Howlingly funny in a laugh-out-loud, semi-wet yourself way, Robert Wilder’s reflection on fatherhood and family, Daddy Needs a Drink [Delacorte Press, 2006], is also bawdy, profane, offensive to parents with posterior stick implants, and also imaginatively moving.

”The last time I cried I was sitting in my Daihatsu Charade in the parking lot of Wood Gormerly Elementary on Booth Street in Sante Fe. I had driven to the school for two reasons: to talk to Ted, the wiry PE instructor, about swim lessons, and to surreptitiously purchase two valentines for my daughter, Poppy. The playground buzzed with kids high on recess, and before I exited my car, I scanned the monkey bars and jungle gym for Poppy among the parkas, heavy coats, and hats as they zigged and zagged across mud and blacktop. I caught my daughter right outside the green play structure, standing with her towheaded friend Claire. The two girls stood still while a gang of second graders scurried frantically, trying to escape the tagging hand of a drooling boy named Geno. I could see half of Poppy’s face; she was watching the crowd intently, her mouth open just enough for me to make out the two top teeth that would fall out soon. She didn’t appear especially happy or sad; her skin shone white in the overhead sun, nothing on her seemed forced or posed in response to someone else’s viewing. I experienced a potent mixture of joy and despair and started to weep. I saw Poppy anew as a creature who superceded any ideas or notions I had about who she was or who she could be. From her ardent look, I also understood that she was, in a sense, growing away from total dependence on her father and toward an autonomy that will both amaze me and cleave my heart in two. It was almost film-like, feeling moved as Poppy was moving away.” [From “Crying In America (in Three Parts),” pages 57-58]

[I found that to be about the most perfect and generous reading of the father and daughter connection I’ve encountered in ages, one that softened me up about my own 4-year old. By the time she hits second grade, I might not even survive such an experience.]

If you can’t give yourself the freedom to laugh-out-loud or cry during some of Wilder’s observations, the least you can do is snort. I found it impossible to read without a guffaw or two on the train, and at one point I did, indeed, find myself with a not-so-fresh feeling if you will. [Turns out it was the burrito I had for lunch, but for a moment there, the book started to scare me.]

Wilder writes about his life with a not so much jaundiced eye, but as an observational humorist, and an experienced hand at describing the daily foibles and successes of parenthood. Yes, he is decidedly a ”wiseacre” of the highest order, and you get the feeling that his wife Lala has wanted to brain him at least once or twice about his documentation of their life together and their children, Poppy and London.

But by writing so intimately about himself — his doubts, failings, fears, and moments of triumph — he is also illustrating the wild, wonderful ride that is fatherhood/parenthood. [So far his children do not appear to be scarred for life, though that will undoubtedly change as they approach their teenage years and Dad is still at it.]

What I truly enjoyed about Daddy Needs a Drink was the sense that “hey that happened to me too”! This includes Wilder’s reminiscing on dates with exploding diapers in public, crying jags that never end (for child and parent), public escapes, playing 20 toddler questions you can never answer, and, of course, the reactions and advice you get from well-meaning (we think) others about your child-rearing methods and motivations. And, yeah, there is also the universal truth that you sometimes screw it all up and want to tell the know-it-all to just go scratch and be done with it.

Some of the funniest moments in the book are when Wilder points his observational lens at other people, such as his detailing an episode where the sex sounds of neighbors was picked up by their child monitor. He describes not only the experience of listening to other people having sex but also the resulting awkwardness he felt every time he saw the couple.

And, if you like poop jokes, there is the amazing tale of two terrible toddlers (brothers, naturally) who like to poop free as it where.

Beyond the fatherhood/parenthood discussion in the book, however, there is also a track-by-track analysis of a marriage and a life shared and lived together by Lala and Wilder. He has apparently made the smart choice by marrying someone “smarter than himself” which, invariably, is a key to success in the marital state. Lala gives as good as she gets and Wilder understands he’s the lucky one here. He’s equally adept at documenting his own cluelessness as it comes to understanding the female brain, which is something every male reader will appreciate.

That said, Daddy Needs a Drink is a very funny, honest look at the fatherhood/parenthood experience. There are no easy answers, and it can sometimes be plain difficult and hard to keep one’s head and motives above board. But the joys of fatherhood are many, with some of the best rewards being the silent and unspoken ones. Wilder is smart enough to point that out and remember it, even as the whirlwind can drive one a bit crazy [four stars and recommended for the dad with a funny bone and heart to match].

Sources
www.robertwilder.com, www.bantamdell.com

Wilder followed up these tales with a collection that discusses his teaching occupation: Tales from the Teachers' Lounge (2007).

Recommended: Yes