Parenting Advice for Fathers: Teenagers

My son turned 18 recently. Technically, that means he is now an adult. But not really!

I've read somewhere that the human brain isn't fully formed or mature until about 24 or 25 years old. I can vouch for that! Since that doesn't help me now, I've come up with some tips and advice on dealing with older teenagers.

First and foremost, they are never, ever wrong. Nor do they make mistakes. Even when they're completely wrong, or you catch them making a mistake, it's never through any fault of the teenager!

The littlest, fuzzy, black dog actually being nice! Back to sleep...

Also, teenagers are veritable geniuses and know everything. Yes, everything! If you catch them in the wrong, refer back to the first rule above.

Parents, you are no longer adults. You have now become 'older, clueless people who lack vision.' In fact, your job is to prevent your teen from finding his (or her) true inner self and reaching his (or her) worldly potential through the dispensing of sound suggestions and sage advice. Gosh!

Also, parents, learn when to just not say anything. The words that come out of your mouth will either be ignorant, politically incorrect, racist, sexist, narrow-minded, or just plain biased in some way, shape or form. Take the following conversation, for example...

"Hey, son! Check out that tall guy..."

"What have you got against tall people?!"

"Umm... Nothing. Him. In the plaid shirt."

"Now you're making fun of what he's wearing?!"

"The dude! With the brown hair!"

"It might be gray. Or a wig! What if he has cancer?"

"Just look! Him! Over there!"

"What about him?"

"Never mind now. I don't remember."

I must say that after 47 years, 18 of them as a parent, I have finally understood the magic of the word "whatever." Honestly, I used to hate it because it followed questions like "why is the milk out?" "have the fuzzy, black dogs been fed?" and "who was at the door?"


Now I use it. It's quite exhilarating and I highly recommend trying it. Here's how it works...

"Dad! There's no gas in my car! And I'm taking Beth to the movies after we go out for dinner and I'm flat broke! And Mom said to talk to you!"

"Whatever."

Thoughts on How Life Is

I recently read a post on a 'serious' blog called 'Thoughts on how life should be.' While I am unable to relocate this particular blog, I can tell you it was about growing up. It was also about raising kids.

Like the author, I, too, was kicked out the door in the morning and told to go have fun. My mother even told me to stay out of trouble, for all the good that did me.

But I didn't grow up poor. I did, however, have a most pleasant childhood, living and playing in my own little bubble, sometimes separate from reality. Like the author, my Dad taught me to ride my two-wheeler and bought me my first BB gun, as well as taught me how to fish.

"I know things are different," this author says. Umm, yeah. They sure are.

"Wouldn't it be cool if you got a BB gun for Christmas, son," I remember asking my son one year.

"What," my eight year-old son exclaimed. "Do you want me dead? You know how dangerous those things are, dad? I'm gonna have to tell mom..."

I initially tried to teach him how to ride a bike without training wheels.

"I know how this works, dad," he told me. "You hold the bike up and let go when I'm not paying attention and I just start riding. I'm not falling for that one."

As I remember, his grandmother actually taught him how to ride his two-wheeler. Thank you, Ginga!

The author went so far to say that dads should teach their kids how to fish. Yep. I attempted that one, too.

One of my first attempts led to the "liberating" of all my minnows back into the lake. Believe it or not, that was my four-year-old son's choice of words. 

I broached the subject with my son a few years later, getting a completely different response.

"That minnow is not going to survive being impaled upon that hook, dad," he said. "So, basically, you're murdering one fish with the hopes of murdering a second fish. Where is the logic behind that?"

Logic aside, I still manage to enjoy fishing, despite my son's bleak outlook.

Maybe I should start a new blog. It'll be all about parenting. In fact, I already have a name for the new blog -- Thoughts on How Life Is.

Parenting Advice for Fathers: Part I

Having survived 18 years of marriage (40, according to my wife) and 15 years of fatherhood, I feel eminently qualified to dispense knowledge and advice to others who may be in my predicament. To those who are not, take my sage knowledge as a warning or guideline, your choice.

You may be wondering what makes me qualified to dispense parenting advice. Could it be because I have more children than my siblings? No, I don't. Maybe my parenting skills are better? Honestly, probably not. Perhaps I know more tips and tricks than my siblings, parents, in-laws, aunts, uncles and cousins all put together?

If you're a regular reader of Fuzzy, Black Dogs and you believe that, you don't need kids. You need a psychologist!

The reason is much more simple than any of that. Basically, I'm a parent and a writer. That's the skinny and short of it.

You may be wondering if I'm a successful parent. My one... No, two word answer -- indubitably yes. It's possible that my wife would agree with me. And my son... He's 15 and going through some 'teen phase' right now. We'll leave his opinion out of this.

No worries, I do have other credentials. Prior to attending my son's birth, in person, I went to Lamaze classes with my wife. Also, I've chatted with pregnant women and mothers. I've even gone so far as to read an entire passage from a Dr. Spock book, nearly an entire chapter of another parenting book, a few articles from some magazines (parenting magazines, of course), a few online tidbits and tips, and some dog training books! Don't laugh... The similarities are frightening!

Now that we've established my parenting credentials, be sure to look for my next installment on Fuzzy, Black Dogs. In my next parenting post, we will look at the pros and cons of actually having children.

Parenting Advice for Fathers: Teenaged Boys

In honor of my son's 16th birthday today, this posting will be for all the fathers of teenaged boys. As I have never, nor will I most likely ever, have a teenaged girl, those fathers are simply out of luck! For now, anyway.

The first thing... Scratch that. The main thing that you, or anyone, for that matter, need to know about teenage boys is that they simply don't make sense. Really. They just don't.

Very seldom will you understand what it is that they're talking about. Even rarer will be the occasion that you understand what they're doing or, God help you, why they're doing whatever the heck it is they are doing!

Just today, I noticed my newly 16-year-oldized son standing in the kitchen door bouncing sideways in the door frame from shoulder to shoulder, making burbling sounds with his lips.

"What are you doing," I asked him.

"Nothing," he responded.

"Well," I responded, "you're doing something. It's kind of annoying."

"That's the point."

"What's the point," I asked.

"To be annoying."

The conversation deteriorated quickly.

Most importantly, I broke my golden rule of parenting a teenage boy -- if you don't acknowledge it, then it didn't  happen. If you don't talk about it, it's not there. I find this philosophy to be effective and useful about 97 percent of the time with my son.

Be sure to save your energy for that three percent of the time when the real parenting skills you have learned and acquired thus far will really be needed!

Regardless, I did perform the proper follow through to the non-acknowledgement rule stated above. Proper follow through protocol dictates a lengthy, silent look. It should be an appraising look, as opposed to a menacing look. Nod your head twice and meaningfully utter the phrase, "You know, I believe there's a pill made that fixes this."

And that's it! Simple, huh? There may be a post in the future where I throw some wild guesses out on how to deal with teenaged girls. After all, they can't be that different from teenaged boys, right?

Parenting Advice for Fathers: Part II

So you think you're ready to have a child, or children.

Considering the fact that this post is directed towards fathers, you're going to be a bit limited here, unless you are all ready married. This is also assuming you and your... Significant other have discussed the topic of offspring. Babies are not like fishing rods. You can't sneak them in past your wife.

First of all, don't worry about the number. You might say you want six kids now. But at approximately 3am one night, when the first baby has finally gone back to sleep and you're still mopping throw up off the walls and floor, that projected number will decrease considerably and quickly!

Of course, next you have to ask yourself why you want to have kids.

Perhaps you're hoping for someone to perform yard work, or someone who can drive you around town. Sadly, you have a lot of work and a long time before you get to that point. And besides, by the time the get to that point, they go through a phase where it's not cool to be near their parents.

Maybe you just want a reading buddy. Or you might want a little one, or a few, to round out the family. Maybe you even like kids and enjoy watching them learn, grow and develop.

Regardless, children of all ages get sick. Prior to 13 years old, they don't care who or what they toss their cookies on! You have to change diapers, or else they get smelly. Really smelly. Babies cry. They cry in planes, trains, cars and anywhere else morning, noon and/or night. Keep in mind that is how babies communicate.

There is much more that can be said, both positive and negative, about having children. If I've already scared you or sown serious seeds of doubt for you, then you're not ready for rugrats in your life!

If I haven't scared you off yet, then stay tuned for my next installment. We'll either chat about prepping for the baby or coming up with names, two very important topics for expectant parents!

Freeze Pop Diet Makes New Year's Resolution List

I've got some big plans in the works for the year 2013. With that being said, there's no time like the present to get started planning out my New Year's resolutions.

My first one will be to branch out and eat more greens. You know, besides M&M's, Skittles and jellybeans. And, no, I'm not just putting that in to appease my Mom, who does happen to read my blog.

I also resolve to bathe all three fuzzy, black dogs more. More regularly. Occasionally. Either that or invest in a doggy-sitter who will wash them for me. One of them gets smelly!

For the big one, I resolve to be an understanding and patient, yet nurturing father who worries more for the safety of his newly driving son than for the vehicle that said newly driving son could potentially destroy.

I also resolve to perfect the freeze pop diet. My weight went in the wrong direction, so back to the drawing board.

I resolve to drink more.

Wait, I resolve to amend my previous resolution by saying that I will drink more healthy stuff. You know, besides fermented barley and hops.

I resolve to amend it further to include fermented grapes. Oh, and anything else that could be fermented, you know, like rice for saki. And...

Okay, I resolve to consume only alcohol that is deemed healthy for me.

I resolve to test, taste and discover which kind of alcohol it is that is good for me. I promise to let my readers know when I find it.

My final resolution? Easy! I resolve to continue publishing enjoyable and fun (and hopefully funny) posts on Fuzzy, Black Dogs throughout the next year!

Phillip's Practical Guide for Fathers

Being a father probably means a lot of different things to a lot of different people. One thing I can tell you for certain, though, is that, as a father, you'd better have some pretty tough feet.

I'm all about giving some solid, practical advice. Being a husband of 17 years and a father of 14 years, I have experience in this particular area of knowledge, as well as some darn tough feet!

Allow me to break it down for you, so to speak. Items come in four main categories which are immobile/breakable, immobile/unbreakable, mobile/underfoot and mobile/collision. Many sub-categories exist, of course, but these are the main ones any good father should be acutely aware of, especially when walking through a quiet, dark house.

The first category consists of any non-round object that falls to pieces when stepped upon. The danger in these items is that they can and often splinter. This creates small shards of wood or plastic which will then imbed themselves deep into those hard-to-reach areas of your foot. These often hurt, but not like the next one.

The second category, immobile/unbreakable, do not roll or move in any way, shape or form. They simply don't break, either. Instead, it's your foot that gives first and causes excruciating pain which gets proportionately worse after midnight. Lego products are a great example of this category. My son is 14 years old and I still curse Lego for making such a quality product on a regular basis.

The third category, mobile/underfoot, consists of balls, toy cars, skateboards, water puddles or any other wet, slippery surface. Fuzzy, black dogs also fall under this category. Mobile refers to the item moving underfoot and causing you to lose your balance. I've found that a category two often lies in wait nearby for you to fall upon, thus imbedding itself into your foot or other unmentionable parts of your anatomy. This, of course, depends on whether you catch your footing or just simply fall.

And now we come to our final category of mobile/collision. By nature and by themselves, they are not particularly harmful or dangerous. They are more a nuisance than anything else. Large balls, vehicles and robots don't really hurt when they roll into your ankles or legs.

Watch out, though. These often work in tandem with the others. Don't believe me? Let me give you an example.

Some years back, my five year-old's shriek of "DA-DEE!!" from the bathroom pierced the darkness and my sleep. While on my way to the bathroom, a firetruck bumped my left foot, distracted me, and caused my right foot to land in an unknown, slippery substance. My body then sailed swiftly past the bathroom and my 'ailing' son. My left foot, trying desperately to save me, came down squarely on a Lego, sending spasms of pain shooting to my brain.

While that story has a less-than-happy ending, and I won't say what I stepped in, it exemplifies how category four items often team up with the others for maximum effect.

Keep an eye on http://www.fuzzyblackdogs.blogspot.com/. Sometime soon, I may post a follow up and teach you how to deal with and prevent this problem for yourself. In the meantime, I will be figuring out how to deal with and prevent this problem for myself. Then, rest assured, I will share it with you.