Mocha Dad

The dreaded “Man Cold” has been crippling the male species since time began. The Bible doesn’t go into detail, but I’m convinced that Adam agreed to eat the apple because his judgment was clouded by a “man cold.”

I read the following article on MSN that describes the man cold and gives women some tips on how to treat it.

This “debilitating disease” can be “near fatal,” says the Urban Dictionary. It’s specific to the male species and demands fast attention.

The symptoms are horrible: coughing, sneezing, sore throat, low energy and the telltale man-whine. What’s a girl to do? Yes, it’s up to the opposite sex to save their men from their colds. Let’s go through the drill:

Do not put him in bed. Instead, let him recoup here.

Turn on the TV - fast. Find some sports or cartoons and give him the remote control.

He’ll be too weak to call for you, so make sure to check in on him every three minutes. A little bell is also helpful.

He’ll need an endless supply of tissues, fast food, cookies and lots of tea.

Once he shows signs of improvement (by asking you what you’re doing every 10 minutes), he’s ready for movie therapy. Star Wars, James Bond, or sports related movies work well during this next step in the man cold treatment plan. Note: No matter how much he begs, do not let him watch “Brian’s Song.” In his weakened state, the emotional drain will be too much for him.

If a week has gone by and there’s no improvement, bring out the big guns: have a chick flick marathon consisting of Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood, Steel Magnolias, and Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, and if he’s not in the shower after that, tell him you can’t remember if you feed a cold, starve a fever or the reverse, so you’d better ask your mother to come over.

He’ll be back on his feet before you can say, “Do these pants make my butt look big?”

My friend, Teendoc, who blogs at Welcome to the Dollhouse, first diagnosed my man cold a few weeks ago when I was pleading for sympathy on Twitter. My ailing fingers could barely type out the message, but I needed the world to know how miserable I was. Teendoc responded with a link to this video. After I watched it I thought, “Finally, a doctor who understands my misery.” I showed the video to my wife so she could have a better understanding of what I was going through. She went into a tirade about how mothers don’t have the luxury of having a “man cold” because they have to blah, blah, blah. I pulled my blanket over my head because I was way too sick to comprehend her rambling (BTW, this was a bad move).

A week later, I contracted a stomach virus. Instead of displaying sympathy, my daughter looked at my wife and said, “Oh, no. Looks like dad has another man cold. I guess he’ll be in bed all day, again.”

Stay Strong,
Mocha Dad

Question: Who handles illnesses better, men or women?

Tags: brian's song, daughter, divine secrets of the ya ya sisterhood, doctor, health, james bond, man cold, msn, sick, sisterhood of the traveling pants, star wars, steel magnolias, twitter, wife

One day at work, while I was enjoying my lunch of leftover crawfish etouffee, my co-worker walked by and said, “That smells good. Your wife must be a good cook.”

“Actually,” I said, “I cooked this.”

Looking at me dumbfounded, he stood silent for about a minute, and then said, “If you’re going to cook, why did you get married?”

His ignorance troubled me, especially in this era of Bobby Flay and Emeril Lagasse. Although women have made tremendous strides in social, political and business arenas, they are still expected to cook any bacon they bring home. I cook because I enjoy doing it, and I’m the better cook. My wife manages the rest of the household because she is much more organized than I am. We chose which responsibilities we wanted without regard to gender, and I believe our relationship has benefited because we aren’t pigeonholed into traditional male-female roles.

For me, the kitchen has always been a special place. It is the soul of any home, the place from which all the warmth and nourishment radiate. When I was younger, I’d spend holidays in the kitchen chopping onions, basting turkeys and preparing salads instead of watching sports with the men. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy spending time with my uncles and cousins. It’s just that the buzz of the kitchen was much more exciting than football games. My male cousins chided me for being a “mama’s boy,” but I never allowed their insults to damage my self-esteem or lessen my desire to cook. Even then, I realized knowing how to cook was much more valuable than knowing Walter Payton’s stats.

My mother, realizing the value in honing my culinary acumen, insisted that I sit in the kitchen with her as she prepared dinner each night. While she baked, sautéed and stewed delectable dishes, I noted each step and stored them all in my mental recipe book. I also retained the lessons on self-reliance, independence and creativity that my mother imparted as she cooked. Through these stove-side sessions, I learned not only how to be a good cook, but also how to be a good man.

Eventually, with my mother working all day and attending classes at night, cooking dinner became my responsibility. I started slowly with simple dishes such as chili, hamburgers and spaghetti. Although these early meals were barely edible, my mother ate them as if they were manna from heaven. Her quiet encouragement gave me the confidence not only to attempt more difficult recipes, but also to make them palatable.

My first challenge was my mother’s gumbo - a mixture of chicken, seafood and Cajun spices. I was so nervous when I first attempted the recipe because I knew that it would never compare to hers, but I had to try at least. The most difficult step was making the roux. Only the most skilled chef can fuse flour and oil into the golden-brown paste that is the soul of the gumbo. It took me five attempts to make the roux the right color and consistency. But when I finally got it right, the sense of accomplishment was immeasurable. The satisfied nod my mother gave me after she finished a bowl of my novice gumbo let me know that my lessons had paid off.

Now I’m sharing these lessons with my own children. They are always eager to help daddy in the kitchen. At 7 and 5, the kids are not old enough to handle knives or the stove, but they chip in by stirring batters or pouring seasonings. When they help to prepare the meals, they are more likely to eat their dinner because they have some ownership in it. Cooking meals together also allows the kids to spend a few minutes of uninterrupted time with dad. These special moments are what memories are made of.

Of course, cooking meals isn’t my only responsibility around the house. I still perform “traditional” male tasks such as fixing, installing, and lifting things. None of these will ever replace my love for cooking. Even if this confession forces me to rescind my membership in the “Macho Man” club, I am not ashamed.

Stay Strong,
Mocha Dad

Question: Who does the cooking in your household?

P.S. - A few people have asked for the Crawfish Etouffee Recipe so here it is. I usually don’t measure things when I cook, but I tried to estimate as best as I could:

Crawfish Etouffee

Ingredients

 2 pounds crawfish tails (shelled)

1/4 pound butter

1 cup chopped onion

1/2 cup chopped bell pepper

1/2 cup chopped celery

2 cups seafood stock (or chicken stock)

1 tablespoon corn starch

1/4 cup chopped green onion

Tony Chachere Creole seasoning blend, to taste

Dash dried thyme

1 bay leaf

Tabasco Sauce to taste

Directions

• Add about a tablespoon of butter to a sauté pan over medium heat and sauté the onion, bell pepper and celery until translucent
• Add the remaining butter and 1-1/2 cup seafood stock and season with Creole seasoning, thyme, oregano, bay leaf, and Tabasco sauce
• Add crawfish tails and bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low and simmer for 30 minutes
• Dissolve the corn starch in the remaining 1/2 cup of seafood stock and add to the mixture
• Add the green onions and cook an additional 5 minutes
• Serve over hot long grain rice

Tags: bobby flay, cajun, children, cook, creole, emeril lagasse, etoufee, gumbo, macho man, tony chachere

I am honored to have received the Charming Blog Award from Building Camelot (thanks Tyler). Now I must pass the award along to eight other bloggers who in turn must choose eight more bloggers to receive the award. Picking only eight is no easy task because there are so many wonderful blogs to choose from. But rules are rules, so here are my eight award winners:

1. Black and Married With Kids
   
2. Parent Talk Today
3. Luke, I am Your Father
4. Israeli Mom
5. African American Dad
6. Home School Daddy
7. I Am RJ
8. Cutie Booty Cakes

These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in prizes or self-aggrandizement. My hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers!

Stay Strong,
Mocha Dad

Question: What are your favorite blogs?

Tags: award, blog

My wife and I always encourage our children to help others. We model the behavior by serving in our church, volunteering at the homeless shelter, or delivering meals to people who cannot leave their homes. We also like introduce them to other people who make service a priority.

One evening, we invited a missionary to our house to talk to the kids about her experiences in China. They were so excited because they had never met a real life missionary before. My five-year-old son, N, was beside himself with anticipation. 

The missionary’s name is Christine and she works for Campus Crusade for Christ. As she shared this information with us, N, interrupted.

“May I ask you a question,” he asked.

“Of course,” she answered.

“Did you vote for Barack Obama?”

“No,” she replied with a surprised look on her face. “I voted for John McCain. Did you vote for Obama?”

He looked at her as if she were crazy and said, “Of course not. I’m too young to vote.”

We took a seat in the living room and Christine proceeded to tell the kids about her work. A few minutes into her talk, she pulled out a book to share some photographs. N interjected again.

“Is this the part where we give you money?”

Christine chuckled and continued with her presentation. N kept interrupting her with questions. It really bothered him that some of the pages in the album did not have photographs on them. N told Christine that she needed to fix that. Meanwhile my daughter, Nee, sat as quietly as a church mouse and only opened her mouth to ask Christine what her favorite color was.

When it was time to actually give her money, N, said, “Wait. I’ve got to get my piggy bank.” He ran upstairs and quickly returned. My wife, K, asked him if he wanted to give her a dollar. He said no.

“Two dollars,” she asked. Again he said, “No.”

“Three dollars?” He thought for a moment then replied. “Yeah that sounds about right.”

Christine felt a bit awkward about taking N’s money, but we assured her that he would have been extremely hurt if she refused. N has a heart full of love and wants to share all he has with everyone.

A few days later, we received two cards from Christine. The smaller card was address to K and me. It was a standard “thank you for contribution” card. The bigger card was for the boy. Christine wrote a treatise on how N’s generosity and curiosity touched her spirit and filled her heart with joy. When I read the part about how his donation bought a Bible for a Chinese child, N’s face beamed with pride.

What started out as a lesson on giving for the children, turned into a lesson in love for the adults.

Stay Strong,
Mocha Dad

Question: How do you teach your children to help others?

Tags: barack obama, bible, campus crusade for christ, china, church, daughter, john mccain, missionary, piggy bank, son, volunteer, wife

Barack Obama is the President-Elect of our country. All I can say is, “Wow!” An African-American will be the leader of the free world.

I’m glad that Obama won the way that he did. Not only did he win by a landslide, but he won in traditionally Republican states. Now no one can say that he is the African-American president or the Democratic president. This mandate gives him the authority to say the he is the president for all Americans.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I was ambivalent about Obama and his policies, but I fully understood the significance of his candidacy. What his nomination taught us is that the nation has changed in ways that would have been unthinkable a few years ago. In 1978, when I was in third grade, I was bussed to a predominantly white magnet school. I was one this first African-American students to attend the school. When we arrived, we were greeted by protesters who made it clear that they didn’t want us there. What a difference 30 years make.

My wife and children have been utterly obsessed with Obama and his family. My wife bought bumper stickers, built slide-shows to send to her associates, and spent countless hours reading blogs and news reports. One night she came into the bedroom boiling with anger. She had just read a letter from Dr. James Dobson’s organization Focus on the Family. The letter was filled with fear-mongering, hate and misinformation. Reading this letter hurt my wife deeply because she respected Dr. Dobson and his dedication to preserving family values. She wrote her own letter in defense of Obama and sent it to Dr. Dobson to express her displeasure at his inflammatory comments. After the election results were in, she was so happy that she was close to tears.

My daughter, who has followed the campaign from the start, came home very upset one day because one of her second grade classmates called her weird because she said she was voting for Obama. She also told my wife and me that the class gasped in horror when another little girl stood up and voiced her support for Obama. Today, they will be vindicated.

Even my five year old has been proclaiming his support for Obama. He was a bit disappointed when my wife informed him that he could not actually vote because he wasn’t old enough. He said that he would vote for Obama when he turns eighteen. I didn’t have the heart to dash his dreams.

A world of possibilities has opened up for my children. Now they can aspire to be anything they want to be including president of the United States. I love the following quote because it speaks so much truth: Rosa Parks walked so Martin Luther King could walk. Martin Luther King walked so Barack Obama could run. Barack Obama ran so our children could fly.

America is the greatest country in the world. I am overjoyed that Americans were able to place their racial differences aside and usher in a new era of change. Regardless of political affiliation, every American should be proud. I know I am. God Bless America!

Stay Strong,
Mocha Dad

P.S. - My daughter, Nee, never wants to get up when my wife, K, wakes her up for school. K thought for sure that the news of Obama’s victory would cause Nee to jump out of bed. 

“Wake up,” K said. “Barack Obama won. He is president.”

Nee rolled over the in bed as said, “That’s not going to make me want to get out of the bed. If you told me that you had a new doll for me, that would make me want to get out of the bed.”

I guess Obama trails Barbie among 7-year old girls.

Tags: african american, america, barack obama, change, democrat, focus on the family, james dobson, martin luther king, president, republican, rosa parks, united states

Being married with kids is tough. The associated work and stress can cause couples to become emotionally disconnected. When that happens, it becomes easier for husbands and wives to fall into the affair trap. The most recent studies on marriage have discovered that 30% of men and 20% of women have been unfaithful. These statistics are not very encouraging, but couples can take steps to protect their marriage from infidelity.

In a teaching series called “Affair Proof Your Marriage,” my pastor shared five tips that will help couples to reconnect and reignite the spark in their marriage:

• Accommodate your spouse
• Admire your spouse
• Affirm your spouse
• Adore your spouse
• Show your spouse affection

These tips are not original or groundbreaking, but they are crucial to building a solid marriage. Take it from a person who has experienced the emotional disconnection. My wife and I went through a rough patch that seemed insurmountable. But we took these simple steps and now our marriage is stronger than ever. We’ve both learned that it’s the small, daily love gestures that really count in a relationship.

Now that I’ve shared this information with you, I’d like to hear some of your feedback. How do you apply these five principles to your marriage or relationship?

Stay Strong,
Mocha Dad

Tags: accommodate, admire, adore, affair, affection, affirm, children, husband, Marriage, relationship, spouse, wife

When did it become acceptable for little girls to dress like hookers? I am outraged at our society’s attempts to sexualize our daughters. I don’t blame the advertisers or manufacturers who sell this stuff. I blame the parents - especially the fathers. As dad’s we must protect our daughters’ innocence. We cannot turn a blind eye or think it’s cute when our little girls dress provocatively. We have to teach them that sexy does not equal beautiful and that modesty is a virtue.

My wife and I have a hard time finding modest clothes for my 7-year-old daughter, Nee. It seems that everything is cut tight and short. Things have gotten so out of control that we even have to censor Nee’s Barbie Doll’s clothing because we don’t want Barbie giving her any ideas.

I really like what Michael Hyatt had to say in his blog post, “Whatever Happened to Modesty.” In the post, he outlined Four Guidelines for Modesty that I would like to share:

1. If you have trouble getting into it or out of it, it is probably not modest.
2. If you have to be careful when you sit down or bend over, it is probably not modest.
3. If people look at any part of your body before looking at your face, it is probably not modest.
4. If you can see your most private body parts or an outline of those parts under the fabric, it is probably not modest.

And don’t even get me started on this year’s Halloween costumes. Sexy Halloween costumes are inappropriate for young girls. Period! Here are a few of the costumes that I found online that are highly inappropriate: Army Brat, Leprechaun, Pink Maid, Sweetie Fairy Child, B. Witched, Goldee Locks. These are not the types of outfits that little girls should wear when they are walking up to strangers’ houses at night asking for candy.

As fathers, we have to be more aware of the way our daughter’s dress and guide them towards dressing appropriately. Males are visual creatures and can be aroused just as easily by a skimpily dressed 12-year-old as they can by a grown woman. Think about that the next time you allow your daughter to leave the house with a bare midriff and mini skirt.

Stay Strong,
Mocha Dad

Tags: clothing, costume, dad, daughter, dress, father, halloween, michael hyatt, modesty, sexy, tipdad

The barbershop is a great place where men (young and old, white collar or blue collar) can be men. When I say barbershop, I mean a place that has actual barbers - not stylists or manicurists. You simply cannot blow off steam and revel in your manhood while getting your nails done.

I like the camaraderie at the barbershop. Every time someone walks in the door, there is a round of fist bumps and hand slaps. We talk about politics, sports, cars, and of course women. We keep the talk clean because the owner has a strict “No Profanity” policy. There is also a lot of chest thumping, good-natured ribbing and some burping.

The cool thing about my barbershop is that, in addition to getting a haircut, you can purchase various types of merchandise. Want the latest theatrical release? Got it. Need some new Nikes? Those too. What about some Giorgio Armani cologne? Yep. Of course, the entrepreneurs are selling cheap knock-offs and bootlegs, but no one complains. Except for one barber who did complain that the “Nikes” he bought hurt his feet and fell apart within a month.

Because of my hubris, I almost missed the opportunity to share these experiences with sons.

My son, N, was born with a ton of hair on his head. As the months progressed it blossomed into a massive, curly afro. I was champing at the bit to cut his hair, but my wife, K, insisted that I wait until he turned one. On his birthday, I sat the little tyke in his chair and proceeded to get my clippers. K looked troubled as I walked past.

“Aren’t you taking him to the barbershop?” she asked.

“Of course not,” I replied. “I’m not paying $12 for a haircut when I can do it myself.” She didn’t like my answer, but she didn’t interfere with my plans. Things went downhill from there. As soon as I turned on the clippers and pointed them towards N’s head, he started screaming. I attempted to distract him with a toy, but he wasn’t taking the bait. He kept dodging his head and pushing my arm away. Every now and then, I was able to make a clean pass with the clippers. This went on for at least an hour. Finally, I gave up. Defeated by a one-year old.

When the smoke settled, N had a lot less hair on his head. It was not pretty, but it was cut and that was all that mattered to me. K, on the other hand, was mortified when she saw her darling son’s curly locks scattered across the floor.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “It’ll grow back.”

The bad thing about this situation is that I didn’t learn my lesson immediately. When N’s hair finally did grow back, I was ready to cut it again. K put her foot down this time.

“You’re not going have my baby looking crazy,” she said. “You’re taking him to the barbershop.” And I did.

I sat N in the barber’s chair and he shook his head as he looked at N’s hair. “You tried to cut it yourself didn’t you.” I sheepishly lowered my head and admitted that I did.

“It always happens like this,” he said with a chuckle. “You dads think you can cut your boys’ hair and when you realize that you’re in way over your heads, you bring them to me to clean up the mess. I don’t go to your office and try to do your job. Why does everyone think they can be a barber?”

I still haven’t learned my lesson because I recently gave my other son, X, his first haircut. By the time he turned one, his hair had grown into a freakish Mohawk style. Surprisingly, his mother asked me to cut his hair. I figured she had gotten over the trauma of my cutting N’s hair or maybe she just repressed the memory. I rushed X into my bedroom to get started before she changed her mind.

I sat him in his play pen and turned on the clippers. Amazingly, he just sat there quietly. I tentatively placed them on his head and started cutting. Still quiet. Eventually, the droning of the clippers lulled him to sleep. K came in to evaluate my work after I was done and gave me a “thumbs up.”

Even though things turned out better than expected with X’s haircut, I’ve decided to retire my clippers. Besides, going to a real barbershop is a rite of passage that all boys must experience. The twelve bucks that I pay the barber is well worth it.

Stay Strong,
Mocha Dad

Tags: afro, barbershop, boy, father, Giorgio Armani, haircut, men, mohawk, Nike, son

I have a bad habit of not fastening my seat belt until I’ve driven a few blocks down the road. This behavior drives my five year old son nuts. Last night, he was fed up and gave me a piece of his mind.

“Daddy,” he said. “You didn’t put on your seat belt before you started driving.”

“I know, son,” I said. “But I have it on now.”

“It’s not safe to drive without a seat belt.”

“You’re right. It’s not safe.”

“In fact,” he continued with a stern voice. “It’s very dangerous.”

“That’s true,” I conceded.

“Daddy, I know it’s true because God told me.”

Whoa! He pulled out the big guns on me - personal safety tips from God. I guess I’d better buckle up as soon as I step into the car. I can deal with a ticket, but the wrath of God (and a five-year old) is more than I can handle.

Stay Strong,
Mocha Dad

Tags: dangerous, father, God, safety, seat belt, son

Birthday parties have come a long way since I was a kid. Today, they are elaborate productions complete with themes and catered meals. Kids anticipate a party each year of their life until they reach sixteen. That’s when they expect the soiree of a lifetime. My blood boils each time I watch the spoiled brats on MTV’s “My Super Sweet 16″ con their parents into throwing opulent, six figure parties.

When I was a kid, I was lucky to have a birthday party. They consisted of a few kids packed into our living room singing “Happy Birthday” while my mother served homemade birthday cake, a carton of Neopolitan ice cream, and Hawaiian Punch. Once, mom splurged and let me have a party at McDonald’s. The McDonald’s birthday party was really big deal - my rank among my peers rose quickly as they jockeyed for an invitation. At the party, we got some goofy birthday hats, a Happy Meal, a cake, and a flimsy plastic Ronald McDonald hand puppet, but we thought we were living the high life. If I suggested this type of party to my children, they would scoff.

My son, N, had his birthday party over the weekend. His actual birthday was in September, but Hurricane Ike forced us to reschedule the party. N, suggested several venues and themes before settling on a gymnastics party with a Power Rangers theme. N, is “Mr. Popularity” so he wanted to invite everyone that he has ever known. The guest list grew so long that we had to reserve the biggest room in the place. Instead of cake and ice cream, he requested brownies and pudding (if this combination becomes a birthday trend remember where you read it first). And Papa John’s thanked us for keeping their company afloat with our pizza order.

N and his friends enjoyed running, jumping and tumbling, and the coaches we hired stoked the kids’ excitement with a few high-flying stunts. I even had fun attempting to master the gymnastics apparatus. Let me say that doing an iron cross on the still rings is not as easy as the pros make it look, especially if you’re 38 and have never had any gymnastics training. Thank God for ibuprofen.

After the party, we had an after-party at our house, where N opened his gifts and hit the piñata. The piñata requires a separate post because of all of the drama associated with it. I’ll just mention that his sister said, “If you get him a piñata that means you don’t love me.”

All in all, N had a great time and I didn’t have to declare bankruptcy. He is already planning his next party. I’m taking donations now.

Stay Strong,
Mocha Dad

Tags: birthday, McDonald's, mtv, party, pinata, power rangers, son, super sweet 16

Today, I would like to share a poem that inspires me titled, “How to Live.” It is a guide to living life to the fullest. I first heard it last year on The Writer’s Almanac with Garrison Keillor. Since then, it has helped me to refocus my life when things get crazy.

How to Live
By Charles Harper Webb

Eat lots of steak and salmon and Thai curry and mu shu
pork and fresh green beans and baked potatoes
and fresh strawberries with vanilla ice cream.
Kick-box three days a week. Stay strong and lean.
Go fly-fishing every chance you get, with friends

Who’ll teach you secrets of the stream. Play guitar
in a rock band. Read Dostoyevsky, Whitman, Kafka,
Shakespeare, Twain. Collect Uncle Scrooge comics.
See Peckinpah’s Straw Dogs, and everything Monty Python made.
Love freely. Treat ex-partners as kindly

As you can. Wish them as well as you’re able.
Snorkel with moray eels and yellow tangs. Watch
spinner dolphins earn their name as your panga slam-
bams over glittering seas. Try not to lie; it sours
the soul. But being a patsy sours it too. If you cause

A car wreck, and aren’t hurt, but someone is, apologize
silently. Learn from your mistake. Walk gratefully
away. Let your insurance handle it. Never drive drunk.
Don’t be a drunk, or any kind of “aholic.” It’s bad
English, and bad news. Don’t berate yourself. If you lose

A game or prize you’ve earned, remember the winners
history forgets. Remember them if you do win. Enjoy
success. Have kids if you want and can afford them,
but don’t make them your reason-to-be. Spare them that
misery. Take them to the beach. Mail order sea

Monkeys once in your life. Give someone the full-on
ass-kicking he (or she) has earned. Keep a box turtle
in good heath for twenty years. If you get sick, don’t thrive
on suffering. There’s nothing noble about pain. Die
if you need to, the best way you can. (You define best.)

Go to church if it helps you. Grow tomatoes to put store-
bought in perspective. Listen to Elvis and Bach. Unless
you’re tone deaf, own Perlman’s “Meditation from Thais.”
Don’t look for hidden meanings in a cardinal’s song.
Don’t think TV characters talk to you; that’s crazy.

Don’t be too sane. Work hard. Loaf easily. Have good
friends, and be good to them. Be immoderate
in moderation. Spend little time anesthetized. Dive
the Great Barrier Reef. Don’t touch the coral. Watch
for sea snakes. Smile for the camera. Don’t say “Cheese.”

Stay Strong,
Mocha Dad

Tags: charles harper webb, how to live, inspiration

I grew up poor. That fact became quite obvious to me when I started attending gifted schools in the wealthier areas of town. While all of the other kids had the latest fashions and the newest Atari video game systems, I had to settle for the clothes and toys that my mother could afford.

My mother was intent on breaking this cycle of poverty by making sure that I took advantage of every educational opportunity available. She could always find extra money for me to go on a field trip, attend art classes, or participate in computer camp. Her sacrifices enabled me to earn a college degree and obtain a career that allows me to live a comfortable life. Unfortunately, there aren’t enough African American parents who realize the correlation between education and poverty.

The percentage of African Americans living in poverty increased from 2000 to 2006 by an average of 0.82% per year, after having declined by an average of 1.25% per year in the 1990s. In 2006, 24% of African Americans were in poverty compared to 8% of whites.

Poverty rates were highest for families headed by single women, particularly if they were black or Hispanic. In 2004, both black and Hispanic female-headed households had poverty rates just under 40 percent.

These high poverty rates are unacceptable and should not occur in a country as wealthy as the United States. It is imperative that parents teach their children to value education and to take advantage of every opportunity to learn. It is well documented that people with a college education earn more money over their lifetime than people who do not. Education is truly the key to ending the cycle of poverty.

If you want to know what you can do to prevent poverty, start by reading a book to your child. It’s never too early to instill a love of learning.

Stay Strong,
Mocha Dad

Tags: african american, blog, children, education, mother, parent, poverty, school

I read several blogs each day and I’m amazed by the talent that I encounter. I recently came across a blog titled iAMrj.com. I was immediately drawn into the author’s post, “A father’s take on things that matter most.” The piece is insightful and heartfelt. It is the type of post I wish I had written for Mocha Dad. Have a look at it and let me know what you think.

Stay Strong,
Mocha Dad

Tags: african american, blog, dad, fatehrhood, father

Today my wife, K, and I went to our daughter’s Parent/Teacher conference. I’m embarrassed to say that this was the first conference that I have been to since she was in kindergarten (she’s in second grade now). Nee was ecstatic when she found out that I would be attending the conference. Actually, so was I.

K and I walked into the classroom and took a seat in those tiny elementary school chairs. I hoped that this conference wouldn’t last too long. My knees and back wouldn’t be able to withstand more than 15 minutes. The teacher opened the conference by telling us what a great student Nee was. She showed us reports from her other teachers who had similar comments. All in all, things went as expected. Nee is studious and respectful - traits that teachers adore.

I admired the fact that Nee was able to sit outside and play her Leapster confident that her teacher would say nice things about her. Her confidence made me think about some of the Parent/Teacher Conferences from my childhood. Let’s just say that my middle school years were not my shining moments. While the other kids were celebrating the day off, I dreaded the things my teachers would tell my mother.

She was understandably upset after my teachers told her how I had missed assignments, skipped class, and made several visits to the principal’s office. My mother, who earned barely above minimum wage, had to miss a day of work and ride the bus to my school only to hear that her son was not living up to her expectations.

“I’m not sending you to school to act a fool,” she would say before the spanking commenced. This cycle repeated throughout sixth and seventh grade. Until middle school, I was a model student, just like Nee. I guess I had some anger issues about my father’s not being there and needed to rebel.

Things turned around for me after my seventh grade English teacher gave us a writing assignment. Hers was one of the classes I often skipped to play basketball or wander the halls. I wish I could remember what the exact assignment was, but my feeble brain cannot recall it. I do remember that it excited me more than any middle school assignment ever had. The rest of the class was pretty excited, too. I was caught up in the wave of euphoria when one of my classmates, Helen, turned to me and said, “What are you excited about? You won’t turn in this paper, just like you haven’t turned in the others.” Her comment cut me to the core. What right did she have to call me out like that? I made up my mind to show her that I would turn it in and that mine would be better than anyone else’s.

Over the next few nights, I worked hard on that assignment to make sure that it was my best work ever. My teacher was shocked when I handed her the assignment on time. So was Helen. A few days later, my teacher returned the graded papers. However, I did not receive mine. Before I could protest, the teacher began praising my work to the entire class. She even gave me hug before handing me my paper. It had a big red “A” on it. I was happy because I hadn’t received an “A” on an assignment in a long time. At the end of class, Helen pulled me aside and said. “I’m proud of you.” I couldn’t believe it. Wasn’t this the same girl who had mocked me a few days earlier?

That experience changed my attitude towards school. From that point on, I stopped skipping class and became serious about my education. No more was I the troublemaker - I quickly became the kid that others asked for help with their homework.

I never feared another Parent/Teacher Conference.

Stay Strong,
Mocha Dad

Tags: basketball, classmate, classroom, conference, daughter, eduation, elementary, english, father, grade, leapster, mother, parent, school, teacher

After leaving Iraq, my colleagues and I had 36 hours to spend in Dubai and here is what we did:

Wednesday, 12 p.m.
1) FIRST IMPRESSIONS

A driver was waiting to pick us up at the Dubai International Airport. His name was Raj and he had emigrated from India to work in Dubai. This booming city is full of migrant workers. With the amount of construction that is occurring, city officials will need all the labor they can find. Raj took us on a brief took around the city before checking into the hotel. Dubai is the land of superlatives. The biggest this, the longest that, the world’s only such and such can be found in this magnificent city. And if what you’re looking for is not already there, just wait a minute and it will be built. Dubai is building and expanding at such break neck speeds that 20 percent of the world’s cranes are located there. I was in awe at the spectacular architecture - a mixture or modern and traditional Arabian and Mediterranean styles. I couldn’t wait to go out and really explore.

2 p.m.
2) GETTING SETTLED

Our hotel, the City Star Hotel in Deira Dubai, was nothing special, but my room was much nicer than the containerized housing unit (CHU) that I had been living in for the past two weeks. We were all tired so we decided to take a quick nap before venturing out for the night.

7 p.m.
3) DINNER AND A DRINK

After two weeks in the desert, my colleagues were craving a beer and a hamburger. We walked to the Renaissance Dubai Hotel and headed to a bar called Harry’s Place. The bouncer immediately turned us away because one of my colleagues, Mike, violated the dress code by wearing shorts. He returned to the hotel to put on long pants while we waited for him at the Tiki Bar that was down the hall. I had a glass of wine and the other two guys gulped down beers as we waited. The wait staff was friendly and chatted us up until Mike came back. With everyone in long pants, we returned to Harry’s Place. The bar was full of ex-pats puffing on cigars and trying to look cool. We ordered burgers and a couple of more drinks and settled in to relax. The burgers were unimpressive, but they served to sate our craving for American food. A few minutes later, an 80s and 90s cover band took the stage. They were entertaining in a karaoke kind of way. After a couple of hours of hanging out, Steve and I decided to turn in. Mike and Arnold were having so much fun that they stayed until 2 a.m.

Thursday, 9 a.m.
4) BREAKFAST AND MORE SHORTS

I was awakened by the phone’s ringing. I answered and a voice with a Middle Eastern accent said, “This is your wake up call.” I was confused because I didn’t request a wake up call. I soon realized that it was Mike playing a joke on me. “Come downstairs and let’s have breakfast,” he said. I met him a few minutes later and we enjoyed a nice meal in the hotel’s restaurant. Mike was wearing shorts and a T-shirt again. “Don’t you ever learn your lesson,” I asked him. “I’m from Cali,” he replied. “What do you expect?”

10 a.m.
5) MIKE & ROCKY

We took a cab to the Deira City Centre Mall to take a sightseeing tour. I told the cab driver our destination, but he didn’t understand. Mike interjected, “We want to go to el mall-o.” I sighed and told Mike that we were in Dubai, not Mexico and that “el mall-o” wasn’t even a real phase in any language. At the mall, we were immediately approached by a guy who called himself Rocky. He told us that he was from Dubai but grew up in Michigan so that made him a “homeboy.” He offered to take us on a tour in his car. It was Mike’s wardrobe that labeled us as easy marks. Arnold and I quickened our pace, while Mike continued to negotiate with Rocky. Eventually, I had to pull Mike away and let him know that we would not get into a stranger’s car in a foreign country. “But he gave me a card,” he said before finally agreeing to ditch Rocky.

11 a.m.
6) TOURING DUBAI ON THE BIG BUS

We decided to take The Big Bus Company’s city tour. They operate double decker tour buses and the fare was 200 dirhams (about $55 USD) and the ticket is valid for 24 hours. There were two routes to chose from - the Red traveled to the more traditional sites and the Blue traveled to the more modern sites. We chose the Blue line.

12 p.m.
7) THE JUMEIRAH MOSQUE

We got off the bus to visit the Jumeirah Mosque. It is the only mosque in Dubai that allows non-Muslims to visit. Arnold and I removed our shoes then went inside to look while Mike, whose shorts prevented him from entering, smoked outside. The mosque was a beautiful representation of traditional Arabian architecture. I was amazed by the ornate details inside and out. There is a guided tour every Saturday, Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday at 10am. The fee is 10 dirhams per person.

1 p.m.
JUMEIRAH BEACH, BURJ AL ARAB, THE WORLD

We boarded the tour bus to head to the next stop. After a few minutes of waiting, the bus driver came upstairs and asked everyone to refrain from sticking their hands outside the bus. He went back to his seat, but came right back up. He walked directly to Mike and pleaded with him to abide by the rule. Mike argued that it was his elbow that was hanging out and not his hand. Arnold and I pretended not to know him. We soon arrived at the Jumeirah Public Beach and saw the iconic Burj Al Arab, the only 7 star hotel in the world. It was designed to symbolize Dubai’s urban transformation and to mimic the sail of a boat. We took off our shoes and walked along the coastline so we could get some nice photographs of the hotels. The beach was full of tourists and locals enjoying a day in the sun. Off the coast, we saw The World, a man-made archipelago of 300 islands constructed in the shape of a world map. I wished that I could have gotten and aerial view.

2 p.m.
9) SOUK MADINAT, JUMEIRAH

We stopped at Souk Madinat, Jumeirah for a little shopping and lunch. The shopping mall is a recreation of a traditional Middle Eastern bazaar with narrow, twisting passageways, carved wooden archways and open-front shops. Souk Madinat Jumeirah specializes in traditional Arabian and Middle Eastern goods. After picking up a few souvenirs, we decide dine on Asian cuisine at The Noodle House.

4 p.m.
10) JUMEIRAH PALM ISLAND

We decided that it was no longer a good idea to sit on the top deck of the bus because of the intense heat and humidity. After we were seated in the air-conditioned section of the bus, Mike fell asleep. At least we knew that he couldn’t cause any trouble. The bus took us on a short drive around Jumeirah Palm Island. The Palm Jumeirah consists of a trunk, a crown with 17 fronds. Several other Palm Islands were being built along the coast. Building these islands is an incredible engineering feat. I am impressed by the ingenuity and vision of Dubai’s leader, Mohammed bin Rashid al-Maktum.

5 p.m.
10) MALL OF THE EMIRATES

The Mall of the Emirates is one of the largest malls in the world. The most fascinating attraction is Ski Dubai, an indoor ski slope. I wished that I had enough time to make a run down the slope, but we only had a few hours left to visit. We spent the next hour or so walking through vast shopping mall. Mike and Arnold picked up some postcards and trinkets. I was hoping Mike would purchase some pants, but no luck. When I travel, I like to get my kids souvenirs that reflect the local culture. Since my daughter likes dolls, I bought her Fulla, an 11 1/2 inch fashion doll marketed to girls in Islamic countries as an alternative to Barbie. I couldn’t find any boy toys representative of the local culture so I got my son a rugby ball with Dubai printed on the side.

7 p.m.
12) OUR TOUR COMES TO AN END

We wanted to take the Red Line to visit the Dubai Museum and the Textile and Gold Souks, but everyone was worn out and hungry. On the way back to the hotel, we caught a glimpse of what will soon be the world’s tallest building: the Burj Dubai. As I watched the cab’s meter, I soon realized that the first cab driver ripped us off because he charged us 50 dirhams and the actual cost was 10 dirhams. Note: Make sure that you negotiate the cab fare before you reach your destination. We grabbed a quick bite at the hotel’s restaurant before going back to our rooms to pack. I discovered later that Mike and Arnold returned to Harry’s Place for another drink before we got on the plane.

9 p.m.
13) DUBAI DUTY FREE

Our driver took us to the airport where we had to wait in long lines to get through passport control and security. When we finally had our boarding passes, we made one last shopping stop at Dubai Duty Free to get rid of our dirhams. This was the largest Duty Free shop that I had ever been in. I bought my wife some 22K gold earrings and a Dishdashah, Thagiyah, Shumag, and Ogal for myself (when I wore the outfit at home, my daughter asked me if I were a shepherd).

11 p.m.
14) BACK TO THE USA

We boarded the plane (Delta Airlines flies nonstop flights to Dubai from Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport, starting at about $1,370) to make our 16 hour journey back home. During the flight, Mike kept ordering beers. It got so bad that the flight attendants started making excuses to not serve him. I just shook my head and went to sleep.

Stay Strong,
Mocha Dad

Tags: arabian, burj al arab, deira, dirham, dubai, iraq, jumeirah, mall, mediterranean, middle east, mosque, muslim, palm island, shopping, souk, united arab emirates, world