Editor’s Note: We’re digging into our archives to find great articles you might have missed. This tale about an at-home dad finding new friends comes from 2018.

Someone at the park handed me their phone number today. I’m planning on calling tonight!

If you are a little confused, that’s understandable. I am a 35-year-old man with an amazing wife of six years and three awesome kids. Why am I still getting girls’ phone numbers?

I never said I was getting a girl’s phone number: the digits I’m getting these days are of fellow stay-at-home dads.

Finding new adult friends as an at-home father is no day at the park. If you thought it was difficult to ask a girl for her phone number in a bar when you were 21, try asking another grown man for his phone number at the playground. It is not just awkward, but a little creepy.

But that is exactly what it has come to. Finding friends as a stay-at-home dad means you start at your new hangouts: the local park, school playground or zoo. You see other dads at these places, too. Since most dads with full-time jobs are also not able to push their kids on the swings at 10:30 on a Thursday morning, so it quickly becomes apparent who the other stay-at-home dads are.

The interactions with other fathers usually start small, with some type of primal grunt in the general direction of the dad. That is most likely the only interaction the two of you will have at that time. If you see each other a couple more times, one of you may even get up enough courage to muster, “Hey, how’s it goin’?” After a few more encounters the conversations begin and usually happen in this order:

1. Which ones are yours?
2. So how old are your kids?
3. Do you stay at home with them full-time?
4. What did you do before you stayed home with your kids?
5. So what does your wife do? (Probably the oddest question of them all.)

After the obligatory questions have been asked and answered, then snap judgments must be made about this guy’s entire family.

Could I really see myself hanging out with this guy?

Do his kids seem a little weird? I’m not sure I want my kids hanging out with somebody’s weird kids.

What if all he is interested in are shotguns and NASCAR? Will we ever have anything to talk about?

What if this guy is really a psycho? I don’t want to invite some psycho to come to my house and hang out with my kids.

And I sure hope he’s not a Yankees fan.

After this quick assessment has been made and the dad is deemed acceptable, it’s time to make a move. Want to get our kids together sometime? Deep breath … here goes … “How ’bout we exchange phone numbers so we can set something up for next week?”

And that’s it. You and your kids have found some new friends to play with, even if they are weird, gun-toting, NASCAR-loving, psycho Yankees fans.

A version of this first appeared on Indy’s Child. Finding friends on a beach photo by Tyler Nix on Unsplash

What will parents of the next generation think is crazy that we did as parents?

You know, in the same way that I can’t believe I never wore a seatbelt when I was a kid? And not only did I not wear a seatbelt, on long car trips, I would sit on the floorboards of the backseat for fun.

I also rode in cars with people who smoked … with the windows up. I mean, seriously — come on! What the hell? Windows up? I remember on more than one occasion, running to the store and buying cigarettes for my grandpa. At the time, I was 6.

I don’t see future moms and dads reversing some parenting trends. Such as them suddenly caring less about their kids wearing bike helmets. Certain things will always keep trending in a safer, more bubble-wrapped direction.

Still, future parents will be saying the same things about our parenting, I have no doubt. But what will the complaints be?

So long, sunscreen … and other fading parenting trends 

Screen time and technology will likely play a HUGE role in all of it. Will parents in the year 2030 be appalled we let our kids use iPads as a way of distraction while sitting in a restaurant or in the doctor’s office waiting room?

What about playgrounds? I’m picturing playgrounds of the future having nothing higher than about three feet off the ground. No more swings and slides either, those — like the now almost extinct seesaw — are much too dangerous.

This summer, I heard of people concerned about the safety of sunscreen. Maybe future generations will think we were crazy for slathering our kids up before they went to the pool. Who knows, maybe in 15 years, simply avoiding the sun is the only answer to not getting a sunburn.

I could see the potential for kids being in car seats until a later and later age. My question is, how do you stuff a 12-year-old into a rear-facing car seat?

Smoking is already in way fewer places than it was 30 years ago, my guess is, in another 15 years, there will be very few places people are allowed to smoke or vape. I’m thinking a smoker will only be allowed to smoke in his or her home and car.

Food. Food will likely be out of control. Half of each grocery store will likely be food designed, marketed and created just for kids. Not one of the items will have artificial ingredients or contain nuts either.

Ultimately, who knows what the future will hold in terms of parenting trends? In the end, as long as parents are hugging their kids, talking to them, reading to them and, in general, treating them right, I suppose all the other stuff ultimately doesn’t matter so much.

A version of this first appeared on Indy’s Child. Photo: © Gutu / Adobe Stock.

“Push on my belly.”

It seemed like such a simple request from my wife. Once I complied with it, I’d never seen her in so much pain, and I had previously witnessed her giving birth to our two children.

After a little more pushing and prodding, it was clear something needed to be done. Was all the pain and nausea simply symptoms of her first trimester of pregnancy? Could it be something more serious, like appendicitis? A doctor needed to access the situation.

We hopped in the car and drove 20 bumpy and agonizing minutes to the hospital. We arrived, checked in, and were sent to triage.

After receiving a CT scan, it was time to sit … and wait. There was not much else to do while the doctors checked the results. Over the course of the next few hours, we flipped through several TV channels and finally landed on the movie Fight Club. It had been well over a decade since I’d last seen this movie. I’d passed it up while flipping through channels many times before, but for some reason that night I was drawn to it. I clearly remember one scene where Brad Pitt’s character (Tyler Durdin) holds a gun to the back of a guy’s head and threatens to shoot him. After a few minutes, Tyler lets the man go. He then goes on to talk about the new appreciation that the man will have for his life:

“Tomorrow will be the most beautiful day of Raymond K. Hessel’s life. His breakfast will taste better than any meal you and I have ever tasted.” 

This struck me as a deranged but somewhat understandable comment. 

Answers and more worries

Three hours later, the answer was clear. My wife had appendicitis. An appendectomy is a relatively simple procedure (at least that is what I was told) but everything becomes a little more complicated when your wife is 14 weeks pregnant. And things become a lot more complicated when the part of the body where the surgery will be taking place is essentially right next to an unborn child. As scary and dangerous as the possibilities were, the surgery was necessary. An untreated and ruptured appendix would certainly mean the loss of a baby and potentially terrible consequences for my wife as well.

At 1 in the morning, she was wheeled away for surgery.

She returned to the room at 4 a.m. She was not doing well coming off the anesthesia. My wife began alternating between thinking she was the doctor and giving orders to the nurses about her care, dropping F-bombs about the entire situation, and vomiting into a bucket next to her in the hospital bed. Finally, things calmed down. Off to sleep she and I went.

After a few hours of sleep, the next day was quickly upon us. It was time to see what type of stress the surgery had put on the baby and check the baby’s heartbeat. Our doctor that morning was someone that had our complete trust. Just a year earlier he’d delivered our second child and once someone delivers your baby, there is a lifelong bond you carry with that person. Our doctor arrived in the room wheeling in a Doppler machine. He pressed the microphone to my wife’s belly, no sounds were heard.

“Don’t panic, don’t panic,” was all I could say to myself, over and over.

I gauged our obstetrician’s behavior to help me know how to react. He was calm, so I stayed calm. Maybe there was something wrong with the machine. In came the ultrasound machine. After a minute of fumbling around to get it set up, we could see the baby.

The baby was not moving and no heartbeat could be seen or heard. Panic began.

Waiting on a sign of life

So many thoughts raced around in my head. “Calm down, be strong for your wife,” I told myself. “Stay calm, stay calm.”

Again, I looked at the doctor to help measure my own reaction, this time I could see the fear and sadness in his eyes. I gripped my wife’s hand even tighter. What happened next was the saddest moment of my life. The doctor removed his hands from the machine, looked into our tired eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so, so sorry.”   

There was nothing left to do but cry.

While this was going on, another doctor, a close friend of my wife’s, ran to grab a different type of ultrasound probe. They decided to try a different probe, hoping for different results. Through the tears in our eyes and pain in our hearts, we barely even paid attention to what she was doing.

Then, suddenly, the ultrasound showed MOVEMENT!  

Wonderful, beautiful movement!

Our little baby was fine and kicking away. I have never felt a greater range of emotions than I felt that morning. From the deepest darkest place I didn’t even know existed to a mountaintop high feeling of pure joy. Amazing! Unbelievable! Miraculous! 

We continued to cry, but now it was for different reasons. Once the doctor left the room, we spent a great deal of time trying to come to grips with all that had happened in the last 24 hours. One thing that kept flashing back in my mind was the scene from the movie Fight Club we’d watched the night before. 

Tyler Durden made a good point. Never in my life have I appreciated the joy that is watching a baby move inside my wife’s belly quite like I experienced that morning. And even though it was a stale bagel with a plastic tub of peanut butter smeared on it, Tyler got it right … my breakfast tasted better than any meal I have ever tasted.

A version of this first appeared on Indy’s Child. Photo: © serhiibobyk / Adobe Stock.

I want nothing more than for my 5-year-old son to grow up to be a gentleman. Of course, I know he’s watching my every move and learns more from the way I act than from what I say. So to raise a gentleman, I too must be a gentleman in my everyday life.

Here are five of the things I’m encouraging in him.

1. Say “thank you”

When someone does something nice for you, say “thank you.” It’s such a simple thing to do, but it can really mean a lot. Saying “thank you” seems to come naturally to my son. Even on nights I know he doesn’t like what I’ve cooked for dinner he still tells me, “Thank you for making dinner, Dad.” Or at night while we’re reading books he’ll say, “Thanks for reading my story” or “Thank you for helping me learn that word.”

2. Hold doors open for others

A gentleman holds doors open for others, men or women. It’s just the polite thing to do. Yes, it is annoying when it’s the middle of winter and your son insists on standing out in the cold holding the door open for everyone at preschool, but instilling this lesson is worth it in the long run.

3. Use a proper greeting

This is one task kids have a tough time with. I tell my son that when he meets someone for the first time, he should do three things: make eye contact, give a firm handshake and say, “Nice to meet you.” Properly meeting people is important because a limp handshake, looking away from a person and mumbling “hey” is not going to help make friends, make a good impression at a job interview, and most importantly, it’s not going to help him meet girls.

4. Serve others first

This is another task that is not always easy for kids – especially if we’re talking about passing out dessert. But, when my son is in charge of passing out a snack, drinks or dinner he’s been taught to give to his sisters first, then himself last.

5. Be honest

Did you clean your room? Did you punch your sister? Honesty – the most important characteristic can also be the hardest one to teach.

A version of Raise a Gentleman of this first appeared on Indy’s Child. Photo: ©Africa Studio / Adobe Stock.

It would be easy for me to say, “Kids these days! They have it so much easier than we did growing up.” And, boy would I be wrong.

It is true that kids today can watch any show they want instantly and repeatedly while we had to wait all week to see our favorites. Assuming mom and dad would let us have control of the one TV in the house. Today’s kids have access to seemingly every song ever recorded at their fingertips while we had to sit by the radio until our favorite songs in the hope they came on so we could record them onto cassette.

When it comes to school, though, things are tougher now than ever before.

Take report cards, for example. Remember when report cards were handwritten by your teacher? It was almost too easy to change a D to a B. If you were really bold you could even change that F to an A. (I never did anything like that. Honest. But it could be done.)

Schools also sent those report cards home with kids. If you didn’t want to show your report card to your parents, you didn’t have to. Or at least you could choose the best time to give it to them. Let’s say you didn’t want to be grounded for the weekend. You could hide your report card in your backpack all weekend and leave it on the table as you headed out the door to school Monday morning. Proper timing was essential. My daughter’s report card arrives by email. She has no chance of getting her hands on it before I do.

Kids today can’t simply brush off an assignment by telling their parents they didn’t have homework that night either. Now assignments are posted online, for kids and parents to see.

Also, for better or worse, parents can email teachers 24 hours a day. Parents can also check their kids’ grades online every month, week or day if they choose. Big Mother and Father are constantly watching!

So next time you think today’s kids have it easy, just remember we didn’t have it quite so bad at least when it came to our grades.

A version of this first appeared on Indy’s Child. Books photo by PixaBay from Pexels; report cards photo by Kevin McKeever.

I remember going to the NCAA tournament with my family like yesterday even though it was many March Madnesses ago.

My first memory is of the tears of my son, Middle Man, hit the downtown Indianapolis pavement as swarms of NCAA basketball fans buzzed by us in all directions. A piece of his action figure fell off and he wanted us to find it.

We’d already walked several city blocks and were surrounded by thousands of people in Kentucky Blue and the maize and blue of Michigan. I’d been looking forward to this day for weeks, but like most outings with kids, things weren’t going the way I’d imagined.

A few weeks earlier, I received a chance to get free tickets for all of us to the NCAA tournament. I was very nervous when I saw the times of the games. The second Friday night game STARTED at 10 p.m. Sure, there was no chance of my kids making it to that game but, truthfully, there was barely a chance of me staying up that late. Luckily for us, a Sunday game time was announced with a tipoff for just after 5pm. Perfect.

The 5 p.m. start time gave us just enough time to sneak in a nap for our 2-year-old, aka The Blonde Bomber. On days she doesn’t nap, it is not a pretty sight. If things were going to go well, we NEEDED her to nap. Fortunately she slept. A lot. In fact, we had to wake her so we could head downtown for the big game.

We told the kids to bring something they could play with in the car, at dinner and at the game. My 7-year-old (First Born) brought a Barbie, Middle Man brought his action figure (ironically, it was Wolverine), and Blonde Bomber managed to make it out of the house with three dice. Yes, dice. Where does she get this stuff?

I grabbed the NCAA tourney tickets while my wife assembled a diaper bag, a diaper bag only a third child deserved. All it contained was a diaper and Ziploc bag of wipes.

We quickly loaded up the car, then headed downtown. Our plan: grab an early dinner then stuff our faces with snacks at the game.

We made it downtown an hour and a half before tip off. We immediately found parking, mainly since my wife convinced me to pay for parking as opposed to my usually routine of driving in circles looking for an elusive street parking spot. Now, it was time to find food.

When we took to the streets (without a stroller), it reminded me a little bit of when the Super Bowl was in town. Crazy. Busy. Drunk sports fans, not particularly paying attention to the short people we were dragging through the streets. This was also around the same time my son lost a piece of his action figure. Honestly, it was all very overwhelming.

The first restaurant we went into was telling its customers, it would be 45 minutes. Not the walk-ins — the people who ACTUALLY HAD RESERVATIONS!

I got on my phone and called every nearby restaurant. Nothing less than an hour wait, everywhere. It looked like if we wanted to eat, we were going to miss part of the game. I was on the verge of freaking out. Then, my wife spotted a Japanese restaurant across the street. It was our last resort.

We opened the door to the Japanese restaurant leaving behind the crazy drunken college kids stumbling through the streets of downtown, to absolute silence. An oasis in the middle of a desert! It was completely bizarre. There were a few tables of people eating and a chef making sushi, but it was absolutely silent. My wife and I just kind of looked at each other in amazement. I told her it was like walking into a daycare at nap time.

Within minutes we were seated, eating edamame, and waiting for our sushi. During the wait, our kids were sword fighting, poking each other with their chop sticks, and rolling the dice they brought. I never would have guessed those were going to come in handy. So much for a quiet restaurant.

I wouldn’t say the service was the best, but they really enjoyed making sure our kids’ Shirley Temple drinks were always topped off. Sounds nice, but when your secretly trying to dehydrate your kids so they won’t have to use the bathroom at the game, it’s not that great. Honestly, we were grateful we found any place with seats open and food to serve.

After eating we headed to the stadium with just enough time to get to our seats before tipoff. Our seats for this NCAA tourney game — absolutely perfect. Our backs were to the wall of the suites, which meant we had no one directly behind us. We were on an aisle, so the kids had space to roam a bit. If given the opportunity, I would not have chosen any other seats in the place. Except maybe suites where they had beer.

The game itself went a little something like this:

Tipoff: Concession stand trip No. 1

We decided to get the messiest, most labor intense snack item possible for kids: peanuts. I spent much of first half shelling. The Blonde Bomber was eating them faster than I could shell them. Even though I was doing the work, she had the nerve to get angry when I would eat one myself.

Start of second half: Concession stand trip No. 2

Jumbo soft pretzel with cheese.

13:20 minutes remaining in the NCAA game

I get accidentally poked in the eye by my 2-year-old’s salt covered index finger.

8:00 remaining: Concession stand trip No. 3

To my disbelief, we ordered a second jumbo soft pretzel with cheese.

6:00 remaining

The ground under our seats looks like a landfill.

5:00 remaining: Fourth and final concession stand trip

We bought a bag of Reece’s Pieces so big it would have made movie theater candy jealous.

2:00 remaining

Middle Man punched the Blonde Bomber in the face over who could be the guard of the Reese’s Pieces.

1:56 remaining

Middle Man and Blonde Bomber were both crying hysterically. He was crying because we took away his candy; she was understandably upset because of the punch to the face.

1:00 remaining

My wife took over full-time parenting duty. At this point, I was too wrapped up in the back and forth of the game to do any meaningful parenting.

3 seconds left

Kentucky hit a three pointer to go up by three.

As time ran out, Michigan missed a shot that would have sent the game into overtime. I’m not sure how my family would have handled overtime, but I don’t think it would have gone well, at all. Hallelujah for the game ending in regulation time.

As soon as the buzzer went off, we headed for the exits. Most of the 35,000 fans who attended the game were UK fans and they stayed for trophy presentation so it wasn’t too bad getting out of there.

We made the long walk, actual a long carrying of the kids, back to the car. We were exhausted. It was such a fun, memorable day my family and I will never forget. What a day. What an adventure! May it never happen again.

A version of this NCAA March Madness story first appeared on Indy’s Child. Photo: © sidorovstock / Adobe Stock.

Get there early, waste time in the school pickup line waiting, get your kid first.

Get there late, waste time waiting in school pickup line, get your kid last.

Whichever path you choose, you’re stuck. Waiting. The pickup line at our preschool is kind of like a traffic jam you voluntarily put yourself into each day.

When I’m sitting in the line, I’m most likely on my phone, reading the news, listening to NPR, checking things out on FB or Twitter … stuff like that. But recently I’ve found something more interesting to do with my time: watch other people while THEY wait. The past couple of weeks I’ve noticed several types of people in the pickup line.

The Overextended Mom

I’m not sure how this parent keeps her sanity, clearly getting no break from children all day long. Even though she’s picking up a kid or two, she has at least three others that are too young for preschool in her 15 passenger van.

The Excessive Groomer

Every day it’s something: nail clipping, pimple popping, makeup applying, etc.

The Socializer 

This person is always out of his or her car, talking to everyone, every day, and usually oblivious when the pickup line actually starts moving.

The Phone Talker

This parent is on the phone while pulling into the lot, waiting for pickup, while the teacher brings kid to the car, while the teacher tries to talk about the child’s day, and when driving away.

The Organizer

I thought I’d seen it all, until this person opened her sliding van door and I peered inside. It was perfect. No junk or clutter anywhere. There was a small plastic carousel organizer full of neatly arranged crayons. What? I’d never seen anything like it. And in the backs of seats where my kids’ stuff all their trash, hers was full of coloring books, regular books, normal kid stuff. It was amazing. Maybe I should hire her.

Photo by Stan from Pexels

“No screens on school nights.”

It’s the newest rule around our house. Before you think I turned into the sinister dad who banned dancing in Footloose, hear me out.

Screen time isn’t evil; it just needs to be used in moderation.

Our family started out allowing two 15-minute sessions of screen time per day. All was well. It became a problem when those 15 minutes turned into 30 minutes, then 45 minutes or longer. Our kids were coming home from school and quickly arguing who was getting what screen. They would also spend far too much time playing Minecraft or watching kids play with toys on YouTube. (Why kids would prefer to watch someone play with a toy rather than actually play with a toy themselves is beyond me).

Our kids weren’t interacting with each other or with me or my wife. They weren’t burning off any extra physical energy that didn’t get out of their system during their 15-minute recess (yes, 15-minute recess.) They were restless at bedtime, whined when we told them to get off their screens and whined again asking when they could get back on their screens.

It wasn’t working out.

Limiting screen time didn’t really help and eliminating screens altogether seemed a little unnecessary. My wife and I devised a new plan: “No Screens on School Nights.”

In the two months since we started this new approach, it’s worked really well for our family. The kids play together more. They are more creative, less whiny and go to bed easier at night — likely because they’ve exhausted themselves with physical play and they haven’t been staring at the blue light of a screen for an hour right before bed. On the weekends, we go back to giving them tokens to use for 15 minutes of screen time at a shot. Since our kids aren’t on screens during the week, we don’t feel bad if we let them stay on their devices a little longer on these days.

This system may not be for everyone. However, if you’re frustrated with your own kids’ relationship with whatever screen they choose, a “No Screens on School Nights” policy may be something to consider for your family too.

A version of this first appeared on Indy’s Child.

Screen time photo: © Africa Studio / Adobe Stock.

Whenever one of my children receives a birthday party invitation, I have one question — and only one question — I want answered. I don’t care where the party is. I’m not particularly interested in what the activities or theme will be. Heck sometimes, I don’t even care who the party is for. The question I want to be answered is, “Is this a drop-off birthday party or one where the parent stays?”

Birthday parties where the parent of an invited kid has to stay are the worst.

The. Absolute. Worst.

These parties amount to a parent watching his child at a location beside his own house. It’s usually two hours with other parents, sitting in some uncomfortably small chair in a bounce house or other “kid centered” facility. What’s worse? Watching the host load your kid up with soda and cake before sending them back home with you. And to think, you bought a gift for someone to put you through this.

Of course, I guess it won’t be long before my kids won’t even want me to know about what they are doing with their friends, let alone want me to be there with them during parties.

I suppose there could be worse ways to spend your weekend besides attending a birthday party with your child. Sure the chairs are tiny and the conversations are awkward, but it wouldn’t be the worst thing to meet some of the parents of the friends your kid hangs out with. And who doesn’t love to watch their children play and have fun with a group of friends, even if they are scarfing cake and chugging soda while they do it.

Maybe the “parent stays” parties aren’t so bad after all.

What is your birthday party preference? Stay and hang out or get out of Dodge?

A version of this first appeared on Indy’s Child. Birthday invitation photo: © Prostock-studio / Adobe Stock.

Were you aware that, depending on the vehicle you drive, you may be part of a special “wave” club?

Motorcyclists have a certain wave when they pass each other. They kind of take one hand off the handlebar and drop it down to the side. Jeep drivers have a special wave they give to one another. It even has a hierarchy: The person with the less cool Jeep must initiate the Jeep wave. And if you drive a Jeep Liberty, don’t even think of waving to a regular Jeep. I’m certain of both these special vehicle waves because, in the past, I’ve owned them both.

I’ve also heard there’s a special wave for Corvette owners. Since I’ve never owned a Corvette and there’s no room for car seats in one anyway, it’s unlikely I will own one any time soon. I’ll just have to take someone’s word for it.

I think it would be cool for us minivan drivers to come up with our own special wave. I have a couple of ideas, but am also definitely open to suggestions.

My first special wave is just for male minivan drivers to give to one another. It is the scissor “snip-snip” motion with your index and middle fingers. The snip-snip symbolizes that if you have enough kids to fill a minivan, you probably need to schedule yourself a vasectomy. If applicable, the responding driver could motion back with two fingers in a V shape to convey the surgery has already taken place. Maybe the female version of this could be a mom crossing her fingers to other minivans as a symbol of having her tubes tied.

The only other special wave I can come up for minivan drivers is a covering of the ears motion. This, of course, would translate to “My kids are making me crazy!” The biggest problem I see with this is, each driver would have to take both hands off the wheel to wave to one another. This would be difficult, dangerous and involve needing to put down one’s cell phone.

Any other suggestions?

A version of this first appeared on Indy’s Child. Photo: © Romvy / Adobe Stock.