Fathers Against Daughters Dating

We all have certain freinds that we like more than others. That doesn’t mean that we dislike the others. It’s only that there are certain friends you may have more in common with than others. Conversation is easier, planning get-togethers is simpler. Sometimes you don’t even need to say much at all. Of course, you’re wife will usually ruin things. You’ll get the old, “oh by the way, I invited the Dumbasses to our Christmas party. Hope you don’t mind.”

Which makes your face contort violently, and your blood pressure elevates. And then you add another fifth of bourbon to the ‘wine and spirits’ list to make sure you’ll get through the party without a knot in your shorts.

So the other day I’m having an actual conversation with my youngest daughter, and she told me about a sleepover at somebody’s house that she was planning to attend. I was mildly surprised because she’s told me on several occasions that she’s not really good friends with (let’s call her Bambie). So my logical question was, “why are you going to the party, then, if you really would rather not?”

{At any time in the following passage that a girl’s name is involved, I’m going to use (blank) to protect the innocent. Except Bambie.}

“Dad, she’s part of our friend group.”
“How can she be part of your friend group if most of your friends aren’t really friends with her?”
“She’s friends with (blank) and (blank) and THEY are friends with the rest of us so we have to include Bambie.”
“No, you don’t. Why do you think you have to spend time with someone who at least half of you don’t care for?”
“Dad, it would be awkward.”
“I think it’s more awkward to spend time with someone half of the group isn’t really friends with.”
“Dad, there’s like, 15 of us. We’re not all best friends.”
“So, within this large friend group, there’s a series of smaller friend groups?”
“Dad, why can’t you understand?”
“Explain it to me.”
“If me and (blank) and (blank) want to go to the movies, AND we wanted to ask (blank), then we’d also have to invite (blank) and (blank) because she’s best friends with them.”
“Why would you have to invite those other two girls? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Because it would be very awkward if we didn’t.”
“It doesn’t make sense. You shouldn’t have to go to activities or hang out with people that you’re not really friends with.”
“DAD, why don’t you get this?!”

I don’t know but I better get another fifth of Buffalo Trace.

BTW, now that Cyber Monday is over, you can order my humorous parenting memoir, Did I Just Say That?, right here on my site. It’s a my unofficial account of helping to raise three daughters over the past 21 years.

I was smitten at first glance. The first wet kiss sealed the deal. Even though I’ve got a wife and three daughters, I thought that I had room for one more female in my life. Even under the same roof as the other four. How foolish could that be? How silly could it be to think that I could care for one more complex, sensitive, attractive and intelligent being?

It’s been two months now since I allowed myself to share my feelings with another female. But I’ve got to share how she actually came into my life, because only then can you appreciate my dilemma.

The week before Father’s Day, my wife and I were traveling to a book signing for my new title, “Did I Just Say That?” Our two youngest daughters accompanied us for the two-hour ride to Bethlehem, PA. We were no sooner on the highway than the two girls began their treachery. It began with a proposition on behalf of their oldest sister (who remained home to work). Because of the economy and because of family finances, we convinced our oldest daughter to live at home for this, her senior year of college. Much to her chagrin, she agreed. It’s going to be a long year, but that’s a story for another day.

The theme of the persuasion from our two younger girls was that it would be a nice olive branch to offer to our oldest daughter if she could have a new puppy to keep her company since she’d be living in her own bedroom instead of a dorm room. I saw no fault with that logic. Other than the fact that I knew that even though my daughter said she would pay for most things, and take care of the new pup and watch over it with every spare minute, I knew it was all a fairy tale.

I thought, without a doubt, that my wife would be the staunch holdout on this deal. We had a dog that we loved for 11 years and had to put her down because of failing health. When she went to doggie heaven, my wife spent a small fortune to refurbish the sun room and the family room where that dog used to roam. New flooring, new paint, new furniture. There was no way that my wife was going to cave. So I figured if I put up a strong defense, in support of my wife, there’d be no way the new puppy was happening.

Little did we know that the girls already had a specific puppy in mind. My middle daughter had photos of the pooch on her iPhone. Which she didn’t hesitate to show to my wife (while she was driving) and to me. I am a dog lover, and my daughters know it. It was hard for me NOT to cave when I saw the pictures. She’s part German shepherd, part Australian shepherd and part Great Pyrenees. After my wife saw the pictures, the next thing I new they were discussing names for the dog before I even knew we agreed to getting it.

The clincher, as if the photos weren’t enough to warm my heart, was that the puppy was a rescue pup. Actually, the mother was rescued and had a litter of 10 pups. But there were four left, and my oldest daughter was planning to ride to Raleigh, NC. to pick up the pup with a friend. Since there were four pups left, I told my daughter that there were two stipulations: one, the dog had to be smart, and two, the dog had to be the cutest dog in the world. It’s bad enough I have to get up and look in the mirror everyday. I don’t need to have to look at an ugly dog, too.

So Belle (named after the character from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast) occupies the remodeled sun room and family room that our old dog used to call home. She eats two squares a day, has lots of toys to play with and to chew on. She gets more attention from the five of us that even the dog could imagine.

I’m still not so sure that having another female in my life is a good thing. But I do know this…Belle is the only female under my roof that listens to me.

Zoe Wray made, arguably, the most significant statement by a graduating senior this spring. Wray is graduating from Mechanicsburg Area Senior High School in Cumberland County, PA.

She recently was honored by The Patriot-News in the 20th Anniversary edition of its “Best & Brightest.”

Every year since 1993, the newspaper has recognized the 20 high school seniors in the region who, it feels, represents the cream of the high school crop. That doesn’t mean each of the 20 is the valedictorian of his or her class. The students are evaluated by a panel of judges (who are not employees or affiliated with the paper) on academics, activities, athletics, community service, plans and honors. Leadership also is a key component.

The fact that a left-leaning newspaper singles out 20 students for recognition when many schools, themselves, are deleting honor rolls for fear of hurting the feelings of students who don’t make it is a story for another day.

Each honoree is photographed in a unique and personal setting, and a quasi short biography is included next to the photo. The student has a personal statement, which is followed by accolades and praise from others.

In her personal statement, Zoe Wray said, “I strive to be No. 1 without seeking a trophy or praise.”

Wow!

I’m shocked that the newspaper printed that statement. I’m equally stunned that Zoe wasn’t arrested and locked away by the Politically Correct Police. How dare Zoe Wray, young person extraordinaire, make a published statement that’s so counter to public sentiment?

A friend of mine sent me a sizzling message a week or so ago because his son came home with a participation award. He was pretty fired up. My friend is retired military, so the thought of someone getting an award for just showing up has never sat well with him. A lot of people, military or not, agree with that sentiment.

Many schools and youth activity organizations, from athletics to band to the debate team, no longer recognize our best and brightest. Either everyone gets a trophy or nobody gets one. The PC Police have gained the upper hand in this debate, and it’s a tragedy. For decades, the United States has celebrated and recognized its military heroes, it’s brilliant inventors and creators, its savvy businessmen, outstanding doctors and star athletes.

In recent years, those celebrations and recognitions have been condemned by those too ignorant to see the damage done by such rhetoric and behavior.

I talk to my daughters all the time about working hard to be the best that they can be in whatever it is they endeavor to do. Second best never is. I want my daughters to understand the difference between working hard to be the best and just settling for the participation trophy. I want them to be leaders, not followers. Thankfully, they don’t jump for joy when they receive a participation award. It usually ends up buried in a drawer or in a box in the garage.

I do realize that everyone can’t be the best at everything…everybody can’t be No. 1. But it’s the work ethic and the desire to be so that’s equally, or more, important than where it is, exactly, that you finish. Because if one has the right mindset, when he or she doesn’t reach the goal, they’ll continue to work to get there, not settle for something less than what it is they desire.

So just when I was beginning to doubt whether or not our next generation was going to be lethargic and lazy, due in part to the “participation trophy” mentality, Zoe Wray restored a glimmer of hope. She wants to be No. 1 without receiving a medal or a pat on the back.

That’s awesome!

P.S. Don’t forget to tell your daughter that you love her.

My Dad never gave me the “Alcohol Talk,” before I went to college. I was so wrapped up in sports that I never demonstrated much interest during my high school years. It was probably one of two things. My Dad’s generation either didn’t have an ‘alcohol talk,’ or he just figured that I’d learn the hard way once I got to college. Just like he did. Although he had a stint in the Army where I’m sure he had a few R&R weekends to explore a myriad of adult beverages.

After working in higher education for more than 19 years, and, consequently having to talk to the media (and occasionally a parent) about the death of a student due to alcohol poisoning, I decided to try to be proactive with my daughters.

Before each of the older ones went off to college, I sat them down and explained the difference between Miller Lite and Dogfish Head 90 Minute IPA. I explained the difference between a couple shot glasses of bourbon versus a glass of white wine. I explained to them about their body mass and how much alcohol could impair them. I talked to them about the fact that most data shows that the majority of date rapes that occur on college campuses happen because the female was impaired and unable to defend herself.

Did the talk help? I’ll never know. Would I be happy if they didn’t acquire a taste for alcohol? Sure. Most medical experts will tell you that alcohol is toxic and the body will do just fine without one bourbon, one scotch, one beer. Of course, I would tell those medical experts that they’ve never been married with three daughters. A husband and a father can only take so much before he makes friends with Jack, Jim or Johnny.

But as a parent, just when you think that you might have all the bases covered, something new presents a challenge. A recent report revealed that teenagers in Los Angeles are landing in hospital emergency rooms after consuming a new substance — hand sanitizer.

Who saw that coming? Those cheap little bottles of liquid hand sanitizer contain 62% ethyl alcohol. To enhance the situation (no pun intended) some smarty pants has posted a distillation recipe on the Internet. And I thought distillation was reserved for my beloved Bourbon. How many of you thought you’d have to lock up your hand sanitizer?

I guess I’ll have to add that to the ‘alcohol talk’ for my youngest daughter.

P.S. Don’t forget to tell your daughter that you love her.

When Snooki calls another woman “a crazy bitch” is that the pot calling the kettle black? Or worse? When New Jersey mother Patricia Krentcil was accused of taking her 5-year-old daughter into a tanning booth with her (which she denies), the human trampoline from Jersey Shore infamy called her the words above.

This from the drunken dimwit who once told David Letterman that her goal in life is to have a tanning bed installed in every home in America. So much for lofty aspirations.

Apparently Snooki felt compelled to pass judgement on Krentcil because Snooki’s been forced to abstain from tanning beds because she couldn’t abstain from lying on her back in bed. I assume she doesn’t want the bun in her oven to be over baked.

With this as the backdrop, I enjoyed a recent Fox News story about the growing trend in high school students, this spring, making a conscious decision to forego tanning artificially before the Prom. Rather than bronzing and buffing, high school students from Massachusetts to Texas signed pledges to remain pasty white for the big dance.

Considering that, according to the American Melanoma Foundation, melanoma is the second most common cancer among 15-29-year-olds, I’m beyond thrilled that these students have made this smart choice. The Foundation also cited the use of tanning beds for the increase in the occurence of melanoma.

Unfortunately, not all high school students, and young people in general, comprehend the harm done by artificial tans. In a recent survey by the American Academy of Dermatology, 24% of young adults are either unaware or are uncertain that tanning beds are not safer than the sun. I’m certain that Snooki’s part of that 24%. The survey also confirmed that our young people (18-29) are much more likely to use a tanning bed than those over 30.

A number of states have made it illegal for people under age 14 to use tanning beds. Various cancer associations would like states to follow the lead of the New Jersey Assembly committee that recently voted to prohibit anyone under the age of 18 from using tanning beds.

While I recognize the physical harm these tanning beds can do to our daughters, you all know that this is a double jeopardy topic for me. We also need to tell our daughters that self-esteem doesn’t come from inside a tanning bed, nor is it zipped into a $500 prom dress.

P.S. Don’t forget to tell your daughter that you love her.

Mothers get angry with me when I contend that they spend entirely too much money on their daughters for high school dances. The Prom and Homecoming have become a fashion arms race between mothers, and it’s pointless and it’s unnecessary. Is that redundant?

According to a recent survey by Visa, the average prom package for this spring costs approximately $1,078. That’s the average. The upper end of the range is $2,000. That’s for the dress, the shoes, the nails, the hair, the makeup, the zebra suit rental, accessories, the tickets, the meal and limo ride.

The bulk of that cost is anchored (like the chains on Jacob Marley) by the dress, for which mothers are spending about $500 on average. Mathematically speaking, and I’m not very good at math, the girl’s dress sucks up about 50% of the entire cost for the evening.

That’s insanity. One Indianapolis mother surveyed spent $800 on her wedding dress, and recently coughed up $500 for her daughter’s prom dress. Call my crazy, but $800 for the dress for the most important day of her life, and nearly the same amount (counting inflation, etc.) for her daughter’s prom dress. Really??!!

Girls wear prom dresses once, and some of them not for very long, and then the thing collects dust hanging in a closet for years, when it finally ends up in a consignment shop that accepts dated clothes from the Stone Ages, or in the Good Will barrel.

So, mothers are going to challenge me that “I don’t understand.” That’s a fruitless argument. You can’t convince me that it’s a good idea to spend ridiculous money on a Prom dress and the rest of the evening’s package. No one, and I mean NO ONE, will remember a month after the dance what anyone wore to it. I’m not suggesting that your daughter look hideous, but you don’t have to spend thousands of dollars for your daughter to look beautiful.

How about a lesson in finance for our daughters?

And here’s the other two problems. According to the survey, girls are desiring this extravagance because they are heavily influenced by reality television and celebrities. The second is that, according to Kit Yarrow, an author and a marketing and psychology professor, “…parents use their kids to proclaim their stature to other parents. They use their kids to communicate to the community who they are.” That’s just plain sad.

Most teenage boys (and I mean the vast majority) will not have any clue how much money your daughter spent on her dress. He will not care nor know how much she spent on her hair, makeup and nails. Most teenage boys are smitten with the girl they’re taking to the Prom, so if she just looks a little bit better than she does during a regular day in school, he’s going to think she looks amazing. Which he should. The bottom line is, not only will a stupid teenage boy not KNOW how much a girl spent on all that stuff, most will not CARE what she spent.

Which brings me back to my original point. This ridiculous spending on high school dances does nothing to help our daughter’s self-esteem, nor their self-confidence. It only reinforces the stereotypes that they have to spend big bucks to look good, to get attention, and to be able to say they had a more expensive dress than the other girls sitting in their limo.

P.S. Don’t forget to tell your daughter that you love her.

This Easter was the first major holiday in our family history that one of my daughters was not with us. Her college doesn’t grant an Easter break, but we were going to retrieve her anyway. Until she asked if she could do something else.

Our family is diehard Philadelphia Phillies fans (except Mom probably doesn’t know the difference between a shortstop and a linebacker). My daughters continue to remind me that I’ve yet to take them to Citizen’s Bank Park to see the Phillies play. Like somehow I can conjure up tickets to a ballpark that’s been sold out, consecutively, for almost three seasons.

So a college friend offered my daughter a ticket to see the Phillies play the Pirates in Pittsburgh, which is less than an hour from her campus. The only hitch is that the game was on Easter Sunday. My daughter was hesitant to ask, but we didn’t give her a hard time. Not sure why we didn’t. We still enjoyed a short visit.

Meanwhile, my brother- and sister-in-law welcomed a new baby into the family just a few weeks ago. His two daughters are under five-years old, so they have their hands full.

My nieces wanted to hunt for Easter baskets and goodies that my mother-in-law had hidden around the house. That made me reminisce about when my daughters were that age and my wife and I would stuff dozens of plastic eggs with candy and coins and then hide them around the house, or out in the yard if the weather forecast was positive.

I was caught between two stages in life. I was wishing that I was hiding eggs for my daughters, and at the same time, missing the one who wasn’t with us. My MIL (mother-in-law) must’ve been reading my mind. She often can. She enhanced my feelings by informing me that it will get worse, not better. She told me about when her three girls began dating and got engaged, and then married, and how she had a tough time sharing her daughters on the holidays with the other families. So that made me feel even better.

Fortunately, I think I can intimidate just about any guy my girls will bring home, and I think I can use that to ensure that my girls spend their holidays at my house. The other in-laws can have the leftovers.

P.S. Don’t forget to tell your daughter that you love her.