One of the cutest things a toddler does is repeat something he or she just heard. It’s cute until your precious little one says something that would be bleeped on TV.

Many years ago, an old boss of mine admonished his young son for dropping an F-bomb. It was clear from his response that he disapproved.

“Don’t ever #*&@ing say @#^% again!”

It became a running joke.

In another instance, I witnessed a woman on the bus talking to one of her son’s friends. He showed the woman a picture of her son on his camera phone. The boy was making a hand gesture commonly used on the roads in South Florida. The woman was appalled and liberally peppered her diatribe with F-bombs. She took out her cell phone, called her son, and a colorful lecture ensued. Because of an editorial decision that affects all my writing here on 21st Century Dad, I cannot provide a transcript.

In Frugal Dad’s review of  Scratch Beginnings: Me, $25, and the Search for the American Dream, by Adam Shepard, he lamented that it contained enough profanity to turn off much of its potential audience. It’s a shame that it would be seen as such a problem. I encounter plenty of profanity, but I don’t pass harsh judgment on people who use it. The author’s intent was to give the book another layer of realism. I don’t consider that gratuitous usage. It was a creative decision made by the author.

One night, Renee and I brought Twilli to a meeting. A guy was wearing a t-shirt that said, “New York F—ing City.” He apologized for displaying profanity around our baby. I replied, “it’s all good, bro. She can’t read yet anyway.”

Who Blinks First

Most of the adults I know are sensible enough to know when and where profanity is inappropriate to use. There are some adults who refrain from it altogether. I have an ex-girlfriend who only managed to say, “fuh!” in a moment of extreme duress.

I am no saint, but I refrain from using profanity in mixed company. I don’t use it in my writing because it forces me to be more creative. I will rarely blink first when talking to someone I just met. But I do keep a mental roster of those who are OK with it, those who are definitely not OK with it, and those who I prefer to stay on the safe side with, but would move into the “safe” column once they blink. Those who blinked first are in what I call my “circle of profanity.” Okay, I never called them that before. I just made it up. The Bible Belt has a buckle shaped like a giant parallelogram. I live inside that parallelogram. I’ve always been careful, and my usual verbal patterns need no modification here.

If you are a user of profanity, you probably self-censor depending on who you’re with or where you are. You feel a sense of relief when it’s OK to refrain from editing. Sometimes we use it to build rapport.

What You Can Do

The easy answer (and the harder thing to do) is not to swear around your children. If you never use profanity, and your child drops an F-bomb, you can always blame an in-law.

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The Sand Mandala

My thoughts return to the first time I learned what a Sand Mandala is. An intricate pattern of colored sand is laid down by Tibetan Buddhist monks over several weeks. Upon its completion, the Sand Mandala is ritualistically and methodically destroyed.

You don’t know what you need until you don’t have anything. I still have too much stuff. eBay and craigslist have been helpful here. Here I am, in the midst of dismantling the life I have built for the past 35 years.

This is just as much a spiritual journey as it is one of financial rehabilitation. Some of this consumerist detritus can be converted into cash. Video games, photography equipment, electronics, and supplies for projects conceived but never even started only weigh us down. One tenet of Buddhism is that our attachment to material things is the source of our suffering. Only when we release that need, do we find enlightenment.

Of course, when I first learned that about Buddhism, I thought, “no way I’m giving up my Commodore 64!”

Fighting the Clutter and Winning

Sentimentality conspires against us. It makes us hold on to things and squeezes us out of a harmonious relationship with our home. It is our experiences, thoughts, ideas, and feelings that make us who we are. Do we really need to validate those things by holding on to physical objects that only takes up space?

Ironically, I feed someone else’s urge to purchase things as I offload items through eBay and craigslist. I’m selling instant and temporary gratification to alleviate the ill effects of my own journey. The extra cash is nice. It’s the last gasp of usefulness I will get from these items. Their potential energy has been pent up, buried within clutter and disarray. This last release keeps the lights on at home another month. It buys a bus pass. It buys groceries.

You don’t know what you need until you don’t have it. The packrat defends his ways by recounting the few times he needed an item that was recently discarded. The only thing I ever needed by holding on to things was more storage space.

This isn’t loss or destruction. It’s liberation.

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People turned out in record numbers to vote early. There were reports of people waiting in line for 4 or more hours. For the last Presidential election, I chose to vote early and wait in line. This time, I requested an absentee ballot and cast my vote in the comfort of my own home. Having my computer beside me allowed me to make even more informed decisions as I filled out the ballot.

The first time I ever voted, I did so out of a sense of obligation. Now I do it because it really does make a difference. Now that I have children to care for, voting becomes even more important to me.

You may feel like your single vote won’t sway the results, but it’s you and like-minded people turning out who make a difference. At every election, there are local issues on the ballot. There are issues on every ballot at the state, county, congressional district, and city levels. As you drill down further, your vote matters even more.

My name is Elliott Kim and I approve this message.

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I’ve been online since 1992. The internet looks very different, but we still use it for very similar purposes. I searched for information. I stayed in touch with people I already knew. I looked to make new friends. Internet porn is almost as old as the internet itself. There. I said it. I said “PORN” in a blog post. All it takes is one mention of “PORN” and you become a spam magnet. Just ask Jeremy at Discovering Dad. Spamdora’s Box is already open. If comment moderation slows down, you’ll know why.

Where was I? Oh yeah, social media. I don’t even use instant messenger and I got sidetracked.

Jeff’s post and some recent email conversations with some old friends got me thinking. My friend Pat has been online since 1994. He’s extremely tech-savvy, can build an entire website in Notepad, assemble a computer from parts, troubleshoot Windows (that alone deserves praise!), and gets along with technology in general. However, he flat-out refuses to go anywhere near MySpace and has put signing up with Twitter, Facebook and  LinkedIn on his procrastination list.

There are times when I feel cutting-edge, and there are times when I feel like I’m only Web 1.6. Pat and I email each other and have “conversations.” Instead of replying in one big block of text, we reply to each other’s emails paragraph by paragraph. We keep track of who’s saying what by the presence or lack of >’s.

We rarely send attachments in our emails. Back in the day, attachments were unwieldy, requiring you to manually encode and decode them. We simply posted files up on our web servers or FTP sites and put the link in the email.

I have benefited a great deal from using social media. What Classmates.com charges money to do, you can do for free on Facebook. I’ve had some great Tweet sessions. StumbleUpon continues to send traffic to my blog.

But all this takes time. MySpace and Digg are like gym memberships. I’m beyond inactive on those sites. I check in with Facebook and LinkedIn periodically. I don’t post nearly as many photos as I should to my Flickr account. If you ask nicely, I’ll Stumble your page or site. I also use Entre Card to promote my blog. All of these sites take time to work. If you’ll excuse me, someone has added me as a friend on Facebook. I’ll need to sign in and confirm them.

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Congratuations to the Detroit Red Wings – 2008 Stanley Cup Champions

2 grueling months of playoff hockey concluded last night with a thrilling 3-2 victory over the Pittsburgh Penguins. I haven’t been watching the games, but when Lord Stanley’s Cup is in the building, I am parked in front of the TV.

I have always watched in awe as these superb athletes fought the fight of their lives. These guys play an extremely physical sport while nursing injuries that have left me bed-ridden for days. Every year, I think of the adversities I have faced, and watching hockey inspires me to power through them, regardless of how beaten down I feel.

I am not Dr. Wayne Dollar Dyer or Deep-pocket Deepak Chopra, but today’s post is about personal development and triumph over adversity. As a long-time hockey fan, I have learned much about life by following this sport. As a parent, these lessons have taken on new meanings.

Finding The Strength Within

In the quest for the Cup, players and staff make many great sacrifices. Over 4 playoff rounds, the eventual champions can play as many as 28 games every other night for 2 months. With each series going a potential 7 games, that’s a grueling travel schedule. As a parent, the time away from family is the sacrifice that resonates with me the most.

In all sports, and especially hockey, players play through pain. Injuries that may have sidelined them during the regular season are dismissed as inconveniences during the playoffs. Bruises, cuts, sprains, and even broken bones are ignored on the quest for the Cup.

• Penguins forward Ryan Malone suffered a broken nose earlier in the playoffs. In game 5, his nose was broken again. Instead of sitting out the rest of the game, he continued to play.
• Sidney Crosby played the series with injuries to his ribs and groin.
• In game 5, Defenseman Sergei Gonchar slammed head first into the end boards and back spasms resulted. He sat out for most of the game, only to return in the last minute to assist on the tying goal, sending the game into overtime.
• Detroit forward Dan Cleary took a skate to the mouth. He was bleeding profusely, but got back up and finished his shift.
• In 1999, Dallas Stars captain Mike Modano played with a broken wrist
• In 1964, Toronto Maple Leafs forward Bobby Baun suffered a broken ankle. He later returned to score the winning goal in overtime.

As parents, we are on call 24/7. This is especially true when you have a newborn. Even as our children get older, we aren’t given any relief. Whether you’re exhausted or just don’t feel like it, you must find the strength within to provide for your child. When the family needs you, there is no room for absenteeism.

Believe In Youth

From an early age, hockey experts predicted that Sidney Crosby would be the next superstar. The experts were right. He’s not even old enough to buy a beer, yet he is already one of the elite players in the league, if not the best player. In the future, his name will be mentioned in debates about who is the best player of all time.

Experts aren’t always right, and they are most often wrong. Players deemed to have the best potential are drafted early, but many do not even skate in one single NHL game. Other players are taken in later rounds, but develop into superstars. The RedWings roster is full of players who weren’t viewed as potential superstars, but became integral parts of all 4 championship teams.

My stepson has his shortcomings, and at times, they are maddening. However, he is a valued member of the household team, and he had made so many strides toward maturity and adulthood. I’m not just talking about hair in places he never had it. He’s only 14, and we often forget that at 14, he doesn’t have the same wisdom that us adults do, no matter how much he tries to tell us otherwise.

Based on Au-Teen’s grades, you might think he wouldn’t amount to much. However, you spend some time getting to know him and you’ll find an extremely intelligent young man with keen insights beyond his years. If future leaders and high performers were being selected right now from the ranks of teenagers, he will most likely be passed over based on academics. I have faith that he will overcome any deficiencies, and become an exceptional adult.

The Long and Winding Road to Success

Mike Illitch, owner of the Detroit Red Wings did not realize success overnight, nor did it take the path he originally envisioned. A knee injury ended his baseball career, so he went into the pizza business. He opened Little Ceasar’s Pizza in Garden City, Michigan in 1959. In 1982, he purchased the Detroit Red Wings. 15 years later, the Red Wings won the first of 4 Stanley Cups.

Illitch didn’t go to college, and I didn’t finish. I strayed from the path that was prescribed for me. Just because I strayed from that path doesn’t mean I haven’t been successful. Opportunities I envisioned didn’t materialize, but opportunities I didn’t envision came to fruition. Parenting is also a journey that takes unexpected turns. The hope you must maintain is that you will have raised your children well.

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“Crunchy on the Inside With a Soft Suburban Outer Coating” started its life as a lengthy and thoughtfully written article. I decided to split it up into smaller chunks over several weeks. The first installment came out on Earth Day. The mid-section of this article series has expanded due to the timing of events.

Maybe you employ every gas-saving tip out there, but there is more money to squeeze from other areas in our lives without suffering for it. Some tactics even improve the quality of life.

Finally Filling Up Again

The insidious “E” light came on today as I was driving home from work. I know this doesn’t mean “Get gas now or be stranded on the roadside!” but it always imparts a sense of urgency. Besides, I spotted a screaming bargain at $3.73/gallon (15 years ago in Europe or Japan, dozens of cars would be lined up at that gas station).

I made it 27 days between fill-ups. I paid $6 more at the pump this time.

The Real Cost of Gas

Gas prices are an easy target. The per-unit cost has gone up significantly, but what impact does it really have on our budgets? Let’s examine a hypothetical (and realistic) scenario here:

The Almost-Good Old Days

• $3.00/gallon
• 25 mile round-trip commute.
• 25 MPG

Today

• $3.73/gallon
• 25 mile round-trip commute.
• 25 MPG

To keep this simple, we’re isolating the cost of commuting to work. I’m Asian and I got bad grades in math all through school. Let’s keep this simple, OK? Based on the assumptions outlined above, we have a fuel cost of $15/week in the past. At the higher price, we have a weekly fuel cost of $18.65. We’re talking about $3.65. Can you find $3.65 worth of fat in your weekly expenditures? Yes, the percentage of increase is gruesome, but what is our total expenditure increase over the medium and long term? Oh, and BTW, you can trust these figures. I’m not that bad at math.

Think Outside the Pump

I’m not making light of the budget stretching that’s going on. I also recognize that many people have longer commutes or less fuel-efficient vehicles than the scenario outlined above.

I get my share of “woe-is-me.” There’s a teenager living here. If a solution to your problem is within reach, the last thing I want to hear is whining. Enlist your creativity (or mine) and find the money you’re throwing away.

• Chances are, in a 2-car household, one car gets used more. Drive the one that gets better mileage more.
• One can of soda per day represents $10/month. Drink water instead.
• Attention smokers. Cut out 3 cigarettes a day and there’s your $15/month.
• Do I really have to talk about the oft-vilified Starbucks Latte again? Dunkin’ Donuts coffee costs less and tastes better.
• Visit my buddies Frugal Dad and Mike.
• Ride your bike instead of driving.
• Take the bus.
• Buy stuff on Amazon instead of driving to the mall.
• Stay home and read my blog.

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Growing up in an area heralded for its diversity, there was (and still is) a conspicuous underrepresentation of Asians. I can’t complain much. I love Cuban and Argentine cuisine. I have a legitimate shot at becoming fluent in Spanish. I might even teach my daughter.

Being different meant being ridiculed. This was how I became whitewashed. I couldn’t articulate it. It was such a horrible thing to feel. I was ashamed of being Korean. How can you say that publicly? I was ashamed of who I was and ashamed to admit that I was ashamed. This low self-esteem cocktail didn’t fully metabolize until my late 20′s.

I fiercely defended being a Twinkie. I started to accept that I was what I was. If 3rd, 4th, and 5th generation Italian-Americans can have Italian pride without speaking a word of the language, why was it such a crime for me not to have in-depth knowledge of Korean culture? I felt I was no different from the distant descendants of European immigrants. I just accelerated the Americanization process.

Are Asian people expected to preserve their cultural identity more than other ethnic groups? I was certainly asked to feel that way when people called me out for not being Korean enough. I didn’t fit into a neat little category. I worked hard to make sure I didn’t fit any Asian stereotypes. I let academics slide in high school. I declined to participate in anything that identified me as Korean. I even elected to shelve a hobby (photography) that I enjoyed immensely for many years.

Whenever people ask me, “Where are you from?”

My answer is, “Baltimore.” This usually results in a quizzical look.

Someone once asked me, “What part of China are you from?”

“It’s a tiny little province in the northeast. You may have heard of it. It’s called BALTIMORE!”

I’ve encountered my share of racial ignorance too. “Are you Chinese?”

“No.”

“Japanese?”

“No. Korean.”

“What’s the difference?”

ARGHHH!!!!!

I didn’t fit into some neat little box. Fortunately, I’m OK with that. I’ve never been easy to explain. I used to curse it, but maybe this button-pushing is exactly what people need. If you push buttons and shatter stereotypes, shout out with a comment.

• When we broke the news to our friend Shantelle, she exclaimed, “ohmygod! That’s going to be one beautiful baby!”
• In the January/February 2006 issue of Psychology Today, an article titled Mixed Race, Pretty Face?, the author states that people of mixed Asian and European origins have become synonymous with exotic glamour.

In my own explorations, I’ve found that many parents of mixed-race children grow weary of the comments on how exotic the child looks. This seems to be true regardless of the particular ethnicities blended.

Before you think this is another rant, think again. People say boneheaded things all the time. Comments like, “ooh, she’s so exotic looking,” may stem from ignorance and laziness. It may even be a socially conditioned response. When my wife and I are out in public, people do comment on how beautiful our daughter is. I don’t feel like we’re being gawked at. Most strangers who make comments merely think my daughter just happens to be an exceptionally cute baby.

The beauty we see in these multi-racial children transcends the physical attributes. A mixed-race child is tolerance and diversity personified. That is what I see as the source of their fabled beauty.

During and shortly after my parents got divorced, my mother told me just that she raised a 4th child (I have 2 sisters). I thought my father was the only father like that. I saw my friends’ dads as much more involved in their lives. As my own knowledge base increased, I learned that my father’s disposition isn’t so unique at all.

Most of you reading this are part of a new generation of fathers. I say most because I’ve found out that women read my blog. Mothers and fathers are equal partners in the parenting experience. Is this a backlash against generations of aloof and detached fathers? Are we fighting back against the negative portrayals of the father figure in the media today? Whatever it is, I’m just enjoying my role as the father of a new baby girl.

When we broke the news to Austin about the pregnancy, he seemed nonplussed. He furtively shared some glee with a close friend, but there wasn’t much mention beyond that. He doesn’t talk about the baby much at all.

Immediately after Ariana was born, Austin adamantly declared that he would not do diapers. He keeps his distance from the baby and has made no direct effort in the care and feeding of the baby. His contribution to household chores is minimal to nothi on par with most teenage boys.

I found myself growing frustrated and bitter. Two members of this household are shouldering additional responsibilities and one member’s neglect has reached new lows. I started to feel empathy for the women married to loafing husbands, past and present.

My brain connected the dots. A congruence was emerging before me. Austin’s detachment and aloofness paralleled the stereotype of the father from generations past.

I started connecting more dots. I thought about my interactions with other adult males. Many have characteristics that aren’t remarkably different from adolescent males.

• Poor listening skills and poor communication skills in general
• Doesn’t read instruction manuals
• Can’t stand to be told how to do something
• Likes playing with consumer electronics
• Constant need to one-up other males
• Smells like the inside of a hockey skate

The years of critical thinking skills drilled into me via prep school will never go away. Yet another hypothesis emerged. Many men halt their personal and emotional development during adolescence.

These men enter adult life, get married, and may or may not have children. The wife grows weary of having to be a parent to the man-child instead of a partner. Divorce rates soar.

It’s beyond common sense. I have become driven to become the best father I can be. I loved this child from the moment the little blue plus sign appeared on the home pregnancy test. The first ultrasound image, the trickle and ultimate deluge of gifts, my wife’s ever expanding belly, and finally the fateful day brought it all together. My heart broke for all the fathers who would never know the joy of being totally immersed in their child’s life.

Generations of distant and aloof fathers don’t have to guide your actions here. You really can do it all except breastfeed.

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The show chronicles the daily life of the Gosselins – Jon, Kate, Cara, Madelyn, Alexis, Aaden, Collin, Leah, Hannah, and Joel. The mundane activities of family life turn into a television-worthy circus. I’ve watched a few episodes and did some Googling. Here are some of my quick thoughts:

• The husband is [half] Asian and the wife is Caucasian. You typically see Caucasian male / Asian female pairings.
• It’s great to see that the chaos of raising 8 children overshadows their biracial status.
• I always smile privately whenever I see an Asian person portrayed in the media who speaks with a perfectly good American accent.
• Kate is older than Jon, so that’s another stereotype buster. Yay!
• Kate is a control freak and engages in plenty of henpecking. This doesn’t help the perception of Asian men in America.
• I wonder what their car would look like if they had “Family Aboard” stickers on it.

I’m not a big fan of television, but there is one worthwhile takeaway from all this. One of the many official sites dedicated to the Gosselins features tips for running a smooth household. This is sound advice whether you have one child or 8!

Now that my curiosity has been satisfied, I can turn the TV off until the Stanley Cup Finals.