted by parents who create a structured family life and maintain a consistent stance about discipline.

There is no job that is more difficult than being a parent. The pressure to do the right thing and be a good role model is immense but the rewards are out of this world.

Dr. Jenn is a licensed Marriage, Family and Child Therapist in private practice. She is the author of the  bestselling books Superbaby: 12 Ways to Give Your Child a Head Start in the First 3 Years and The A to Z Guide to Raising Happy Confident Kids. She has been writing her monthly parenting column “Dr. Jenn” for over seven years. The column is printed in Los Angeles Family Magazine and five other parenting magazines every month. Her column the prestigious Parenting Publications of America award in Parenting and Child Development. She also writes a parenting column called “Insight” for a new national parenting magazine called PB&J. She has appeared as a psychological expert on hundreds of television shows including The Oprah Winfrey Show, The Today Show, The Tyra Banks Show, Showbiz Tonight, and FOX News. She has been heard on various radio stations and is currently hosting a series of two hour specials on Sirius-XM’s Cosmo channel. Dr. Jenn lives in Los Angeles with her husband and twin daughters. For more information on Dr. Jenn go to www.DoctorJenn.com.

Posted in Father's Day, Featured Moms & Dads, What Dads Need to Know | 2 Comments

Dating Dad: Rock

Posted on June 8, 2011 by Family Man

By Eric S. Elkins

Even before I was a father, I daydreamed about sharing the things I loved with my kids. I mean, what could be better than introducing your child to the joys of your life? I reveled in the idea of sharing amazing foods, books, music and other experiences with my offspring. And when Simone was barely a mass of cells, I’d sing to her mother’s belly whenever I had the opportunity — kid-friendly songs, ballads, and the Sh’ma; a prayer that Simone has known by heart her entire life.

I’ve written about the ways having my girl with me has enhanced my life, and if you’ve been paying attention, you probably noticed that one of my greatest joys is sharing experiences with her — watching and learning as she interacts with new things in her world. Sure, there’s the innate pleasure in watching her face as her brain processes new inputs, whether it’s foreign currency or duck fat fries — the moments when she first saw Big Ben and then the Eiffel Tower, her eyes wide, mouth open, iconic clichés suddenly real and wondrous, are treasured memories for me.

But the larger satisfaction that comes from sharing new things with Simone is in her appreciation of the things I love. I’ve never pressured her to like what I like, but she is the child of two geeky, sci-fi-loving, pop culture-addicted parents, so she’s kind of wired to appreciate the cerebral, the outlandish, the edgy. 

Simone never asked to listen to Justin Bieber or Hannah Montana. But she will request some Arcade Fire, maybe a little Decemberists, and always They Might Be Giants.  In our house, there’s plenty of Dave Brubeck, and at the age of three, Simone would ask to hear Ella Fitzgerald in the car. When she was six or seven, I took her to an off-the-radar Flogging Molly concert (another favorite, for both of us), and she danced with abandon backstage to their Irish-infused punk raucousness.

So when I bought two tickets to see U2 in Denver a full 18 months ago, I always knew Simone would be my preferred date at the stadium spectacle. We were disappointed early last summer when it looked like we’d need to sell off the tickets because of our trip to London, but then Bono threw out his back and the tour was postponed (sad for him, good for us). The rescheduled date is almost a year after the original one, but it’s coming up this weekend. Simone’s never seen an effects-heavy rock show. She has no idea what she’s in for. I feel so very lucky that I get to be there when the giant stage explodes with music and energy and she gets swept up in the majesty of it all.

I am starting to feel a little uneasy, though, about shaping Simone into an unabashed geek wonder.

See, sometime last year, I found out from a friend that the hoary old TV series SeaQuest DSV was available on Netflix Instant, and I thought it would be fun to watch with Simone. I had no idea that she’d be immediately enthralled, and would want to watch one episode after another. But the more we watched, the more I would laugh and say, “This is just Star Trek under the sea.”

Simone became very curious about this Star Trek of which I spoke, so we started out by checking out random episodes of the original series and The Next Generation (aka TNG) that I’d sweep up on the DVR. The old show was a bit too dark and cheesy for her tastes (though she did laugh through a few episodes), but, damn, she took to TNG right away, immediately loving the characters and story lines. That enthusiasm gave me the impetus to break into the DVD sets I’d been hoarding for years — when I used to write movie, book, and video game reviews, companies would send me tons of products. In that time, I managed to collect boxed sets of every season of the original show and its late ‘80s reboot. I’d been reluctant to break through the shrink wrap and desecrate what could be a small eBay fortune, but the thought of making our way through the mythology together season by season was much more exciting than maybe selling the set off for a few hundred bucks some years down the road.

For a time, Simone didn’t want to watch anything else except for the next episode of Star Trek. She abandoned Top Chef All-Stars, lost interest in reruns of Phineas & Ferb. It was Star Trek or…

…well…this is where I have started to feel a little guilty…

…because if we weren’t watching Star Trek on TV, Simone would beg for us to read J.R.R. Tolkien together. I know. I know.

Although Simone plows through massive novels on her own, we have a special ritual of reading together every night at bedtime. When I introduced her to “The Hobbit” (which her mother told her was boring) I wasn’t sure how she would take to it. But the story is so exciting, the writing so descriptive and rich, and the characters so lovable that Simone couldn’t get enough of the book. We didn’t even stop to breathe before we dove into the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy, immersing ourselves into the warm glow of Middle Earth and embracing “Fellowship of the Ring,” reading it aloud together at every opportunity; less TV, more curling up on the couch or in a sunny patch on the carpet digging into chapter after chapter. I’d read, different voices and accents for different characters, until my voice was ragged.

And, oh, when we finally finished the first book and I decided she was ready for Peter Jackson’s epic film version, we were both giddy with excitement. For me, it was all about experiencing Simone’s wonder at the loving manifestation of the novels — to be with her when she saw Ian McKellen’s Gandalf for the first time, or the meticulous creation of The Shire, the home of her beloved hobbits. Or — and this was so incredible to see with her — the appearance of the fire-winged balrog in the depths of the Mines of Moria. By the time the credits were rolling, Simone was a sweaty bundle of exuberance. In the same breath, she said it was the best movie she’d ever seen and could we get reading the next book in the trilogy.

At school these days, she and her pals play “Lord of the Rings.” Simone walks through the world with a Frodo name tag, a homemade necklace with a yellow clay One Ring, and…um…a sword wrought of pipe cleaners. 

Oh crap. What have I done?

Simone is her own person, and I would never want her to feel obligated to like something because I do. I want her to develop her own tastes and preferences. Did it break my heart when I realized she may never love roller-coasters? Sure, a little bit. But I’d rather she became a media-savvy consumer of art and culture — of the stuff that appeals to her at a cellular level — than a clone of her father. And I don’t want her to become so geeked out that she can’t communicate with the normals.

So her enthusiasm for Star Trek and Lord of the Rings gives me pause. In the midst of the deep satisfaction and pleasure I have when she asks me to re-read a beautifully crafted description in “The Two Towers,” I feel just the slightest pang of apprehension. I realize I need to give her the tools to feed her passions (as I’ve always done), but maybe to step back, too, a little more often now, as she navigates her tween years, and see what happens without my steady curating.

The good news is that, next school year, she’ll be surrounded by her tribe — creative, quirky students and teachers who will fill her receptive mind and heart with a diversity of perspectives. And music. And books. And movies. She’s headed into a fecund time of exploration, and I’m thrilled to see what new passions she brings home to share.

Who knows…maybe she’ll feel a surge of pride and excitement when she introduces me to some treasure for the first time, and I’m the one with a giant smile on my face.

Eric Elkins’ company WideFoc.us  specializes in using social media and ePR strategies to develop constellations of brand experiences, delivering focused messages to targeted segments. Read more of his Dating Dad chronicles at DatingDad.com , or tell him why he’s all wrong by emailing eric@datingdad.com.

Posted in Books, Dating Dad, Divorced Dads, Featured Moms & Dads, Film, Music, Single Fathers, TV | Leave a comment

What Dads Need to Know: Overabundant Gushing

Posted on May 4, 2011 by Family Man

By Laura Diamond

It was a Sunday, filled with the promise of flaky warm croissants and bursting red strawberries. We walked toward the Farmer’s market in town, my younger son Emmett concentrating mightily on bouncing a ball. New and delicate stuff, this dribbling. The ball got away quickly; two or three bounces then he’s chasing it into the bushes. But he had decided that he liked basketball, and he was determined to figure this out.

I watched him retrieve the ball from the neighbors’ newly-planted pansies, and my every cell vibrated with the effort not to scoop him up, squeeze him and tell him he’s scrumptious. But I controlled myself.

I wish I had controlled the next impulse, which was to innocently bestow encouragement and praise: “You’ve really improved in basketball!” 

At once his face darkened and his spirit shriveled. He stopped walking, dropped the ball, crossed his arms, stared daggers at me and said through red teary eyes: “You hurt my feelings.” He resumed walking, but without the bounce and joy from before. “I wish you weren’t my mom. I wish you weren’t alive.” His words didn’t cut me nearly as much as knowing the depth of the hurt I’d caused him. 

Parenthood is too powerful; it’s so easy to screw up. With one well-intentioned sentence, you can shift a morning, change the hue of a day, sear an indelible memory. When I was a teenager, my dad used to joke whenever he’d do something odd or possibly irritating, “This isn’t going to send you to the psychiatrist’s couch years from now, is it?” I can still see his impish smile and hear his voice as he asked the question. Only now, through the lens of parenthood, I think I hear a pleading behind the laughter: “Please say I haven’t messed up too badly; please say you’ll weather my mistakes.”

When I was a new mother, with one fragile infant in my charge, I attended a weekly parenting class with religious devotion. Between sessions I’d collect my questions and concerns, desperate to have wise Tandy Parks weigh in. I still carry her advice with me, most of it embedded deeply in the whirls of my brain. But one piece of wisdom resides in the accessible upper reaches of gray matter. It is this: Children don’t need perfect parents; they need “good enough.” She was letting us off the hook for the mistakes we’d all make.

As for Emmett, there was nothing I could do or say to take back my unintentional wound. Only the sight of his older brother Aaron waving croissants from across the street lured him from his melancholy. Sampling the strawberries and oranges on the farmers’ tables took his mind off our sorrowful walk. By the time we headed home, arms laden with fresh goodies, I hoped he had forgotten. 

His face was calm as we neared our house. And then we got to the fateful square of sidewalk, next to the pansies, and he was reminded of what was said there an hour earlier. He stopped walking, his face fell, crushed anew by the memory of my words. Then he spoke, his voice a quiet mix of understanding and regret. “It’s okay that you said that, Mom.” 

I don’t know in what sense he meant it was okay. Okay, he forgave me? Okay, he’d still let me play with him, read him books, kiss and hug him as much as possible? Okay, he’s willing to overlook my flaws? Willing to accept his own? I knew better than to push for an explanation. I was just glad that he was talking to me again. 

A week later, walking home from school, he heard me tell the mother of two little girls racing past us in matching sparkly sneakers that they were “so cool.” His steady voice down by my hip said, so quietly that I had to ask him to repeat it, “How come you never say that me and Aaron are cool?” 

This can’t be. I am an effusive mom! I am, aren’t I? 

“I don’t?” I leaned down and asked him. 

“No.” 

He needed me to lay it on thick. “Well, I think you’re the coolest ever. Amazing and awesome and cool and wonderful. And I love you so much.”

And so he reminded me, again and again, that the little moments that constitute our days—the ones we don’t think twice about—are rich with meaning. Tonight at bedtime, after stories and kisses and hugs, I wished them sweet dreams and asked, “Did I tell you enough times today that I love you?” They sighed and rolled their eyes, but I saw the glimmer of contentedness on their faces as they relaxed into their pillows. I give thanks for the child who told me he needed more than I was giving. I give thanks for the teacher who said it is okay to make mistakes. I give thanks for parents who worried about the effects of their own mistakes. And I am a convert to the religion of overabundant gushing; I’m praying that too much will be enough.

Laura Diamond is the editor of Deliver Me: True Confessions of Motherhood, a collection of true stories about motherhood “that enlightens and inspires, evoking tears, laughter and, most of all, the YES of recognition.” More of Laura’s essays can be read at Laura Diamond Writes On…

Posted in Featured Moms & Dads, Parenting Stress, What Dads Need to Know | Leave a comment

Dating Dad: My Parents

Posted on May 4, 2011 by Family Man

By Eric S. Elkins

April always brings a kind of fraught loveliness for me. It’s a mixture of joys and pain all wrapped up in the teasing buds and blooms and snowflakes of early spring. In Denver, April is when you withhold your trust that winter has truly left, unable or unwilling to suspend your disbelief, knowing that a 70 degree day could be followed unbidden by one of those spring blizzards that shatter the branches of the city’s newly green trees, leaving everyone feeling sort of bereft, even though we should have known better.

And that’s sort of how I felt when my parents got divorced when I was in my mid-20s. April 1 would have been their anniversary, and it it never goes by without my wondering what might have been. I’m no April fool, but I am still the kid of two wonderful parents, and though I don’t grieve for their marriage in the way I once did, the first day of the month always catches me a little sideways.

My parents had been married for a little more than a quarter century when they pulled the plug. When I talk about it, I say that I’d thought we’d beaten the odds — most of my friends came from divorced families, and I felt like we were the rare exception that had made it through. I mean, shit, my parents were married when they were 20 and 21, and had me, premature and unlikely to live more than a few days, just months later. They were still kids when they had my middle sister, and not even out of their 20s when my baby sister came along. We moved up and down the East Coast, then away to Denver when I was 8, to LA when I was 10, and back to Colorado on my 14th birthday. And, through it all, my parents, though they fought here and there, were, at least in my eyes, a model of love and affection.

So when my father and I met for lunch one day, something we’d do every few weeks, I was surprised by the news, but not altogether shocked. To make some extra bucks, my mother had been working as a traveling nurse all over the country, staying in nursing shortage areas like Fresno and Sacramento for months at a time, and every time she returned, she was more worldly and independent than before. I could see that she was becoming her own person, defining herself outside the context of a relationship that had kept her in a little box since she was a teenager, and I couldn’t help wondering what would happen if she found herself back in the house with my dad.

I remember the day Mom drove off to Sacramento, where the hospital she’d been working for had offered her a permanent position. I know she was feeling devastated, leaving my high school-aged youngest sister and my dad to fend for themselves. I’m trying to piece together where we met — I think it was at a park and ride on the outskirts of the city, just off the highway she’d take westwards. Her car was loaded up with items she’d bring to her little apartment; the whole back seat was stacked with boxes and clothing…26 years of stuff whittled down to whatever could fit into her Ford Tempo. I remember Bonnie Raitt’s “I Can’t Make You Love Me” playing, plaintive and heartbreaking. I remember that it was a cloudy, grim sort of day, the mountains barely visible in the distance. And I remember my mother’s tears as she hugged me goodbye.

Thinking about it now, I imagine the torrent of feelings that must of been wheeling through her heart at that moment — wracking guilt over leaving her children, maybe some doubt about ending a lifetime of love with my father, a sense of devastation at everything she was giving up, and then, if I’m not mistaken, that heart-pounding feeling of possibility, of liberation, of an adventure that could go anywhere.

My parents have never really talked to me about the divorce — I was out of the house, dealing with my own relationship, and I think they believed it wouldn’t affect me like it did my sisters. Of course it did, in ways none of us would have guessed.

But here’s where April threw me a curveball this year.

My father sent me a text wishing me a happy Passover, adding that he and his wife would be at my mother and her husband’s house for the first night of the holiday — for first seder.

Both of my parents remarried within a few years of the divorce — my mother met a man in Sacramento and stayed there; my father met someone in Albuquerque and moved there to be with her. A few years ago, though, my father was transferred to Sacramento, and he and his wife moved within 10 minutes of my mother.

The new arrangement was a little uneasy at first…one year, when Simone and I were invited to spend Thanksgiving at my father’s house, my youngest sister insisted he invite my mom and her husband. It was a fun night, but everyone was a little on edge. Still, it was a good start, and having my parents live in the same city is much easier on the travel budget.

But I attribute the latest changes to dogs and illness.  

A couple years ago, when my mother learned that my father and his wife had picked up a gorgeous puppy, expected to grow into a very large dog, I told her there were still sibs left in the litter. She ended up with one of my dad’s puppies’ brothers.

After a time, my mom and dad would meet up at the local dog park, and the brothers would play together while they visited. Pretty awesome, right?

And then, last summer, my father was diagnosed with cancer and had to go through several months of chemotherapy. My mother ended up keeping my father’s dog at her house occasionally, to take some pressure off of Dad’s wife when she was ministering to his needs. And then, when my mother needed foot surgery, Dad and his wife took her dog quite often, and the boys would play together in their backyard.

Now I receive mobile photos of the two dogs together at one house or another. And I smile every time.

See, I don’t expect my parents to get back together; they are happy in their respective relationships, and have found some sort of sustainable equilibrium. They were best friends for 25 years, so it only makes sense that they’d find a way to enjoy each other’s company again.

Ever since the early days of my divorce, I’ve had a fervent wish that Simone’s mom and I could find our own friendly equilibrium — that, once the initial anger and hurt went away, we could see that it would be in Simone’s best interest for us to get along. And I’ve tried, at times, to encourage that kind of interaction, from inviting Simone’s mom and her family to join us for her birthday brunch or our Hanukkah latke-making party, to letting them know that Simone and I would love to watch her baby sister for a few hours if they ever need it.

And though none of those invitations have been accepted, they also haven’t been met with the same incredulity of the early years. So we all attend Simone’s functions together, whether it’s a school play or a Taekwondo belt test, and I get along with Simone’s stepdad. I also always make a point of getting down to kid-level with Simone’s sister, because I don’t want her to think I’m just the guy who takes her “Sissie” away from her. 

Dad and Mom have been divorced for many more years than we have, and they were together much, much longer. But they do give me hope that, someday, Simone’s mom and I will find our way to, if not friendship, at least a sense of mutual admiration for our roles in our daughter’s life. Maybe we won’t have Passover seders together, but maybe, just maybe, we’ll find ways to celebrate and honor Simone’s accomplishments as one big family.

Eric Elkins’ company WideFoc.us  specializes in using social media and ePR strategies to develop constellations of brand experiences, delivering focused messages to targeted segments. Read more of his Dating Dad chronicles at DatingDad.com , or tell him why he’s all wrong by emailing eric@datingdad.com.

Posted in Dating Dad, Divorced Dads, Featured Moms & Dads, Single Fathers | Leave a comment

What Dads Need to Know: Teaching Kids Respect

Posted on April 26, 2011 by Family Man

By Anne Leedom

There is a big question making the rounds among the parents at my daughter’s class. Should the kids refer to the parents’ friends as “Mr. Jones” or “Mrs. Smith”, rather than using their first names? I was quite shocked, having come from a home where it would have been unheard of to refer to one of my parent’s friends by their first name. This was reserved for only the closest of family friends and relatives, and even they always had “Aunt” or “Uncle” in front of their name.

Respect is something that is earned and commanded. Unlike many of the other virtues we try to nurture in our kids that are mostly present from birth, respect is a bit more complicated. Respect is not only necessary when dealing well with others, but the virtue of self-respect is critical for kids to succeed and feel good about themselves and their choices throughout their lives.

There are several factors that can have a big impact on kids and their ability to be respectful. The first one to consider is manners. Calling adults by their surnames, setting proper examples during sporting events and while driving, and how we talk to each other in our homes all can have a tremendous affect on a child’s concept of respect and how important it is. Many of these seemingly trivial ideas have become almost outdated, but one should seriously consider the value of these ideas before casting them aside. It is easy to become unconscious about these behaviors. Try to keep track of how often your child is subjected to this kind of disrespect.

The media, as you may have guessed, plays a large part in the increase in disrespect. The Parents Television Council, according to Dr. Michele Borba, looked at four weeks of programming during the 1999 fall season in the 8:00 to 11:00 p.m. time slot and tallied up to 1,173 vulgarities—nearly five times that of 1989. Movies are equally to blame, with a PG movie often containing an abundant amount of crude and profane language.

These factors and others all contribute to an alarming increase in disrespect in society. If we don’t step in and change the course, we will find living in a morally respectful culture unlikely. This process can be greatly impacted for the better by treating our kids as though they are the most important person in the world, in reference to the level of respect we give them. Show them unconditional love and listen with your whole attention. Let your kids feel your love through your hugs, your words and your encouragement. Spend time together interacting. Eliminate disrespect by immediately calling attention to it, and if need be, have behaviors in place to discourage it further. Dr. Borba recommends refusing to engage when kids are being disrespectful.

Fine kids for swearing. Use time outs for younger kids. Don’t allow kids to socialize with family if they can’t be respectful. Take away phone privileges or ground them. Younger kids need more immediate consequences in order to fully understand the impact of their behavior. Above all, the same rule applies. Reinforce your kids’ positive and respectful behavior and be clear about negating disrespect. Kids take their cues from all adults, so be sure you are setting the best possible standards.

In the case of extreme disrespect, consider getting help to cope and modify behaviors.

Anne Leedom is the Founder of www.TeenPalz.com, a website providing virtual monitoring and activities for teens. She lives in Northern California.

Posted in Ethics, Featured Moms & Dads, What Dads Need to Know | 1 Comment

Dating Dad: Remote

Posted on April 5, 2011 by Family Man

By Eric S. Elkins

A year or so ago, I received a Facebook friend request from a really beautiful woman. Honestly, I might have accepted the request not knowing anything else about her, but she wrote that she’d been one of Simone’s preschool teachers years ago, and upon a closer look, I recognized her. I remembered the young, sultry teacher around whom I’d studiously maintained a low-key sort of coolness, not wanting to screw anything up for Simone by being the creepy dad who ogles the teacher (it was good practice, and is actually serving me well this school year, if you know what I mean).

After I accepted the friend request, we started communicating a little bit, and I learned that she was now a single mom of two very young children, living in a remote town in Colorado. She wanted to hear all about her Simoney, and I was happy to share. The more we talked, the more we found we had in common. When she mentioned that she’d be in Denver for a conference in a few weeks, I expressed an interest in crossing paths.

The exigencies of our parenting schedules (she and her kids were staying with her mother) and her conference commitments gave us only a short window of time to see each other — not more than a few hours one evening. But from the moment we made eye contact, the connection was electric. Our first hug felt both familiar and thrilling, and I couldn’t believe she was even prettier than I’d remembered. One of those rare, ethereal beauties, she had soulful brown eyes, a delicate face, and an achingly sweet smile that seemed to carry a secret within it. The evening was a stunner — not knowing the nature of our rendezvous, I was elated when, after lots of conversation, the kissing began. Everything fit, and it was all I could do not to feel smitten.

In fact, a couple days later, when she was able to come out for just a little while and meet me at my home for an afternoon, I said, “Oh no, I can already feel it starting.” She laughed and kissed me hard on the mouth.

The situation was both beautiful and depressing — she and her two kids lived in a faraway town that wasn’t easy to get to. With her ex and his family there, moving herself and the kids to Denver would be out of the question; just like me, she believed in the importance of her children having both parents in their lives. When we said our goodbyes, we promised each other we’d find a way to spend more time together soon.

But airfares and commitments and parenting and everything else got in the way, and we didn’t see each other for a couple of months. Again, we felt that thrill of connection, but she was much more pragmatic this time around, keeping a bit of distance at first, but finally unable to resist the pull of our ridiculous chemistry. We spent a couple of beautiful evenings together, with her returning to her mother’s house late each night.

I remember taking her to my favorite bar for pre-dinner cocktails, and somehow settling right into the girlfriend-boyfriend dynamic. She told me later that she felt the same thing — it was like we were a couple, and I wasn’t self-conscious in the least about holding her hand as I introduced her to the most delicious martinis on the planet.

I’ll admit that I was close to tears when she left town that time, feeling hopeless, and wondering at God’s sense of humor. I finally met a woman who was right for me in every way, with whom I shared chemistry and connection, whom I could love so easily and for so long, and she lived 800 miles away.

And, yes. I know what you’re thinking. That perhaps the reason I could love her so freely was because there was no danger of a real relationship with her. I get that. I agonized over it. I talked to my shrink about it — about my feelings and about our impossible situation.

After that trip to Denver, she went on radio silence. I respected her lack of communication. It seemed like spending time together was just a way to keep our hearts aching. It was pointless. She eventually emailed me those exact thoughts, explaining that the way she felt about me would make it impossible for her to find love closer to home. I understood. I had the same concerns for myself.

But that didn’t make my heart ache any less.

Mid-summer came along, and she let me know that she and the kids would be in town for a few days. If I was up for meeting her for lunch, she’d love to see me for a little while. The message was clear — we can only be friends, and the way to ensure that we don’t get caught up in each other again is to only meet in safe places… during the day.

Man plans, God laughs.

We settled on a gorgeous country Japanese restaurant downtown, and she was waiting for me outside the door with that mysterious smile of hers. Our hug lasted a long time; I don’t think either one of us wanted to let go. Finally, we followed the hostess to a little wooden table in the beautiful garden area behind the restaurant, where we ordered noodles and soups and tender side dishes of Japanese delicacies. I realized before she did that we were being incredibly solicitous of one another: I’d wave a low-flying insect away from her sashimi, she’d gently wipe the little splash of soy sauce off my cheek. We couldn’t help it; we’re both wired to care for others, and putting us together was like the perfect storm of mutually nurturing behavior.

I’d craved that responsiveness for so long. It was the first time I’d met someone who was so naturally caring since the days of the Peach.

We talked about nothing of consequence, avoiding any danger of drifting into the terrain of heartbreak. We kept it light. But in our shady corner of the garden, with its tall, fragrant blossoms, the quiet buzz of other diners, and the indolent warmth of a summer afternoon, it was easy to drift into the complacent contentment of the moment. We hugged goodbye. I kissed her lightly at the apex of one of her perfect cheekbones. She put her hand to my cheek, and kissed me on the lips. And then she got in her car and drove away.

But she couldn’t stay away that week, and managed to sneak over for a little while Saturday morning. She found me reading on an air mattress on my balcony, still in my pajamas. After curling up with me for a few minutes, she managed to lure me out for brunch down the block, followed by a visit to our local panadéria. As we stood together, hand-in-hand, looking at the magical array of Mexican delectables, I had a vision of us doing the exact same thing, but in some faraway country.

As we walked back to my place, I said, “You know, it would be amazing to travel together someday.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” she said.

Which became an ongoing text conversation for the next month — where would we travel together? What would it be like? I told her that we should try something small, first — spend a weekend together away from our homes, like in Taos or San Diego. Schedules and budgets decided for us, and I bought her a plane ticket to Denver, so we could spend Labor Day Weekend together in the mountains.

Full disclosure — Summit Mountain Rentals is a WideFoc.us (http://widefoc.us) client, and one of the perks is free lodging for me when inventory permits. And it is quite the benefit — the company manages a slew of well-appointed condos in the lively mountain town of Breckenridge. So it was a matter of a phone call to get us a romantic spot right in the center of the city.

Our anticipation was like a fever.

I picked her up at the airport, and we hightailed it for the hills. This was our chance to see what it would be really like. We’d never spent more than a few hours at a time together, but now we’d have two days and two nights to really see what was possible. Sure, the longterm situation hadn’t changed, but that didn’t matter.

The weekend was definitely romantic, but only to a point, and it turned out to be ultimately disappointing for both of us. We found little incompatibilities, differences in communication, and something undefinable that made us both realize that we weren’t quite right for each other. As much as we loved each other, and enjoyed each other’s company, our weekend together never caught fire. Maybe we were both distracted, or overly careful, or just not into it. Maybe the timing was off. Whatever it was, by the time I dropped her at the airport, the hug goodbye was real, but the kiss was perfunctory.

I drove home that afternoon feeling a sense of desolation. She hadn’t even thanked me for the weekend, and that just sealed what I’d felt. Something was missing between us.

As time passed, I could only feel gratitude for that weekend away — we learned something valuable; it helped us move on in our own worlds without the heartbreak of a breakup. And it helped me realize that I was still capable of feeling smitten and could still surrender to love and possibility.

We’re still friendly, catching up here and there. I’m excited that I’ll get to see her when she comes to town in a month or so. She might not be the right woman for me, but I’ll always adore her.

Note: Out of respect for our experience and love for each other, I ran this column by her before posting it. So before you start beating me up for sharing a story about a real person, know that she read it and approved it before anyone else did.

Eric Elkins’ company WideFoc.us  specializes in using social media and ePR strategies to develop constellations of brand experiences, delivering focused messages to targeted segments. Read more of his Dating Dad chronicles at DatingDad.com , or tell him why he’s all wrong by emailing eric@datingdad.com.

Posted in Dating Dad, Divorced Dads, Featured Moms & Dads, Love and Courtship, Single Fathers | Leave a comment

← Older posts

Newer posts →