Are We Still Cool? » growing up

Check out my sweet new shoes!!

cool dad — Tue, 15 Jun 2010 12:30:31 +0000

I’ve been looking for brown casual shoes for months now. Last week, I finally found a good pair online and ordered them. They came the next day! Check ‘em out!

Happy Birthday: Cool Baby turns three!

cool dad — Sat, 29 May 2010 12:39:19 +0000

Happy Birthday to the coolest baby that we know, Cool Baby! He turns three today, so I guess he’s more of a Cool Boy than a Cool Baby. Well…I think we’ll keep him our baby at least until the next one comes around. Happy Birthday to our favorite little guy!!

I judged pay phone users until I found out the sex of our baby

cool dad — Tue, 25 May 2010 14:18:09 +0000

People who talk on pay phones always seem suspect to me. Always.

My friend had this as her Facebook status, and I fully agreed. I felt the same way about pay phone users here in the city that I did about bus riders back in Florida. I’d think, “How do they not have a cell phone?” just like I thought, “How do they not have a car?” Those are shamefully judgmental attitudes that I hope don’t resurface anytime soon or ever.

I learned the hard way that pay phones still serve a purpose in our wireless society and the people who use them are just as valuable as any iPhone junkie. And it happened during one of the biggest moments for any pregnant couple.

Unlike our first pregnancy, I couldn’t get to any of Cool Mum’s appointments, but today was different. We were finding out the gender of the next Cool Baby. I left work in a hurry and in my haste, I left my phone there. I was well on the way to the subway when I realized it, and I didn’t have time to go back and get it. That’s OK, I figured, because I had time to meet CM at our apartment and go to the appointment together.

I didn’t have as much time as I thought I did because CM was gone when I got home. I ran off to where I thought the clinic was, but when I got there, I was wrong. And I couldn’t call Cool Mum.

It was time to seem suspect and use a pay phone. I immediately noted the irony of the situation. I dug some change out of my man-purse and tried to call CM’s phone, but the call wouldn’t go through. I gave the phone the $1.00 that the staticky female voice asked for. I tried this 3 times, but no go. Then I called work to see if a coworker could reach CM. No one answered.

I was supposed to be finding out the gender of my new baby, but instead of I was fighting with a crummy pay phone. What, my money wasn’t good enough for it?? I guess I was on Madison Avenue, but still.

Cool Dad was not keeping cool. I was feeling a little desperate, which would explain why I approached a nanny and the little boy she was nannying while they innocently waited for “the hand” to change to the “walking man,” as CB calls them. As that little boy can probably recount to you from the nightmares he’s had since, I approached his nanny and blurted out,

“Hi, I’m married, and my wife is probably gonna kill me, but she’s pregnant, and we’re finding out the gender of our baby today, like right now, but I don’t know where the clinic is, and I left my phone at work, and I don’t where to go, and this piece-of-junk pay phone won’t work and who ever uses those things anyway? Could I use your cell phone to call my wife?

The nanny kindly obliged (as you can expect from any random person on the NYC streets that you ask a favor of) and called CM twice. She didn’t answer. I was pretty upset that I was missing this amazing moment that we should be sharing together. The little boy was pretty upset because of the crazy short man who was harassing his nanny. I let them be and wondered how I would explain it to CM.

I started wandering home when I looked up and saw it: the radiology clinic, one block down from where I thought it was. I ran inside, probably scaring the waiting patients halfway to labor, and was let in back to CM’s room. Only by God’s grace, they had just started and I didn’t miss a thing.

That day, I learned that we were having another little boy. I also learned not to be judgmental of the fine people who use pay phones. Actually, they deserve more love because they probably couldn’t make the call anyway.

The story of the Cool Wedding

cool dad — Wed, 21 Apr 2010 18:02:50 +0000

As far as parties go, it was a pretty lame one. It was just guys. We sat around and played video games. And most of the time, I was downloading music on my computer. From the fervor (or lack of) of this party, you wouldn’t guess that I was getting married the next day. No strip clubs for my bachelor party; I think the most skin we saw was Princess Peach’s ankle.

I wasn’t downloading music because I was bored of my party mates. With our families at least an hour and a half away, our wedding was mainly a do-it-yourself affair. Cool Mum, known as Cool Fiancée back then (I guess I can call her Laura for these purposes), planned it all during our 3-month engagement in the midst of her senior year at the University of Florida. My role in the wedding: DJ (and groom). We were particular about the songs played during our reception, so instead of hiring a DJ who might play that were on our banned list (Electric Slide, I’m looking at you), we decided to set up my band’s sound system and play a series of CDs chock full of our faves. This was before MP3 players blasted onto the scene.

The wedding would be at an old brick-laden Methodist church in downtown Gainesville. We didn’t attend the church, but our church’s building was a warehouse lined with felt banners proclaiming the names of God, and Laura wanted something more traditional. The Methodist church was exactly that: wooden pews, towering stained glass windows, and a long center aisle from back to front, where she would begin a single lady and end up a cool wife.

The reception was not far at all for the guests – maybe 20 feet from the sanctuary doors to the fellowship hall. Laura’s dream was to have a disco ball at the reception, but there wasn’t a good place to hang one. My resourceful band guys bought a massive L-bracket from Lowe’s, mounted it to the wall, and hung the mirror ball. The ancient fellowship hall would be for one night a discotheque.

The day of the wedding was low-key. With an evening ceremony, Laura and her bridesmaids took their time getting ready. I set up around the church and moved a few things into our new apartment, a tiny (for Florida) one-bedroom. Living in such a small apartment was almost shameful for a married couple to endure. Hey, there’s no shame in $425 for 400 sq ft. I guess God was preparing us even back then for the tight arrangements of New York City.

There was rain that evening (ironic, don’t you think?), but our spirits were not dampened. The ceremony was simple and sweet. The pipe organ belted out hymns and a song that Laura loved from the France movie at Epcot Center. We said our vows. My bandmates played a worshipful and haunting rendition of Jars of Clay’s “Hymn” on acoustic and violin. And the pipe organ carried us out triumphantly.

I wish I could say that we were considerate of our guests with the brief ceremony, but we kept them waiting for over an hour while we took pictures. It’s OK; once we swept through the doors to Soulful Strut, they were treated to the best finger foods in town and the finest dance jams ever played at the First United Methodist Church of Gainesville (est. 1857) fellowship hall.

Last month, we celebrated the 8th anniversary of our simple, self-planned wedding. Thank you, God, for these years and adventures. You know, I hope we remembered to get that disco ball down, too.

What do you want your kid to be when he/she grows up? (I want Cool Baby to be a knight, sort of)

cool dad — Fri, 16 Apr 2010 17:52:08 +0000

One of the Cool Uncles pointed us to what Gizmodo proposes might be The Most Depressing Toy Ever. It’s the Young Explorer by Little Tikes, and it’s a kiddie office cubicle made of plastic, complete with built-in computer and 19-inch monitor. This is the premiere way to prepare your little one for a life of second-guessing that sociology degree.

The Young Explorer can be yours, shipped to your home or childcare facility for a mere $2700. Think of the freedom you would gain as a parent! Your jam-packed days can be simplified to this:

Little One drags himself to the Young Explorer by 9:00am. Plops down and checks his news and sports websites, because keeping up on current events will help him do his job better, right? Then it’s time to work.
Fifteen-minute lunch and then back to the grind with mandatory potty breaks every two hours, of course. Don’t want to have an accident at work!
Puts his clock-reading skills to use, counting down until 5:00pm. You pop in saying that you’re going to need him to stay late, thus buying you another free hour to make dinner.
When he finally gets off the Young Explorer, it’s time for dinner, and then he’s exhausted. Straight to bed for our little worker!

Honestly, I’d like to spare Cool Baby a cubicle-based existence if possible. I want him to pursue his passions creatively and wisely, but I’m not sure what I want him to be. If it were my choice, I would consider the possibilities and narrow down from there:

Musician? NO – low odds of making it, too much travel.
Writer? NO – need kind of a weird, lonely streak, at least for certain stretches of time.
Systems analyst? NO – we’re trying to keep him out of the cubicle, remember?
Doctor? NO – the healthcare industry, especially insurance, seems like a big mess.
Professional athlete? YES! but with a specific sport: baseball. I’m not a baseball fan, but the overprotective dad in me likes the infrequent violent contact and the lucrative contracts. You’re probably thinking, “But he gets a ball thrown at his head at 90mph like 10 times a game!” I’ve got that figured out with a special uniform that I’ll make him:

I call it Over Armour. What do you think? I think that Cool Baby would be great as a well-paid, ironclad Major League baseball player. I should work some air conditioning inside the steel sports outfit, too. And stealing second might be a bit tough. Anyway, I’ll have it all settled by Opening Day 2030.

What would you like your kiddie to be when (s)he grows up?

Housecat gives Cool Baby some skin (or tries to take some)

cool mum — Fri, 09 Apr 2010 19:12:31 +0000

Last week, Cool Baby and I went to a friend’s house and he was amazed by their unsocial cat. At one point, the cat wandered into the bathroom and CB followed. After a minute, I started worrying about how CB was tormenting the poor kitty. I guess I didn’t have to worry because he ran out and said, “That cat gave me a high five!”

CB is a positive thinker, but I don’t think kitty was happy to see him.

Have you ever had kid vs. pet problems in your home?

How did you/will you celebrate your 30th birthday? I need ideas!

cool mum — Mon, 29 Mar 2010 18:00:09 +0000

Cool Mum hopes to stay as cool as Cool Great-Grandma

The big day is approaching. Unfortunately. I’m at the waddling stage of pregnancy and our budget is limited. I face two options.

1. Accept the reality of being older and go (by myself) to all of the NYC places that I’ll never visit if I keep waiting for another interested person to come along. That would mean spending a day at the Tenement Museum (Cool Dad asks, “Why go there? We have first-hand experience living in one.”), the WTC visitor center, and the Museum of the City of New York.

2. Deny the reality of being older by doing something only a person in their 20’s would be likely to do. I haven’t quite figured that part out yet. This option could be fun, but also sad and uncool due to the rather large belly and limited physical capabilities.

A long time ago, back in Florida, Cool Dad turned 30 to the tune of Dark Latin Groove and 30 of his closest friends in a reserved restaurant with dance floor. He even had a “30 Years of Eric” tribute, with one dance song from each year of his life. I don’t like the spotlight, so I’m not wishing for that kind of thing, but so far my plans seem pretty lackluster, don’t you think?

So…what did you do or what do you plan to do to celebrate your 30th birthday?

Chatting with Cool Baby – March 2010 (video)

cool dad — Sat, 27 Mar 2010 16:32:56 +0000

It’s been almost a year and a half since our last interview with Cool Baby. Since then, he’s grown a great deal sideways and a little up-and-down. At least his language had sprouted handsomely. Here’s the latest interview, recorded last weekend.

We’re positive that Cool Baby’s next interview will be much sooner than July 2011. It’ll probably be next month, and we want you to be involved.

What question do you want Cool Baby to answer? Leave it in the comments.

Sir, did somebody do a stinky?

cool dad — Tue, 15 Dec 2009 04:35:30 +0000

A boss. Pretty much all of us have had one at one time or another in our lives. They often have the authority to make our lives pleasant and fulfilling or miserable and seemingly hollow.

Bosses can vary from the arrogant to the eccentric, down to the just plain evil.

And now, after picking up a free office chair, I’ve found that a boss can be crazycutecool, too.

Just be thankful that you don’t have to feed, carry, and ‘change’ your boss. If you do, I am so sorry.

The storied football career of Cool Dad

cool dad — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 13:29:22 +0000

This past Saturday, two groups in our church – the communities of the Upper East Side (woo-hoo) and Long Island City – collided in an epic match of flag football. I played, despite the following facts working against me:

I’m small.
I’m 32.
I’ve played football about 5 times in my life.

My football career had a promising start in elementary school. On the playground, I played quarterback, though I had no idea what that meant. I remember throwing a touchdown pass and not knowing that was a good thing until my team started celebrating around me. It was all downhill from there.

Later, our PE class offered two options: football and square dancing. I chose to dosey-do with the girls. That would’ve been a great choice if

I were good-looking.
We were old enough to like the opposite sex.

Unfortunately, all of the guys who played football developed their ballin’ skills while I only got better at being square. This is what most likely led to The Kickoff Incident:

We were playing football in PE, and there was no square dancing to save me. The opposing team kicked the ball off. Kickoffs are the most chaotic plays in football, where the ball sails high into the air, and the teams collide with startling speed and force.

As I watched the ball start its descent, I noticed that it was unfortunately falling in my direction. Knowing that this was my chance to turn my athletic reputation around and earn the respect of guys not just in my school, but the entire school district, I steeled myself to catch the ball while a mob of my peers were sprinting downfield to stop me.

At the last moment, I realized I was off the hook as the ball would go over my head. Instead of running it back for a TD, it was up to me to heroically block for whoever caught the ball. No one did.

It was either a gust of wind or poor depth perception, but as I prepared to block, I felt a sudden THWOMP! on the top of my head. The football had nailed me squarely on the noggin. I don’t remember what happened after that, not because I was knocked out. I was just shocked that that happened to me with everyone watching. Too bad my PE coaches didn’t videotape their classes; that would’ve been an easy $10,000 from AFV. After that, my playing days were pretty rare and uneventful.

This Saturday, Cool Mum and Cool Baby flew to Florida for the week, so I hit the big game. I didn’t plan to play and talked with my friends on the sideline. But I’m a competitive guy, and I couldn’t resist the draw of a game being played. I put my umbrella down and jumped in.

It was a great time to bond with people in a way that I don’t often get to. I made a couple of tackles and got burned for a touchdown once. No embarrassing incidents, too – if you don’t count me being frogged in the leg by someone’s knee as I grabbed their flag. Even though that someone was a girl, I’m not ashamed to say that I’m still gimpy from the collision. Contrary to popular belief, girls’ knees are no softer than guys’.

Much to the sorrow of the athletic community as a whole, I’ll probably hang up my LL Bean hiking sneakers (I don’t have cleats). It was a good run, with one high followed by plenty of lows. But I have no regrets – each of those games have contributed to the complexity of Cool Dad:

That touchdown pass instilled confidence that even small dudes could play big.
Getting bonked in the head with a football scrambled my brain just enough to become a quirky but decent blogger.
I’m now friends with the young lady who kneed me in the quadricep.

Hopefully, Cool Baby will be spared the same football fate. Actually, maybe we should just keep him off the field altogether. Anyone have a little girl that needs a promenade partner?