#PayItForward: It's a Major Award!

Most Fridays, I will share with you a post from another blog that I find particularly moving, interesting, or funny. They will be posts that fit the DKL mold... ones I think people who read this blog would enjoy. Another blogger I follow started something similar. I also wanted to do this because someone paid it forward to me, giving me tons of new followers. So this is the least I can do...

Today, something completely different. A first-ever here on DKL. We're accepting, and in turn giving, an award... to 11 great bloggers. I've never done one of these award things before. But when  Welcome to Grand Central bestowed the Liebster Award upon me, I decided to make it part of my #PayItForward series. Thanks to WtoGC, a relatively new but thoughtful blogger and loyal and active DKLer, for inspiring me and giving me this award. It's a major award! Like this:

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A Disturbance in the Force

"You see, there are two sides to every Schwartz." -from Spaceballs

The tide has turned. Peanut, forever and stubbornly a momma's girl, has switched allegiances. Could it be? Yes, my daughter has turned to the dark side. She's all about daddy now. (Wait a minute. Who says my side is the dark side anyway?)

Making funny faces
is one of our things

Through an unforseen series of fortunate events for me, I have knocked My Director off the top of the parenting pedestal. Somehow, Peanut now likes me better than she likes mommy. And I will be the first to admit that I have not earned my place through merit. No, I haven't earned it at all. But I have to tell you, it feels good. Strange, but good.

Here's how I did it: dirty politics. A smear campaign, of course. I've masterfully, not-so-subliminally turned Peanut against My Director. She gets a kick out of calling her mom "bossy," for example. Whenever she tells one of us to do something, Peanut and I will look at each other, flash a mischievous grin, roll our eyes and sing, "Mommy's being bossy again." Peanut might even add a, "Mommy, you're Miss Bossypants," for an extra laugh. She'll then look at me for approval, and I'll give it to her with a grin and a nod of the head.

The whole race to number one that I've been running since Peanut popped out has been a no-contest despite my best efforts. But true to her form, My Director could care less about the favoritism. She is not remotely amused by my tactics, however. On the other hand, I am loving it. And what do I do when she calls me out on my negative message? Call her more names, of course. "Mommy, stop being so crazy."

"Yeah, mommy," Peanut will echo. "You're being crazy."

This may make me a horrible parent and husband but I'd be lying if I said it's not awesome to be number one. It took more than five years, but Peanut finally realized how much fun I am. How cool I am. She finally sees the value of a good sense of humor. That's all it boils down to really. I make Peanut laugh. I make her laugh hard and I make her laugh often. I sometimes do it at the expense of others. Most notably her mom, who gladly serves as a constant straight man to my lunatic vaudeville act. I'm a funny guy and Peanut is a very good audience. Eats it up, in fact.

When she was a toddler,  I would tease Peanut like I do now. She, in turn, would freak out. It often led to a meltdown. Or if she was upset and I'd try to make her laugh, it would make her more upset. I was at a loss. These were not my shining moments as a dad. (As a result, there weren't many blog posts during that period.) I didn't understand my daughter and she didn't understand me. "She doesn't want to laugh," My Director would say when my efforts to cheer her up would fail. "She just wants love." My Director was good at that. And with her guidance, I became good at that too. Now Peanut knows when I'm teasing her. "Are you joking daddy?" She'll ask. "Or are you for real life?" (Yes. She says, "for real life.")

Peanut is no longer a baby and is an actual person who recognizes humor, sarcasm, and the skill of of delivering those things with perfect timing. And therefore, I am number one. She knows comedy and daddy is the king of comedy. You name it I use it and she gobbles it up like pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving. Physical humor, props, jokes, song parodies. When she spontaneously busts out with one of my versions of a song, I beam with pride. In turn, I repay her with a dance party to her favorite song:


My daughter and I finally get each other and it's the best thing I've ever gotten from her.

There was a day when I wondered when my time as the number one parent would come. I never thought it would, as I wrote about here. 

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: Snap, Crackle, What the Hell Is THIS?

Just when I think I'm not giving myself a fair enough shake with the whole Daddy Knows Less thing, I go and do something like this:

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Baked Tilapia Apple Crisp for #SundaySupper

I am sure some of you read the title of this post twice. Maybe even three times. And even after that, I am sure some of you said, "Really?" I am here to tell you, yes. Really.

I like to make fish at least once a week. Mondays are my day since I do my food shopping on Sunday and I buy my fish fresh that day. Since I have a five year-old, I am always looking for new ways to make it interesting, exciting, and most important, edible. With that in mind, this recipe was born. It's amazing what the mind will do when faced with the challenge of getting a pre-schooler to eat fish that is not breaded, frozen, and fried. (I do make my own "fish sticks" now and then, but I bake them.)

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Why Rent When You Can Borrow?

I'm not sure why it took us so long to catch on to this. Uh, hello? Why rent movies from the cable company or wade through the endless sea of dreck that Netflix calls its children's collection? Why consume precious DVR space with movies you must "save until I delete," when they're wonderfully cost neutral and gigabyte free at the library? My Director and I have taken some serious steps to trim the budge recently. And here's one way that I am sure you are aware of, yet might not take advantage of.

We do one a week, because that's the maximum amount of time the library lets you borrow. That's actually great because just when you're getting tired of the repetition of the same movie over and over, the clock strikes twelve and it turns into a pumpkin. (See what I did there?) We're also lucky because the selection at our town library is pretty great. Here are some of the highlights:

Alice in Wonderland: It was nice to show Peanut a Disney movie about a little girl who wasn't a princess. But I have to tell you, I still have no freaking idea what the hell this movie is about. (Or the book, for that mater.) And I've seen it at least a dozen times. It's just nonsense. I have a pretty vivid imagination, but I just don't get it. Although, I am not a five year-old. So I guess the nonsense makes sense to Peanut because she loved it. But it gave me a headache. However, I do now sing, "A Very Merry Un-birthday" regularly. That always gets the laughs. So there's a silver lining.

Mary Poppins: We all loved this movie. The songs alone make it great. And all of the things that Mary brings: imagination, wonder, laughter. What I didn't realize after not having seen it in quite some time was that when you look past the spoonfuls of sugar and Chim-chim-Churoos, this movie is essentially about a dad and his kids. And at the end, the dad realizes it's more important to spend time with them than it is to spend time at work. Something I realized a long time ago, thankfully.

Pinocchio: Hands down, this is my all-time favorite Disney movie. (Read: I'm Italian.) I must admit, this movie introduces some themes that you probably wouldn't find in a children's movie nowadays. Like smoking and underage drinking. And Jiminy Cricket, while serving as Pinocchio's conscience, is a bit of a ladies' man. Or at least he tries to be. Despite all of the above, Pinocchio remains my favorite because of the simple premise of going after a dream and failing, but not giving up the pursuit. I also love the music in this one. Also, no mention of this movie is complete without my also pointing out that My Director often acts as my conscience, to great success:

I usually let my conscience be my guide.

We also borrowed Return of Jafar, the sequel to Aladdin. If you haven't heard of it before, there's a reason. You can do better. But Peanut picked the movie that week. So we suffered. It has nothing Aladdin has, and less. Another week she picked The AristoCats, which was a pleasant surprise. It's a buddy movie where a stray alley cat helps a rich cat family get home. But you need to explain the issues of wealth, wills, and a greedy butler who tries to off the cats to get the money.

But you don't have to go to such sinister lengths for a few bucks. Check out your local library and borrow a "new" movie. Your kids won't care if it's free. Or 50 years old, for that matter.

We did splurge and took Peanut to see "Brave" this summer. Twice. It was worth it, as I wrote here.

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The Game Changer

"Simplified spelling is all right, but, like chastity, you can carry it too far." -Mark Twain

This is it. I am done for. I have lost my ability to effectively communicate with My Director... in front of Peanut. We have been speaking the same language pretty much since Peanut was born. And now, the kid's in on it. Peanut just started Kindergarten, but she can already spell.

This is the game changer.

Tastes a lot better that it spells

One night last weekend I asked My Director if we should "go out for I-C-E-C-R-E-A-M." And Peanut immediately jumped in with, "We're getting ice cream?!" Yes, apparently we are.

Now, granted, when you spell ice cream it SOUNDS a lot like "ice cream." So Peanut is no prodigy aiming to be the youngest ever to compete in the National Bee in Washington, D.C. next year. There are plenty of words she can't spell. And there's that little detail about not being able to read yet. (Although: she did just read a book to me last night, almost all herself.) Still, the game has changed.

It's only a matter of time. What am I going to do? Once she's able to spell, how am I going to name people, then disparage them, in front of her? How am I going to swear? How am I going to have any thoughtful or even mildly controversial conversation with My Director with our burgeoning little blonde-haired dictionary monitoring my every letter?

That's not even the worst of it.

While we already have a code for - ahem - "the bedroom," there's nothing in our secret lexicon for, "Your mom is crazy." There's "Why does she have to be so C-R-A-Z-Y?" There's no code for "Should we just order Chinese food?" (Because Chinese food is Peanut crack.) There's "Should we just get C-H-I-N-E-S-E?" And as if on cue, as I write this My Director just said, "He's a D-O-U-C-H-E," while watching a story about about Michael Phelps. Soon that's all going to change.

Thanks to spelling, words like "stupid," "idiot," and "a$$hole" now roll of my tongue one letter at a time like a familiar Starbucks order. I've even grown accustomed to spelling E-F-F-U instead of "f*ck you" because, you know, it's classier.

Peanut's got brains and she knows how to use them. It's only a matter of time before our spelling language goes the way of Sanskrit. But I do have a solution. It's not going to be easy, but we have no choice. We're going to have to brush up on our Pig Latin. For the sake of our S-A-N-I-T-Y. We need to ixnay on the ellingspay.

This post originally appeared last month on You Know It Happens at Your House Too. For another one of my snarky takes on one of Peanut's milestones, check out this post from her Pre-K stepping up ceremony.

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: One Last Summer As My Baby

I came down with a stubborn case of nostalgia this summer. Not helping matters, one night I was looking through baby pictures. (I needed one for a blog post. This post, as a matter of fact.) As I right-clicked my way through Peanut's baby years in a matter of minutes, it hit me. Where did the time go? Where did my baby go? I remember these times so vividly. I remember her so vividly. Baby Peanut. Toddler Peanut. Demon Tantrum Refuses-to-Potty-Train Peanut. Fond memories. Mostly. I tried not to break down. Like on the first day of school, I felt myself getting choked up. But I choked that shizz right back down again.

When Peanut graduated daycare, she looked so grown up standing on that stage receiving her fake diploma. As a result of that image, I decided to call the past few months "one last summer as my baby." I knew it's where I would witness some small steps, but giant leaps for Peanut-kind. And I wanted to make sure to remember them. But most important, enjoy them. I'm glad for these memories. For capturing these moments in time. And for having one last summer as my baby:

She went night swimming with her cousin and
thought it was the coolest thing ever.

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The Joys of Homeownership: Order from Chaos

Behold, what I am calling my greatest contribution as a homeowner, dad, and husband. (Hyperbole is a friend of mine.) Peanut's playroom was out of control and I couldn't take it anymore. The mess. The clutter. The disorganization. I was living my own little version of hoarders, and Peanut was the problem. The playroom was so nauseating to look at I couldn't even stomach being in there. I was physically incapable of sitting down and playing with her in there. It would give me a panic attack. This is just a small glimpse of how bad it was:

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#PayItForward: Laugh Out Loud With @GinaValley

Most Fridays, I will share with you a post from another blog that I find particularly moving, interesting, or funny. They will be posts that fit the DKL mold... ones I think people who read this blog would enjoy. Another blogger I follow started something similar. I also wanted to do this because someone paid it forward to me, giving me tons of new followers. So this is the least I can do...

One thing I find especially challenging as a blogger is making you laugh every day. It's difficult. (And I fancy myself a pretty fun guy.) Now while I do post shmaltz here on the blog on a somewhat regular basis, I also try to make you laugh on one of the DKL platforms somehow some way every day. Sometimes, believe it or not, I feel like I fail.

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The Road Less Traveled

"It's not a place you can get to by a boat or a train. It's far, far away. Behind the moon, beyond the rain..." -Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz

You never know how you're going respond to a moment. How you're going to react. I always envision myself breaking down and crying like a baby the moment the Jets finally win a Super Bowl in my lifetime. Tears of joy and relief, stunned disbelief. Then I snap back into reality and tell myself that's never going to happen. But a guy can dream.

I respond to the possible in the same way. So as Peanut's first day of school approached, I anticipated being an emotional mess. My Director did too. But we both said that we needed to keep ourselves composed for her sake. We turned our anxiety into excitement, building up her first day like we were waiting for the ball to drop on New Year's Eve. I am proud to say that we did hold it together.

Sorry. I tried for a cute picture but this is the best we could do. 

Brimming with Confidence

I should say My Director held it together. I did too, except for a brief moment after I said goodbye to Peanut. I kissed the top of her head and walked out of her classroom. I looked back and saw her sitting there coloring. My little Peanut, so big now. So strong. So independent:

Where did this person
come from?

I admit I got a little choked up. I felt the tears and the lump in the throat. But I fought it off to save face.

 
Once again, she thought nothing of this next step on our journey, this major milestone. She handled it with poise and grace. Just like her mom. Not only was Peanut not scared, she was fine. So we decided to be fine too. Because we know she is going to be fine.

We know because she's a lot more brave than we were at that age. She's more sociable and outgoing too. And she's amazingly curious. More curious than I remember being. When we recently watched The Wizard of Oz with her for the first time, for example, she provided us with an insight about the movie that we had never thought of before.

The Munchkins began to sing, "Follow the Yellow Brick Road." My Director and I instinctively began to sing along. Peanut, in full concentration mode while wearing her first-time-seeing-a-movie game face, interrupted our duet with a question that really forced both of us to think hard:

"What happens if they follow the red one?"

Why, yes. There IS a red one.

Red one? What red one? Yes. There it is. Right there, entwined in the spiral start of the yellow brick road. A red brick road. I was speechless. In all of my years of watching this movie hundreds of times, I never paid any mind to the red brick road, let alone wondered where it led. But not Peanut. That's the first thing she thought of. If the yellow brick road leads to the Emerald City, then where does the red brick road go?  (Incidentally, in one of the Oz books there is a second, much more treacherous yellow brick road. But no red one.)

So to make up for my lack of a suitable answer at the time of her question, I am responding to Peanut's most observant and clever query:

My sweet, the red brick road leads wherever you want it to. The only rules of the red brick road are these: follow your dreams and desires and make the most of your opportunities and talents. It will be what you make of it. No one will give you anything for free. It's never easy. But it can lead to wonderful riches, of the heart, mind, and even the wallet.

Curiosity is crucial along the red brick road. Don't ever stop asking questions like the ones you already ask me that routinely leave me stumped. Wonder and it will lead you to wonderful things. Mystery, adventure, love, heartache, laughter, tears, and friendship await you on the red brick road. Embrace these things. They will make you who you will become. Experience them. Remember them.

Taking that step

Now go on. Take that first step on the red brick road, if you choose. The first of many. It's truly amazing and inspiring. The places you'll go. The people you'll meet. The things you'll see. The things you'll eat. You don't need to rush along the red brick road. Walk. Enjoy. Savor. Soak it all in. Everything is there for the taking. You just have to go and get it. But earn it.

And as always, your mom and I are here for you when you get lost, when you need to find your way, when you're not sure of the direction. We will help you get there.

So go right ahead, Peanut. Follow the red brick road. I'm right behind you.

We actually had our doubts about showing Peanut The Wizard of Oz, but she once again proved she is more resilient than we sometimes give her credit for. You can read about it here. 

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Soundtrack: New York State of Mind

"I know what I'm needin' and I don't want to waste more time. I'm in a New York State of Mind." -Billy Joel

I have always considered myself a New Yorker. Maybe part of that is envy, from growing up in New Jersey. As I've grown older, I've learned to wear my New Jersey roots as a badge of honor. I'm proud of it. Still, to use a line from that famous tourism ad campaign, "I love New York." I love New York even though my hometown is actually closer to Philadelphia than it is to New York.

"Some folks like to get away. Take a holiday from the neighborhood. "

I've just always identified more with New York than any other place. A lot of that is growing up a fan of Billy Joel, more so than Bruce Springsteen. A lot of that is my family being from Jersey City, right across the Hudson River. My parents grew up in the shadow of Manhattan. And let's be honest: New York is a hell of a lot cooler.

There is a framed picture of the New York city skyline as we once knew it hanging in our bedroom. I gave it to My Director for Christmas 2001, three months after the attack on our city:

I broke down in tears when she opened it. Because our city was healing, but still badly scarred. The wounds were still sore. The horror still fresh in our minds.

"I don't have any reason. I don't want to waste more time. I'm in a New York state of mind."

That song by Billy Joel was the last song we put on our wedding CD, the thank-you gift we gave to our guests. A compilation of songs about us, about our love and our life. Is there anything better than his slow, cool piano solo in the beginning of this song? The saxophone at the end? We were married in Pennsylvania, where My Director is from. I am born and raised in New Jersey. We lived in Hoboken, the town right next to Jersey City, at the time. But we were always in a New York state of mind. We always will be in our hearts.

"It was so easy living day by day out of touch with the rhythm and blues."

I treat New York like one of my siblings. Respect. Love. Loyalty. With full knowledge of some of its more annoying quirks and habits. Drivers that insist on speeding up to red lights. Cabs who think having the right of way means they are legally permitted to run you over. The throngs of tourists in Times Square who pose as a daily obstacle course as I make my way to the bus ride home. And whatever that appetite suppressant of a stench is on summer mornings that is so gag-worthy it makes eating anything on the go impossible.

"I'm walkin' here." (I've done this many times myself.)

Like my siblings, I accept New York's faults on most days. That's just who she is. Then there are the days it's so aggravating I lash out with an audible F-bomb of my own. But like I do with my sisters and brother, I defend New York to outsiders, even if they're right. While New York can be a jerk sometimes, she's my jerk and it's none of your business.

Most of my time in New York is spent at work. And I must admit there are times I'm walking from place to place and hear a car backfire or a crash-boom at a construction site and it'll startle me. For a split second I'll fear the worst again. But if 9/11 taught me anything at all, it taught me that our city will always be here. They can knock down buildings but they can't knock us down.

I love New York. For its strength, its majesty, its diversity. But most of all, I love it for its resiliency.

Enjoy this great live version of Billy Joel's tribute to the greatest city in the world:
 Last year I shared the story of one of my greatest professional accomplishments, and how it serves as a daily reminder of 9/11. You can read it here.

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Tailgating with Grandpa Sal's Sausage and Peppers for #SundaySupper

This recipe reminds me of one of my favorite people ever: My Grandpa Sal. He and my Grandma Sylvia lived in the house right behind ours. Our backyards connected. As a little boy, it was great to have my grandparents live so close. (I'm sure my dad thought otherwise of having his in-laws 100 yards away.)

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Lion King 2: Scarred For Life

"The Lion King 2: Simba's Pride" (1998/Rated G): In a perfect world, I would watch every movie before we show it to Peanut. Then again, there are only 24 hours in a day. Thirteen of them are dedicated to working and commuting. Peanut gets three. My Director and I get maybe two. So that leaves five hours to sleep. Six at best. In other words, I'm not wasting two hours watching Lion King 2: Simba's Pride, making sure there isn't any gratuitous violence or sexual innuendo. Especially since My Director and I are currently burning through Breaking Bad on Netflix like a couple of meth addicts ourselves. (Closing in on the end of season four.)

So when Peanut watched this movie one Saturday morning, it served as a backdrop as I made breakfast and fussed around the kitchen cleaning up remnants of the week that was. My Director had recorded it on DVR and told Peanut she had done it. So she asked to watch it. (Reason number two that I have given up the "watch it first" fight. Nice idea. Just not plausible.)

In fact, we did it backwards this time. After Peanut watched it, mostly without me, I wanted it see it myself. Yes I was the one requesting it later that weekend. Why? Because what I heard couldn't be right.

"Where did all of these bad lions come from?" I asked when I finally had a chance to focus on the movie.

"They're Scar's family."

"When did Scar have a family?"

"Remember in the last movie, daddy?"

When did this happen?

No. Scar was laying in his lair with an imprisoned Zazu after killing Mustafa and banishing Simba. When Simba returned, the lionesses (and hyenas) turned on Scar. Right? There was no hint of a wife or kids. Right? Apparently, he was very busy behind the scenes and those details were left on the cutting room floor when the first Lion King was edited.

So in this sequel, they spin a tale of a banished pride, starving and plotting to overtake Simba. One of Scar's descendants, Kovu (hockey player name), is their chosen heir. Kovu, it is vaguely mentioned, is not actually Scar's son. Supposedly. That's a relief, since he ends up falling in love with Simba's daughter, Kiara. If he were Scar's son, that would make them cousins. Second cousins to be exact. Kissing cousins. And that sh!t ain't cool no matter where you live, the Mississippi Delta or the Serengeti.

Besides the possible kissing cousins aspect, how about adding deadbeat dad to Scar's murderous resume? The whole kingdom was starving because he had made a deal with the hyenas and all he was doing was laying in his cave torturing poor Zazu?

Poor, tortured Zazu

Obviously, these things are all lost on a five year-old. Lion King 2 is basically a mirror image of the first one, with similar themes, fight scenes, and music. Is it ok for a my daughter to watch? Sure. Does it evoke more questions than answers for adults? Yes, just as much as kissing cousins do.

I had some fun with the issues I had with Lilo & Stitch too. You can read about it here.

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The First Chapter

To mark Peanut's first day of Kindergarten today, I am taking you back in time. To the beginning. Not of her life, but of this blog. I started DKL with this post, two months before Peanut was born. Reading it again recently reminded that I feel the same excitement, hope, and angst now as the dad of a five year-old that I did then, as a dad anticipating her arrival. (There are also references to the annoying things people say when you're pregnant.) Enjoy this look back. I will be back with a brand  new featured post next Thursday.

TELL ME SOMETHING I DON'T KNOW

Here's the most annoying thing about being an expectant dad: it's not that my wife's mood swings more often than the door to the Yankees bullpen when Randy Johnson pitched. (Thank God he's gone.) It's not that every time she tries to get comfortable in bed, I get a knee in my back. It's not even that, like clockwork, she'll ask me for something the instant I sit down. And that something is usually in the place from where I just came. That's annoying, but not the most annoying.

No. THE most annoying thing about being an expectant dad is that everybody wants to tell you something you already know. Sometimes they're specific. Like the fathers who tell you that you're never going to sleep through the night again. "Get your sleep now," they say. As if I'm a bear that can just hibernate for months until my daughter arrives. And in doing so, I'll be magically well rested. What they don't realize is that by saying that, they are having the reverse effect. Since I'm so neurotic, one of the things that keeps me up nights is knowing I won't get enough sleep once the baby is here.

Christmas card 2006:
"What Child Is THIS?!"

They also want to tell you that you're never going to get to the gym again, thus becoming a fat slob with three chins and man boobs. That's a good thing to say to a guy who is so self-conscious that daily he asks his still-growing soulmate if he looks fat. Why am I friends with these people?

Other times, it's more general. Here's a good one: they like to tell you that "life as you know it is going to change forever." No kidding. You mean it's not like owning a hamster? I can't keep her in a cage and get her a little wheel to run on for those times when I'm tired of playing with her myself? Do these people have anything constructive to say? Seriously. What is wrong with people?

What is wrong with the women who find it helpful to share with my wife all of their horror stories from pregnancy and birth? Did more than the baby, and perhaps some of their cerebral cortex, come out during the birth as well? Even our moms, sisters, cousins, and aunts do this. Our own flesh and blood. Hello? Do you not remember what it was like when you were pregnant for the first time? All of the anxiety about the unknown?

Parents who have been through it already should be a source of comfort, not of aggravation, for expectant first-timers. Didn't your mom always tell you, "if you don't have something nice to say, don't say it at all?" Well that should go double for these moms and dads who want to share all of the gory details about afterbirth and late-night, weary-eyed feedings, and "make sure you ask for the epidural as soon as you get to the hospital." One of my favorites: "Breast feeding sucks. No, it literally sucks. Ha ha." No, you're literally not funny. You're a nightmare. Ha ha.

You know what would have been helpful? One of these know-it-alls coming over and helping me put the crib together. That would have been nice. I'm not the handiest guy in the world. I can drink a screwdriver better than I can use a screwdriver. Or maybe they could have shown me how to install the car seat. I swear to you there are some NASA scientists that couldn't figure that one out. And when I brought it to the police station for them to make sure I did it correctly, they just laughed at me.

What is this, initiation to some sort of fraternity? Well, let me tell you something, my friend, I've pledged already. It was more than a decade ago. I wore the diaper and I ate the raw onion. That was college, and it was funny. This is real life, and I'm not saying it's not funny, but a little help would be appreciated.

And they may be thinking they're sharing a nice sentiment, but if I hear someone say how much I'm going to love this child one more time, I'm going to flip. What am I, made of stone? If you cut me, do I not bleed? You're talking to a guy who was so upset when his wedding reception had ended, his new bride had to console him. That may have had something to do with all of those Sambuca shots, but that's neither here nor there. And while I'm baring my soul, I also cried the first time we left our dog somewhere when we went on vacation. How's that for love or attachment? I may present a tough exterior, but inside, Niagara Falls is just a good episode of "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition" away.

So don't tell me my life is going to change. I know that. We knew that when we decided to have a baby. It's going to change for the better, because this little girl is going to teach me things I would have never thought I could know. And please don't tell me how much I am going to love her, because I already do love her more than you can imagine, and she's not even here yet.

As Peanut starts her school career, I am also reminded of a letter I wrote for her right after she was born. You can read it here.

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: Adult Swim

"Peanut, why are all of these princesses naked?" 

"Because they're having a swimming party, daddy:"

Now THAT's a party.

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I'm a Rock Star Thanks to @BloggerIdol

It's true. I am a rock star. It has nothing to do with my love of karaoke, my penchant to sing in the shower, or my talent to make a parody out of any song by putting my dog Luna's name in it. It doesn't even have to do with taking My Director to the Awesome 80's Prom for her 30th birthday:

This was 5 years ago.
Yes, that's a Smurf tattoo

No. I am a rock star because Blogger Idol told me so. The motto of this wonderful experience disguised as a writing contest is "writers are the new rock stars." As many of you who have been following DKL from the beginning may remember, this time last year I was knee-deep in Blogger Idol. I had made it to the finale in the first-ever season, only to lose by a handful of votes at the last possible minute. (Not bitter at all. Totally over it. Now please pass me that bottle of Jack Daniels.)

I've made a lot of friends in the blogosphere, forged a lot of relationships, learned a lot of things from a lot of really cool, special, interesting people. Blogger Idol was by far the most unique experience I've ever had in the year and a half since I took DKL public. The weekly challenges were at times frustrating, but mostly invigorating and inspiring. They pushed me as a writer to go places I've never gone before and explore topics I never would have explored. (Uh, there was a vampire week. Random but fun. And my post got top marks from the judges.) I have gained lasting friendships with some great people. My fellow contestants, actually. Roni from The Mommy in Law, Chris at ...from the Bungalow, and Derrick from Dad v. Autism, to name a few.

I'm not going to lie. Winning would have been very cool. But in hindsight, doing it - putting myself out there - was so much more rewarding. I was proud of the work I did, how I presented myself, and how I kept true to myself and the integrity of my blog and my writing.

Now Blogger Idol is back, it's bigger and better. The prizes are amazing. And perhaps most exciting for DKLers, I'm going to be a judge. How cool is that? For now, judge for yourself and check out some of my favorite entries from last year's assigments:

Here is my audition post that convinced the judges to put me into the top 12. The assignment was simple: Why are you the next Blogger Idol? So I drew inspiration from my Grandma Sylvia and told them What I'm Made Of.

In Week 1 of this 12-week journey, we were asked to introduce ourselves to the voters. So I wrote About Being a Dad

When I first saw the assignment for week two, my first reaction was, "Oh. My. God." We had to write about a day in the life as the opposite sex. So I made it an homage to the woman I know the best. Enjoy Freaky Friday.

The post I thought would win me the whole damn thing was a very emotional one I wrote for the finale about The Best Dad I Know.





Auditions begin TODAY. So I urge you to get involved. If you are a blogger looking to get established, to have your writing critiqued by bloggers who are established, and to showcase your writing to a new audience, this is a great opportunity. Follow Blogger Idol on Facebook and Twitter for updates. Even if you don't audition, I urge you to follow because you WILL connect with these contestants. I promise. They all will inspire you when they pour their hearts into their posts. Let the competition begin.

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