Musings of a Migrant Flatlander

Continuing the stream of “oh crap, I’m going to be a dad” musings…

My life continues to hurtle (hurdle? hirdle? härdel?) beyond my control into the abyss of impending fatherhood. Among my many preparatory projects, both assigned and invented, has been the business of a new field of general study I have begun to refer to as “baby math.” Baby Math consists of a series of calculations developed for the purpose of prognosticating one’s doom. The better known calculations consist of things like “square root of the number of diapers required in the first ten days at home with a newborn divided by ounces of Tide Stain Stick used in first month = Adjusted Gross Domestic Product of Madagascar.” While intellectually stimulating, I have recently run across some calculations that I find disturbing.

The end is nigh… literally

I’m no spring chicken. According to the calculation at the right, I have lived 46.68% of my

In exchange for a "C" in Calculus, I taught my TA to calculate sales tax on a used Honda

life. Additionally, I’ve actually be able to use exactly half of that time making my own decisions! During this second half, I’ve managed to carefully cultivate an environment of autonomous, carefree living spiced with a hearty mix of ne’er-do-well irresponsibility and a fair amount of live music and beer.

Alas, Baby Math has led me to conclude that this may have not been time well spent. According to my recent calculations, which include the cost of a college education for Young Palaver the First (hereafter YP,I) estimated to be approximately eleventy billion dollars, I have also reasoned that I will be the – a’hem, hack, hack – 54 year old father of a high school senior. This is the approximate age of MY GRANDFATHER when I was born. Whoops. Combined with real math and an increasing likelihood that I’ll be an unemployed, blogging, “silver-haired renaissance man” within the next few months, my mind is now gripped with the possibility that 18 years of chickens are coming home to $@#% in my backyard.

But I will not be deterred! I plan to rise up against Baby Math and conquer my failure to spawn at a reasonable age. While preventable, this problem is not so intractable as to drain me of my spirits. While still in the brainstorming phase, I offer the blogosphere of late-to-the-game fathers this 10 point plan to avoid becoming DadPa – that curiously-too-old, Larry King-ish, modestly stomach turning version of Dad:

1. Powerball Tickets – by my estimation, there will be 1,888 drawings between today and YP,I’s 18th birthday. If I play each drawing, I’ll be out $2,000, but I’ll have a .000000968 chance of becoming a millionaire!
2. Stay Cool – I will adopt every new technology that comes along, memorize every Top 10 pop song and adapt to fashion style changes at a rapid pace. It only looks desperate when not part of a well-organized plan.
3. Get Cool Job – I’m not talking your standard astronaut/NASCAR driver/software icon junk. I’m talking about “roadie for a Def Leppard cover band” kind of cool.
4. Color Hair – look at the pic folks… it’s been this way since I was 22. I look like DadPa before I’m even a dad!
5. Travel Internationally – The most important part of this element is to leave YP,I (and any that follow him/her) at home and take pictures of Mrs. Palaver and I doing all sorts of outrageously cool things.  Minimally, I’ll send YP,I to the grandparents and take a Photoshop class.
   

   At that price. with that "bra." You're darn skippy!

6. Stockpile Fireworks
7. Buy Camaro – But don’t drive it much.
8. Wear Concert T-Shirts – It is my opinion that this is an underrated feature of staving off the DadPa image. When I stroll into YP,I’s first high school basketball game (and the little bugger will play basketball) with my 1984 Kenny Rogers concert “T,” you know exactly what the other kids are going to be thinking!
9. Write a Blog – Look, everyone knows that blogging is here to stay as the dominant form of asserting one’s narcissism. No stodgy old DadPa would have a blog. That’s absurd.
10. Randomly Quit Trying – This is a time tested strategy to remain relevant. I will just occasionally stop cutting my hair and shaving, gain 20lbs. and listen to an inordinate amount of Bob Dylan. Though as I’m writing, this is sounding vaguely familiar.

Palaver’s Plugs

In today’s episode of Palaver’s Plugs, I’ll stray from my recent theme of parenting and being a father and liking music and all that jazz to bring you a little spice from the world of… dieting? Visit SkiNet.com and use the Eat to Ski app to figure out just how long you are “required” to stay on the slopes to make sure those extra 10 slices of pizza you ate during last night’s poker game don’t stick around.

Mountain Palaver”Pa”

PS – Like the blog – share it with the button below! Hate the blog – share it anyway and use it as a chance to make fun of me. Subscribe by email to the right. Leave a comment. Take action now!