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?