http://www.comedycentral.com/video-clips/118vlb/stand-up-tom-papa--new-kind-of-dad
It got me thinking about the modern man.
The modern man knows more about Braxton Hicks contractions than most women who are older than 50. He has the breathing down pat, the bags packed, and the doctor's cell phone programmed into his iPhone months before the delivery date.
He knows how to swaddle a baby like a burrito, how to steam up the bathroom like a sauna for bath time. He palms a newborn as comfortably as he would a football.
The modern man carries a manly diaper bag (oxymoron, yes). He knows how to change diapers, give medicine, take care of boo-boos. He will bathe a toddler at 3 a.m. if a stomach virus hits, and he will bathe him again at 4 a.m. if necessary.
While taking care of his family, the modern man also takes care of himself. He grooms himself better than Olympic swimmers. He's not afraid to purchase $100 worth of dulce de leche soap. All for himself. He uses a pink or sometimes purple mesh solange in the shower. He is discriminating when it comes to his hair products, but a whore when it comes to eyebrow waxing. He will lay down for any woman in any nail salon. He will even bring a pajama-clad toddler along.
The modern man is creative. He can make up a game of "bogeyman lurking dangerously outside the window" and make a 9 month old laugh with fear when he creeps over to the blinds and peeks out, then freaks out. He can make a paper ghost zip-line down the staircase at his children's request.
The modern man works harder than ever, with longer hours, no time to turn off the phone, emails, texts. Yet he knows how to make conference calls regarding complex financial instruments sound sexy. Sometimes.
He is not afraid to express his emotions. He tells his children all day long how much he loves them. How he is absolutely crazy about them. He dances with them to Louie Prima while throwing together the best bruschetta this side of Sicily.
He takes them to the playground, pushes them way up in the sky on the swings. He takes care of them for TWO days and TWO nights while his wife gallivants around NYC with her girls.
The modern man lets his son fall asleep on his chest while he is typing on his computer. He is a renegade. A dynamo. A balabusta.
He is a new-age hero.
Sure, times have changed. But, I have to say, the modern man is marvelous.
(At least mine is).
