Don't be this guy...

One of the things people always ask me, upon finding out that I have five kids, is “how do you have enough time?”

I don’t have enough time.

As we come to the end of what was a 50+ game baseball season with my 11 year-old son, I have been thinking how inequitable I’ve been with my time with my other four children. My 15-year-old daughter is growing and maturing fast and I need to check in more. My three other sons (ages 10 months, 2, and 4) also need more of my time. There hasn’t been enough to go around when you factor in my travel for business and my focus on youth sports the entire year.

It’s a difficult quandary. Being able to divide your time between five kids isn’t easy but I do need to take more time to make sure I’m spreading it around.

Of course, that doesn’t leave much time for myself. Let alone time to spend with my superhero wife who has been doing it all in my absence both at work and to sports. Something’s got to give and the realization I’ve come to: I can’t make it to everything. So I need to insure that I’m spending quality time with each one of them when it makes sense.

The good news is my son has decided not to play football this fall. That’s one sports season we’ll have a break. That will allow my 4 year old to play soccer and me the time to spend with the other kids while giving my wife an all-important break from it all. The job of a Dad isn’t easy but it’s my most important job. It’s not even close.

Sure, like most of you I fight the daily battle at the office – the corporate game and BS. The key is to let that go when you get home and make sure you’re present with your kids. It’s easy to get distracted but draw the lines. Leave work early to catch the ballet recital or the school play. Take a day off and put away the iPhone or computer and just have an adventure with your kids.

My oldest is now just three years away from college. The time flies by and no job or other distraction is worth it.

Make the time no matter if you have one kid or 10. You’ll live a happier life.

I’m here to tell you that it’s never too late to start being a great Dad. That shit you said to your kids last week that drove you to the bottle? They forget about it if you stop the pattern. Working a lot and never seeing your kids? There’s a remedy for that — find a job (or create your own) that allows you to see them more. It’s not too late. It’s never too late.

How do I know? I did it. A few years ago I used to hit the road 6-8 times a month for my job. Several co-workers commented on how it was absurd that I was never home with my family; at the time I didn’t care because I was too busy climbing the corporate ladder and didn’t think twice about what impact it was having on my kids. Back then my kids would welcome me home only because my wife told them to; I was nonexistent in their lives and it showed. Their grades we average and their growth in activities, such as sports, lacked severely because I wasn’t there to coach them.

This all changed when I saw my oldest son throw a baseball and not know how to catch a fly ball during our town’s “In-town baseball”, which means there aren’t any tryouts. I started looking at my habits, my schedule and the selfish behavior I exhibited (drinks after work, taking a later train, etc) and thought one thing: “This is on me”.

My youngest son and I fishing in the Catskills

The next week I took my son outside with our mitts and, thanks to the miracle of YouTube, showed him how to throw a perfect ball (or strike, as the case may be). He and I went over to the baseball diamond where I showed him how to pitch and caught for him, and by mid-season he was a starting pitcher. Amazing, to say the least, but it would’ve never happened had I not made the conscious effort to spend the time and re-connect with him. All three of my boys are different in their personalities and passions, but I can say today that I have a better relationship and know them better than ever before. I forgot about being a shit Dad and re-prioritized my life to help build them into solid men.

Listen to Dennis’s words and how it affects a grown man not having a father who’s there for him. I got choked up a few times during his acceptance speech thinking back to how that could’ve been my son had I not decided to be there for them.

On thing that has become more clear is how your social life – after you have kids – is forever altered and changed by having kids. Even those folks you meet up and socialize with that have older kids, aren’t as interested in hanging out if your kids are younger.

This is in no way a criticism of those folks, they’re all good people. But it’s clear that once you’ve raised your kids, and you don’t have a baby in the house, your interest in being around them wanes as well.

We’re about to have our fifth child in September. Boy #4, as we call him right now, will again catapult us back to the infant stage. Having a wide range aged children – my oldest is 14 my youngest is one – means you don’t quite fit in with everyone. Our older kids and their parents are now free of the issues and restrictions having a younger child brings. Dinner parties later into the night are common for them, but when you have a baby it’s hard to say yes to those invitations. Those parents are the folks we love to hang around, but once they’ve hung out with the entire Gulbransen clan, you have to think the invites get more limited. I understand the sentiment. You want to relax and socialize, not watch a baby tear up your yard or bathroom.

This, of course, makes it hard for my wife and I to really develop deeper and closer bonds with new and old friends. They’ve moved on to another point in their life and most aren’t tempted to go back on your account. It limits our adult interactions and sometimes that can be a drag.

Yet despite this, and an occasional tinge of “what if,” I don’t regret having a large family (by today’s standards) nor what we’re missing out on. Eventually, we’ll have that. We’ll be older and grayer, but the wealth of love and the bonds developed within our family more than make up for it.

If you have friends you don’t see very often because of this reason, don’t feel guilty. Instead, invite them over one or two more times a year. Believe me, they’ll appreciate it more than you know.

But what happens when that fight leaves the living room or the bedroom via Twitter or Facebook? How are that couple’s followers and friends supposed to take it? How do they react? And does it leave behind any lasting effect?

This is something I have thought about in the past. I have turned to both Facebook and Twitter to express my feelings about my wife. It usually is mild gripe stuff, but once in a while I post something a little more visceral than I should. Usually, those get ignored. Occasionally, a friend leaves somthing pithy like, “My wife also loves it when I question her parenting on Facebook.” My wife will also post her feelings about our little spats, too. And we leave the big stuff off our walls. It’s sort of an unwritten rule in our house.

That’s not the case for everyone. Aaron Gouveia, a guy I admire very much, and someone I shared a newsroom with briefly, recently tweeted his feelings about his wife in the heat of an argument. I won’t repeat his tweet here without his permission, but it is in his Twitter stream on @Daddyfiles. He made a very strong statement. I read it in real time, and was shocked. And knowing Aaron, I knew something was really wrong. He loves his wife more than life itself. He’s her biggest cheerleader, and he has supported her through some extremely difficult experiences, which he chronicled on his blog, Daddyfiles. A few minutes later, he tweeted that the argument was resolved and he apologized to his wife.

In the days that passed, Aaron came under attack by several people who were furious with him and his tweet. Many decided to unfollow him, and they attacked him on their way out. In the midst of the furor, came Audrey Binkowski, known as @laughmom, who said It was important for Aaron to consider his audience when tweeting because negative tweets could hurt his brand. She was talking specifically about a situation with another blogger whose idea was stolen by a brand. Audrey has a point. Aaron agreed with her in principle, but won’t change a thing.He will continue to chronicle his life on Twitter – happy or sad.

Audrey is right. Aaron is right. I wouldn’t censor myself for fear of losing sponsorships or paid gigs. I don’t get any anyway. But that could change, and if it did, I would have to consider my posts to all social networks and blogs very carefully. The ranting looney doesn’t usually take home the gravy.

If you take the balance of Aaron’s tweets together, he usually is only looney about hating New York teams. He loves his wife. He idolizes his son. He worships his dad. He admires his brother. He is grateful to his mother. He makes friends easily, and he is influential. So, the occasional visceral tweet can be forgiven.The haters will hate. The people who want to live in a world of sunshine and lollipops will chastise anyone who infringes on that. The senators of the Nanny State will always be out there policing what people say and do.

He owes nobody on Twitter an apology. He still has thousands of followers; thousands of supporters. His tweets carry weight, and clearly the response to his tweet about his wife is a example of that influence. But there is a lesson in this for Aaron and all dad bloggers: Your tweets do matter. They do get read. When you’ve built an audience of followers – sympathizers and admirers – you do have to remember that people will get pissed off at you for what you write wherever it is printed. How you handle it is what matters. Aaron doesn’t apologize, except to his wife. That’s all that matters to him. That’s all that should matter to anybody.

A quick note from me and the other dads here at Every Other Thursday…

Happy July 4th and a HUGE thank you goes out to the men and women who are serving our country in various parts of the world as well as to those who have made the ultimate sacrifice.

Today is a day where we celebrate who we are as Americans. We celebrate freedom. We celebrate family and friends. We celebrate big-ass cheeseburgers, steak tips, messy ribs and frothy, cold beer.

It’s a day that truly starts the summer months and for us dads, there’s no better of a time than now. There are family vacations, days at the park, kickin’ it in our back yards, loads of photo and video opportunities, etc. It’s the time of year that we spend a great deal of time with those that we work so hard for, cherish and love.

So if you’re a dad, kickin’ it with the fam today, enjoy it. Crack open a brewskie, grill up a hot dog and salute the red, white and blue.

Don Martelli is just a dad, moonlighting as an agency exec, photographer and civilian journalist. He’s the executive editor for Technorati, co-founder of Every Other Thursday and contributor for Wired.com GeekDad blog. Connect with him at www.donmartelli.com or @BigGuyD via Twitter.

That doesn’t mean this arrangement isn’t without trouble. When we are on familiar local roads, everything is mostly hunky-dory. With the exception of a few reminders for her to slow down, I rarely have a problem with how she drives. It’s a different story we get out of town.

Susan isn’t very good with her sense of position. That’s different than a sense of direction. She is very god with directions. She knows east from west, etc. But position is knowing whether places are east or west of your current location. That’s where I come in. I have to give directions, and this is where it all falls apart for us.

I say something that seems very clear and logical to me. My wife hears something different. She does what she hears and that sets the trouble in motion. We get along well except when we argue, and this is one of those things we argue about.

Usually by about the third direction, I shut up and let her problem solve on her own. This usually works.

I’m sure a lot of you are thinking I’m a jerk. But this is what works for us. It would be a lot worse if I drove because my wife is a terrible passenger. Her appraisal of my driving is that I’m a poke who drives like Mr. Magoo. I will admit to driving the speed limit pretty much wherever I go. I use my turn signals and I stop for yellow lights. I take full advantage of the more deliberate effort of driving now that we live in North Carolina after growing up and earning my chops on the crazy streets of Boston and surrounding suburbs. But this drives my wife bonkers and she doesn’t fail to let me know this.

It’s just better this way. We disagree. Sometimes we strenuously object. But mostly we have a difference of opinion and move on. It works. It’s not great. But it works.

On a hot June day in 1996, my wife Eliete did me the biggest favor anyone has ever done for me: she said I do. It’s amazing how someone can really make you a better person and truly be a partner for your entire life. That’s my wife and today I wish her a very happy anniversary.

But as I do that, I think it’s worth the time to suck up to her and to really put into words how much our marriage has meant to every part of my life. Literally, she single-handedly saved this wandering mind from himself. When I say she is truly my better half, I am not kidding.

Back when I met my wife in 1993, I had significantly improved my station in life and had recently transferred to UNLV after screwing around my first three years in college. I had a lot of fun but I, surprisingly, found myself in Las Vegas ready to get serious. I was focused on school and my future career and nothing would get in the way of that. I had wasted too much time already and my focus was singular.

Then she walked into my life. Actually, I walked into hers.

Since I was not born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I worked a part-time job while I was in college. I worked selling the drunk and sometimes belligerent tourists at Caesar’s Palaces’ Forum Shops in a Warner Bros. Studio Store.

One night, a weekend night, when it was so hard to even breathe due to the hordes of tourists looking for that perfect Bugs Bunny shirt, I had a customer ask me to check if we had that 3XL shirt in the back. I walked in the back and high up on a later was a girl, her curly hair covering most of her face. Well, all I really saw was her butt and the hair. Both were impressive

“Hey, could you see if there’s a size 3XL in the Bugs shirt up there,” I asked this fellow employee.

She turned her face beautiful and tanned, and said the words that immediately made me fall for her.

“Why don’t you check for your own damn shirt.”

I was always a sucker for tough women and this one caught me off-guard but dead on.

The next time we worked together, I suckered the manager into scheduling me at the front with her as a greeter. Soon, we were talking and it just clicked. I asked her out to lunch a few days later and within a week, we were dating. That was 18 years ago.

I’ve shortened the story but our marriage has been an amazing journey that really has only begun. As I grown older, 15 years just seems like a flash. So much has happened to us since we were married on that day. I really have a hard time believing it’s been that long. Yet, I can’t wait to see what the next 30 years will bring.

In that time, my wife has been an absolute saint. When we said out vows to one another, we both meant it and only Elie has been tested constantly to live up to those vows. She motivated me to beat malignant melanoma over 6 years ago. She’s stood by me in good and bad decisions always helping me stay afloat. She’s been my rock and been my coach through a wonderful life full of challenges, pain, joy and success.

She’s allowed me to be a flawed but loving husband and a father now five times over. She’s given me more than I could ever possibly repay her for. It’s just not possible for me to thank her or show her how much she’s meant to me. This is probably the best I can do. Material gifts or Hallmark greetings just won’t do. She has my undying love and respect, even though sometimes I’m a big pain in the butt.

The problem today with marriage is most people who give up on it do it because they’re not willing to go through the tough times. Some of an idyllic view of what marriage is. So when challenges – both minor and serious arise – they throw in the towel. Marriage is not easy. As Elie and I can attest, sometimes it’s as hard as anything to make it succeed. But love carries you through. You have to remember what you promised when you stood in that church and said I do.

Fifteen years ago today, I said I do. I didn’t say I will when it’s easy.

Thank you Eliete. I am the man I am today all because of you. Thank you and I love you forever.

Being new residents of Kansas, my family and I spent two of the last five days in our basement when tornado warning sirens sounded. Having lived in California the better part of the last 30 years, I’d become accustomed to earthquakes and wildfires. Tornadoes though is a different thing.

A few nights ago we were awakened by the blaring sirens and had to reluctantly wake all four kids to run down into the basement to our “safe place.” Luckily, the warning only lasted about an hour and we were soon back in our beds.

On Wednesday, something similar happened but it made this Dad feel a sort of helplessness I’d never felt before.

Tucked away in a conference room at my office with about 15 people for a major business meeting, the conversation was interrupted by an announcement in our building to take cover due to a tornado warning. Having it so fresh in my mind, and the rest of my coworkers being more used to it, we quietly moved to a safe place in our building.

But soon after, I started thinking of my wife and three kids at home, and one at school some 10 miles away. The protector in me suddenly shuddered. What would I do if a tornado was heading for them and I was stuck in the office helpless to do anything?

It was an odd feeling. I’d die in a moment for my family but I stood their completely dependent on nature to not harm my family. I have a strong desire – like most fathers – to always protect my family. It was impossible for me to do it on that day.

Then, as we huddled around the one television, the anchor talked about a tornado possibly touching down just a few miles from my house. I immediately called my wife but the cell network was completely overwhelmed and I could not reach them. Where they safe? Did they know a tornado could possibly be near by?

I had no idea of knowing. I was worried yet I could do nothing to help them.

Luckily, I knew my wife would be safe and that my son was safe at school. It’s times like these that you realize there are larger forces in charge and you have to accept what will happen will happen.

But as a loving father, the helplessness was not something I liked at all.

Just another reason to kiss my wife and kids with even more meaning these days.

Talk to my wife of 15 years and she’ll tell you being home with two kids under 4 is overwhelming every day. And she’d be right. Still, despite having all the respect in the world for my wife as both a woman and a mother, there is stress and pressure that comes from being Dad and being the sole financial provider.

I’ve been away from EOT for a while now. It’s been hard because I love writing about being Dad and a husband and I love the blog we’ve created. Blogging continues to be my creative outlet. Being a social media and digital marketing champion by day is great, but the creative outlet that is writing for me has been an immeasurable amount of fun. I try to be personal and tackle all sorts of subjects.

Late last year, I blogged about our family’s big move to the Midwest. The last nine months have been whirlwind. Both personally and professionally. It’s been almost impossible to attain the balance I’ve had at other points in my career and family. Since the day we got off the plane in Kansas City, we’ve been non-stop on the go: new job, new school, new house, new neighbors, new weather (yuck! snow!), new doctors and even a new baby on the way. It’s crazy.

All of this pressure – both good and bad – came to a head for me this past Friday. After celebrating my daughter’s 8th grade graduation, I started to feel odd. I had some chest pains and my left arm was killing me. I knew that those were some symptoms of a possible heart attack, but I was a typical man and just wrote it off as a small annoyance. But the pain persisted and by 9pm on Friday, I was very concerned.

My wife drove me to a nearby hospital and after a few hours of tests, some morphine, and some fluids, they admitted me to the hospital overnight for observation. As I write this post, they’ve ruled out a heart attack but still aren’t sure what my issue is. All the heart attack tests came back negative, but they can’t rule out a cardiac issue because of what I am experiencing.

I’m confident it’s going to be something brought on by stress. But, until they know for sure, I’m being careful and trying to regain some balance.

My family is the most important thing to me in the entire world. I’d die for all of them in a split second. I don’t want to die because of a stressful job or the stress that life has thrown at me the last few years. I have to make changes and they have to be physical and mental.

I tell you this personal story because I truly believe many Dads are on the same path of destruction. While you need to do well in your career to feed, cloth and house your family, it won’t do them much good if it sends you to an early grave. I’d rather have less vacations, fewer promotions, and less money than leave my family before my time.

A recent story on CNN.com talked about how little Americans take vacation. And while some corporate executives would chuckle at that, since they rather work the “help” like Ramses in ancient Egypt, too little time off is just one problem effecting overwhelmed Dads.

Overall, for me, it’s the issue of finding balance. In a job where checking our brand’s Facebook page and responding to customers on Twitter eats into my weekends, it’s hard to “turn it off.” In this connected world, when you have a connected job, you almost never leave it.

It really makes you wonder if its all worth it.

In two words: it’s not.

That doesn’t mean I am giving up my career and living off the land with five kids and a wife to support. What it does mean is I am changing my behavior. I want to work for a company that supports balance in the lives of their employees. That’s why I came back to the Midwest. I came to find more balance, not less.

It’s a work in progress, but we’ll have to keep forging ahead. An old friend of mine sent me a message on Facebook reminding me that without health we have nothing. He’s right and I am going to get mine right. That means I need to find that balance and it’s going to be hard.

At the same time, it’s going to be easy. All I have to do is look at my wife and kids to realize everything else is second fiddle. Hopefully, sharing this story will help others realize that family should always come first.

Scott also contributes at Technorati.com where he writes about politics, and other crazy stuff.

Personally, my wife’s weight isn’t important to me. I’ve never asked her what she weighs as I know that with a lot of people this is a sensitive subject. I think at one point in our marriage I actually said “We’re good as long as you don’t weigh as much as me”. That being said, weight is often a difficult subject to discuss in any relationship. In fact, just the other week I popped a button on my pants. I remember the account vividly from our kitchen:

“Uuuuuuphh!”, which is the typical sound I make when I’m putting on pants somewhere around Friday through Monday, when I’m definitely not exercising and the slight weekend weight gain has drastically impacted my somewhat tight fitting pants.

SPROING!

“Uh…”, I muttered, “did you see where that went?”

Yes, folks — that was a reenactment of me popping a button. It wasn’t pretty but my lovely wife tried to make me feel better instantly.

“Those pants are just poorly made”, she explained, completely ignoring the fact that I put away 12,000 calories the previous weekend.

See, I typically don’t care about my weight unless my pants pop. And even then, I just figured that my pants were washed on hot. Safe to say that while I did eat a few salads over the next few days I drop a few pounds and fit into those pants again. But that’s not my point.

My point is that I never once stepped on a scale. I honestly don’t care how much I weigh as long as my back doesn’t hurt and my gut isn’t hanging over my pants. So it wasn’t a surprise to me, at least, that when my wife took on writing a blog post for Curvy Girl Guide asking women to come clean with what they weigh.

I sat here, amazed for a minute, thinking that this was still an issue. But it is. And I said to my wife these exact words:

“I am not reading your post.”

She looked at me, I’m sure slightly stunned.

“Why aren’t you going to read it?”, she asked.

“Because I don’t need to know. I have never asked, I honestly don’t care. It’s not something that has crossed my mind.”

And then she blurted it out.

I’m not sure why, and I certainly didn’t ask. I guess once you’ve described to other people what your “inners” are it’s pretty much all on the table.