Editor’s Note: We’re digging into our ample archives to find some great articles you might have missed over the years. This one comes from 2016.

Since the internet and calendar tell me I’ve got a kid approaching age 13, I offer you eight observations that will give you important insight into what you need to know about raising a tween.

1. Your Silence is Golden … Sometimes

I get it, fellow dads, you’re fixers. Same here. But when you’re raising a tween you will find she will go through some stuff that you can’t fix, complicated stuff that she doesn’t even want you to try to fix. Often during this time, a steady shoulder to lean on — literally and figuratively — is all that’s required of you. You’ll know when your sage advice and vaguely related stories of your own youth are needed. That’s when you can strap on your cape and save the day.

2. What are You Wearing/Doing to Your Hair?

Tweens will, especially if they weren’t permitted to have any decision-making power in their “younger days,” push boundaries and your buttons when it comes to fashion. While you should have been granting them this freedom all along, it is important to understand they are trying to define themselves to the world. This is a good and important thing. So pick your battles wisely. Eventually, the “Can I color my hair?” or “Who said you could color your hair?” conversation will happen. Have a spare towel and a pair of plastic gloves at the ready.

3. Watch What Your Face is Really Saying

Michelle Icard nails it in her great book, Middle School Makeover: You may think you are saying nothing while your tween opens up about him or her or them or it but your face is anything but quiet. Raising a tween means paying more attention to your facial expressions than you ever thought necessary. (Listen to the Modern Dads Podcast with Michelle Icard about this very topic!)

4. Smell Like Tween Spirit – Eww

Babies smell like rainbows. Toddlers like every food ever made AND then combined. Tweens … well, tweens smell like sweat and hormones and awkwardness. Water bill be damned, daily showers are now essential.

5. It’ll Inevitably Come Unhinged Raising a Tween

Usually, by using nothing more than a Phillips head screwdriver, you can take a door off its hinges. Keep this in mind if door slamming becomes a part of your life when raising a tween because it gets awfully hard to slam something that isn’t there.

Now for a few things that might fly in the face of conventional wisdom about raising a tween …

6. They’re Never Too Old for a Snuggle

Admittedly, it might not happen as frequently as when they were 5 and maybe not in front of certain (or any) friends, but your tween will still crave a good snuggle and they won’t necessarily refuse a hand to hold while walking into a concert with you either.

7. You Can’t Spell ‘School’ Without ‘Fun’

OK. None of the letters in “fun” are found in “school” but tweens, while obviously growing up, are still kids and kids like having fun. That’s a fact. It’s important to remember not to strip all of the school time fun away just because the kids are starting to look like mini-adults.

8. Toys are Still Fun

It’s not all texting and dystopian books with tweens, or at least it doesn’t have to be. Littlest Pets, Matchbox cars, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Legos, Minions, and more: pop culture toy icons don’t fade away when a kid turns 10 (only to return a decade later when that kid is suddenly a hipster 20-year-old). They are still fun and if given the opportunity to enjoy an elongated childhood, your tween can and will still be a kid.

A version of this first appeared on Out with the Kids. Photo: © Alinute / Adobe Stock.

In hope of avoiding early morning meltdowns over clothing choices, I had our 3-year-old pick her dress the night before. It’s white with pink, blue and polka-dotted raindrops all over. She went to bed that night happy with her decision. I was hopeful it was enough to help us through the morning routine that has become such a challenge of late.

When I went into her room the next morning, she was already wide awake, singing and talking to herself. I sat on the floor, engaging her in chatter while staying alert for signs she was ready to turn against me.

And when I sensed things were about to turn, I brought up the dress. It patiently waited on the hanger, dangling from a dresser knob. Once she remembered it, she eagerly got up and beckoned me to help her put it on.

After a failed attempt to put it on feet-first (the neck is too small to fit around her waist), she had her first meltdown of the day. Next, we tried the head-first approach, which worked. I pointed out how pretty the dress looked on her and asked if she’d like to look in the mirror to see for herself. She didn’t bite at that, but she changed her tune when I brought up the choice of what socks should complete the outfit.

Socks are on, we were ready to move on. As we walked into the bathroom to brush her teeth, I hear something I was not prepared for.

“Daddy, I want makeup so I can look pretty.”

I instantly recoil.

Wearing makeup starts … at home?

My mind raced to determine where our toddler got this idea. Who told our child she needed lipstick, blush and mascara to look pretty? Was it one of her friends at daycare who has an older sister? Did one of the cartoon princesses she adores take a trip to beauty school in an episode she watched? Or was it in an article from one of the Toddler Cosmopolitan magazines I’ve seen lying about in her room? I’ve been meaning to cancel that subscription.

Then I remembered.

My wife let her put on makeup recently. She was trying to calm her down and give her something to do while they were getting ready for a weekend getaway.

I doubt my wife actually said something this absurd to our child, but now it appears the seed had been planted. We needed to do something about it.

I stalled for time. What’s the right thing to say to a 3-year-old girl about what qualifies as “pretty”? As a parent, I thought this conversation would come much later. Maybe I’d even be prepared for it by then. But that’s the thing: parenthood can throw lots of things your way when you’re not ready for them, and it’s up to you to sort them out and make the best of the situation.

+ Read: 5 things to know about kids and makeup +

On top of that, I’m a guy. I grew up concerned about action figures, cartoons and video games. I could not have cared less about how I looked as long as I was comfortable.

Now, as the father of a girl, I’m in a world I know very little about. I’m grateful I have my wife to help me through these moments, but I also want to take an active role no matter what it involves. I will absolutely learn about issues young girls face when the time comes, but for now, I want my child to be a child. I want the focus to be on who she wants to be as an individual, rather than how she looks. Or, for at least as long as that’s possible.

Finding words of wisdom

Eventually, I found my words.

“You don’t need makeup to look pretty. You’re pretty already and I love you,” I said.

If this was a TV sitcom, my child would stop and think about what I had just said. Then, she’d agree with me. We’d share a hug and a smile. One of us would then say something witty and the audience would laugh and applaud.

But in real life, my child responded with a louder and more stern demand for her face to be painted.

After some more back and forth I eventually laid down the law. “You’re 3 years old and you don’t need makeup,” I said.

She wailed and went to a corner to pout. I took this new meltdown as a chance to finish getting ready myself and let her cool off.

After some time, I managed to convince her to get to daycare. But right before we left she stopped and asked to look at herself in the mirror.

I followed close behind and watched her admire her dress and hair in the mirror, eyes full of stars and a huge grin on her face. I knelt beside her, gave her a big hug, and said, “I know you wanted to wear the makeup to look pretty, but you’re pretty even without it. See?”

She smiled again. I held out my hand to lead her off to school for the day.

As we walked, hand in hand, I thought about how both wonderful and challenging life as a parent can be. As much as I don’t want my child to get older and face the harsh realities that await her, I will do everything I can to be there for her when things get tough. I love her and think that she’s pretty and beautiful no matter what clothes she wears or what she puts on her face.

Although if I had my way, she’d walk out of the house dressed like this for as long as possible. Pretty, indeed.

A version of makeup first appeared on Our Little Mixtape. Photo: © Irina Glazaceva / Adobe Stock.

Editor’s Note: We’re digging into our ample archives to find some great articles you might have missed over the years. This one comes from 2014.

Parents have more stuff than ever to make their lives easier, but some common-sense parenting tools still need to be invented … soon!

Sure some of this stuff might be as likely as hoverboards to come along soon, or it might not pass all the safety tests, but it would restore sanity to busy parents’ lives. Something must be done, so here is my list. Borrow it, steal it, share it, whatever you do — just invent one thing off here and you will go down in parenting folklore as a hero.

Parenting Tools You Can Really Use

Shirts With Spit-Proof Shoulders

How many times have you left the house with spit-up, food, or saliva stains on your shoulder?! I now judge the cleanliness of my shirts just based on the collection of spots on the shoulders. C’mon, fashion designers, can’t we make some baby-proof Teflon fabric already?

Diapers That Actually Work

We can put a man on the moon but we can’t trap poop in a diaper? I feel as though there is a hidden tunnel in there specifically to channel poop up my baby’s back. How do babies pull off the trick of getting it up to their armpits without much landing inside the diaper anyway? Sure, your kid looks cute but transfer them to solid food and you might need a hose in the nursery to wash that crib down.

Pacifier Adhesive

There have been times I have looked longingly at duct tape and thought it would solve all of my pacifier problems. Can’t we have just a little nontoxic pacifier glue? I know, I know, there are all kinds of problems with this but an exhausted parent can dream, right?

Kid-Sized Hamster Feeder Water Bottle

I guarantee with a kid-sized hamster feeder water bottle, bedtime will be 300 percent more enjoyable. Does the kid need water? They just reach up to the wall-mounted gigantic upside-down water bottle and all is right with the world. Sure it would look ridiculous, but just think how much more entertaining Instagram would be with all those pictures.

Velcro Onesies

Another no-brainer in the parenting tools world. Onesies with snaps were designed by the devil himself. They should be illegal in all 50 states. I think being a zipper and Velcro-only country would stop half of all parent meltdowns. Point me in the direction of the store that sells these first and I will spend whatever it takes. They could even have a “Snaps Onesie” exchange program where you can trade in your vile snaps for the ease of Velcro. I might just cry tears of joy instead of tears of frustration.

Pants with Kid-Proof Knees

Engineers can design bulletproof vests but it’s impossible to make jeans that make it through an afternoon of my son at the playground. I firmly believe that we can upgrade our pants technology after keeping it status quo for hundreds of years. Sure there are more pressing issues in the world, but we all know little kids should grow out of their clothes before wearing them out. Kid-proof pants knees, I want them by Christmas.

Seatbelt for Eating at the Dining Room Table

What do you do when your child is too old for the booster seat but is allergic to sitting down at dinner? It’s like it is physically impossible for them to stay seated for longer than three bites of food. The dinnertime seat belt saves meals and lives!

Freeze-Frame

How many arguments have you been in the middle of and you just needed a short breather? Exactly. Saved By The Bell was ahead of its time when it introduced Zach Morris calling “timeout” in the middle of a scene. We need this among our parenting tools ASAP. Think about it. Everything freezes and you go eat a bowl of ice cream, then go back and solve the fight over what kid gets what book. You might even be able to finish cleaning the house before the first room you cleaned gets messed up again.

Instant Toddler Hug

As a dad, there is not much that brightens my day more than my son coming over and giving me a big hug. Why not get that feeling all day long? I don’t know how to do it but bottle toddler hugs and they would fly off the shelf. The world would just be a better place.

A version of Parenting Tools previously ran on Lunchbox Dad. Photo: © Syda Productions / Adobe Stock.

“Dad where are my swimsuit bottoms with the ruffles?” my 7-year-old, Emersyn, screams as she turns over her dresser drawers in frustration.

I laugh and help her locate the errant swimsuit: a long-sleeved rash guard with matching pink ruffles on the butt.

Breaking my concentration, a new voice suddenly beckons from across the room, “Dad, can you help tie up my top?”

My 13-year-old, Viviana, approaches me with her arms crossed, holding up her little, pink bikini top as its strings drape over her shoulders. She stands virtually eye-to-eye to me now. I dutifully tie a tight bow before she walks off in a two-piece bathing suit that I can only describe as an intersection of a dad’s nightmare and teenage boy’s dream. 

I’m thankful for summer, but not for the dad dread of my young daughters in swimsuits. 

When our daughters are small, the suits are cute – adorned with ruffled butts and cartoon character bellies. There is little worry of adequate coverage from the sun (or a creepy old guy). Emersyn, in fact, could not care less about what she is wearing in the pool as long as the suit does not interfere with her ability to dive for the pennies I toss to her in the shallow end. 

A swimsuit style change is a gonna come

Something changes, though, during the middle school years – between 11 and 14-years-old. 

Our kids’ swimsuits begin to show more skin, with far less fabric and more pieces, sold in “look at me” colors, purchased with the direct thought of what others might think when they see them at the beach, pool, or on their Insta story. 

No dad can prepare for the inevitable day when this happens. Just as our daughters graduate from ruffles and Minnie Mouse to bright pink and visible cleavage, we dads must evolve. And, as we come around to the forced idea that our little princesses are now little women, we will have to help them protect themselves while simultaneously improving their own body image. 

This is hard work.    

When I saw Viviana’s first such smallish swimsuit a few years ago, I immediately recoiled, “OH MY GOD. Did Mom say that was OK to buy? That seems a little mature.”

That was not the best of reactions.

It is easy to stomp your feet and throw down mandates as it relates to what your kid is allowed to wear. In doing so, though, dads may be walking ourselves into an inevitable rebellion. Moreover, we have a responsibility to help our children carry a positive body image. 

Maybe the confidence required to wear a bikini to the beach is cause for celebration. Viviana’s strong. She is empowered. She feels comfortable in her own skin (although too much skin for my liking). Look at my young girl go!

Sigh.

Reacting to her itsy bitsy teenie weenie bikini

Or maybe I can take the opportunity to provide Viviana with a guy’s perspective of her minimal-ish swimsuit. This approach is complicated.

First, I should not be cringy. I would if I commended her confidence and told her she is beautiful. Next, though, I would try to explain that boys will certainly be checking her out – potentially oversexualizing her appearance as their hormones rage. Further, I would assure her that despite these young men fighting pubescent immaturity, there is no excuse for being objectified or disrespected for what she is wearing.

Rest assured, I will worry about her all the while kicking around the thought that I should have just told her no.    

But, when Viviana asks me to tie her bikini top, I will smile and help while internally puckering. I will want to react but will fight the urge to impose my prejudiced machismo on her influential body image and self-esteem. Viviana will walk off with half a butt cheek showing and I will shake my head and stay silent. I want to yell, “Get back in the house and cover up!”

And, just when I wallow in the thought that my little girl is no longer, Emersyn’s ruffled butt dives into the water and splashes me back to this moment. 

I throw the penny near her. As Emersyn returns to the surface with her arms in the air triumphantly and a gooey string of snot dripping from her 8-year-old nose, she exclaims, “Daddy, found the penny again!” 

Raising daughters for dads is great and hard. Emersyn is a joy. So is her sister. Even when our girl’s swimsuit butt ruffles give way to virtually nothing at all.

Photo: © Monkey Business /Adobe Stock.

I sit watching my daughter struggle to put her shoes on.

Why must she always pick the most difficult shoes to put on when we are in a hurry?

“I can do it myself, Daddy!”

Yes, you can do it yourself, but it will take forever and once forever is finally over, I will be horribly late for my meeting at school. Just let me put the damn shoes on for you so we can get out of the house!

“Take your time, dear,” I say, “I know you can do it.”

I continue to work on deep breathing. I continue reminding myself that this very moment will be forgotten in time and life will continue.

I have a hard time believing myself.

“I can’t do it!”

She rips the strap out of the buckle and collapses onto the floor, taking us back to square one.

“I know it can be tough, but once you learn, you will be able to do it all by yourself all the time,” I say. “That’s what big girls do, they put on their own shoes, all by themselves”

My patience has now run dangerously thin. Perhaps we should pick up this nice life lesson after my PTA meeting.

“Why don’t I help you this time, and next time, you can do it all by yourself?”

I reach for her shoe.

“NO, Daddy!”

She has started crying and holding on to her shoes. If I must act quickly or we are no longer on the verge of a major meltdown, we are. Think man, think!

“What’s wrong?” I ask because sometimes good ol’ logic can work on a 4-year-old.

“I don’t want to be a big girl! I want to stay a kid forever!”

I move closer. I sit next to her.

We sit in silence.

She is annoyed with her buckle, frustrated with being compared to “big girls” and just wants to stay a kid forever. Sometimes that’s all we have to go on. With parenting, it’s not always what sage advice we can lay on our kids that will help them grow up. Sometimes it’s simply being there to support what they may be feeling at that moment. It’s been a long time since I was 4 years old, but I can still recognize those feelings she has and validate the importance of them.

Today, we are sitting on the floor, crying, holding our shoes, and feeling like time should stand still.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Bryan Grossbauer is an actor, musician, former teacher and full-time stay-at-home dad to two children. A member of our NYC Dads Group, he and his family live in New Rochelle and enjoy traveling, hiking, and live music. A version of this piece first appeared on his blog, Dig it, Daddy-O.

Little girl, big shoes photo by photo: © Denis Tabler / Adobe Stock.

The stress and commotion of the workplace can attach to you like a leech. By the time you get home from another long work day, any desire you had to do anything with your family can suddenly become the lowest of priorities. You kick your feet up and reach for the remote, but …

You know dang well that your kid and family need you. They want you to play, help with things around the house, and plan for the future.

But you are just so exhausted.

So how does one find the “life” in work-life balance?

I’ve been on a constant search for that during the past few years. I look to determine what I can do to light a flame, get a second (or third) wind, and make myself more emotionally available to my wife and daughter. One of the major changes I made was to start working from home, but that’s not an option for everyone. As such, I’ve gathered the best advice I have heard or received that has allowed me to be a better partner, father and person by achieving work-life balance:

Seek flexible work-life schedules

Work-life balance starts at the workplace. In the same way a good employee should be loyal, take on tough assignments and make decisions that are good for the company, a good employer should do the same for a valued employee.

Don’t be afraid to ask your employer for arrangements that make things easier for you. Can you work from home one day a week? Could you leave early on certain days to pick the kids up from school? You’ll be surprised at how many companies are willing to do this to keep their best people. All you have to do is ask.

If you feel this may come with repercussions from your peers or bosses, think about your role as a father. You probably already have the mindset that you need to provide for your family, so use that. Realize that your responsibility is to provide in all ways — not just financially, but also with time. Pressure your employers to value you or find a company that will. The ThirdPath Institute helps people do just this and can be a great work-life resource to tap into.

Structure life as you do work

I better understood what needed to be done around my home by organizing tasks in the same way I did at the office. My job uses several productivity tools and programs to track what needs to be done. We decided to adopt one for our home! We use Trello to create and update our to-do lists in the same way that I do for work.

This helps you can start treating home tasks as extensions of your job because, ultimately, your day job is only one to fulfill your responsibilities as a father. It’s going to feel good to get items off your checklist and doing it in an environment that you understand will help you achieve those quicker.

Dress for the success

For work, you gotta dress for the part, right? Do the same at home. For me, if I dress too comfortably, I equate it to relaxation and I don’t want to do anything. My daughter, just as any toddler, requires a lot of energy, so the best way to dress to keep up with her is by throwing on my running shoes and workout clothes. Wearing my running shoes just  psychologically makes me more agile and keeps me from just laying around.

Learn, obey your sleep patterns

What really helped me use my time more efficiently was understanding my sleep patterns, particularly when it’s impossible to get a full eight hours of sleep.

Basically, a sleep cycle lasts 90 minutes and goes through five different stages. Within those stages, there are shallow/light periods of sleep and deep/heavy ones. The secret is waking up when you’re in light, shallow sleep. If you do, you won’t feel so groggy and you’ll wake up in a much better mood. This means you can feel more refreshed even when waking up earlier if you do it while you’re in a light sleep period. You can use that to extra time for either yourself or to get things done so you have less to do later.

A bunch of fancy tools can help you map your sleep cycles, many found within fitness wearables. If you want to use any of these, an app called Sleep Time can help you via your smartphone.

Once you figure out your optimal sleep times, you can make it a routine to go to sleep and wake at the same time. I use a light-emitting alarm clock that mimics the sun rising over a 30 minute period. I lets me naturally wake up during light sleep without those obnoxious alarm clock sounds that pierce right through your soul.

Cleanse from time-drainers

This one is hard because it takes sacrifice. If your family struggles for time with you, then time-drainers shouldn’t be given any priority. I’m talking about TV, sports, video games, Netflix, social media … you know, those things that suck up your time but you always somehow make excuses for.

You don’t have to stop these things altogether, but you should really focus on decreasing your time with them. We think these are things make us who we are, but as soon as you get rid of them you’ll realize how much you don’t need really need them. I have a hard time with binge-watching TV shows. Whenever I get started, it’s hard for me to stop so I try my best to avoid getting sucked into a new one.

Don’t be discouraged if you fall into a wave-like pattern of alternating good and bad periods. The important thing is recognizing the valleys and then trying to correct course.

Give time to yourself

Finally, carve out “me” time where you can. This could be going to the gym or a taking a break to consciously enjoy a time-drainer. Talk to your partner so they understand you need to occasionally decompress, but limit these breaks so they happen either when your time isn’t needed by your family/job (such as early in the morning before work), or perhaps on certain days you feel like you may need them most (Monday Night Football, anyone?). Setting up this time will keep you also looking out for yourself and I assume can do well for mental health.

Try these work-life balance tips out and see if they work for you. Be that super dad you know you’re capable of being and make time work in your favor.

Work-life balance achieved photo by Val Vesa on Unsplash.

A member of NYC Dads Group who designed a line of clothing specially for new fathers will pitch his company to a national television audience and the business moguls of ABC-TV’s Shark Tank on Oct. 29.

Andrew Bentley of Brooklyn ran a successful $30,000 Kickstarter campaign in 2016 to start Father Figure, a company that produces clothing designed for dads — specifically those caring for infant children. The line includes super soft shirts, reinforced at the points where baby is usually held and featuring loops to hold burp rags (which the company also makes).

“It’s a dream to be able to share my vision to build a company that ‘strengthens the loving bond among fathers and their children’ with the world,” Bentley announced on his Facebook page recently. “Will I strike a deal with one of the celebrity millionaire / billionaire investor sharks? Or maybe I just trip on the floor rug and spill burp rags all over everybody. Tune in to see!”

Bentley, who has written on the importance of paid paternity leave for our blog, decided to start the company after his wife become pregnant, and conversations will male friends revealed how dads felt they lacked respect and validation for their work as parents.

I can’t remember why I didn’t bring a change of clothes to the hospital. It’s probably because I kind of suck at planning. Also, it was our first kid, and I was freaking the f**k out.

My wife, Allie, also may have been freaking the f**k out, but she is a planner by passion as well as by trade. She planned on having a natural child birth. After 36 hours of labor … It. Was. Not. Happening.

Allie cried. A C-section was not part of the plan. A nurse gave her some meds, which helped. Then an emergency C-section bumped Allie down the wait list. And she had to wait. And wait some more. The meds wore off and she was suffering through contractions that had no endgame. The nurse told her not to push; she was supposed to pull or hold, I don’t know, anything but push. Allie was in pain like never before and she just wanted to have her goddamn baby already. I don’t remember what T-shirt I was wearing at the time.

My daughter, Penny, was born on a historic night, the one in which America elected its first black president, and the streets were filled with revelers. The world changed. My world changed. I really wanted my shirt to change. But Allie needed me to stay by her side.

(Before I get too much credit or make too many women swoon while throwing their significant others significant shade, it is here that I am forced — by my wife — to admit that I would abandon her later for Thai food and frozen yogurt while not getting her the Chinese food she was so desperately craving.)

Penny was a big, beautiful, happy baby. We were starting to accept visitors and my buddy Jeff was one of the first. I begged him to pick up a shirt on the way, figuring he’d get me a $2 “I Love NY” shirt at a corner bodega or something completely cheesy and embarrassing. Because we’re friends and that’s what we do. I would have happily worn anything other than the sticky, stinky shirt I’d been nervously pacing and sweating in for nearly 3 days. The one he brought was a plain brick-colored tee from Old Navy. Nothing exciting, but also not goofy and embarrassing. And it fit well. I would wear it often in the years to come.

I used a shower in the maternity ward and changed. I felt like a new man. I was a new man. I was a dad. I held my baby wearing that shirt. I read her her first story in that shirt. She looked at me with her big, beautiful, knowing eyes. She cried and I comforted her. I cried and couldn’t believe what I’d help make. I swaddled and changed her. I lay down next to my wife, with Penny on her chest, just gazing at both of them. In awe. In that plain brick-colored t-shirt.

I haven’t worn it in a while. It’s just been sitting in my drawer, an occasional reminder of the most monumental day of my life.

I picked it up again yesterday, along with quite a few other T-shirts that I never wear anymore. At first, my wife was excited when I told her I was tossing some old clothes. She looked through the discarded garments to see if there was anything threadbare and soft she could use as pajamas. After initially agreeing with my decisions, she saw a baby blue shirt imprinted with a green palm tree that I’d bought for our honeymoon cruise. She started a pile of her own, telling me indignantly, You can’t throw this away. It’s special.

And then she saw that brick-colored shirt from Old Navy. She paused in disbelief. Don’t you know what THIS shirt is from!? Of course I do. How could I forget?

But it’s just a shirt. A shirt faded and stained with dried deodorant and baked-in sweat. A shirt I will never wear again. A shirt that I don’t need to keep for the memories it contains, because one look in my little girl’s eyes and the memories are all there. It’s just a shirt.

But I haven’t thrown it out yet.

A version of this first appeared on Amateur Idiot/Professional Dad.

Every morning is the same rushed routine. My wife and I divide and conquer, hoping to get out of the house on time for school drop-off.

I coax one kid out of bed, she gets the other. She dresses the boy, brushes his teeth and makes sure the girl is moving on her own at a reasonable pace. All the while, I stumble downstairs, still in my own fog, and take the dog out for a walk. I come back, pour some cereal in a bowl for the kids, tell ‘em to eat up, and then I make then lunch. (Artisanal sandwiches of fine jams and pulverized peanuts, all on whole wheat potato bread, delicately de-crusted by hand. PB&J. Every day.) I help my daughter brush her hair and my wife makes sure all the books are packed and papers are signed. We scramble out the door, shouting at the kids that we’re going to be late, knowing that we’re on time. Barely.

Oh, yeah. At some point, my wife and I both PUT ON PANTS.

This is because we’re going out in public, specifically, where our children’s teachers, friends and friends’ parents will see us.

Actually, my wife is going to work, where proper attire is a must. Hell, she even showers most days! I am a stay-at-home dad. If I shower (highly questionable), it’s later, on my time. But, somehow, every morning, I find the time to get dressed.

It really seems like the least I can do. The least any of us can do.

But, for some parents, it’s just too darn much.

Parents wearing pajamas to walk their kids to the bus stop.

Parents wearing pajamas to walk their kids to school.

A principal in England not long ago recently wrote a letter to mums and dads at her school requesting they put something bloody proper over those knickers, aye! (I’m paraphrasing in a horrible British accent. “Shine ya shoes, guvna?”)

I will be the first to admit that if I got that letter, I might start being one of those parents wearing pajamas to school drop-off. Because I fight authority, authority always wins.

However, I understand her frustration. It is neither very difficult nor very time-consuming to put on a pair of jeans. If jeans aren’t comfy cozy enough, there are a lot of other options. Yoga or track pants, perhaps. Even sweats look like you’re wearing something that (maybe) you didn’t sleep in though you may notice more people asking if you’re “doing OK” or looking at you like you might not be.

Exceptions can be made. Everyone will understand if you have a day where it just ain’t happening. You’re sick as a dog, but still have to get the kids to school. Or that 45 seconds really will keep your kid from getting a late pass. But as a regular habit? No.

Just no.

You are part of society. A highly functioning member, as a matter of fact. As such, you are expected to follow certain implicit expectations of proper behavior. Foremost among these: YOU MUST WEAR PANTS (unless it’s No Pants Day on the New York subways).

So slip off your flannel footies and put on your big-boy pants. Show your kids you have a little pride in yourself and respect for them and their institution of learning. Really, it’s the least you can do.

Photo: Walking via photopin (license)

A recent cold snap reminded me of a fact I simply cannot deny: my son is, and has long been, a loser.

This simple teenage truth became comically clear about this time last year and remains true to this day. The mystery also remains, “Why can’t my son keep track of his things?”

The most recent round of this longtime loser phenomenon started a year ago with the anticipation of ski season. I bought my son his season pass and a handsome new ski jacket, plaid like the snowboarders wear, a good brand, on sale. When the weather turned cold a few days later, it made sense for him to wear the jacket to school; it never came home. When questioned, he remembered taking it off in a stairwell at his large, urban high school. “Must’ve left it there…” We never saw that handsome new ski jacket again. (And I wonder what my son could’ve done if he did see another student wearing it in the hallway.)

Lessons for a loser teen

To teach him a lesson, our son had to buy his own new jacket. He found another plaid one for cheap at a used clothing store. Not a good brand and not really so much made for snow sports as for fashion, he would pay the natural consequences of this inferior garment once he hit the slopes. The only problem with that lesson was that this new (used) jacket went missing before we ever went skiing.

To teach him yet another lesson, our son was forced to wear his old ski jacket from the previous seasons after the other two coats went missing. The sleeves were short on him, an affront to his sense of fashion. He took this in stride, yet this jacket, to which his season ski pass was attached, also did not come home from school soon after.

By now you must be wondering how I could contain myself and not go off on my son for losing a total of three ski jackets. Parenting pundits might suggest we punish him by taking money or preventing him from skiing. Instead we took the suggestion of the Slow Parenting Teens book and website and rolled with these events. Rather than strain our relationship with our teenager, and also sacrifice an otherwise good ski season, I offered my son my old, black, REI puffy jacket – fiber-filled, not down – which was too big and not the least bit attractive on him.

The ski season came and went, and with it our memories of those missing jackets. (A trip to his school Lost & Found did eventually turn up the third one – arms now way too short, the ski pass long since replaced.) And the seasons passed again until this recent cold snap when out came the ugly, black puffy that now fit slightly better as our son continues to grow like teens do.

Yet as the seasons change, some things stay the same. Today is a snowy Denver day, and my son cannot seem to find that consolation puffy, last seen in the high school theater as part of his costume for the fall play. “I’ll look for it,” he assures us. I asked that he also look for the old soft-shell jacket I loaned him to wear under his vintage black leather jacket a few weeks ago. When that old favorite of mine went missing, we agreed he’d pay me for part of the replacement. As he layered up today with shirts and a sweater, I noticed that after our discussion he chose to leave his treasured leather coat at home, perhaps acknowledging the odds it would otherwise go the way of so many jackets before it.

I am a longtime loser, too

Life brings loss, and I’ve known plenty of it. My mother when I was seven, my only sister when I was 11, my dad just 21 months ago. In the great scope of things, losing these jackets is no big deal. My son is really just playing to type, doing as his peers and what is age-appropriate, losing things and learning from it, albeit slowly. Sure, I could press the matter more, make him pay more cash, or somehow more dearly, but I am not convinced it would help my son change his ways. And

So what? My son is a loser. So am I. No, I don’t misplace anywhere near what he does. Indeed, I have a talent for remembering where I last saw things, and I pride myself on how seldom stuff actually goes missing, and on my ability to recall and locate items that do.

However, to be perfectly fair and honest, those pesky little Bluetooth headsets that I stridently wear in service to cellphone safety while driving go missing so frequently that my eBay account knows exactly what brand I am seeking when I log on to order another one. Yes, I am a loser too. My son loses coats, I lose headsets. Like father, like son, and that’s why I give him a break.

(Epilogue: Ask me about his “stolen” iPhone and the keys I lost this week. A loser never falls far from the loser tree.)

A version of this first appeared on The Grateful Dad.