Dad's House » teens

My Man Boy Son

dadshouse — Mon, 15 Mar 2010 11:20:59 +0000

My thirteen-year-old son and I got a weekend to ourselves when my daughter and her mom took a short trip together. Father-son time like that doesn’t happen nearly enough for a divorced single dad like me, just as the mother-daughter time is precious for my ex. Usually, if I have the kids, I have them both. With children and divorce, you can miss out on one-on-one time.

The last time we had a dad-son manfest weekend, we spent it cycling, and thought about food during a fifty-mile ride. This time, food was again a theme. As it should be – my teen son is at an age where he’s equal parts boy and man. Eating is a pastime for him.

Saturday afternoon he played lacrosse. He hasn’t yet had his growth spurt, so he’s one of the smaller boys on his team. Of course, my son being a man, he’s happy to go up against bigger opponents.

On one play, he had the ball, and a big kid steamrolled him, throwing an elbow in the process, and slamming my son to the turf.

Some of the sideline mom’s “ooooo’d” out of concern for my son the boy, hoping he was okay. I pumped a fist – the ref had called an illegal hit against the opponent, meaning my son the man had just taken one for the team. (He got right up and kept playing; he was fine.)

After the game, we went for burgers. Big half-pound things with tons of extras piled on. (Teriyaki and pineapple for my son, bleu cheese and mushrooms for me.)

My son the man finished his huge burger before I was even halfway done with mine. And I never finished.

Later that night, we went to see a movie, Green Zone with Matt Damon. It was $9.25 for adults, and $6.25 for children 2-12. I didn’t try to lie about my son’s age, but if they offered a kids’ price, I wouldn’t say no. We could put the saved three dollars toward popcorn.

Wouldn’t you know, the ticket seller took one look at my small sized son and figured he was in the child range.

“One adult and one child?” she asked.
“No, two adults,” my son said.
“Twelve and under gets a child price.”
“I’m thirteen.”

The ticket seller looked at me as if to say, if only your son wasn’t so honest, you would have just saved three bucks!

“You must have just had your birthday,” she said.
“Actually, I turn fourteen in a few weeks,” my son said.

My son the man proceeded to order a tub of popcorn. How a small boy like that can pack away the food is beyond me.

Maybe it’s time to drop the man-boy moniker, and just call him a man.

Then again, on Sunday when he bummed fifty-cents off me to get himself a sour apple ring pop, I was reminded he couldn’t go an afternoon without candy.

That’s my boy!

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My Teen Son Wants Ripped Abs

dadshouse — Wed, 06 Jan 2010 11:07:44 +0000

My teen son asked me the other day if he could workout at the YMCA with his friend. They’re both eighth graders and they wanted to start lifting weights. His friend had a guest pass to loan.

“Sure,” I said. After all, I had started lifting weights in seventh grade. My son’s school doesn’t have a weight machine, and lifting would probably be good for him.

“Can we become members of the Y so I can workout all the time?” my son asked. “They have family rates.”

Er… as much as I think weight lifting could be good for him, especially if he’s motivated, I didn’t want to join the YMCA or any other gym. I keep fit through cycling and running. With California weather, it’s great to be outdoors.

“Just do the guest pass tonight,” I said.
“But I really want to join!” he said.

I sent him off to the Y with his friend. They worked out with his friend’s brother, under the supervision of the YMCA staff. My son was hooked.

“I really really want to join,” he said.

Sigh. I’ve joined gyms before, and hated it. I just don’t like being confined indoors, let alone doing the same weightlifting motions time and time again. It bores me. I’d rather cycle! I’d rather run! Of course, my body does the same repetitious running or cycling motions. But whatever. Both sports clear my mind. Plus, we’ve done some dad son cycling, and he liked it.

“You know, if you lift too many weights and get super buff,” I said, “by the time you’re an old man you’ll have man boobs.” That got my son’s attention. “But if you cycle and run, you’ll be lean and strong like Lance Armstrong and me.”
My son considered this logic. I’m actually not worried he’ll get too ripped. He’s pretty lean and strong already. All that wrestling, and his mom’s genes.

[Ed. Note: I was kidding about the man boobs, and my son knew it. Welcome to my sense of humor! Some readers didn't understand this mild attempt at humor. See comments below.]

“I won’t lift too much,” he said. “I really want to join the Y.”

Get Ripped Abs – Navy Seal Workout

As much as I wanted to support his newfound fervent desire to get ripped, I just can’t justify joining a gym I won’t use. Especially since my kids are only with me half time. “Sorry, I just can’t do it,” I said.

My son shrugged. “No problem,” he said. “I’ll ask mom. She likes working out.”

Two home family with different workout routines? Problem solved.

A teen boy wants ripped abs, story continued: YMCA Weightlifting for Teens

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College Application Essay Humor

dadshouse — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 11:26:23 +0000

My teen daughter is applying to colleges right now.

That means she’s writing tons of college application essays.

I feel for her!

So much so, I decided to write a college application essay of my own, as if I were applying to university, too.

Head over to the Hot Dads Blog for a funny take on the college application essay process.

I Have Loved, I Have Lived – College Application Essay

Toga party at Dad’s House after.

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Boys Soccer is a Contact Sport!

dadshouse — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 10:10:54 +0000

My thirteen-year-old son is playing soccer this fall, and let’s just say it’s been an eye opener for me. I know from watching Italian Serie A, as well as my daughter’s high school varsity team, that soccer is a contact sport. There’s plenty of body to body contact when going for headers or protecting the ball from a defender.

But who knew a bunch of middle school kids would be going at each other like Roller Derby stars? Okay, maybe not quite that bad. But these boys are definitely mixing it up.

In the first game, there were boys knocked down on their butts, boys tripped to prevent a quick counter attack, boys pushed off the ball and to the ground like this was an Australian rugby match. Don’t worry, the refs are calling everything, and no one’s getting hurt. But in three games, there have already been three yellow cards handed out.

I’m not at all worried for my son. He’s as tough as the next kid. No matter that some of these boys are a foot taller and weigh twice as much as others (like my son) who haven’t hit their big growth spurt just yet. All the kids go at it, period.

My proud father moment came this past weekend. Not from the decent shot my son got on goal, or for the skill he showed in executing a give-and-go with a teammate.

No, it happened when my son was chasing down a loose ball against a boy from the other team. It was a foot race to see who would get their first. Five yards from the coveted target, my son gritted his teeth, got fire in his eyes, puffed up his chest, and gave his bigger opponent a massive shoulder to shoulder bump that visibly pushed the other kid off his line. (Totally legal in soccer, at any level.) Yes, my son won that ball.

Kick ass first, and kick the ball later. That’s my boy!

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My Teen Son Wants a Golf Cart

dadshouse — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 10:14:25 +0000

Saturday was school beautification day, so my civic-minded son and his friend volunteered their afternoon weeding weeds and planting plants at their middle school.

Oh, and driving a golf cart.

Turns out most of the volunteers at the school beautification day were adults, so the handful of teens who showed up were given special treatment. (Not to mention the plethora of karma they accrued with the assistant principal / dean of discipline for being the few teens who showed up.)

My son was allowed to drive a golf cart all over the school. He delivered potted plants, shovels, rakes, water, whatever was needed. (He got to use an electric shovel when he wasn’t scooting around in the golf cart.) He excitedly told me the golf cart could go 10 MPH. Later, he told his sister it was only 7. But who cares? Zipping around in a golf cart beats the heck out of manual labor.

Oh, and the turning radius was apparently pretty sweet. My son could hang a U-turn where there basically wasn’t any space. Plus, he could stop on a dime, floor it in reverse, and pretty much motor around like a Shriner in a flower festival parade.

How did my teen son spend his Sunday afternoon? He went to the school to help some more! Unfortunately, no one was there. All the work was finished on Saturday. No more golf carts for him to drive.

But no problem – my son came home, got on the inter-webs, and started pricing golf carts so he could get one for himself. (He’s obviously a grandpa! Sort of like my teen daughter is a grandma when it comes to chocolate.)

“Dang, they’re expensive,” he said. “Two-thousand dollars for a used one. Eight-hundred for one that’s so beat up, it basically doesn’t have wheels. I’ll have to work for five years to save that kind of money.”

Oh, so he was going to buy a golf cart for himself?

“Yeah,” he said. “An electric one so I don’t have to buy gas.”
Smart kid.
“And when will you drive it?” I asked. “I don’t even know if they’re legal.”

He googled some more. “They’re legal. And I’d drive it to school. Or better yet – I’d just sit out front, and when my friends came by and asked if they could drive it, I’d say ’sure – for twenty bucks.’ Forty friends later, and that wheel-less golf cart would be paid for.”

And to think my little Tom Sawyer doesn’t even golf.

Fore!

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Miley Cyrus Pole Dance – Britney Spears Wannabe?

dadshouse — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 10:02:24 +0000

Miley Cyrus did a pole dance during a performance at the 2009 Teen Choice Awards in early August. Picture the 16-year-old singer on top of an ice cream cart (I’m not making this up), hanging onto a pole, grinding away like a stripper in front of a live studio audience full of teens.

My reaction to Miley’s pole dance was pretty straightforward – huh?

Miley Cyrus is younger than my own teen daughter. I enjoy keeping tabs on the celebrity, and seeing how my daughter reacts. For the record, my daughter could care less on this one. Miley Cyrus isn’t even on her radar anymore.

Problem is, Miley doesn’t seem to be on anyone’s radar right now. I’m just now hearing about the pole dancing prop she used – and the show was taped 3 weeks ago. Which means I didn’t see anything about it in the supermarket tabloids. I didn’t hear about it virally on the internet. I happened to stumble across the pole dance youtube video, and found the whole thing incredibly odd.

If Miley Cyrus wanted a controversy, it seems her stripper pole dance fell flat.

I get that Miley Cyrus would like to break free from her good girl image. Forget that Miley has a billion dollar franchise from her music and Hannah Montana TV show. At some point, she wants to be seen more like an adult. When she loses fans like my daughter, she has to gain new fans somewhere else.

Disney celeb Britney Spears (former Mouseketeer) did her own risque stuff at age 17. The thing is, Britney Spears didn’t come across as awkard. She pulled off her transformation from girl-next-door to sexpot, in spades.

Remember the music video “…Baby One More Time”? There was Britney in a school girl outfit, teasingly showing a bare midriff and hint of dark bra. I imagine any teen boy, or young-twenty-something man, would see Britney in that school girl outfit and think she was hot. They can relate to her in those clothes. What boy wouldn’t want a teasing peek beneath a school girl’s outfit like that? (Did it send a good message to teen girls? Not sure, either way. I imagine every school girl has a bad girl inside, itching to get out. I’ll leave it at that.)

Miley Cyrus, on the other hand, wore the shortest of short shorts for her performance. Way too short to be allowed on any school campus. (Trust me, my daughter knows the dress code.) I give Miley props for being confident enough with her body to wear that outfit. But…

What teen boy, or young-twenties man, sees an ice cream cart and thinks “I wonder what some girl would look like pole dancing on top of that?” Heck, how many teen boys have been to strip clubs and even know what pole dancing is?

I’m not trying to objectify women here. I’m merely pointing out that Miley’s peers maybe can’t relate. (And old guys like me don’t want to relate.)

Second, Miley looked awkward as heck trying to move her hips in a sexy way. She looked like a sixteen year old girl trying to mimic the moves of an adult. (Which is appropos, I suppose.) Seems Miley is too young to realize that hips don’t lie. Miley is no Shakira. Why pretend?

In short, the Miley Cyrus pole dance isn’t a controversy. It’s a teen girl trying way too hard to act grown up, and ending up out of her league.

Miley Cyrus’s stripper pole dance is just plain embarrassing.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Miley Cyrus Pole Dance on Youtube starts 1:10 in

Now then, let me drop this Miley Cyrus pole dance topic and get back to something my teen daughter actually cares about.

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Prom Night

dadshouse — Mon, 18 May 2009 08:01:41 +0000

My teen daughter went to her high school prom on Saturday night – her date was a good guy, they joined a big group for dinner, rode in a limo, had fun at the dance, enjoyed a sober post-party at someone’s house where the parents were home. She had fun.

Two things about the evening stood out for me.

First, she had planned to get all dressed up at a girlfriend’s house, then head straight to dinner. To which I said, say what?! When would I get to see her in her dress, and her boyfriend in his tux, and the two of them together? I put my foot down and said they would both come by my house so I could get pictures.

I know it’s harder for my daughter with parents in two homes. But prom memories are priceless. It’s not like I wanted to inflict some one-on-one, what are your intentions with my daughter? time on the boy. I just wanted to snap some pics. Having them swing by would add an extra ten minutes to their evening.

They came by, and it was very nice. The boy’s parents came too, and we all got action shots of the corsage and boutonniere pinning. I even snuck in a father daughter photo.

Second, the whole evening made me feel really old. Basically, I remember my prom like it was yesterday. Having it be my turn to stay up late, making sure my daughter got home safely, really made me realize what my parents went through when I was a teen. No, I wasn’t nervous. In fact, I was super happy for my daughter that she has grown up into a beautiful young woman with a nice boyfriend and a great group of friends. It simply made me realize how fleeting this raising kids business can be.

The night ended with a handful of my daughter’s girl friends sleeping over at our house. I made breakfast for them in the morning, and pried them for details about the dance.

“How much will you give me to tell your parents you actually slept here last night?” I asked.
“But we did sleep here,” they said.
“Not if I say you didn’t. Twenty bucks each?”

Nothing like a little post-prom blackmail to remind them they’re still teens with parents who care.

(I was just kidding about the twenty bucks.)

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