Party Invite Design

Invite design for my 32nd birthday party. It was fun.

dread pirate foster’s fourth

Dread Pirate Foster’s 4th Birthday Party from ralph hogaboom on Vimeo.

Pre-Zebra Mustache

“I want mustaches, and clothes from the Goodwill, tight clothes — and fake guns.” I say all this, making big gestures with my hands, to the bemused expression of exactly one person. ”Then, someone — I don’t know who, it’s not important,” with a dismissive wave; “does a roll over the hood of a car, comes up with the gun out and flashes a badge: ‘PTPD! Freeze!‘”

Uncomfortable

This is hard for me to admit.

When I’m at work, I’m a buoyant fount of comedy and helpfulness. I’m significantly less so at home.

I now generally have a tendency towards low self esteem. I default to Deny, Failure, and Loss. But as far as my fatherhood, I take it seriously. I put time and thought into my actions. I put a lot of work into it. To confess less than peachy at home is hard.

There was this conference I was going to go to. The Mankind Project. More of a ‘finding yourself’ retreat, but I imagine it as something with mannish versions of The Trust Game. One of the testimonies in the brochure I had read something like this:

“I was in wonderful relationships with my family, but I wasn’t expressing who I was. I had lost the exuberance of my youth, and this weekend I found that and am now sharing who I am with my family. It’s been life changing.”

I found some truth in that, in relation to the work/family dynamic. I mean, what is it about my Dadness that can’t be as lighthearted? A visitor wouldn’t see it. They’d see that I get down on my hands and knees and play – often, too much even. I get grass stains on my work slacks because of it. They’d see I let my kids climb all over me, and I make jokes often with my wife.

But it’s not the same, it’s not really me. It’s just a part of me.

The old me, before kids, was a bit flamboyant. I took better personal care of my self and how I dressed. I was a wise-ass, all the time. I was very upbeat and lighthearted. I really enjoyed being around myself.

I can’t tell where the darkness creeped in. I somehow became someone different at home. Please don’t misunderstand me – I don’t prowl the halls at midnight like a savage beast with blood dripping off my fangs. I get home and immediately pick up my kids in my arms, and go play. We set the table, we all have dinner together. I usually get to bathe both of them and put them to sleep. I Am Not A Dad Who Comes Home And Sits In A Recliner To Unwind. I strongly reject that concept.

What I’m trying to say, and what I fear will be misconstrued, is this:

I don’t understand why I act differently at home and feel less like myself. I don’t know where the real me goes, and I’m uncomfortable scared about that.

Having admitted this to myself, for the first time, I wonder what tonight will be like.