Dad’s House

Grilled salmon is a treat, and it’s simple to cook. My technique is based on a recipe from one of my favorite cookbooks. And with the holiday weekend approaching, I figured it’s time to pull out this story from the family archives…

On Christmas a few years ago, my brother gave me a fabulous gift – a cookbook called The Best Recipe, by the editors of Cook’s Illustrated. They have a test kitchen where they try every method they can think of to cook different foods. And this cookbook tells all – what worked, what didn’t, and what’s best to do.

“Wow,” I said when I unwrapped it. “This is great.”
“It’s awesome,” my brother. “We use it all the time. We figured as a single dad, you might really enjoy it.”

I smiled and nodded, wondering what to do. This was a cook book I already had. Should I tell them? Or return it without saying a word?

“Read the inscription,” my brother said

To David – Buon Appetit! Love xox etc.

Ouch. “Nice,” I said.
But I must have grimaced, because they asked “What’s wrong?”
“I already have this book.”

Sighs all around. Then my brother took it back, opened it to the inscription, and scribbled with a pen. He handed it back. “How’s that?” he asked.

To Dad!! – Buon Appetit! Love xox etc.

“Perfect!” I said.

Our dad was very happy for the gift. And that’s what it means to be a family. (All except me blabbing it in my blog to the world…)

RECIPE

Start with salmon fillets (not salmon steaks), 6-8 oz. per person
Try to get fillets that are uniform thickness so no part cooks too quick
Sprinkle with salt and pepper
Place skin side down on medium-high heated grill
Cook 4 min. or so until top no longer looks raw – don’t over-cook! Skin should pull away a bit
Flip and cook 2-3 minutes more – cutting into the center should look translucent for medium rare
Peel off the skin
Serve on platter with the salt/pepper side up – it looks nicer that way!

Happy 4th. Merry Christmas. Jolly Whatever You’re Celebrating Today.

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:

• How to Grill Asparagus
• Grilling With Grandpa
• Italian-style Carrots Recipe
  

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

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My kids and I are definitely plugged in – between our landline, cell phones, and laptops with internet browsing, emailing, and instant messaging, we can talk to who we want, whenever we want, without each other knowing.

And that makes life interesting for a parent of teens.

Today, I muse about MySpace, Facebook, Yahoo IM and personal communication devices over at the Silicon Valley Moms Blog. It’s still me, and I’m not a mom, just a token male voice. It’s like a sleepover in the SV Moms house. Head on over and visit, and feel free to comment.

My post on SV Moms: MySpace, Facebook, Yahoo IM - How Do Parents Eavesdrop Anymore?

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

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What a morning. I’m still shaking my head. No, my daughter didn’t wake up like Miley Cyrus, nude in satin sheets. But my day did get off to a strange start…

• My groin - I received email from a female reader of my blog, someone I’ve never met, asking: how is your groin? (I pulled it slightly while playing tag at my son’s weekend lacrosse game. I guess I should have worn Dockers.) At any rate, my groin is fine, unless of course there’s a cute massage therapist offering… oh, never mind.

• My cell phone – while eating oatmeal and reading the newspaper, I received a text message on my cell phone. (You never know who might text a single dad… ) Can u pull my bike out? It was from my daughter (!) who was in the bathroom(!!) in my house(!!!). Seems she was running late… (I pulled the bike out for my little princess)

• My coffee – my son forgot a textbook, so I hopped on my beach cruiser and took it to his elementary school. There were a ton of kids playing four-square, including a ten-year-old who was playing with one hand because in his other hand he was holding a Starbucks venti latte!

Which, of course, begs the question – where’s my morning coffee?

Good Morning, America. Hello, world.

Cappuccino photo, some rights reserved.

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

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When the male principal of my son’s elementary school gathered the older grade boys for a preliminary talk (as in, the talk, birds and bees edition), one of his PowerPoint slides focused on deodorant and the fine art of smelling good. My son came home with a sample stick of Old Spice and a recommendation to give other brands a try.

I’m all for experimenting when it comes to deodorants and anti-perspirants. After all, they’re chemically-based substances and everyone’s body responds differently to different brands. My dad uses Speed Stick, and I’m a Mitchum man (you know, the one with the ad campaign that says if your socks almost match, you’re a Mitchum man.)

But a classmate let it be known that Axe Body Spray was the cool thing to get. He’s one of those too-old-for-his-age Romeos who’s been seducing women from birth, who already knows that when it comes to boy/girl interactions, chemistry is key. Apparently, the way to a girl’s heart is through her nostrils.

We drove to Long’s and bought some Axe, and right away my son put on way too much. “You just need a little under the arms,” I told him. “But it’s body spray,” he said. He pointed to those very words on the canister, and who was I to contradict such marketing genius?

Musky. Leathery. Sandalwoody. I’m terrible with scent descriptions. Let’s just say Axe was concocted for men by Venus herself. Sexy. But over the top.

My son sprays it on in the morning, and sometimes at night. For him, pre-teen aromatic bliss; for me, a stinky room. His sister and I can smell him coming from 100 meters. Worse, the scent lingers in his clothing even after I do the laundry.

But who am I to criticize his hygiene? He’s 12 now, an awkward age for a lot of boys in his class who act like girls are the grossest thing on earth. But my son is confident in his social interactions, comfortable with friends of either sex. At a recent family-focused event, while most boys hung out in packs, talking about sports, my son chased and had fun with girls.

There’s no Casanova attitude, he’s not trying to date (let alone, date four women at once), so it all seems healthy to me. I just wish Axe would tone down the body spray, and sell a little-dab-will-do-you version of its product. My daughter’s and my noses would be so happy and grateful.

Pepe le Pew image, some rights reserved.

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

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My parents were in town last night and planned to meet me and my kids for dinner. Usually when they visit we eat in a nice restaurant. (My parents always offer to treat, and somehow that never gets old.) But last night, with Bay Area weather as warm as it was, I offered to BBQ.

Perfect. While Grandma and Grandpa took my son swimming at their hotel pool, and my daughter coached a soccer practice, I ran to the grocery store. (For some reason, I once again had an empty fridge. I swear a teenager eats for ten.)

I grabbed some vegetables and a pre-marinated tri-tip steak. Tri-tip comes as one big hunk of meat, and usually takes 45 minutes to cook (the grilling instructions on the label back me up on that point.) I fired up the barbecue and got the meat cooking, pronto.

Back in the kitchen, I mixed a perfect gin martini. I would have waited for my parents to arrive before shaking cocktails, but my dad was dead-set on getting himself a beer from the hotel’s complimentary Happy Hour. (Crappy beer, he admits, but hey, free is free.)

Then I got to work – chopping tomatoes and garlic for bruschetta, marinating asparagus in olive oil and balsamic vinegar, peeling potatoes and setting them to boil for mashing. Half an hour into the cooking, everyone showed up.

“Want me to check on the meat?” Grandpa asked.
“If you want,” I said. “Everything’s timed to be done in fifteen minutes.”
I was sipping my martini when he came in from the backyard.

“It’s medium rare,” he said.
“Already?” I asked. The potatoes weren’t even boiling yet.
“I cut into it. It’s pink inside”
“Well then, we better get it off the grill,” I said.
“Even if you take it off, it will keep cooking,” he said.
“All the more reason to get it off now. We aren’t eating for fifteen minutes.”

My dad got the meat off the grill and brought it inside.

“It’s medium now,” he announced. “It’ll be well-done by dinner time.”
Sigh. All of us like our steaks medium to medium-rare.

“You could slice it and let the heat out,” Grandma offered.
Great idea! I sliced while Grandpa watched.

“Look at that – it’s already well-done,” Grandpa said. “It’ll be black char by the time we eat.”

Why my martini didn’t kick in and put me in a more relaxed mood, I’ll never know. But at this point, I sort of lost it. “There’s not a whole lot I can do about it,” I said. “And having you say dinner’s going to be terrible doesn’t help!”

Grandpa smiled, not missing a beat. “I didn’t say it would be terrible. I grew up in the Midwest. We overcooked everything! Why, I remember as a boy eating meat so overcooked it could have been an old shoe!”

How is it that parents know just what to say? Somehow, that actually made me feel better.

Please pass the salt. It’s over there, next to the shoelace…

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

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My son’s orthodontist office called to see if we’d gotten his X-rays taken for next Monday’s consultation.

X-rays? Consultation? I knew nothing.

My ex-wife had taken my son to his last ortho appointment, a routine checkup. She and I have joint custody of the kids, and take turns taking them to appointments. Apparently this time the orthodontist saw something he didn’t like and is advising more work.

The least someone could have done is tell me. After all, I’m equally concerned about my children’s health.

Sharing information between my kids’ mom and me has been a real problem over the years. Despite an amicable separation and living in homes just three blocks apart, communication flows decidedly one way – from Dad’s house to Mom’s house – hardly ever the other direction.

To combat this, I’ve tried to get schools, doctor offices, coaches and team parents to communicate information to both me and my ex-wife. Every time, it’s an uphill battle. When a Marin single mother blogged about the frustration of filling out forms that ask for a child’s “main” address when there are two households involved, I related completely.

I asked the orthodontist’s office if the doctor would mind sharing his opinion with me. “That’s what Monday’s consultation is all about,” the receptionist said. A consultation I would have known nothing about if the office had been able to reach my son’s mom and gotten the X-ray status. (I would have known nothing, that is, until the bill came.)

Sadly, it’s typical in our society for a father to be less involved in childrearing. When I suggested on a married man’s blog that fathers in general should be more present and involved with their kids, my comments maddened him and his readers. But I have joint physical and legal custody, and a willingness and interest to know what’s going on with my children, whether it’s school, health, sports, friends. I need to be informed.

The question is – if in eight years of divorce I’ve failed to get my ex-wife to communicate information to me, is it fair for me to demand that schools and doctors and youth sports teams do it, instead? I feel bad dragging them into it. After all, the fact I’m divorced isn’t their problem.

Still, I wonder when society will truly start accepting two-home families.

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

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I want to apologize to DadGoneMad for making him madder. I recently discovered his blog and read a post by him that struck a nerve in me. I made a comment which, in retrospect, came across as sounding extremely judgmental and heavy handed. This justifiably irked DadGoneMad, who told me to lighten up, and suggested I was talking out of my ass and had made an extraordinarily ignorant leap. Another of his readers suggested my response was idiotic. My bad. I apologize.

As some of you know, I am quick to defend a single dad’s abilities to parent solo. Through eight years of divorce, I’ve come across a lot of people who assume the dad has no parenting interests, let alone household or childrearing skills.

It’s something I’ve battled in real life with local schools who send important mailings like the results of standardized testing only to the mom’s house. It’s something I’ve encountered with neighborhood moms who assume I can’t cook. (One mom brought over an entire wagon-load of healthy food to a barbecue I was throwing since she assumed I wouldn’t serve more than hot dogs. There was plenty to eat without her contribution.) It’s something I read about in bestseller books that depict dads as being incompetent.

I’m not shy about making my voice heard. When Dating Expert Evan Marc Katz advised that men who text-message women instead of calling them are lazy, and women deserve better than to be treated like that – I objected and commented that text messaging is a cultural phenomenon, and that in my dating experience, women have sent me far more text messages than I’ve sent them.

When Ms. Single Mama opined that Jamie Lynn Spears shouldn’t get married if it’s only in response to societal or parental pressures that there be a husband/father in the house – I objected and commented that the dad had a right to be in the picture, and pointed out that Jamie Lynn’s sister Britney hadn’t been a very good mom. (Props to K-Fed for being a stand-up guy.)

So when DadGoneMad said that when his kids were toddlers and their mom left for a getaway weekend he “dreaded the mere notion of 48 straight hours of home confinement with two children,” and that on a present-day weekend he and his kids “spent much of the weekend in front of the TV,” I assumed he didn’t like alone time with his children. A nerve was struck within me and the uninvolved-dad stereotype reared its ugly head in my mind.

I apologize to DadGoneMad for not understanding that the grousing in his post was meant to be humorous. I apologize for suggesting his post was furthering an outdated notion of dads being incapable at home. I now understand that he was relating an anecdote of an isolated incident in an attempt to be funny, not making a statement about how things between the sexes are or ought to be. I got on a soapbox that I had no business getting on, and I rankled him and his readers in the process.

For this, I apologize.

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

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Dad’s House was recently selected to be part of Alltop – a website that collects stories from “all the top sites” on the internet. It’s the brainchild of Will Mayall, Kathryn Henkens, and Guy Kawasaki, the noted Apple evangelist from back in the day. (I was at Xerox around that same time.) My blogging friends Ms. Single Mama and Single Mom Seeking are listed near the top of Alltop’s Moms page. And I’m on the Dads page, right there at the very…bottom. That’s okay. In fact, it’s probably best.

I took some time to explore the hundred or so blogs on dads.alltop.com. It looks like a great collection. There are dads of all types – a New York City Metro Dad; a flowchart-making Dorky Dad; some stay-at-home dads like Laid Off Dad, House Dad Chronicles, and I’m Not a Slacker Dad; a Tech-Gadget Dad (actually, that’s a lot of them, but this Dad blogged the merits of three different traffic analysis software packages, so he get’s my vote); a Newspaper Family Reporter Dad; a Modern Day Dad who reads People magazine; and a Dad Whose Three Kids Pee on One Toilet, Simultaneously (I gotta say, if they were 18, he could probably do some sort of PayPerView thing with this… and on that note, welcome to my sense of humor.)

Like I said, a great group of guys. Proud papas all. (I’m a proud papa, too!)

Maybe I didn’t look hard enough, but I didn’t notice any other Single Dads (like me), or even dads who have teens. I don’t mind. I’ve been going it solo so long, I just assume my situation is different than most. But I wonder if any of these dads (and moms on the moms.alltop site) realize what sort of blogging neighbor now lurks in their midst.

Do they have any idea what goes on in Dad’s House? There’s…

• the fast teenage daughter and the son with gossiping friends.
• the ex-girlfriend texting for booty.
• the salsa dance classes with four men to each woman.
• the dinner date women who just want one-night-stands.
• the coffee dates that turn into gourmet feasts (and who exactly pays?).
• the rants against online dating (it doesn’t work!)
• and of course, cocktails! cocktails! cocktails!

While Alltop-blogging dads around me write deftly, fondly, and lovingly on the trials and tribulations of parenthood, complete with first big words, soccer-playing toddlers, loving partners, and building snowmen, I’m blogging about single parenting, two-household families, and relationships formed in an age of online dating, text messaging, friends with benefits, hooking up, and booty calls. There are lighter moments, with musings on things like trumpets, vacations, and golden retrievers. But overall, Dad’s House seems a different, danker, darker world, indeed.

(Unfortunately, one of my new favorite blogs featuring a single-guy’s witty insights into the minds of men, What Men Think, isn’t on the dads.alltop list. But that’s only because he isn’t a dad. Perhaps a new Alltop category can be created to give him an aggregate home.)

I’m proud and happy to join the Alltop community. We’re the same in that we’re all parents. I’ll get to know you, you’ll get to know me, we’ll all learn something and be amused in the process.

As for bringing up the bottom of Alltop – I’m content. For now, it feels just right.

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

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I have a good life. I’m a single dad with happy and healthy kids; we live in a nice home in a beautiful area; I’ve enjoyed success and am pursuing my passions; I strive to be self-aware. It wasn’t easy getting here, but I did. And believe me, I’m grateful. So I’m always caught off guard when something strikes a melancholy chord inside me and my eyes get misty.

It happened April 1st when I read Single Mom Seeking’s celebratory news that she was getting married. I didn’t realize as I read the post that it was an April Fool’s joke. Instead, I marveled at the simplicity of Rachel meeting the man of her dreams while standing in line to sign her daughter up for soccer. I teared up.

Was I sad at not having a woman in my life right now? Sure. Despite the joy I get from loving my kids, having a romantic partner is an important part of adult life. My kids are only with me half time, and eventually they’ll grow up and move out. The stability of having a full-time partner to love is something I lack. When I read the post, a part of me longed for a woman to make that deep connection with me.

Was it because Rachel met someone in real life, rather than online? Sure. Internet dating is a convenient way to meet strangers for coffee, dinner, and sex, but for long-term love it has proved frustrating to me and countless millions. To hear that Rachel met someone the old-fashioned way – offline – tugged at just the right heartstrings.

I don’t cry often, but when I do, it goes to the core. Like anyone else I react to big things – death of a loved, tragedy in the news. It’s the little things that sneak up on me.

Hearing a song like the Smashing Pumpkin’s 1979 , an ode to suburban kids who’ve lost all hope of doing anything with their lives, like some high school friends of mine who bought bitchin’ Camaro’s and became managers at McDonald’s rather than attending college. (And here I attended an ivy. Go figure. How did I escape, but not them?)

Watching movies. Pretty much any good romantic comedy or drama will get me going. Kramer vs. Kramer would make anyone cry, but imagine what it’s like for a divorced parent who isn’t allowed to see their children full time. (The worst is watching a kid-flick and wiping away tears while my kids grin ear-to-ear at the happy ending.)

Finishing a marathon. I’ve run seven, and they require a Herculean training effort. When the 26.2 miles are behind me and my mind and body can finally relax, the floodgates burst. Tears of accomplishment, tears of relief, tears of joy.

Having a girlfriend do an unexpected and caring thing for me. I enter relationships with a mindset like Freddie Mercury from Queen in that I know it’s all about giving love, not getting it. He didn’t sing, Can anybody find me somebody to love me? He sang, somebody to love. (And with David Bowie in Under Pressure , Freddie repeatedly exhorts us to Give love, Give love, Give love, Give love… definitely making the point.) But who doesn’t like getting a good hug? Having an adult unexpectedly care for me is sublime. And yes, my eyes get misty.

So, Single Mom Seeking with your marriage proposal April Foolery, and all you other bloggers out there – know that innocuous things can have unexpected effects on your readership. Good news can make grown men cry.

Pass the Kleenex.

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

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One of the huge joys of parenting is simply spending time with your loving family. Coming home to a house full of kids excited to see you can take the edge off any bad day. Conversely, one of the worst feelings for a single parent with shared custody happens on nights when the kids are with the ex, and you come home to an empty house. How does a single parent live a full life when half the time they’re alone?

When my wife and I separated, I moved into my own place. For the first three months, I was so busy furnishing the apartment with every big (and little) thing we needed – kitchen table, couch, TV, beds, sheets, pillows, sponges, broom – I barely noticed I was alone on nights the kids were with their mom. But three months into it, with everything bought and errands no longer serving as a distraction, it hit me hard.

My marriage had crumbled. My spouse, lover, and friend had become an enemy. The family I helped create no longer existed whole. Here I was, living in a tiny apartment I didn’t much like, painfully unhappy and entirely alone.

Divorce was one of the hardest things I ever went through. It took a few years to work through the shock, depression, remorse, and other roller-coaster feelings I was forced to endure. (I could write a book about that process.)

But come out of it I did. While I still suffer the occasional night of feeling depressed and sorry for myself, wondering how I lost the family I’d cherished, and sad about the alternating holidays and vacations I can’t share with my kids, for the most part I’m okay when they’re with their mom and I’m on my own.

Here are some ways I cope:

• Cooking – I cook dinner whether my kids are with me or not. When they’re here, I feel great knowing I’m preparing them a healthy and tasty meal. When it’s just me, it feels good to take care of myself. Either way, cooking is an act of giving love. Plus, immersing myself in the process of cooking keeps my mind occupied on what I’m creating, rather than on what I lack. When dinner’s ready, the meal is the reward.

• Eating out – some nights my fridge is empty, or maybe I want to feel cared for by someone else, so I head to a favorite restaurant and (this is key): eat at the bar. Most bars are social environments. Chatting up the patron next to you is way more fun that sitting at a table alone.

• Furnish and decorate – after moving out of my divorced-man apartment to a house, I didn’t furnish the living room because I planned to meet a woman, remarry, and let her decorate. Bad idea. For months whenever I walked through this empty room, I was reminded of what I lacked, that I was without a new wife. Finally I bought furniture for this room (with design help from a female decorator). Now when I’m there, I’m reminded of all I have – this is my home – and I feel great.

• Friends – invite friends over for dinner or to watch a ballgame on TV, or suggest meeting at a restaurant or heading to a movie or concert. Accept every invitation you receive. The company is great, and you might just find yourself in a position to make even more friends. Try to keep the conversation positive – even the best of friends will eventually tire of hearing your divorce woes. They have problems, too. You don’t have to avoid negative talk completely, just try to be thankful and grateful for the good in your life. You attract what you put out to the world.

• Get chores and extra work done – if you get stuff out of the way when the kids are with the other parent, you’ll have more quality time when the kids are with you.

• Reading – I used to worry that if I wasn’t out in the bars trying to meet someone to date, I would be unhappy and alone for the rest of my days. But I tired of this drinking lifestyle, and realized I could choose to be happy simply by doing things I liked. I love reading, and will happily sit with a book, either at home or in a coffee house, and have an enjoyable evening.

• Watch a great movie or music DVD – it doesn’t have to be date night to enjoy a good film. Watch those war movies or westerns or chick-flick romances that a date won’t want to see.

• Italian Serie A Soccer – my daughter has played soccer all her life, and so I’ve really gotten into the game. This past year I got Tivo and Fox Soccer Channel, and now I can watch a different Serie A match every night of the week. (I’m partial to the giallo rossi, biancho neri, and rosso neri – AS Roma, Juventus, and AC Milan. Andiamo!)

There are plenty of other great ideas, like taking a class (a new language, cooking, wine tasting – anything with a social element), joining a club or sports team (volleyball is huge around here, and it’s co-ed), getting a cat or a dog. Do things you enjoy. Focus on the good in your life. Live in the present moment.

Of course, nothing can replace time lost with your kids. But whether they’re physically with you or not, you can love them just the same. And what feels better than that?

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

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