As I write this, my son is two and a half years old. I consider it a success that he is happy and healthy.
I'm also using this blog to reflect on my fathership. I'll be posting memories and entries from my journals that I've kept throughout the time, as well as current updates, so time will be a little timey-wimey, to borrow the phrase from my favorite Doctor. I'll try and be up front about when the post took place originally. Exact dates probably won't be too exact though.
The title of this blog, as I define the not-so-stoic part is just a comment on being expressive with my feelings. I've always been a crier, ever since I can remember. My own father would tell me not to cry, as did my heroes: those figures from the Transformers, He-Man, and GI Joe. Stoicism, or, as I am defining it here, hiding any visible emotion, seems to be the default for many men. As a result, I've always been ashamed of my crying (and only a little of my laughing, when people would mock my breathy "Buttheadish" laugh). Even to this day, at the end of a movie, I reflexively stretch and pretend to yawn so that the tears on my face would be a reflection of some sort of boredom or sleepiness, not emotion.
Stupid, I know.
But without getting too much more political than we've already gotten, generally, in the popular media, men are not considered the "emotional" half of a domestic partnership. And when open emotion, such as crying, is conveyed, it is considered something special, something almost fetishized. Half as many times as I've heard "Don't cry," I've heard "It's OK to cry," like I need permission.
Well, after having my son, I'm throwing all those stupid things out the window. There will be a lot of talking about crying in this blog, crying out of sadness, anger, and extreme joy.
There might be some laughter too, who knows.
