Love 4 Laney (l)

In a perfect world, sweet little children would not get seriously sick or require organ transplants.

Wednesdays are a busy day in our house.  Our oldest two kids have gymnastics classes back to back.  Due to the timing of those classes, I go straight from work to daycare to class.  Dinner is a hastily made batch of PB&J, cheese sticks, and juice boxes – most of which is eaten during the drive across town.

My three-year old son’s class is first, and it is a “parent and me” class where I follow him around to make sure he’s listening and following instructions.  When he’s done, our six-year-old daughter (who comes with my wife, direct from a different activity) has her class.  It’s usually 7:45 or later when we get home, which leaves just a few minutes for homework or unwinding before we start into the bedtime routine.

Basically, Wednesdays are controlled chaos, but it’s worth it because our kids love the classes, the teachers, and the other kids in the class.  My son’s class is rather small – it’s just him and two little girls.  As such, we know the other kids in the class pretty well – or so I thought…

*   *   *

Recently, I saw a link to an article about the family of Curtis Ledbetter, the Director of Operations for the University of Nebraska baseball team.  Ledbetter is a former Husker player – a big, strong first baseman who usually led the team in home runs.  But the main reason I read the article (which can be found here) is because I know Ledbetter as the dad of one of the little girls in my son’s gymnastics class.  Truth be told, it was the article’s title – “Huskers Excited to Show Their ‘Love 4 Laney’” – that stopped me in my tracks.

I had no idea Laney was sick.

*   *   *

Reading the article, these two sentences punched me right in the gut:

“Laney was diagnosed with Progressive Familial Intrahepatic Cholestasis Type 2, which means her liver doesn’t produce and move bile the way it should, so Laney’s body can absorb all the nutrients it needs. Nebraska Medicine doctors in Omaha told Curtis and Monica that their daughter eventually will need a transplant.”

I’ve been around little Laney an hour a week for most of the last six months, and I had zero idea she is sick.  She’s always struck me as a perfectly normal two-year old.  She’s active, energetic, and cute as a button.  You’d never know that she gets “seven to eight doses of medicine” every day and will someday require a new liver.

As a parent, I simply cannot imagine having a child fighting a disease with six words and almost 20 syllables in the name.  Our kids went through a bout of 24-hour stomach flu a few weeks ago, and it was exhausting.  The stress of seeing your babies miserable and weak is heartbreaking.  But a few days later they were completely back to normal.  I cannot imagine having that as my daily norm.  The love and strength parents like the Ledbetters and Hoffmans show is amazing and inspiring.

*   *   *

At the Nebraska – Minnesota baseball game on April, 12, the Huskers honored the 2005 team that made the College World Series.  Curtis Ledbetter was a key cog in that great team.  At the same game, the team held a “Love 4 Laney” day raising awareness for organ donation.  The team traded their traditional red hats for green ones, and fans wore neon green awareness shirts.

A clip from the local news can be found here.

Nebraskans, you can learn how to sign up to become an organ donor here.  For those who live outside The Good Life, here are some resources for you.  I’m proud to be a registered organ and tissue donor, and I hope you will join me.

*   *   *

(Author’s note:  Wondering why there is a random letter in parentheses in the title of this post?  Not sure how this post corresponds to the daily letter in the April A to Z Challenge?  Like clicking on links?  These questions are all answered here.)

I’m No Hero

Ever since we first announced our intention to adopt, we regularly hear various people tell us we’re wonderful, saintly people because we chose adoption.  They believe we’ve given our kids a much better life than what they would have known.  I’ve heard words like “hero”, “brave”, “angel”, and others used to describe our role as adoptive parents.

This sentiment amuses me and makes me uncomfortable.  I may be a lot of things, but I do not consider myself a hero – especially not because we adopted.  Look:  we didn’t adopt because we felt called to do it, found it our social/moral responsibility, or because we were inspired by Angelina Jolie or some other celebrity.

We did it so we could have a family.  Period.

The possibility existed that we could have gotten pregnant on our own, but the fertility treatments we tried weren’t getting the job done.  So we decided to trade the stress, expense, and uncertainty of fertility treatments for the stress, expense, and uncertainty of adoption.  With adoption, we felt fairly certain that we would end up with a baby (especially considering we are white, Christian, married, heterosexual, and financially stable).  With fertility treatments (the shots, the turkey baster, and/or the petri dish), we had no such assurance.  Even if we could get pregnant, there was no guarantee that nine months later we would end up with a baby.

As for our kiddos, I’ve had people tell me that our children are “lucky” and/or “blessed” to have us as their parents.  While we certainly try to give them the best possible life, it would be horribly conceited of us to presume that growing up with us gives them the ‘best possible life’.  Plus, that sentiment is highly disrespectful to their birth mothers.  I cannot begin to understand the circumstances that led our two birth moms to choose adoption – and it’s not my place to publicly discuss what we do know – but you’ll have a hard time convincing me that the lives of our children are automatically better because we adopted them.  If people think we give our kids the ‘best possible life’ that’s only because we have an unspoken obligation to our birth moms to raise these children as best as we can – not because our “status” as middle class white people* is somehow better than what they would have otherwise known.

*Yeah, I think there is a bit of an unspoken (and hopefully unintentional) race element to all of this.  And I know there is definitely a class factor.  I think society tends to make assumptions about birth moms (i.e. young, poor, uneducated, possibly minority), just as they make assumptions about my wife and I (white, educated, professional).  Whether or not they would ever vocalize it, I guarantee there are people out there who believe that our minority children are guaranteed to have a better life growing up in a middle class white home than they would being raised by a single black woman.  I think that notion is absolutely ludicrous.  Any “advantages” we may have are perception, and are likely offset by the fact that raising a child of color outside of his or her culture can lead to a lack of racial identity.

At times, I think the “hero” sentiment is a coded way of saying “I would never, ever adopt, so I applaud you for doing something I’m too scared/weak/unwilling to do”.  This belief comes from my feelings on being a foster parent:  I’m not sure I could do what foster parents do, so I have a high level of appreciation and respect for those who have chosen that path.  Does that make foster parents heroes?  In my mind, it kind of does, but my guess is they would be just as uncomfortable with that sentiment as I am when I hear it.

So consider me a hero if you want (although you certainly do so at your own risk), tell me how “brave” our choice was (even if that is a bit of a back-handed slap at adoption), and say how “lucky” our kids are to have us.  But know that there are no heroes in adoption.  The birth moms are the brave ones, and the adoptive parents are far and away the lucky ones.

Parental Rites of Passage

There are certain things that all parents of babies and young children experience.  Parental “Rites of Passage”, if you will.  As a father of three small children (six and younger), I can assure you that a great many of these come from personal experience.

• An up the back diaper blowout.

• A “Code Brown” in the bathtub.

• Being spit up on.

• Being puked on / catching a child’s vomit in your hands.

• Being away from home without a necessary item (diapers/bottle/pacifier/beloved toy).

• Showering with an audience.
• Child wanders off in a store.
• Using the toilet while soothing a crying child on your lap.

• Driving down the road with one hand while the other is blindly reaching into the back seat to get something for the kids.
• Child says something horribly inappropriate in public.
• Having to leave somewhere (store, church, restaurant, etc.) because of a screaming child.
• Knowingly going to work with your child’s spit-up, snot, poop, tears, or other substance on your clothes.
• A child has an accident while you’re out, and you have no backup clothes.
• Throwing away / donating a toy in working condition simply because you can’t stand to listen to it anymore.
• Lying to your child about what happened to that toy.
• Going for a drive in the middle of the night because that is the only way a screaming child will go to sleep.
• Using an expression, saying, or threat that your parents used on you.

Parents, what other rites of passage have you experienced?

Adoption Humor FAIL

I subscribe to a daily email from the fine folks at the FAIL Blog that contains highlights from their popular website.  They send me a dozen or so images and links a day.  For the most part, I get some chuckles and the occasional belly laugh.

However, one of their recent images left a little to be desired.  The caption of the post was “When Dad Joke Go Too Far”:

So funny I forgot to laugh

Ol’ Dad went past “funny”, through “lame dad joke”, and landed smack in the middle of “hey, look what a moron I am!”.

Oh my…where to start?  Let’s go message by message:

Our Father of the Year actually starts out with some good advice.  Adoption IS a good thing.  In my experience, the decision to adopt was one of the smartest decisions I’ve ever made.  While adoption may not be for everyone, I would encourage everyone to consider it – or at least advocate for it.

Plus, I think it would be best if the genetic code that make this Dad…um…special (his horribly inappropriate jokes, inability to type the word “you”, and abuse of exclamation points) is not passed onto another generation.  It’s bad enough that the recipient of these message is tainted with Dad’s defective DNA – why would you intentionally harm a child with a big does of the Stupid Gene?

Bravo, good sir:  “ur” humor is absolutely hilarious.  Aren’t you the guy who opened for Carrot Top at the 1992 Nebraska State Fair?  That had to be “u”.

P.S., I can only hope that when mom found out about this, she cut you off – figuratively or literally.  It makes me no difference.

This final message is where Dumb Dad really starts to piss me off.

Why should the recipient be crying?  Because being adopted is such a negative stigma that kids cry when they find out?  Moron.

As for “Ur mine”, I can guarantee you that the three children in my house are most definitely “mine”.

Also, “watch(ing) ur mom have u” does not necessarily mean that the child is yours.  If Mom has any brains, she cheated on Dumb Dad with somebody with a high enough IQ to produce a viable embryo.  When you’re on Maury next month, you may want to ask for the paternity package.

The lesson here, my friends, is if you think that “ur adopted!” is a good punchline for a joke (or a funny put-down) you need to stop.  Or better yet, head down to the airport and make some jokes about explosives.  You’ll probably have better results.

 

Ten Things Everybody Should Know About Adoption

Adoption is a truly amazing thing – it takes children and places them with loving parents, creating a beautiful family.  Unfortunately, there are a lot of misconceptions, myths, and out-dated notions about adoption out there.  In celebration of National Adoption Month, as well as an attempt to provide friendly information and education for those whose lives have not been enriched by adoption, here are ten things you need to know:

1.  Never, ever, ever say an adopted child was “given up” for adoption. 

Be honest, we’ve all done it:  you’re talking about an adopted child and you say “Did you know that So-And-So was given up for adoption?”  Or you’re talking about a parent/relative/co-worker who “gave up” a child for adoption.

Please, stop doing that.

Think about it:  what do people give away?  We give away things without value or that we have no use for anymore.  I have never met a child who is without value.  A better option is to say the child was “placed” for adoption or a birth mother “made an adoption plan”.  These phrases more accurately reflect the painful reality:  placing your baby with another couple, whom you likely have never met, is one of the hardest, and yet most loving, decisions a woman can make.  And no child should grow up thinking he or she was discarded by their biological family, like an old couch set out on the curb.

Is avoiding “given up” another example of an ultra-sensitive, politically correct culture?  Some folks would say yes, but I’m guessing those same people would take a swing at me if I implied their biological children had no value.  My wife says it best:  “Please don’t say ‘you were given up’ to my child.  No, you, little girl, were created by God for a reason, and your mommy and daddy love you soooo much.”

2.  Families adopt for many different reasons.  When we were checking out daycares for our daughter, we met with a provider who told us that she typically did not accept adopted children.  As she put it, adoptive families “are so desperate for a child that they do not believe in discipline.”  Luckily for us, she could “tell that we were different.”  Needless to say, we did not entrust our child to this whack job.

There are millions of adoptive parents, each with their own personal tale of why they chose to adopt.  Yes, many families adopt in part because they are unable to conceive a biological child.  Infertility was one of the primary reasons we chose to adopt.  But do not assume adoption is some kind of “Plan B” to only be pursued once all available infertility options are exhausted.  Adoption was always on the table for us, even if we had a biological child.  We left several fertility options unexplored to pursue adoption because it was right for us.

Simply put, some are called by religious beliefs, some want to help a child, others want to enrich their family with a child from a different race, culture, or country.  There is no one size fits all reason.  Whatever the reason, adoption is a wonderful decision.

3.  Adoption can be incredibly expensive.  According to Adoptive Families magazine, the average cost to adopt a newborn domestically through an agency can range from $20,000 – $35,000.  Those costs include agency fees, costs to process paperwork and background checks, birth mother expenses (such as rent, food, and utilities), travel expenses to wherever the child is born, and much more.  International adoptions are typically even more expensive due to additional agency fees, the red tape of dealing with two governments, and more expensive travel costs.

Yes, the IRS does currently provide a tax credit for adoptive families ($12,970 per child) but that does not cover all of the expenses, nor does it put the money in your account when you need to write a really big check to your agency.

Some folks are lucky enough to work for a company that offers an adoption benefit (a few hundred to several thousand dollars) to help defray adoption expenses.  If your company does not have adoption benefits, encourage them to start.

4.  BUT…never say “you’re buying a baby” or “how much did your baby cost?”  If you want to be truly technical, yes:  adoptive parents do pay money to an agency (or other entity) for assistance in bringing a child into their home.

Of course, biological parents also pay money to different entities for assistance in providing their child.  Yet nobody asks the biological parent how much their numerous fertility treatments were, how much their doctor or mid-wife cost, or what they spent on the case of Keystone Light the night their precious little angel was conceived.

If you are curious about the costs that go into an adoption, ask a family that has adopted, check out adoptivefamilies.com, or use Google.  All are much better options than being rude and disrespectful.

5.  Adoptive parents are “real” parents.  

Here’s the deal:  my wife and I are caucasian with blondish-brown hair.  Our oldest daughter has a darker complexion with stunningly beautiful dark curly hair.  Our son and youngest daughter are African-American and will likely tower over us someday.  This disparity often leads to a variation of the question “Who/where are their real parents?”

These children may not have lived in my wife’s uterus for 9 months*, but she is their “real mom”.  She is the one who gets up with them at 3 am, changes their diapers, gets thrown up on, and does anything and everything that a “real mom” does – unless of course, their “real dad” is the one doing it.  Oh yeah, and it is our names on the birth certificates.

*Honey, I’m sorry for writing about your uterus on the internet.  It won’t happen again 🙂

I say this with absolutely no disrespect to the biological parents (a.k.a. “birth parents”, “first parents”, “bio mom”, or other titles) of our children.  Those two amazing women will never fully know the depth of our love for them, our gratitude for being chosen by them, and how blessed we are to raise their beautiful babies.

In reality, our children have two sets of “real” parents – the ones whose DNA they share, and us, the ones who handle their care.

6.  Adoption is not a cure for infertility.  I wish I had a dollar* for every person who has said “Now that you have adopted, you’ll be getting pregnant” or has shared the story of their co-worker’s cousin’s brother’s neighbor who adopted and got pregnant a few months later.  Sure it happens, but it is not like adoption magically triggers some “mom gene” that allows pregnancy to occur.

*And if I had that dollar for each time, my wife would not have had to skimp and save so much to pay for our second adoption.

7.  Despite what you have seen on TV or in the movies, adoptive parents are not concerned about the birth family trying to steal the child away.  The laws vary from state to state, but most are pretty similar to this:  once the birth mother signs the consent (which in many places cannot happen until at least 48 hours after birth) the decision is final and legally binding – her parental rights are terminated.  In other words, once she signs the consents, a birth mother has as much legal right to your biological child as she does to her own.  I know that makes for a pretty boring Lifetime movie, but that is the reality.

But if we’re talking about things that adoptive parents do worry about:  it is the birth mother deciding to parent the child before the consent paperwork is signed.  That is her choice, her right, and it does happen quite a bit (I’ve read about 30% of the time).  When that happens, it can be devastating for the adoptive family who has gone through a long and grueling process and is leaving broken-hearted and childless.  Trust me, it sucks.

8.  Most domestic adoptions are now “open”.  Another great TV and movie stereotype:  the adoptee grows up and somehow finds out that his “real mom” was living in the same town all along.  They meet for a tearful reunion, and everyone lives happily ever after.

Certainly, that happened in the past.  Most adoptions used to be “closed” where the birth mother’s identity was not known, or was locked in a file that was impossibly hard to unseal.  Or maybe the birth mom was not sure which family had adopted her child, or did not know where they were at.

But today, most domestic adoptions are considered “open”, where some sort of connection and relationship exists between the birth mom (or other members of the birth family) and the adoptee and/or adoptive family.  Open relationships can run the gambit from a letter and some pictures each year, to regular social media contact, to weekly visits and calls.  It really depends on the parties involved and what is in the best interest of the child.

These types of relationships are beneficial for all parties involved.  The relationships don’t always happen overnight – it can take time for the bonds to grow and strengthen – but the payoff is much better than birth mother and child meeting for the first time when the child turns 18.

9.  The process to get approved to adopt is long, costly, and frustrating.  Here’s a secret frustration of many prospective adoptive parents:  they want nothing more to adopt, but they have to jump through dozens of hoops to prove their personal, financial, medical, and legal worthiness to be parents.  Meanwhile, the news is always finding stories about the unemployed 22-year-old single mom who has 3 kids, and is pregnant with #4, parents accused of child abuse or neglect, or the big national story when we were starting our first adoption:  OctoMom.  For a domestic adoption through an agency, we needed:

• Complete biographical information
• A copy of our marriage license
• A letter from our employers stating our salary and job stability
• A complete financial statement – including a list of assets and debts and a monthly budget
• Copies of our recent tax returns
• A physical and report from our doctor stating we were free from major illness
• Vaccination records for all of our pets
• A local criminal history check
• Two sets of fingerprints
• A national criminal background check
• Consents to verify that we are not on any sex offender registries or child abuse/neglect registries
• Four hours of interviews and a house inspection by a social worker
• Four letters of recommendation from our friends.

Aside from inducing carpal tunnel syndrome, many of these steps have fees attached to them.  If we were adopting internationally, the process would be longer, more complex, and subject to the unpredictability of a potentially unstable foreign government.  There is a reason that this is a popular mantra in the adoption community.

Throughout the process, you try to remind yourself that it is all necessary to ensure children are placed in safe, loving homes, but that doesn’t stop the frustration when you see those stories or fill out yet another form.

10.  Adoptive families typically LOVE to tell you their adoption stories and are willing to discuss adoption with other families who are considering it.  We faced a bit of a challenge when we first started considering adoption:  we did not immediately know of other adoptive parents that we could talk with to learn about the process, get their advice, and hear about the good and the bad.  None of our friends had adopted.  Aside from an uncle who adopted internationally over 10 years ago, we did not have family that we could reach out to.

So we expanded our search, and ended up talking with two couples:  one of my wife’s co-workers and a Facebook friend I had not seen since college.  Both were incredibly generous with their time, telling us their amazing stories and patiently answering all of our questions.

In short, if you are considering adoption or just have questions, reach out to somebody who has been through it.  The odds are very good that they will cherish the opportunity to talk to you.

I’ve mentioned it before, but I’ll throw it out there again:  if you have adoption questions or want to get some basic information from folks who have been there, feel free to drop me a line at feitcanwrite (at) hotmail.com.  I won’t have all the answers, but I’ll gladly help.

Oh, Shirt

I came across a site selling the t-shirt shown below:

Do you love your adopted kid?

The designer explains the shirt on her personal site:  “So many people misunderstand or don’t understand what being an adoptive parents is all about.  I think adoptive parents should completely own being an adoptive parent. Be proud of it and confident in it.”  That makes sense.

I’m not going bash on the person who designed the shirt, and is selling it.  To each their own.  But I would not buy this shirt for myself or anyone else I know.

Why?

It’s not that I’m ashamed or embarrassed by our adoptions.  It is the complete opposite:  the choice to adopt is easily one of the best things my wife and I will ever do.  Our lives, as well as those of our family and friends, have been forever enriched because of our three kiddos.  I may not have enjoyed the paperwork and expense of the adoption process, but I have pride in making it through that process three times.  I have confidence in who I am as a parent – regardless of if “parent” needs to be qualified with “adoptive”.

It’s not that I don’t want to talk adoption or advocate for it.  The first thing you learn about adoptive parents is that we LOVE to talk adoption.  We love to tell our stories, share advice, and many of us will speak up to remove misconceptions or correct outdated language.  I’m no exception.  I’ve written a ton about adoption, and will continue to advocate for it whenever the opportunity arises.

And obviously, it’s not that I don’t love my adopted kids.  They are my world.  My pride and joy.  I love them with all my heart and would do anything for them.

So why would I never ever wear this shirt?

Because when I look at my kids, I don’t see them as “adopted”.  I see them as amazing little people who happened to arrive in my life through adoption.  I will raise my kids to have pride in their adoption – as it is nothing to be ashamed of – and to respect the strength and love shown by their birth families when they were newborns.  But I don’t want “ADOPTED” to be the label that defines them for life.

I accept that when we’re out in public people probably see my children as adopted (I’m very white.  They are very much not white).  That is the reality of living in a society that tries so very hard to be colorblind that we notice every little difference.  So why should I reinforce that singular, impersonal label by wearing this shirt for the world to see?

If the world really needs to pigeon-hole my kids, I’d much have them defined by their amazing personalities (loud and proud, sweet and shy, loving and laughing) than by a generic label that really doesn’t tell you anything about who they are.

Borrowing an analogy I’ve seen elsewhere, would parents of biological children proudly wear a shirt that says “I LOVE MY C-SECTION KID!” or “ASK ME ABOUT MY TURKEY BASTER BABY!”?  Probably not.  I mean, sure, there might be some folks out there who are oddly proud of the marvels of medical science that helped bring their child into the world, but most people don’t choose to define their child as C-Section, breech, the result of a fertility treatment, or anything else.

I like that the designer of the shirt is an adoptee, as it tells me that she has pride in being adopted and wants to be an advocate.  But I’m guessing that she views herself by other terms (talented designer, independent businesswoman, etc.) instead of having adoption be her identity.

Now, if she comes out with a shirt that says “I LOVE MY KIDS”, I’d consider wearing that – if for no other reason than to see if my soon to be six-year-old rolls her eyes in embarrassment.

Thought of the Day – 5/27/2014 – Screen Cleaning

Parenthood is full of firsts, full of things you’ve never done before, sentences you’ve never thought you’d say*, and questions you never thought you would need an answer to.

*Today’s example:  “Cameron, please do not lick the towel”.

We did some heavy household cleaning this weekend.  Well…I say “we” loosely.  I was mainly in charge of distracting children and moving heavy things.  Anyway, one of my tasks was to clean the windows, which led me to ask the following question:

“How do you get crayon off of a window screen?”

I had never thought this before.  Hell, in all my crayoning days, I never even considered a mesh window (or door) screen as a canvas for my artwork.

Thankfully, the friendly algorithms at Google were there for me in my time of need.

A healthy spritzing of WD-40, followed by a paper towel does a surprisingly good job of removing crayon from a screen.

Now, I need to find out how to remove WD-40 from the hosta below the window.

Quiet (Q)

The older I get*, the more I appreciate and desire quiet.

*My next birthday will have a zero in it.  I get closer to grumpy old man status every day.

Partially, this is due to having three kids ages five and under, all of whom fail to grasp the concept of “indoor voice”.  At any given moment, one of them is yelling/talking very loudly, another is crying or whining, and the third is trying to rest.  So.  Much.  Noise.

I spend such a significant portion of my day shushing them that I’m afraid they’ll grow up thinking Daddy has a slow leak.  I’m also very much afraid that during some contentious work meeting, I’m going to break in with a twenty second long “Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”.

I may install this floor in one of the rooms of my house. (Photo credit: Rochelle, just rochelle)

In my life, it often feels like quiet trails only “sleep” and “money” on the list of Things I Don’t Get Enough Of.

Certainly, much of this is self-inflicted.  I love the big personalities my kids have, and I don’t want to discourage them from expressing themselves – or try to shut them up with a movie* whenever they start getting too loud.

*Especially since the movie of choice in our house is Frozen, which leads to two guarantees:  1) my five year old daughter live-performing the movie line-by-line and song-by-song, 2) I end up with one of the songs (usually “Let it Go” or “Love is an Open Door”) wedged in my skull for the next five hours.  Heck, just typing the words “let it go” has been enough to put that song in my head on a continual loop.

Gone are the days when I looked forward to going out with friends to a noisy bar or when I would crank the volume when a favorite song came on.  Now, I find myself looking for ways to have a few blessed minutes of peace and quiet – even if it means making a last minute run to the grocery store, washing bottles, or some other chore that I would otherwise like to avoid.

I think when my birthday rolls around, I’m going to ask for noise-cancelling headphones…and wear them during most of my waking hours.

*   *   *

(Author’s note:  Wondering why there is a random letter in parentheses in the title of this post?  Not sure how this post corresponds to the daily letter in the April A to Z Challenge?  Like clicking on links?  These questions are all answered here.)

Ad Review – World’s Toughest Job (M)

Campaign: “World’s Toughest Job”

Campaign Theme in Haiku Format:

Hidden camera
Viral video has a
Surprise twist ending

Visual

Commentary

How long did it take you to figure it out?  How far into the 4 minute, six second video were you when you realized what the job truly was?  For me, it took about 20-30 seconds.  The premise of interviewing for the job of “mom” and referring to the child as “the associate” is rather clever, but it wasn’t exactly an impossible riddle.

This leads to my initial criticism:  who are these people?  Look:  if you are interviewing for a position called “Director of Operations”, I would hope you’d be smart enough to know you’re being had one or two questions into the interview.  If you need to ask if a 24/7 workweek  is “even legal”, that should be your first clue that you are either really under-qualified for an executive job or you are an actor playing the role of a shocked applicant.

As I’ve talked about in past Ad Reviews, I find myself very skeptical of commercials that employ “hidden camera” antics presumably showing everyday folks.  Years and years of reality TV have left me suspicious of any reaction that is presented to me as “real”.  I’m not saying these people weren’t legitimately fooled, but I’ll just as easily believe they were actors demonstrating versions of their “shocked” face into a web cam.

Now, let’s focus on the positives.

First and foremost: everybody loves Mom*.  Hopefully this is a non-negotiable truth.  

*Especially me.  I love you, Mom.  You are truly the best. 

I like the matter-of-fact way the interviewer describes the job requirements of being a mom.  A sampling of my favorites:

• “Constantly on your feet…high level of stamina” for “135 hours to unlimited hours a week – it’s basically 24 hours a day, seven days a week.”
• “There are no breaks available.”
• “You can have lunch, but only when the associate is done eating their lunch.”
• “Requires excellent negotiation and interpersonal skills.”
• “Degree in medicine, finance, and the culinary arts.”
• “Able to work in a chaotic environment.”
• “If you had a life, we’d ask you to sort of give that life up”
• “No Vacations…On holidays, the workload is going to go up, and we demand that – with a happy disposition.”
• “No time to sleep.”

And, of course, the kicker:  it pays “absolutely nothing”.

Those lines, delivered to perfection by the faux interviewer, are a big part of why this video has gone viral.  We all know that mom works hard, but sometimes you really need to see it in terms like this to really appreciate it.

 

Then throw in the reveal when the interviewer tells the applicants what they apparently had not figured out on their own:  Director of Operations is a fancy term for mom.  Cue the outpouring of love and appreciation and pass the tissues because it is getting dusty in here.

But…

The version of the video I watched must have omitted the part where the Director of Operations is standalone position with no assistance from the Vice Director of Administrative Duties (DAD).  Maybe this video is all about the single moms – and seriously, can we get some special recognition for the single moms?  Those women are amazing.  However, I’m pretty sure Director of Operations applicants can be married as well as single.

So what about dad?  Can’t he at least get a mention here?  Look:  I consider myself to be an average to above-average dad, and I feel like I’m doing a lot of these things each and every day.  I wear many of the same hats my wife does, including some she does not (director of grounds maintenance, pest exterminator, waste management engineer, in addition to my responsibilities running the morning shift at the home office), but to hear this video tell it, there are zero expectations on me.  Heck, instead of getting dinner ready, bathing the oldest two, and helping out with bedtime I apparently should have been sitting on the couch watching the ball game with a beer.  Or maybe there will be another version of this video in the weeks leading up to Father’s Day.  But I’m not going to hold my breath.

I’m not trying to take anything away from the hard work put in by my wife or any other married mom out there, but every dad I know plays an active (if not equal) role in the “mom duties” listed above.  The era of the 1950’s TV dad is long gone.  All I’m saying is it would be nice to at least get a mention.

From an advertising perspective, I’m skeptical as to how successful this video will be.  As quickly as you probably figured out that the job listing is for a mom, it probably took a much longer time to figure out whose products/services we are supposed to buy*.  

*My first guess on the identity of the advertiser was Proctor & Gamble, who have done an excellent job of  branding themselves as the “proud supporter of moms” through their series of tear-jerker Olympic ads.

In the 4:06 video, the first clue (a URL for www.cardstore.com) doesn’t come on the screen until the 3:55 mark.  But who the heck is cardstore.com?  Some shady website where I create an e-card that ends up snagged in mom’s spam filter?  It’s only at the 4:01 mark that we find out who the real advertiser is:  American Greetings.

In my opinion, this delayed reveal creates two big issues:

1) How many people close the video before the company name is revealed?  Probably more than you think.  The only reason I stuck around was to find out who the advertiser was, but I’m guessing the majority of viewers don’t share my curiosity for these sorts of things.  This is a great example of the old advertising axiom:  It doesn’t matter how great your commercial is if nobody knows about your product.

2) When I read the closing line (“This Mother’s Day, you might want to make her a card”), I definitely do not think of American Greetings.  I think of arts and crafts time with the kids.  Truth be told, on my first viewing, I read “Mother’s Day” and “card” and immediately thought of Hallmark.  I’m guessing that is not what the folks at American Greetings were hoping for.

Overall, this is an amusing video that will likely inspire as many tears as it does views (5.1 million as of this writing).  As a dad, it makes me a little defensive, but I don’t suspect there are too many moms who don’t like it.  Yet, I question how much of an uptick in traffic / sales American Greetings  and cardstore.com will see from it.

Grade:  B-

*   *   *

(Author’s note:  Wondering why there is a random letter in parentheses in the title of this post?  Not sure how this post corresponds to the daily letter in the April A to Z Challenge?  Like clicking on links?  These questions are all answered here.)

Thought of the Day – 4/8/2014 – Goodnight Gorilla (G)

The watchman/security guard/zookeeper in the children’s book Goodnight Gorilla is one of the most oblivious characters in literary history.

A gorilla steals your keys, lets out all of the other animals, follows you home, gets in your bed (next to your wife), and you don’t notice?

I get being tired and wanting sleep (which, coincidentally, happens pretty much every time I read it), but seriously dude there is a lion on the floor in your bedroom.

Get it together.

*   *   *

(Author’s note:  Wondering why there is a random letter in parentheses in the title of this post?  Not sure how this post corresponds to the daily letter in the April A to Z Challenge?  Like clicking on links?  These questions are all answered here.)