Green skinny jeans and spaghetti stains

It’s always fun to take the circus i affectionately call a family out into public. Behold! The tattooed punk and his freakish family! The identical boy twin wonders! The wife two inches too short; it is quite possible she is a dwarf! A grumpy new born; he oddly reminds us of Benjamin Button! And a ferociously adorable pitbull, the ferocity of her kisses! How can that mohawked man be a good father in those green pants?

I guess we don’t exactly have that nuclear family look.

That’s fine.

Fuck normality.

When I first became a father I jokingly said it was time to trade in my flip flops for those dad sandals. You know, the embarrassing but also super comfortable sandals with straps that are only worn by small children and parents; they come with a free polo shirt and khakis. I felt, at the time, that being a father meant I had to trade in the band t shirts, green skinny jeans and my beloved Chucks for dockers, Birkenstocks and a burnt orange polo.

I haven’t picked up my father starter kit. I still rock my Five Finger Death Punch t-shirt at the park, with my Converses and dark blue jeans. I don’t know that you could identify me as a dad by my features or clothing. I know I don’t identify myself as a father because I now own two sweaters and wear them every chance I can.

Being a parent isn’t a clothing style. Wearing mom jeans or dad sandals doesn’t give you a plus ten parenting boost.

Haven’t picked up my pair of parent sandals yet. I haven’t shaved my mohawk off to grow in hair so I can part it at the side. The way someone looks doesn’t define who they are or how they parent. I can’t tell you how many times I have been out with the kids somewhere and been stared at. I know they are judging me by my tattoos, my hair, my overall appearance.

I am a father. I am a proud, doting and loving dad. How I dress or decorate my body shouldn’t be factored into my parenting. I’m not ready to give up my green skinny jeans yet!

As a society we have this perception problem. I wear parenthood in the form of being there for my kids. It’s not a pair of sandals. You can’t play the part by covering up the punk and parting your hair. My tattoos, my mohawk, my green skinny jeans don’t make me a bad parent. If anything, the choice not to trade in my converses has made me a better parent. I don’t hide who I am from my kids, I embrace my individuality. The same way I hope my kids grow up and embrace their own differences.

So, I’ll continue to rock my Johnny Cash T-Shirt at the grocery store. It has been covered in unidentifiable toddler stains, but I still love it. And my mohawk, usually adorned with a spaghetti halo graciously given to me by my kids at lunchtime, I won’t be cutting it anytime soon. Who could forget my green skinny jeans? Those ill wear until the dad weight bursts their buttons. I’ll continue to dress the way I do, and focus on parenting my own as best as I can, not on fitting in with other parents with the proper attire.

*update* I cut off my mohawk after writing this, to match my kid’s cool Buddhist monk look. Still rocking the green jeans and band shirts though. Fuck mandals.

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16 comments on “Green skinny jeans and spaghetti stains
  1. Nice.

    I am not the least bit punk looking (as you can tell by my name on here) but I still wasn’t one of the suburban moms at the soccer, t-ball or PTA functions. Part of it was possibly age group; I was young and, curses to genetics, looked even younger. Part of it was also that I didn’t care about where to shop or what to buy and had nothing to talk about with this particular group. Who dresses up for Saturday morning soccer practice? Them, but not me.

    Now, over the years, I am still dorky me but I have blue nails, fake black hair and alternate Hello Kitty shirts with Sex Pistols or the Steelers on the weekend. What ended up happening is that the kid doesn’t care, and never cared, that I liked makeup like his teen girlfriends or would buy Domo shirts for me and him at the same time. He learned not to judge books by covers, though an interesting cover was more exciting to look into first before a boring sweater-set type. Or something like that.

    • And that’s awesome!

      Yeah, being 23 doesn’t help with the fitting in with fellow parents. Being young is a factor. Maybe I’m going through a rebellious parent stage and in ten years I’ll buy Birkenstocks! I don’t know what the future holds, but I hope I never buy man sandals

  2. If being a parent meant trading in your identity for someone elses, half of us have failed! Rock those band tshirts and skinny jeans! I personally like the dad (since I am married to one) who will wear his Youth of Today tshirt, with his converse out to dinner with the family! Tattoos proudly shown, long ginger beard hanging on his chest! Not giving a damn if he fits a mold, wearing his “parenthood” badge (a happy child clinging to his arm and a smile on his face)

    You, my friend have that badge! Even in your green skinny jeans! Love this post! 🙂

  3. F**k conformity! If only the rest of the world would realise you should dress how you want (not that I dress in any sense anything other than could be thought of as normal, but I wear what is comfortable not fashionable). Keep up the good work 🙂

  4. My skinny jeans are still fat and I’m ok with that. Here, in south Florida, I don’t fit the “normal” realm and never will. I’m ok with that too. I think it’s more impractical to be real to myself and to show my kids it’s ok to be different. Sure, I could wear the “normal clothes but that’s not me. Embrace the weirdness my friend. Life is but a circus and we are all freaks.

  5. I love this! I’ll be 36 soon, and I still rock my converse, by ombre blue hair and tons of tattoos. I took my labret out a year ago, only because my son hated how it felt on his cheek when I kissed him. Otherwise, I would still be proudly sporting it.

    I get the looks. Especially in the summer when most of my 17 tats are visible. I don’t care. If someone judges me based on my appearance, then I don’t want to know who they are, because they aren’t someone I would care to associate with.

    You rock your little freak show! I’m a Barnum by marriage, so I rock my little circus family too <3

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