The Good Men Project

"Sincere, ambitious and nearly always engaging, these stories will touch familar chords in men."

The MetroWest Daily News

May 30, 2010

I forgot how hard launches are

BY LISA HICKEY

“The subhead looks funny. I can’t figure out if it should have a period.”

We all keep working. Benoit will figure it out. He’s been a writer for the New York Times Magazine. The author of two books. Surely he can figure out a period on a subhead without help from us.

“Can anybody help me figure out why it doesn’t look right?”

“I’ll google it.” Henry doesn’t sigh, but his foot starts tapping a little faster. Benoit says, “I’ll look on Salon, see how they do it.” “Hmmm…they’re inconsistent, let’s try Slate.”

My keyboard clatters as I type. “Forget those pubs, how does the Times do it?” I hadn’t wanted to worry about subhead punctuation protocol, but we’re four days away from launching our own online magazine, and it has to be right. We search for subhead trends in every publication we aspire to.

“Does anyone know how to change the size of a video in blog post?” Sarah had been surprisingly quiet as she chewed her lower lip.

I lean slightly right, point to the part of the screen she’s scowling at. “Maybe…I think….here…in the embed code. Try reducing these numbers by a percentage.”

Sarah’s face lights up. “Ahhhh…calculator?”

I slide my phone over to her. We laugh.

Surely there are more important things I have to do. There are contracts to be signed, revenue models to figure out. There’s the content strategy for the next 6 months, the second book we’re putting together, the playwright we want to hire. The magazine isn’t even the biggest initiative going on since Tom Matlack and James Houghton envisioned this idea of a national discussion around men’s stories over a year ago. But for today, the launch of The Good Men Project Magazine is the most important thing in the world. I’ve promised the team I would focus on just the magazine, and that’s what I’m here to do.

I look around the conference room table. We’re a motley crew. It would be easy to label us: man, woman, old, young, gay, straight, single, married, divorced, tattooed, uninked, tall, short, have children, don’t. I won’t bother to tell you which of those describe me. But when you’re committed to a common vision, differences are irrelevant. We all love sentences. We understand the importance of design. We believe in the power of stories. We want to do some good in this world. This thing called The Good Men Project? It’s important to us. And we want to create something amazing.

And we’re four days away from a magazine launch and the subheads have to be figured out.

“Let’s go with no punctuation.”

“We can’t. Some of the subheads are two sentences. You can’t have a period on the first, but not on the second. That’s why it looks funny.”

“Some of the subheads aren’t sentences.”

“We have to be consistent.”

A while ago I had seen a question floating around the internet. The question was “If you were investing in a CEO, would you care how passionate they were?”

My answer to that question was that I think sometimes excitement gets mistaken for passion. Pure excitement about something? No – look at the numbers instead. But – to me – passion is really about caring. In relationships. In business. In life. And yeah, caring is important. Caring about the little things. Caring about the big things. I’d put my money on passion. For sure.

Benoit and Henry have settled on a format for the subheads. I know they will move on; a standard has been set, documented, and put in place. We will be consistent. We will be clear. We will be interesting. We will care, always.

There are new decisions to be made. “Hey Lisa.” Benoit is ever-serious as he poses the next important question. “Which headline do you like better for this article – ‘monogamously challenged’ or ‘make love like an animal, cuddle like a man?’”

I smile. I wouldn’t trade working on this launch for any job in the world.

On June 1st, this blog will become The Good Men Project Magazine. Hope to see you all there.

 

Guest Blog: “Turning Points” by BC senior Mark Herzlich

Filed under: Guest Blogger — tmatlack @ 6:00 am

In May of 2009, Boston College senior linebacker Mark Herzlich disclosed that he has been diagnosed with Ewing’s Sarcoma, a malignant tumor most often found in bone or soft tissue.   Staring down this latest opponent with the same grit and determination that helped make him the 2008 ACC Defensive Player of the Year, Herzlich began an aggressive treatment and vowed to beat the cancer and return to the football field someday.

Herzlich & Flutie

Herzlich & Flutie

Turning Points
By Mark Herzlich

It was early evening in October of 2002, my freshman year in high school. I had finished dinner and my mother told me that my father wanted to see me in his office on the top floor of our split-level home. I made my way up the stairs through the living room and my brother’s bedroom. As I made my way up the final set of stairs I see my father sitting behind his large mahogany desk, intently concentrating on a portfolio on his desktop.  I entered the room and began towards the far side of the room in which an empty chair across from my father seemed the most suitable choice for a destination. I sat in the chair as my father continued to read his papers. I sat for a little longer as I started to feel uncomfortable with the silence looming around us. I was now aware that this was no ordinary visit to see my father. There was seriousness about his behavior that I had rarely seen. He closed the folder, put it in the already opened drawer and took off his glasses as his eyes rose to meet my anxious stare. As he began to talk I leaned forward in my chair as if to be intently listening but all the while thoughts of punishment and what I had done wrong filled my brain.

My thoughts snapped back into focus as he brought up my football game the day before. “Mark, I have been watching you play sports for close to ten years now. You are a gifted athlete and have always succeeded in what ever you have wanted on the playing field.” He paused briefly, “You know why you have had so much success?” I just stared at him and as I figured he would he answered his question, “ It is not because of your physical ability that you have been able to go out and come back with trophies and medals, it is because of your love for the game.”  I waited again for him to continue. “Your mother and I have watched u grow up and watched you love lacrosse and succeed at that, watched you love basketball with the same success and until recently I have watched you love football with the same passion and watched you succeed as well. I have been coming to your games this season and frankly have been disappointed. I know that you can be a great player and I know you have the talent to succeed. What I am disappointed with is your lack of pride in yourself and your lack of heart. You show no emotion on the field play with terrible effort, which tells me that you aren’t enjoying what you are doing and that you have lost your love for football.”

My eyes fell to the floor, I turned hot and my mind started racing. What if I had lost my love and passion for football? Was I just out there to mess around? Should I even be playing? “I love you Mark and will always love you, but I refuse to continue to come to your games if this is the way you are going to treat it. I cannot stand to watch my son play with such an uncaring attitude.” Now my heart joined my eyes on the floor. “My father way my biggest fan. He was my coach in basketball and lacrosse and earlier in football. He had been to every game that I had ever played in.  We sat in silence for what seemed like an hour but in reality was only about 20 seconds. I looked up at him and asked one simple question. I asked him for one more chance and to come to my next game. He complied and I turned and walked out of his office. I retired to my bed and vowed to play with passion and pride that I had never played with before. I vowed to strive to be the best at everything that I did from then on in sports and life. Never again did I want to sit in that chair and be told that I wasn’t trying to be my best.

Seven and a half years later I stand here today as the number one ranked linebacker in the nation. I am the reigning ACC defensive player of the year and the top ranked senior in the 2010 NFL draft. Most importantly my father is my biggest fan.

There are turning points in everyone’s life for good or for bad. Seven years ago I had a turning point that will forever change my life. Lying in my bed contemplating what I wanted and how I was going to get there I made that vow. I have kept to that promise to myself and have pushed myself to be the best. I have received all-academic team recognition from the ACC for the past two years and have been chosen to help lead a committee to represent all athletes at BC for the past two years as well. All of this has come as a result of my effort to better myself and strive to become great.

My father never told me that he wouldn’t watch my games if I wasn’t on varsity, he didn’t say that he wouldn’t watch my games if I didn’t get a scholarship to college, he never told me that he wouldn’t be there if I didn’t become the best linebacker in the nation. He simply told me that he wouldn’t come watch me do something that I didn’t love to do.

I love the fans who have shown support through the good and the bad. I love my teammates who are 100 of the greatest men that one could ever run across. I love my coaches who have guided me from not knowing how to line up, to dissecting offensive game plans. I love Boston College, I have made it my home.

I have since told this story many times to friends to teammates to reporters and to aspiring athletes because of how meaningful the message was to me. I am who I am today as a result of my work ethic and love for what I do. As I reach another turning point in my life, my current battle with cancer. I have kept this same message in mind. I am proud of the person I am, I am proud of the people I have made my friends and I am proud of my family. This is another type of battle away from the football field but also can only be conquered with love and support.

 

May 23, 2010

Stories of NFL Players doing good

Filed under: Good Men, Guest Blogger — Tags: , , — tmatlack @ 6:00 am

BY CHRISSY CAREW

I believe that from the time we are very young children, everyone who holds influence over our lives, for better or worse, contributes to the core of who we are – that unique spirit within each of us made up of our ideas, perceptions, motivation and sense of faith.

On the positive side are my parents. A favorite childhood memory: I am five years old, at a parade with my dad. Always a tomboy and always wanting to emulate my war-veteran father, I wore my new Army uniform. When the Army band approached, I ran into the street and marched along with them. The band-leader called me over and put me into position as leader of the parade. I was thrilled and overjoyed.

On the negative side, a small number of nuns in parochial school left me with long-lasting feelings of fear and self-doubt. In first grade, a nun convinced my classmates and me that we were all destined to go to hell. That gave me nightmares. A third-grade teacher was returning a test when she announced to the class that I had earned a zero because I wrote my nickname, Chrissy, rather than my Christian name, Christine, on the test. In defiance, I haven’t used Christine since.

Two decades later came a catalyst. At the age of 23, I was watching the evening news when a report of a horrific car crash flashed on the screen. The reporter gestured to the badly mangled car behind him, its body an accordion. He announced that although there were fatalities, he could not say the victims’ names because their families hadn’t yet been notified. I watched, incredulous. Suppose those same families who had not yet been notified – or who perhaps just minutes ago heard about the deaths of their loved ones – were watching this same newscast?

It was a chilling thought to me, one that kept me from falling asleep that night. At 4 AM, I got out of bed and called the station manager to ask how the network could have done something so unconscionable as to run that footage. The network representative told me that while he understood my perspective that the event represented someone’s personal tragedy, this kind of footage is why people turn on the local news. Horror sells.

His answer touched off a surge of soul-searching for me. Could he be right? Was the media so insensitive to the families of those people killed in the accident simply because it’s what people want to see when they turn on the news? Why couldn’t there be more positive stories – stories that would inspire people and encourage them that the world is at times a good and uplifting place? Wouldn’t that sell, too?

I undertook a personal campaign back then, asking everyone whose paths crossed mine whether they agreed that viewers wanted the media to cover horrible stories — or whether they would watch news broadcasts that featured upbeat accounts instead. Most people admitted they didn’t know whether those stories would capture their attention in the same way. I felt crushed at what I believed to be society’s overall sense of inhumanity. Unsure how I could change such a prevalent sentiment, I tried to bury my discouragement. Discouragement turned to a restlessness that took many years to resolve.

About five years ago, I reached a point in my career where I felt compelled to pause and reassess. At that time, I had worked successfully as a personal coach for ten years. I loved the work, but something was missing. In my job, I could reach out and help one person at a time, but given what a vast place the world is and how damaging it can be to so many people, that didn’t seem sufficient. I wanted to touch the masses.

And yet the negative voice inside my head kept pushing me back, telling me I was an idiot for thinking I could have any kind of lasting effect on society. My heart, speaking with the pure and simple voice of my soul, said I needed to do it; my head, resounding with self-inflicted negativity, said there was no way I was capable or even worthy of making such an effort.

All my life, I’ve been an NFL fan. My dad was a football player and coach, my four brothers all played football, and from the time I was born, there were always football players in the house. With NFL games as a constant backdrop, I couldn’t stop thinking about the idea of using NFL players as role models. I was convinced that children growing up today have a daunting lack of role models to look to as good examples of how to live a life governed by ethics and values. I believe that we adults need to embrace and comfort our children. We need to coach them and let them see for themselves how important they are. We need to help them find their passion. We need to create opportunities for children to recognize, experience, respect and honor their talents. We need to instill in our kids the importance of serving others. Only if we do this can we expect them to follow a compelling vision of what’s possible.

So I pushed past my fears and self-doubts. With the unquestioning brashness of the little girl who once led the Army band, I traveled to NFL corporate headquarters to share my vision with officials there.

And the NFL leaders listened. They heard my vision; they agreed in its merit. They suggested I approach each of the NFL’s 32 teams individually and talk to their player development directors. Easy, I thought. With a 2” binder in which I’d created a sheet for each of the 32 teams, I began calling. All I had to do was communicate my excitement about using my personal coaching skills to evoke from the players their ability to be magnificent role models on and off the field.

And then I ran into a roadblock. It wasn’t that the player development directors hated my idea; it was just that they didn’t buy into it with the passion I believed was needed in order for me to see it through. Though some were marginally interested, as a body they were committed to sticking with the NFL’s internal programs, which emphasize personal growth and development against a backdrop of professional football. They didn’t think their players had time alongside that program to in other ways.

I felt as if my glorious vision had been quashed. It was discouraging. I indulged in some self-pity and a sense of defeat.

But then I stopped feeling sorry for myself and took a more positive tack. Brainstorming with a colleague, I decided to itemize the points I’d distilled thus far from the project, and together we came up with this list:
1. There are a lot of magnificent role models in the NFL, but few know about their successes.
2. The NFL may have the biggest stage in the world.
3. If these wonderful players were on that stage, they could make this world a better place, especially for kids.
4. This is the work that has been waiting for me all along – get these wonderful players on their worldwide stage. Focus on being the catalyst and the coaching will follow.

Taking a step back from that initial wave of idealistic passion, reorganizing my thoughts and marshalling my energy gave the project the boost it needed get finally get under way. This is how Insightful Player was born. I reached out to all the teams again, but this time I went through their PR departments. I proposed writing feature stories about their high-integrity players for the sole purpose of lifting the spirit of their worldwide audience, especially kids. A lot of teams were excited by this vision. A few insisted I have placement for these stories before they would allow me access to their players. And a few teams never responded to my attempts at contact.

At this point, I’ve profiled twenty-two players as part of the Insightful Player project. Each of those men is a remarkable human being and a magnificent role model. Many of them believe firmly in the value of telling their stories, especially those that involve overcoming hardships, in hopes of helping today’s youth see their way to a clearer path to success. Several of them are now using the same skills of perseverance and commitment developed as football players to commit their lives to a greater purpose by starting a charitable foundation or community outreach program.
Already, I myself have learned so much from these players. The farther I get into the Insightful Player campaign, the more I believe my original vision has tremendous potential: to get this message to a much wider audience. It’s that belief that carries me onward as I promote what I now believe to be my life’s work. I still think back to that night thirty years ago when I watched the evening news and thought that surely we can prosper as a society from being exposed to more positive messages, and this is how I hope to make that happen.

***

Chrissy Carew is Founder and Head Coach of Insightful Player, LLC. The Insightful Player™ campaign is an uplifting  series of stories, interviews and programs featuring high integrity people such as current and former NFL players. Each  player shares their personal message of hope to inspire all, especially kids. www.insightfulplayer.com

 

May 20, 2010

Greg Boyle Has Saved Thousands of Latino Lives In Los Angeles. Why Might He Go Out Of Business?

Filed under: Guest Blogger — Tags: , , , — tmatlack @ 10:50 pm

BY JESSE KORNBLUTH

There are many things that go wrong and we can’t do anything about them, but you would think that a guy who has transformed tens of thousands of lives over 23 years in the lousiest part of LA could find $5 million somewhere to keep going.

That’s not the case.

Greg Boyle, a Jesuit priest, launched Homeboy Industries in the poorest parish in Los Angeles in 1986. His goal: break the cycle of drugs and violence in what was then an African-American ghetto and is now nearly 100% Latino. And he did it. He created job training programs and developed businesses. The community responded — to say “G” is beloved is to understate.

Along the way, Greg Boyle never perved a single kid. He presided over funeral after funeral of kids he loved who were living clean and were shot anyway. He got leukemia. He wrote a book, Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion, which is just out and, at 212 pages, a pleasure to read.

Nothing can stop this guy. Or so his many friends and admirers have long believed. But now reality bites hard and deep — without a large infusion of cash, Homeboy is history.

What’s $5 million in Los Angeles?

Earlier this year, it cost a million to save the Hollywood sign, and that money — private money — appeared. A few years ago, Reggie the Alligator got loose and the city spent as much as $200,000 to capture him and create a safe home for him. But although the Los Angeles police chief and sheriff are said to be big fans of Homeboy, the city prefers to spend its $25 million on gang intervention programs elsewhere.

The State of California? It would be happier throwing Greg Boyle’s clientele in prison — if, that is, it wasn’t suffering such a budget crunch that it will soon have to start emptying the jails. The federal government? Laura Bush delighted in hosting Boyle and some of his homies at the White House; the Obamas seem not to know that Homeboy exists. (Memo to Michelle Obama…)

Okay, what about the Catholic church? If ever there was an institution that could use some good publicity, it’s the Los Angeles Archdiocese — three years ago, it agreed to pay $660 million to 508 people who accused priests of sexual abuse. Throwing money at Greg Boyle makes even better sense for the Church when you consider that 70% of the four million Catholics in the LA area are Latino. One more Hispanic connection: Jose Gomez, the recently-appointed co-adjutor of the Archdiocese (he’ll be the next Archbishop) was born in Mexico and was trained as an accountant — I’ll bet he could do a cost-benefit analysis of support for Homeboy on the back of an envelope.

But no money will be forthcoming from the Archdiocese, which has been selling buildings to help pay down that astonishing $660 million judgment. This leaves Rome, which cannot credibly argue that it’s cash-poor. Scraping the gold leaf from a few Vatican ceilings would pay for most of Homeboy’s shortfall — but if you believe the Vatican cares about the least of its brethren in the barrios of Los Angeles, you have not been reading the news these last few months.

Which leaves two group of possible supporters: the extremely wealthy residents of the West Side of Los Angeles and what might be called the Little People. None of these potential donors will be much affected by anything that happens to Greg Boyle’s posse — if the Homeboy trainees become gangbangers and dope pushers, their most likely victims are one another. But there is the small matter of valuing human lives and declaring some “ours” — worth considerably more than “theirs.”

This shouldn’t be. But I don’t like the “should” argument — behind the high-minded word, I see the wagging finger of the prude, the nag, the zealot, the bore. I do think it’s okay to say: This isn’t right. And I think it’s fair to confess that when I called Greg Boyle to interview him, I was so pissed off I could hardly keep from screaming.

Jesse Kornbluth: You would think they’d be building statues of you. You’re running the largest gang intervention program in Los Angeles. Your businesses are successful and expanding. The press loves you. But last week, you laid off 330 of your 427 employees. For a beloved enterprise, that had to be hard to explain to your crew.

Greg Boyle: I thought I’d talk about it Friday, but at the morning meeting on Thursday, I told the senior council we’d better start putting out the word that we’re laying off 270 trainees and all 60 people on the senior staff.

JK: How fast did the bad news travel?

GB: I came back from lunch, and people had gathered in the lobby. It was a sobfest — a lot of hugging and crying. And all the concern was for us. No one said, “How will I pay my rent?” It was all “We’ll work even if you don’t pay us” and “You saved my life.”

JK: I don’t get it. A business that’s growing — and you’re broke. What’s the disconnect?

GB: Some of the blame is on us. We now have a $9 million annual budget, but most of that goes to our training programs — we bring in only $3.5 million through our businesses. We had a capital campaign a few years ago and raised $12 million for this building. We should have factored in another $5 or $6 million for operating expenses. Because we didn’t, we’ve needed to raise money for the last three years.

JK: You’re a celebrity in Los Angeles. If anyone could get help from the business community….

GB: It’s ironic — our biggest problem is dealing with businessmen. They look at our numbers and ask, “Why aren’t your businesses making money to support your training program?” That day will never come. As our businesses become more successful, they’ll contribute more — but never 100%. Face it: When it comes to raising money, we’re a tough sell. Homeboy isn’t puppies or Warhols. We’re gang members with tattoos.

JK: Ezra Pound said, “A slave is a man who waits for another man to free him.” What is your own community doing to raise money?

GB: Homeboys grabbed some of my books and went to the streets to sell them. In the old spirit of “Let’s put on a show,” there are car washes. One homeboy is a comedian. He organized a Latino stand-up last night at a club — a hundred people showed up.

JK: Nice, but that’s not going to raise $5 million. What about the Catholic Church? You’d be great publicity for an institution that only gets awful publicity.

GB: I’m told many pastors talked about us at Mass last weekend.

JK: You won’t raise millions that way. What’s the worst case scenario?

GB: We close.

JK: Isn’t that a disaster for more than Homeboy? Won’t kids go back to violence and drugs?

GB: Two kids told me, “If this had happened eight months earlier, I’d go back to drugs and gangbanging.” But now they have some resilience. I’m more concerned about all the people in prison on drug charges — some of whom will be released if the State cuts back the prison budgets. A guy who spent 20 years in prison came out and said, “Homeboy is all we talked about.” We represent hope — not just to those walking in our door, but to people who aren’t ready to walk in yet. If kids can imagine that one day they can leave the gang life behind, that’s compelling.

JK: Well, I’d like to help you find a more tangible kind of hope. What can we do?

GB: Make an online donation or send a check to Homeboy Industries, 130 West Bruno St., Los Angeles, Ca. 90012

JK: While I’d love to see a heavy hitter make a large donation online, my experience is that big money requires personal attention.

GB: The number for our Development Office is 323 526 1254.

JK: Look ahead. What do you see?

GB: I’m kind of hopeful. We have the potential for a great moment: “Endow a museum, help Homeboy.” I can’t believe we’ve come this far to close.

****

Jesse Kornbluth is a New York-based journalist and editor of a cultural concierge service (books, music, movies), HeadButler.com. As a journalist, he has been a contributing editor for Vanity Fair and New York, and a contributor to The New Yorker, The New York Times, etc. In l996, he co-founded Bookreporter.com. From l997 to 2002, he was Editorial Director of America Online. His books include Highly Confident: The Crime and Punishment of Michael Milken; Airborne: The Triumph and Struggle of Michael Jordan; and Pre-Pop Warhol. Kornbluth’s essay Sex and Drugs Made Me a Man, appears in our anthology The Good Men Project: Real Stories from the Frontlines of Modern Manhood.

[This article first appeared in The Huffington Post and Head Butler.com]


Tom Matlack, Good Men Project CoFounder, visited Father Gregory Boyle in the fall of 2009, as part of The Good Men Project book tour. That story is here.


 

May 18, 2010

When Mom’s Away, Theory v Practice

Filed under: Good Men, Guest Blogger — Tags: , , , , — tmatlack @ 6:00 am

In case you haven’t heard about Dad Labs, it’s a group of daddy bloggers whose mission is: Taking Paternity Back. Here’s a recent post from their blog.

BY DADDY CLAY

In Theory: Don’t play the “Mom’s Away” Card. Dad taking care of the kids when mom is out of town should be a non-event. Because dads are now equal co-parents, it would be absurd and demeaning for a dad to ask for some kind of accommodation or special consideration just because mom is out of town.

In Practice: Overheard within twelve hours of mom’s departure — “You see, coach, My Wife Is Out of Town, so I couldn’t find Ri-ri’s soccer uniform. Or her water. Or her ball.”

In Theory: Don’t gender daily housework or routines, especially with your daughter. Model for her your ability to handle even those “girly” tasks like putting hair in ponytails.

In Practice: The bathroom door slams in my face when I ask if I can help with the hair situation. Her struggles continue all he way onto the sideline of her brother’s soccer game. She adamantly shrugs off my attempts to help. A mom on the sideline asks, “Can I help you with that?” and before I can warn her off, Ri-ri has handed over the brush and has backed in for service.

In Theory: Do not lose the children.

In Practice: It’s my second lap around the elementary school, panic rising. Ri-ri is on the field playing soccer, so she’s accounted for, but Coop has vanished from the playscape while I was spectating. He’s not on any of the fields, not on a second playscape, not in any of the bathrooms. All the other doors are locked. In desperation, I shout his name at the dense thicket that abuts the school property. It shouts back, “Dad! We found a creek!”

In Theory: Cook for the children, observing the same nutritional guidelines the family would normally follow. Dads are as competent in the grocery aisle and the kitchen as moms are. To depend on takeout and processed food reduces your standing and has negative impact on the kids’ health.

In Practice: Marinated and grilled pork tenderloin, pesto pasta, salad, apple slices, that the kids lavish with such patronizing praise that I’m serving frozen pizza for the rest of the week.

In Theory: Keep the kids healthy! Observing routines will help, but if a child does grow ill, dads are just as capable as moms of being patient and nurturing. Male nurses are more and more common, after all. Get in touch with your inner Florence Nightingale.

In Practice: As the stars parade across Oscar’s red carpet, I’m loading vomit-soaked sheets into the washing machine. For the second time. Because as any good parent knows, the last thing you want to do when a child throws up all over his room is strip the bed and put on the only other clean sheets, then deliver a stern lecture on nutrition because the child went on a Smart Food binge while you were chatting with an old college buddy on the soccer sideline because the child will promptly boot again, this time all over the pillows, comforter, stuffed animals, curtains, carpet and bookshelves, leaving you without any clean sheets so you will have to make a humiliating call to your spouse admitting that you not only allowed the child to become sick, but also that you don’t know if you can put the comforter and Wally the Panda in the washing machine.

In Theory: Parenting experts.

In Practice: We screw up so you don’t have to.

About Daddy Clay, co-founder of DadLabs: “When I’m not staring at a computer screen or sitting on the sidelines of a soccer game, I’m probably enjoying one of my wife’s amazing meals and a glass of completely unsubtle red Zin. I love reading the New Yorker, though I’m usually about three issues behind, and will go for the occasional jog as long as the music is good.”

 

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