Dad Rocks E-Book

Marcos Piangers

• Herausgeber: Editora Belas-Letras
• Kategorie: Ratgeber
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 74

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Beschreibung

Now also as an exciting movie available on Amazon Prime. So, you're gonna be a father. You know you need to buy a bigger house. You need more room for the child. You need more than a one-bedroom apartment. You must have a new crib―you can't use the one your neighbor said you could borrow. And you know you gotta replace your car. It must have six airbags at least. It must come with an AC straight from the manufacturer. What comedian Marcos Piangers found out when he became a young parent is that all these concerns don't make any difference. It's not worth it to pay for the best daycare, if you're the last one picking up your child. It isn't about buying the most expensive gifts, because children really like playing games that are available for free. What the entertaining and emotional stories in Dad's Cool show us is that, deep down, you only need to be there―not physically there while thinking about something else, but REALLY there.

Leseprobe

© 2015 Marcos Piangers

Edited by

Gustavo Guertler

Coordinated by

Fernanda Fedrizzi

English Version by

Rafa Lombardino

Copyedited by

Robert Sweeney

Graphic Design by

Celso Orlandin Jr.

eBook Version Edited by

S2 Books

E-ISBN: 978-85-8174-260-1

[2015]

All rights reserved by

EDITORA BELAS-LETRAS LTDA.

Rua Coronel Camisão, 167

Summary

Cover

Social media

Title page

Credits

Table of contents

Introduction

So, you’re gonna be a dad

Cherish your gifts

Being a dad requires doing some math

Period of adjustment

Payback time

The best parents in the world

Child’s play

An afternoon at the mall

Chocolate

Sweet gift

Diamonds

Excess guilt in the baggage

Are you the nanny for the day?

The terrible twos

My daughter has nothing against gay people

Anita and the Eclair

When i’m old

Analyze this

The stories they tell me

Children’s dictionary – Revised and unabridged edition

Deeply complicated situation

The revolt of the mattress

Is that it?

Our best view

My daughter’s religion

Too late

Nerd pride

Smiles come at a high price nowadays

Grandparents

A dangerous summer

Boys and girls

May it never end

To learn more

MY MOM WAS ON HER WAY TO THE CLINIC

Her friend was driving her, and it was raining a lot that Tuesday. Both of them were nervous—the situation, the storm, the flooded streets. And what they were about to do was illegal. They had crossed the city, taken the avenue that runs along the ocean, and stopped at a red light before going up the hill. They hadn’t talked for several minutes, remaining in complete silence inside the car. In that Volkswagen Beetle, they could only hear the heavy raindrops hitting the sheet metal. My mom was on her way to abort me.

The thing is, my father—I mean, the man who got my mom pregnant—didn’t want to be a father. He had his own life, other priorities. That man had other plans. He wasn’t the man who could be my father. Maybe no man ever could. Maybe my mom wouldn’t be able to raise me all by herself. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

There are different kinds of fathers. Distracted, insecure, dedicated, busy, late, stressed out, agitated, playful. Some fathers can do it all, while others don’t do anything at all. Some fathers are pretty hands-on: they give a bath, they pretend the spoon is an airplane, they read bedtime stories. Some fathers teach their kids how to ride a bike, take them to the ball game, and fall asleep on the couch with their child lying on their chest. Some fathers let their kids to anything. Estranged, affectionate, inconvenient, modern. There are all kinds of fathers.

And there are fathers who decide not to be fathers.

That was the case with the man my mother had fallen in love with. And that is the case of many fathers. Mine isn’t an out-of-the-ordinary story or anything. It’s a very common story, actually. There are men who don’t want to have children. And please tell me, how the heck does that happen? How can a father not want to be a father? He doesn’t know all the things he’s going to miss out on!

There was this lady who once wrote a letter to Kurt Vonnegut, my favorite author. She wanted to know if, in Mr. Vonnegut’s opinion, people should have children—the author had written about the terror of war and the chronic case of human misconduct. Mr. Vonnegut wrote, “‘Don’t do it!’ That is what I wanted to say. (...). But I replied that, what made being alive almost worthwhile for me—besides music—was the saints I met. They could be almost anywhere.”[1]

This book is dedicated to people who believe in these saints.

I don’t want to sound catastrophic or anything, but bringing a child into this world is an act of faith. The forecast for the future is chaotic: Climate change, overpopulation, pandemics, and increasing urban violence. Having children is believing that the complete opposite will happen. Every parent is an optimist.

Having children is having faith in a better future. A world where no hardship is an excuse to do harm to others. A future where people respect each other more, and where there are people who do good without asking for anything in return. They do good because that’s just how it’s meant to be. Not because they’re afraid of hell, or were promised to go to heaven. Not because they’ll benefit from it somehow. Not because other people are watching. But because that makes us human.

Inside that noisy Volkswagen Beetle on a rainy Tuesday, waiting at a red light at the foot of a hill, my mom thought it better to go back home. She could call back later to reschedule her appointment. She kept postponing it and finding ways to make do. I think she got a job, then her belly started to grow, and that belly was me. And then I was born. And my mom was my father. I’m sure things weren’t easy for her, but here I am.

I don’t know what it’s like to have a father.

But I know what it’s like to be a father.

It’s the best thing in the world.

I’m sure you agree, mom.

To Eloisa Piangers, for agreeing to be

on this journey with me.

To Ana Emília, Anita, and Aurora,

for being angels.

And to all single mothers in the world,

wherever they may be.

Thank you.

So, you and your partner are expecting. You know you need to buy a bigger house. You need more room for the child. You need more than a one-bedroom apartment. You must have a new crib—you can’t use the one your neighbor said you could borrow. And you know you gotta replace your car. That car isn’t comfortable for a family. That car isn’t safe for your child. It must have six airbags at least. It must come with an AC straight from the manufacturer. Poor baby during summer.

As a first-time dad, I did as I was told, from the larger apartment to the four-door car, then I needed to work harder to pay them off. I worked harder to afford the best daycare. At the store, only the best diaper would do. Buying cheaper diapers meant that you loved your child less. Clothes from a second-hand shop? No way! Our closet is packed with expensive toys. It’s packed with guilt, too, for having to spend too much time at work.

What I’ve learned is that it doesn’t really matter. Having a large apartment doesn’t really matter, because children like sleeping on their parents’ bed. Having a large car doesn’t really matter, because children like riding bikes. Going to the best daycare doesn’t really matter, if you’re the last one picking up your child. Having the most expensive toys and videogames doesn’t really matter. Children actually have more fun balancing on the curb or skipping the cracks on the sidewalk. Tossing your kid up in the air—that’s the best pastime in the world for little ones. And, best of all, it’s free!

Cartoonist Rafael Sica has this one comic strip about a guy who’s always thinking about happy hour while he’s at work. While he’s at the bar, he’s thinking about his family. At home, with his family, he’s thinking about work. This guy is never where he’s supposed to be. He always creates some kind of noise in his relationship with things. “This guy is me!” I thought, as I read that comic strip for the first time. So, you and your partner are expecting. So, you know you don’t need a bigger house, a better car, the best diaper, or the best daycare. Deep down, you know you only need to be there. Really there.

Every father is a story collector. The daily routine of fatherhood—despite being very often quite exhausting—is a succession of surprises, and very few of them can be kept for the records. First smiles, first steps, first complete sentences. Each moment is desperately recorded with a shaky camera or a low-quality photograph that none of your friends will think is special. Nevertheless, being a dad is recording all that. Dads know children grow up, and these precious moments are unique.

I type notes into my smartphone’s on every story about my daughters. I have single sentences reminding me of the moments I thought were worth a story. Things like “short story on a school book” (about that time she wrote a story about a girl whose dream was to become a waitress on roller skates) or “Anita wants to get married” (about that time my daughter said she wanted to marry soon, so she could—according to her—“have someone to boss around.”)