The gauntlet has been thrown. Or dropped. Or flung. Or slapped or traded or leveled or whatever it is that gauntlets are used to do. A gauntlet has been, well, whatevered, and a challenge has presented itself, and it, the challenge, has not been leveled against this Stay-At-Home Dad proper, but instead, against his daughter…. Read more »
In October of 1960, Mom was pulling for Kennedy and Dad was rooting for Nixon. I couldn’t have cared less one way or the other—my thoughts were on baseball. The Pittsburgh Pirates had just crushed my heart by beating the Yankees in the seventh game of the World Series (to this day, I still wonder… Read more »
This week is a tough week for NYC. No one will ever forget where they were on September 11, 2001. I was in Spanish class at North Broward Prep, and we had a substitute teacher who kept insisting we finish our quiz. I told her to suck it and ran out of the room to… Read more »
Recently, I dragged my daughter along with me on what I can only describe as (gulp) an illicit rendezvous. By the time this column comes out, this Stay-At-Home Dad may very well no longer be a Stay-At-Home Dad, but instead just some guy, just some anonymous dude, just one more A-hole out on the street… Read more »
After some very creative mental gymnastics, my wife and I have decided to rename our apartment. Now, don’t get the idea that we are some kind of silly people who had previously christened our little (but lovely) one-bedroom tenement as Howard or Hector or Hanley or Fred, and are now changing it to Marguerite or… Read more »
When I took stock of my schedule last week, I was pleased to note that the first installation of my new blog “Almost Cultured” would coincide with a truly refined and urbane experience: dinner at Café Boulud. My husband and I were in possession of a $100 gift certificate to Café Boulud, and—since Monday was… Read more »
One of my earliest memories is from 1988. I was in a movie theater in Coral Springs, Florida with my mother and sister watching The Land Before Time. I was so devastated and such a mess when Little Foot’s mother died that my mom had to take me out of the theatre and hold me while… Read more »
I seem to be something of a rare breed, as all of my baby’s friends’ caregivers are mothers. Lately I’ve found myself wanting to ask these other mothers (again, these other mothers?), “Does anybody here ever have sex?” Thus far, I’ve restrained myself, as this line of questioning may very well be viewed as somewhat… Read more »
Last week I went home to visit my parents. Here are a few things you can find at their house:
We love our little New York City one-bedroom apartment, and it has served us well over the years. We’ve even made it work with the baby and have somehow managed not to constantly trip all over each other. In fact, it’s a point of pride that our one-bedroom apartment works for the three of us… Read more »
