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Nate Smith is an improvisational comedian, a husband, and a father. He's not sure which is hardest. Learn more about Nate Smith at bestnatesmithever.com
Improvising Fatherhood
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I was feeling down yesterday and Wyatt asked me what was wrong. I said, “I’m a little sad.”
He asked, “Did you have a bad day?”
I said, “Yeah.”
Then, he gleefully said, “Sad, dad, bad, had. Dad is sad. Very, very sad. He had a bad day. What a day Dad had.”
Goddamn Dr. Seuss.
Holy cow that’s hilarious.
BOOM! Here’s an all new episode of Fighting with Babies, now in glorious HD.
It clocks in at about 90 seconds, so you have no excuse not to watch it.
David Vienna has weird looking kids.
Amen, Frank Zappa. Amen. And nice cat.
(Related: In light of the Johnny Depp thing from last week, I’d like to point out that Frank Zappa is my dopplegänger.)
I can always see the frustration in Chandler’s eyes when I tell him to do something rather than tell him why I want him to do something, or when I forcibly pick him up and move him somewhere, rather than asking him to follow me.
Obviously there are times when I have to use the “because I said so” method. But I am really trying to always explain to Chandler why what I want him to do is actually something he should want to do too.
Sometimes this process helps me realize that doing things “my way” isn’t actually necessary at all. You’d think being married 7 years would have done that already.
I don’t do a lot of reblogging here on Improvising Fatherhood, but this is so good I have to share it with you. David Vienna, author of The Daddy Complex, wrote about the power of hugs, and I know exactly how he feels.
If you’ll allow me to be completely honest, I wasn’t one of those people who thought a hug could make anyone feel better. I know it didn’t work for me. When I was in college, my bike got stolen and I was pretty upset. My girlfriend gave me a hug to cheer me up. But after the hug, my bike was still fucking gone. So, my mood didn’t change. (It’s a wonder we didn’t last.)
Apply that same equation to any and all times someone tried to cheer me up with a hug. I mean, sure, I like hugs. They feel good and stuff and are a fairly solid way to express affection, but I never really thought they had magical healing powers or anything… until I had kids.
Last night, I wasn’t feeling great and Wyatt was being a bit bossy. I didn’t have the energy to go toe-to-toe with him. When I told him it was time to put jammies on, he yelled, “No!” and danced away. I just sat there rubbing my temples. He returned and asked, “Are you sad, Papa?”
“Yes,” I said.
He asked, “Would a hug cheer you up?”
Again, I said, “Yes.”
He wrapped his arms around my neck and squeezed me tight, adding a kiss on the cheek. And I’ll be damned if it didn’t cheer me right the hell up.
Not even an hour later, Wyatt got upset about something. He said, “How can you make me happy, Papa?”
I knew what he was fishing for. I said, “A hug,” offering something I’d defined as relatively useless just three years prior. He opened his arms wide and I gave him a big hug. He hopped into bed smiling. As I tucked him in, I asked, “Are you happy?”
He said, “Yes.” And I knew it was true because it was true for me, too.
It’s here! A brand new episode! Fighting With Babies: “Safety Dance”
At a running time of just 1 min, 37 sec, you have no excuse not to watch it. (It will be available on Vimeo later this week.)
As always, I’d appreciate it if you all saw fit to reblog the shit out of this. Thanks.
I’ve said it before, “Childproof” is a myth. There is only “Child stalling.”
We just returned from the boys’ first movie at a theater. We saw the new Winnie the Pooh flick. It wasn’t the film that made us decide to brave the theater experience with two toddlers, but the timing. They’re old enough now and the movie is just over an hour long, so it seemed perfect.
They did great, although Wyatt got restless and walked around a bit. (The theater was nearly empty and the only other attendees were other parents and toddlers, so Wyatt wasn’t the only one strolling.)
As you might expect, ths film is pretty insipid, but then I’m not the target audience. Boone thought it was better than Citizen Kane.
We’re about to go do this! We’ll have to compare notes. Quick question: What’s insipid mean?
Fighting With Babies: “Fecal Position”
(As usual, I would appreciate it if you wonderful people reblog/share/link the living shit out of this.)
I was just about to post something about this.
Check out the new Spotlight’s new Parenting category.
Radness.
Again, well done everyone. Okay, enough activism. Back to parenting. We’re at the beach for Memorial Day weekend and Boone has a fever. Let the paternal complaining begin!
Dear Tumblr Editor:
There is a huge community of parents who used the Parenting category on the original directory as a hub. It was a place for us to find each other to talk, share ideas and stories, debate parenting issues and, yes, brag about how fucking awesome our babies look.
I’m not sure…
Reblogging for solidarity’s sake.
If I had to sum my wife up in two words, they would be “Good Student.” If I could use three words I would use, “Best Student Ever!” Every since I have known Ashley, she has been an A student. A+ student, in fact. But this studious nature does not just apply to her time spent in school. Ashley is a student of everything. Whatever she does, she studies it first to make sure she is going to do it perfectly.
So naturally, as a mom, Ashley has been hitting the books. She has been reading anything she can get her hands on, provided it is a recommended resource. As a result we both know all about the 5 S’s of parenting and we have learned the language babies speak to tell us when they are hungry, tired, uncomfortable, and gassy.
Me on the other hand…I take a bit more of a instinctive approach to parenting. I just do what my gut tells me to do. As a result, more often than not I get told I’m doing something wrong. I’ve learned to listen to my wife, because she really knows what she is talking about and she has done a ton of research to back it up. But occasionally…every now and then…very rarely…my instincts are right.
What do I do when that happens? Nothing! Look the other way. Don’t acknowledge it. There’s no sense in celebrating a rare fluke victory when you know you’re going to be dead wrong on the next one.
The point is, I’m proud of Ashley and all the work she has put into being a mother. She is truly one of the best mothers I have ever seen in action. If our kid ends up being a screw up, it will be all because of me.
