Twenty-one on none

Confession: I still get a kick out of "Bears on Wheels" by the Berenstains.

It's one of the first books my parents read to me when I was little.

I also introduced it to Charlie and Thomas when they were little, and it stuck with us. Even today, when I'm with my 'big guys' and we see people on bicycles, it always occurs to one of us to blurt out how many people on how many wheels there are (example: "Three on six").

Recently, it occurred to me that I'd like to share this classic with my preschooler, Jacob. I ordered it from ThriftBooks (always my first resort for buying books online), and it was shipped to my office.

I waited anxiously for the end of the workday, anticipating my son's giggles at the pictures and narrative of bears falling onto and off of various wheeled things.

Then I started second-guessing my anticipation. Was I being too optimistic? What if Jacob didn't like the book the way I did? Would I be upset? Why did I want Jacob to have the same kind of experiences his older brothers had? Was this about him or about me and my nostalgia?

Sheesh. It's just a book.

Anyway, much to my delight, Jacob found "Bears on Wheels" very entertaining and soon began requesting it at bedtime.

A couple of weeks ago, Jacob and I were on a walk and saw two bicyclists pedaling by.

I said, "Two on four."

He said, "No, it's not two on four." (He disagrees with things he doesn't understand. Don't we all?)

I explained: "It's two guys on four wheels."

"Oh, it is?"

Then we went into the math. "It's two wheels on one bike and two wheels on the other bike. Two plus two is ..."

"Four!" He got it.

Thanks to Stan and Jan Berenstain, I can reinforce simple addition with my son (and eventually  multiplication by two)  every time someone goes by on a bicycle.

If you have never read the book, you probably won't understand the title of this post, "Twenty-one on none." But I won't give it away. It's best that you discover it on the printed page, as my sons and I have.

What literary gems from your childhood have you shared with your kids?

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Been there, done that, so what?

People I meet at my son's preschool are sometimes surprised to learn that Jacob has two adult half-brothers. When I told one of the dads, he said, with hints of awe and envy, "So you've already done the whole thing -- this is easy for you."

He and I both know that it never gets "easy" no matter how many kids you have. As we talked, it became clear that he was talking about confidence more than competence.

Like most recycled dads, I am more confident and less anxious as a parent this time. But let's face it: I don't really have any special advantage over the average parent of multiple children.

The last time I had a child Jacob's age was 15 years ago. Any parent with more recent experience with a preschooler has an advantage over me.

I guess there may be  special insights I've gained from seeing my older sons grow all the way to adulthood, but I think the confidence and ease that I feel are mostly 'conjured' -- the result of feeling that I have 'been there, done that.' It's the parenting equivalent of Dumbo's magic feather.

Fafa faa fa, fa fafa faa fa

When I've got nothing to say,
my lips are sealed.
Say something once,
why say it again?

But there are lots of great
Dad Bloggers (24 of them so far)
who do have something to say
on this excellent Fatherhood Friday.

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Not as easily spooked anymore

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This is that delightful time of year when I have to poke my head inside each store to check for scary things before I bring my young son inside.

Last October, I took Jacob (then 2½ years old) into a craft supply store and walked him past a full-size ghost figure that I was sure he wouldn't notice. But the ghost had a motion sensor, and as we came alongside it, the thing started moving and emitting an evil laugh. Jacob screamed in horror and clung to me.

I was slow to learn my lesson. About a week later, I was out with Jacob again and realized I needed something from Party City. I hastily pushed the door open and led my son by the hand into the store, where we found ourselves face to face with a large 'bargain bin' full of 4-foot-tall Grim Reapers. He got a look of panic on his face, and we both high-tailed it for the safety of the sidewalk.

I've never been too fond of scary stuff, for emotional and spiritual reasons. When my first two sons were little, I actually took a pretty hard stand on Halloween. Our family distanced itself from the H word and from the 'spooky' activities that tend to mark the day. If my sons wore costumes on or around Oct. 31, it was to participate in a church event (typically called a harvest festival) where scary costumes were out of the question.

I still take spiritual matters very seriously, I still think church harvest festivals are way better than trick-or-treating, and of course I make an effort to keep Jacob from seeing the 'horrific' side of Halloween. But I'm a mellower dad than I used to be. For example, I'm not keeping my son out of the preschool's Halloween parade simply because they call it a Halloween parade. Labeling an event with the H word does not make it a demonic ritual, just as calling an event a "Christmas party" does not make it a religious observance. It's what happens at the event that determines what it is. And everything this preschool does, it does with extreme sensitivity to the kids' emotional comfort. I'm not afraid.

I don't know if it's because my belief system has evolved or simply because I'm older and wiser now, but I just don't get wrapped around the axle about names and labels -- including "Halloween" -- anymore.

Anyone have something to share on the innocence or the evils of All Hallows' Eve?

We are a Microtrend. I did not know that.

Did you know that the phenomenon of older guys becoming fathers is a Microtrend?

Microtrends: The Small Forces Behind Tomorrow's Big Changes, includes a chapter on recycled dads -- or, as the authors put it, "Old New Dads." Those authors, Mark Penn and Kinney Zalesne, were kind enough to 'adapt' the chapter into a Babble.com article that seems to explain everything about us in fewer than 1,200 words.

So if you're cheap and lazy, just read the article rather than hunting down the book or buying it online.

If you are cheap and ridiculously lazy, read my <400-word summary of the article.

If you encounter something (in the article or this post) that you strongly agree or disagree with, please feel free to leave a comment.

My summary:


There has been an explosion in the number of men ages 40 to 44 who are fathering children. That's represented by the solid line in this graphic:



Reasons there are more "Old New Dads":

• More older women are having children.


• The divorce rate continues to increase.


• Men tend to marry soon after divorce, and to marry younger women the next time.


• There is "a combination of biology and success" that makes it feasible and appealing for older men to have children.

Implications (negative)

• "Old New Dads" have trouble keeping up with their kids physically.


• "Old New Dads" have fewer years with their kids.


• "Old New Dads need to work longer, and retire later, in order to pay for college tuition and other expenses of child rearing later in life."

Implications (positive)

• "Old New Dads" dads are more relaxed, satisfied and 'engaged' in their roles as parents.


• "Old New Dads" experience "the joys of family life" in a period that might otherwise be less meaningful for some men.


• "Old New Dads" are a strong consumer segment and have more resources to share with their families.

"Old New Dads" have hardly been studied, even though "in 2001, the number of children born to fathers over 40 was practically equal to the number of children born to mothers under 19."

(The article suggests) the children of "Old New Dads" gain as much from having more mature role models as they lose by having less physically active fathers.

In the final paragraphs: heavy thoughts about "our aging-parent support system," the political clout of "Old New Dads," and the notion that these dads disrupt traditional voting patterns by having the values and priorities of men 20 years younger.

Pet names for our adult children?

I still call my 21-year-old son by the pet name his mom and I gave him when he was an infant. He doesn't seem to mind, as long as it's only among family.

I'm sure other parents do this to their adult children, but why do we do it? Are we nostalgic for when they were little?

What a preschooler considers a thrill ride

I spent Sunday afternoon with my 3.5-year-old, Jacob, at a theme park where we have season passes. When it's just me and him, I can't do roller coasters -- we just do the kid stuff together. On top of that, he's still afraid of the most exciting kid rides, so Sunday was a potentially dull day for me. But as it turned out, I really enjoyed going Jacob's speed. It was fun just watching him have fun.

Jacob will eventually warm up to things like the Road Runner Express,

and then Cobra, 

and someday Medusa  .

I know from my experiences with my older boys that each stage is fun in its own way. Watching a child overcome his fear and try something new is actually one of the most exciting things about parenting.

Right now, I'm just enjoying that fleeting season of life when all it takes to 'thrill' Jacob is to put him in a miniature safari jeep that does a lap around a tortoise enclosure at 1 mph.

Which family is his family?

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For homework this past weekend, my preschooler, Jacob, was to make a "me cube," a tissue box wrapped in colored paper and then covered with photos, drawings and information about him. One of the faces of the cube was supposed to feature a picture of "my family."

I agonized, as I often do, over whether to show his family of three -- just Jacob, his mom and me -- or his family of five, which includes his much older half-brothers.

About a year ago, when the teachers in Jacob's previous class asked for a family picture for the bulletin board, we gave them the family of five. But even at that time, it was a difficult choice.

For a while I had been sensing my wife's need to identify just the three of us as a family in our own right. A couple of years ago during the holidays, I had been putting all five of our names on Christmas cards when my wife, Angela, observed me doing it and asked why I was including the two sons who weren't under our roof. I hadn't thought much about it till then; I had just put their names down because they were my kids. But it was kind of illogical to do that -- I know I shouldn't presume to act as my older sons' representative for things like greeting cards.

Lately, it occurs to me that Jacob probably thinks of his family in similar terms. Mama and Daddy are with him in the house every day, so we are his 'immediate' family in the sense that we are the ones in his immediate reach.

Another observation: When people ask if Jacob has any siblings, I don't just say ''Yes'' or that he has two older brothers. Instead, I usually say that I have two (much older) sons from my first marriage. I'm saying, in so many words, ''Yes but not the same kinds of siblings most preschoolers have.'' In a way, I am doing it to differentiate between our 'conventional' family of three and our less conventional family of five. This seems to give everyone proper recognition for where they are in life.

In any case, a photo of the family of three is now pasted to the cube.

I'd like to hear from others who struggle with which family to identify as the family.

The guys who should be writing this blog

I just finished reading Fathers of a Certain Age by Martin Carnoy and David Carnoy (a father and son). These are the guys who should be writing the Recycled Dad blog. Their book is an amazingly thorough and insightful treatment of the phenomenon I have been trying to address here.

If you have fathered children after age 40 (or are considering doing so), buy Fathers of a Certain Age and actually read it.

Subtitled "The Joys and Problems of Middle-aged Fatherhood," the book really focuses on recycled dads -- men who have fathered multiple generations of children. It explores why men decide to re-enter the parenting cycle at an advanced age and the impacts of their decisions on their "first children," their wives and their younger children.

This book is full of solid research and well-argued analysis but stays grounded in humanity, thanks to an abundance of stories and quotes from fathers, mothers and first- and second-generation children. These stories are quite candid and often very touching. Not all of them have happy endings. The authors share their own experiences, too -- at the beginning, to explain their motivations and their connections to the topic, and at the end, to make the point that they did not agree with each other 100 percent in their observations or conclusions while writing the book.

I had many 'aha' moments while reading this book -- in the 'researchy' parts as well as the personal stories. I found plausible explanations for what I am doing and experiencing as a recycled dad, and some important insights about how my wife, my older sons and my preschool-age son must feel about the life we all have together. This book will help you better understand yourself and the people you care about.

The authors seem well qualified to tackle this topic, not only by virtue of their family circumstances but also by virtue of their professions. Martin is a Stanford professor and has authored other books; David is a professional writer and editor. At the time Fathers was published (first edition 1994), David and his brother were in their late 20s, and Martin's daughter (from his second marriage) was 3 years old.

The balance of thorough analysis and a strikingly human perspective makes Fathers a very engaging read. I can't recommend it highly enough.

I'm also anxious to make contact with the authors and find out (if they are willing to share) what has changed for them in the past 15 years. Stay tuned!

Bah! I'm not paying for college

You know the bumper sticker that says "My son and my money go to UCLA" (or some other university)? I am not qualified to put that sticker on my car.

I have two sons in college, and I'm not paying for either one of them to go. Does that make me a bad dad? (They get aid as part of my veteran benefits, but it certainly doesn't cover everything, and of course it's not the same as my paying out of pocket.)

I feel like I'm the only parent in the world who (1) isn't paying cash for college and (2) isn't hiding behind the excuse of not being able to afford it.

Yes, I'm divorced from their mother and remarried. Yes, my wife and I have a preschooler. Yes, our expenses are considerable. But my position on paying for college would be the same if I had stayed single after the divorce or never gotten divorced.

Here is my position: Being autonomous is the only way to learn autonomy, and that is a fundamental part of a proper education.

It's cheap and easy for me to take that position. Some might even call it a cop-out. I don't care. It's what I actually believe. And I don't think it's a win-lose position.

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One benefit of my 'cheap and easy' position -- from my sons' perspective, not mine -- is that they don't (and won't ever) have to answer to me for how they live their lives. If they goof off and get poor grades, that's their business. If they drop out, that's their business. If  they get their degrees and then decide to become monks, that's their business. If they rack up too much debt during college, that's their business. Whatever they do with their investments is their business.

In the three years my oldest son has been in college, I've never had the slightest inclination to judge how he has spent his time or money. I've given him advice, but we both understand that he doesn't answer to me. I think he is better off because of this, and I think my second son (and, down the road, my third) will be better off, too.

Still, most of the world seems to believe paying cash for college -- giving till it hurts -- is a sacred obligation of parents.

There's a whole page at FinAid.org dedicated to trashing parents who, for whatever reason, don't pay. Here's a little excerpt:

Some parents feel that they can't afford to pay for college or are up to their eyebrows in debt. They don't realize that paying for your children's college education entails sacrifice. The parents will have to forgo buying a new or second car, clothing or big-screen TV, going on the annual vacation to Aruba, eating out every night, and a few other luxuries to help pay for their children's education. It won't be easy, but most families can afford college if they really try.

I know paying for college entails sacrifice. But whose sacrifice should it entail?

The generation gap between the kids -- and why it rocks

My middle son, Thomas, 18,  just went home after spending the weekend with me, my wife and our preschooler, Jacob.

One of the joys of these visits from my older sons has been watching their relationships with Jacob play out. The age gap has had unexpectedly positive effects.

With each interaction, I become more aware of how adult these boys have always been toward their younger brother. I recognize that any older sibling (full, step, half, any kind), may tend to act 'parental'  and share in child care duties, but these guys are just so mature about it. They are allies with us in parenting Jacob. They watch out for him the way other adults would. We can leave the room without 'tasking' them to keep an eye on their brother and they still will.

My oldest son, Charlie, now 21, once said he feels more like an uncle to Jacob than like a brother. But from my perspective, he and Thomas are better than uncles. They are in a whole different class.

For one thing, the kinship between adult and child siblings seems much tighter than that between a niece or nephew and an uncle or aunt. Having a parent in common, my sons have had some similar experiences. The older ones may even experience flashbacks, just as I often do. (I'll have to ask them.)

I think another thing that makes the relationship unique is that to some degree, all my kids have to answer to my authority as a dad. Other adult relatives can show good-natured defiance ("Your dad says 'No sweets,' but I won't tell him about this cookie if you don't.") I think my boys are reluctant to do that.

The bottom line is that the generation gap rocks. I'm really enjoying it. I hope I'm not the only recycled dad having a positive experience with this.

Four keys to a great multi-generational outing

Last summer, I tried taking my sons Thomas (then 17) and Jacob (then 2.5) backpacking.  It was hell.

Yesterday, I took the same two sons kayaking. It was euphoric.

Here are the four main things that were different about the two ventures, expressed as 'keys to success':

1. Check the weather.


2. Bring everything you might need.


3. Don't be married to the plan.


4. Choose an age-appropriate activity. (When you have two generations of kids, this means something you and both generations will like.)
   

Bad trip

With the backpacking trip last summer, I had made the campsite reservation weeks in advance, when the weather was mild, and assumed it would be the same at the time of the trip (or cooler, since it was approaching autumn). I failed to check the forecast before we left, and we ended up hiking to the site in 90- to 100-degree temps.

I also neglected to read my time-tested packing list carefully, so we had no bug repellent -- and the campsite (once we reached it) was swarming with flies.

At the first sign of misery, I could have decided to scrap the plan, but it didn't occur to me that we were 'allowed' to quit -- after all, we had a reservation!

But the real problem was my choice of activities. Backpacking depends on everyone walking, and 2.5-year-old Jacob wasn't into it. He was like the "Blind Man" in the Sunday school song: He stood in the road and he cried. Thomas and I ended up taking turns carrying Jacob on what should have been a modest 2-mile hike up gentle slopes.

Good trip

By contrast, the kayaking yesterday was a blast for all three of us, the whole time, which shocked me more than anyone because we were on the water more than three hours, and Jacob doesn't normally have the patience for long boat rides.

We checked the weather beforehand. In fact, our original plan had been to camp and kayak at a river park in Lathrop (far inland). It was because the weather was expected to be hot that we chose the cooler climate of Tomales Bay (this covers "Check the weather" and "Don't be married to the plan.") I had no standard packing list for this kind of trip, but in deciding what to bring, Thomas and I at least talked it out. We had clothes for warm and cool weather, bug juice, sunscreen, snacks, water, GPS unit, the works.

Most important, this was an activity that was equally enjoyable for a 43-year-old, an 18-year-old and a 3-year-old. Two adults paddling a tandem kayak in fairly calm water with a small child between them.

This activity would have worked even if Jacob had fought it the whole time -- we asked nothing of him but to sit in the boat -- but he loved it. He spent most of the time belting out songs of pure nonsense that he was making up on the spot. We all enjoyed the mild 'wave action' and seeing pelicans dive for fish.

We were 'reconning' the beaches in the national park area of the bay for future camping trips, so going ashore occasionally was part of the plan. This allowed us all to stretch our legs, explore, look at jellyfish and chat with other people (fellow kayakers and a ranger).

Even if you haven't learned anything new here, you may now be sold on Tomales Bay as a kayaking destination. Either way, you're welcome!

Multi-generational outing

Going kayaking with sons 2 and 3. Planning to blog about it tonight (or in the morning if the fun runs long).

As long as no one's reading, I'm going to blog about my feelings!

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The start of school* makes me nostalgic for one of the two happiest times in my life: 12 years ago.

Twelve years ago is when I started working nights on the copy desk of a regional newspaper. What was so great about that? Well, I didn't have to be at work until 4 p.m., so I got a lot of good quality time with my sons, Charlie and Thomas, who were in fourth grade and first grade.

This was the routine: I would finish work at midnight or 1 a.m., come home, sleep for a few hours, get up, help my boys get ready for school, walk them out to the bus stop, and maybe go back to bed for another few hours. I say "maybe" because I might drive them to school, or go to one of their classrooms and help out, or get just a little sleep and then go have lunch with them at school (we would eat quickly so there was lots of time for them to humiliate me at tetherball). I never got eight hours of sleep (or even six) in a row, but life was beautiful.

The other happiest time in my life: Right now. What's so great about right now is that I get to have morning quality time with my third son, Jacob, who is in preschool. Mama's workday starts kind of early, so from about 7 or 7:15 a.m., that kid is all mine.

I don't have a night job anymore, so I can't spend half the day with Jacob. In fact, I have to do the drop-off promptly at 8 in order to make an 8:12 train. But we do a lot with the time we have. We might make pancakes or toast, or wrestle, or just talk while we eat cereal. It doesn't matter exactly what we do. We are just together. Normally, goofing off comes first and I end up rushing through the necessities -- making lunches, rinsing the dishes, getting us dressed -- and we just barely make it to the preschool on time.

Two days a week, I also get some bonus time with Jacob. My employer is flexible on hours, so my typical work week is 10, 6, 10, 6, 8 (10 hours Monday, six hours Tuesday, etc.). On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I pick up Jacob while my wife does her workout -- so we can do whatever we want. We do errands or go to the park or to Super Franks or to the train table in the children's section at Barnes & Noble.

Sleep deprivation is part of the routine this time, too, but only because my blogging and some miscellaneous editing projects are keeping me up late. And at 43, I feel the effects  more than I used to. Still, sleep or no sleep, the phases of life that provide lots of 'kid time' have been the best.

Profound? No.

True? Yes.




* The 'start of the school year' is happening around me, not to me. Charlie and Thomas are college men and live in another part of the state. Jacob's preschool knows no season.

"Trophy wife" intro aside, Globe article is a good read

Add this to the Recycled Dad canon: a 2005 Boston Globe article that doesn't just state the obvious about older guys who have kids with their second wives.

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For starters, this piece has a pretty thorough setup that observes the following:

• The number of "do-over dads" seems to be increasing, though concrete statistics are hard to capture.


• Men remarry sooner after divorce than women do; for this and other reasons, more divorced men than divorced women are in a position to have children.


• Recycled dads tend to be more confident and enjoy the parenting experience more.

I enjoyed this passage that quotes Marilyn Yalom, an author and Stanford University researcher:

This second chance at fatherhood, says Yalom, is changing these men. "It gives them the idea that they will do a better job the second time around," she says. This is because, for the most part, just like his mid-section, the second-timer's temper has softened as he's gotten older. His drive to build a successful career is no longer obsessively frantic; he may even be contemplating retirement. This dad is everything that kids love - devoted, patient, giving - and he isn't as focused on the issues that many younger parents face, such as the balancing act between career and family. He's not only old enough to be his kids' grandfather, he practically acts like one.

Some of us might chuckle at the grandfather thing. Others of us might not.

The rest of the story:

• One profile of a recycled dad to illustrate the above points, plus some of the downsides of this situation, with quotes from his adult kids (one of whom criticizes Dad for shortchanging the new generation).


• The new wife's perspective.


• Vasectomy reversals. (I could -- and probably will -- do a post dedicated to that topic.)


• A profile of another recycled dad, which mainly illustrates the physical limitations that some older dads have to deal with.

Check it out and feel free to comment on anything that stands out -- good or bad.

(Statistically) Generation 1 resents us?

The best thing I read all day (Monday) was this think piece about recycled dads that first ran in American Demographics magazine way back in 1999. The article is long by Web standards, but it's a surprisingly good read, with mini profiles and quotes that showcase a variety of recycled dad experiences and issues.

Authors and scholars are quoted and some of their findings cited and summarized. One book that is mentioned, Fathers of a Certain Age: The Joys and Problems of Middle-Aged Fatherhood (Fairview Press, 1997) seemed promising, so I ordered it.



I'll post a review of this book soon, but if you're impatient, you can get a copy through Amazon, new for about $10 or used for about $2.

Generation 1 kids are also quoted in the article -- which makes sense because the main thrust of it is that our relationships with our original kids tend to be strained because our attention and wealth have to be split more ways than in a traditional family or even a simple stepfamily.

In other words, our Generation 1 kids have a reason to resent us, and in many cases they do.

Has this been your experience?

I lied a little

I recently posted statements to the effect that there is no other term in common usage that is the equivalent of "recycled dad."

This turns out to be inaccurate, or at least an exaggeration. I have since discovered a few synonymous phrases that get pretty good search results. The best -- that is, the one with the most relevant matches --  is "do-over dad." Has a nice ring, doesn't it?

Other strings that got some results: "start-over dad" and "second-time-around dad."

Future posts will reveal some of the content that these searches turned up. Meanwhile, feel free to do your own searches on these and similar phrases. I'll be curious to know which specific terms you used and what you found online.

Celebrity recycled dads, courtesy of FameCrawler

I don't really follow celebrity news. Until tonight I had been only vaguely aware that some famous old guys have young wives and are therefore likely recycled dads.

Thanks to a blog called FameCrawler and its "Boys Still Swim" category (beware of the flyover -- you may see Rod Stewart in a Speedo), I now know of a few confirmed celebrity RD's, including:

• Tim Allen


• Donald Trump


• Peter Gabriel


• Kevin Costner


• Mick Jagger (more serial than recycled -- kids born '70, '71, '84, '85, '92, '97, '99)

A friend recently hit me to the fact that Dennis Quaid is one of us.

And the guy I have always pictured as the stereotypical RD -- long before I was one myself -- is Garrison Keillor. There's a nice NYT profile of him here.

If you know of another famous RD, please name names in the comments. But I'm still more interested in knowing about you!

Help solve the identity crisis

If you have a moment for a little experiment,  do a Web search for "recycled dad." You should see a link to this blog somewhere on the first two pages of results. (As I write this, I have something in the #9 position in the Google results for this phrase.)

But as you've probably noticed, traffic here is a little light. Here's why: No one is searching for "recycled dad." Why would they? This special segment of the dad population is not commonly referred to by that term -- or by any succinct term, as far as I can tell. (If there were such a term in use, I'd have made that the name of the blog and everyone would be coming here.) So I have found it necessary to offer a term of my own.

A little perspective

"A term of my own" is sort of misleading because, as I said in an earlier post, I did not coin the phrase "recycled dad." But I think it's a great, memorable phrase that aptly describes us -- the audacious few who have dared to re-enter the parenting cycle at a point in life when our peers are prying the caps off cold pilsners to celebrate the fact that all their offspring are finally (or nearly) out of the nest.


Frankly, I'm surprised that this term has never gotten enough exposure to attain 'household' status. Hopefully we can remedy that.

To see things in perspective, realize that other kinds of nonstandard dads had to go through this same identity crisis. For example, there must have been a time when "stepfather" wasn't a word, when a guy in that situation had to refer to himself as "the husband of someone who already has kids."

It's just our turn, that's all. And the way out of this crisis is clear, simple and painless.

How to help (yourself or someone else)

If you fit the description of a recycled dad (even if you don't like that particular term), contact me so I know you're out there. If you're not already connected to other recycled dads, I'd like to help you. And if you are already connected to other recycled dads, I need you to help me!

Maybe you don't fit the description yourself but you know someone who does (your friend, your dad, your brother?). If so, let him know there is a name for what he is, and point him here.

If a guy doesn't know what to call the group he's in, he will have a very hard time finding others who are in it.

Book preview has insights for older and divorced dads

Guys who are recycled dads invariably fit into other, broader categories as well -- for example, remarried dads or older dads. I'm not here to reinvent the wheel, so when I discover good sites or articles about those broader categories, I will link to them.

Here is one such plug:

Do a Web search on "older fathers"* and you will get thousands of results, most of them describing the horrible (physical and mental) health risks you subject your children to by becoming a dad 'late in life.'

Buried among those distressing results is a link to something a little more constructive: a Google Books preview of How Children Develop, a textbook by Robert S. Siegler, Judy S. DeLoache and Nancy Eisenberg (MacMillan, some edition prior to 2006). The link points to page 472, on which begins a short section on "Older Parents" that identifies some very general pros and cons.


That section is followed by a long sidebar about adolescent parents (this may or may not have bearing on your situation) and then a section on divorce (and its impact on children). The divorce part is not previewed in its entirety (page 479 is omitted from the free preview), but what's there is good high-level discussion.

Rational, substantive and free. Can't beat that.

Coming soon, or later, or never: the AMAZING FREE GUIDE

The top blogging gurus recommend kick-starting a blog by releasing a killer e-book, preferably a how-to guide. They explain that if a "free guide" is well written and useful, it can help establish a blogger's expertise and bring lots of traffic to his or her blog.

In this case, the killer e-book would be an authoritative guide to recycled fatherhood. In addition to extolling what is great about this experience, it would identify all the common hazards and prescribe safeguards and solutions for all of them.

That won't work here -- not at this stage, anyway -- because I have no special expertise about the problems or the solutions.  I only have theories based on common sense and my own experiences. So if you're a recycled dad, you are as qualified to write that "free guide" as I am.

In any case, I would not presume to impart 'advice' to anyone who reads this blog. My intent is to give recycled fathers a place to share their wisdom with the rest of us.

In lieu of a book of answers, I'd like to share an AMAZING FREE QUESTION: What's the main challenge you have faced as a result of being a recycled father, and how have you dealt with it?

Be proud!

I mentioned in my first post that I started this blog out of a desire to connect with other recycled fathers. The fact is, I've never personally met any other recycled dads. (I trust that I won't be able to say that for much longer.)

Even without knowing any other recycled dads, I have a hunch that we are an exceptionally cool group of guys.


Generally speaking, we:

• Are more experienced than first-time dads.


• Have an above-average amount of time and money to spend on our families.


• Are happy in our relationships with our wives and kids.

Are you one of us? If so, are you proud of your recycled status? Am I out of line to suggest that we are awesome?

I'd love to get your comments. Thanks!

So *that's* what we are

Welcome to what I believe is the first blog dedicated to recycled fathers.

This blog was created because I couldn't find any Web sites focused on dads with multiple generations of kids. I had to search for a while just to find a handful of relevant threads in one forum on a site called (ironically) Brand New Dad.

I'm not saying there is no other site for recycled dads. I'm just saying I haven't been able to find it.

First-time dads, divorced dads, single dads, older dads, and stepdads are all extremely well represented on the Web. But try to find more than a few articles, let alone a whole site, for "guys who became dads a long time ago and have become dads again under new circumstances." You can't. Know why? Because that's the way you would have to say it -- the  long way. Not very conducive to web searching.

"Recycled dad" is a short way of saying it, and in my opinion it's a pretty good one. I'm not bragging, because I didn't invent the term*. I just read it in an article a long time ago, and it stuck with me.

Earlier this year -- three years into my own recycled dad journey -- I started looking for an online community of us and realized that, as far as I could tell, there was no such thing. So I decided to start one.

Having a name for what we are is a step in the right direction.

(Read more about this blog in -- that's right! -- "About This Blog.")

* The term "recycled dad" and its more proper form, "recycled father," were used by Kathryn Weil Simon in her 1982 master's thesis. She defined recycled fathers as "older men who became fathers for the first time between the ages of 20 and 24 and again became fathers between the ages of 45 and 60." Click here to view an article about Mrs. Simon's research.