have you lost weight?

A few days ago I wrote a lengthy blog post about my son’s cell phone, specifically the many disturbing things I found on my son’s cell phone. I continued to detail the endlessly developing story on social media, humorously recounting my confrontations with teenage drug dealers, young women with very low self-esteem, and my son’s misogynistic (and very stupid) friends. Over the next several days I received a flurry of texts and messages congratulating me on my bravado…other parents commended me for my no-holds barred parenting style, calling me “brave” and “strong” and while I really did appreciate their kind words I was a bit pissed off that not one person called me “thin”.

No one said, “I loved the way you confronted that pot dealer. Have you lost weight?”

Whatever. I see you. I see what really matters to you and I want you to know I am offended and also, no, I have not lost weight. In fact, I have gained like 400 pounds since I became a parent, thank you for noticing. My youngest son’s favorite pastime is to put his hand on the top of my belly as if it were a shelf and then laugh. Well the joke’s on him because I just grounded his ass for calling a classmate a “chicken nugget”.

A few weeks ago my oldest son made a crack about my weight and again, joke’s on him because I took down his pot dealer and confiscated his cell phone. My other son seems to have caught on because he’s been suspiciously quiet and the other day my daughter told me I looked “handsome”…granted this was after she got caught trying to access a blocked website on a school computer, but whatever, I’m just glad that at least one of my kids has learned that when it comes to Dad, flattery will get you everywhere.

It’s been a stressful few weeks. Aside from the cell phone business, we’ve been trying to sell our house, which means all I do is obsessively scrub the toilet and not sleep at night. My house may be clean, but I am a mess. The icing on the “my-son-might-be-a-pot-smoking-misogynist” cake is that I ran out of blood pressure medication. If I make it through the next few days without having a stroke I plan on celebrating with a donut and beer sundae.

All joking aside it really has been a very difficult couple of weeks, but it’s also been a very much-needed couple of weeks. My son’s phone, my kids getting into trouble at school, the stress of selling a house while raising four kids – these events have given me perspective. Or rather, other parents have given me perspective because what I’m starting to realize is that I am not alone in this.

It turns out other people’s children are also smoking pot and receiving inappropriate text messages from young women with very low self-esteem and calling other kids names and looking at blocked websites on school computers and basically just fucking up like every kid in the world does at least five times a day.

The truth is most of us really are doing the best we can, and if we are failing, at least we’re failing at trying. It’s a comforting thought. It means we’re not alone. So relax. Crack open a cold one and pour it on top of your donut sundae. We’ve earned it.


Sean Michael O’Donnell is a 44 year old married gay man. He lives in Pittsburgh with his husband, three sons, and daughter. Sean enjoys Law & Order reruns, Christmas movies in October, and Facebook stalking. He likes donuts and beer. Sometimes he goes to the gym (not really).  He is the author of the best-selling book Which One of You is the Mother?

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nancy drew and the case of the syphilitic cell phone

Check your child’s cell phone. Right now. Seriously, right now…and if you can’t right now because your kid is at school then the minute they walk through your front door you need to confiscate their phone and you need to start sleuthing.

(Side note: I don’t want to hear about privacy. I have not had privacy since the day I became a parent on July 7, 2013, and if I can’t have privacy then my children can’t have privacy.)

You, person reading this, need to get that phone and you need to put on your best Jessica Fletcher wig and you need to go full-scale CSI: Cyber Town on whatever overpriced Apple Samsung Nokia soul-stealing device you foolishly gave to your child, which you would do well to remember is your property because you paid for it and also because they are a child and they have no rights.

Once you have the phone you need to comb through every app, every photo, every hidden file. Yes, they hide files. You will need a drink for this, or several drinks. If you have some pills, I suggest taking a few of those too.

Pick your poison because you are going to need it.

I started my investigation with the carefree piano taps of the Murder She Wrote theme playing in my head…and then after a few minutes it switched to the more ominous Law & Order theme…and then about 45 minutes later I started to understand why people turn to alcohol and hardcore drugs in times of stress.

Take a drink. You are about to go down a very dark rabbit hole and it is called Snapchat. Snapchat is gross. Snapchat is where filthy language and offensive sexist and racist memes go to have it off. Snapchat is a safe space for toxic masculinity and girls with very, very low self-esteem.

I spent two hours combing through “snaps,” as they are called, and when I was through I needed to cry, scream, get drunk, and take a shower. And while my child was a willing and complicit participant in this cyber shithole, what really stuck with me were the words of other children. Young women objectifying themselves of their own accord. Young men saying things like, “a pussy is a pussy”. Kids referring to each other as “bitch” and “nigger”. Drugs.

Excuse me, I need to grab my beer and go cry-scream in the shower again.

I am not naïve or a prude. I’ve done so many crazy things that playing I Never just means I’m going to throw up a liter of tequila the next morning. But still, my acts of rebellion and my poor choices were things I did as an adult…not as a child. I went to college and I drank and I experimented with drugs and sex, and in theory I had the maturity to handle those choices because if nothing else I was not 14 years old…or younger.

The thing is it may not be your daughter offering herself up or your son referring to his “bitch”, but it is very likely to be the kids your kid is choosing to be around, and that cancer spreads and then eventually it will be your kid.

It is tough. This is tough. And I can tell you it is different for every kid. This isn’t just about filthy language or drugs or sex…it’s about culture and race and gender. It is about every parent reading this right now who is failing their child, myself included. We need to do better. We need to hold our kids accountable. We need to make sure this toxicity does not destroy the goodness in our children.

We need to check their phones.


Sean Michael O’Donnell is a 44 year old married gay man. He lives in Pittsburgh with his husband, three sons, and daughter. Sean enjoys Law & Order reruns, Christmas movies in October, and Facebook stalking. He likes donuts and beer. Sometimes he goes to the gym (not really).  He is the author of the best-selling book Which One of You is the Mother?

return to sender

Dear people who write open letters,

Please stop. No one is listening. Or reading. Certainly not the people to whom you claim to be writing these letters.  I get it. Just as orange is the new black these open letters are the new top ten lists. Huffington Post and Buzzfeed and every upstart website loves them. They are the lazy writer’s new best friend. These open letters guarantee you retweets and shares and at least a few pats on the back from people who are equally as lazy an independent thinker as you are an original writer.

And that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?  You’re a lazy writer. Rather than gather facts and then organize your ideas into a well thought out, reasoned essay you …write a letter. How very 1947 of you. Miss Manners and Dear Abby would be ever so proud. But here is my question: if you write a letter and no one reads it did you actually write a letter?

I mean, am I even writing this letter?

I have a suggestion. The next time (five minutes from now) someone offends you or the latest social issue ruffles your feathers rather than chasing the ghost how about you take a moment and put your thoughts into a well written essay.

And failing that, please, at least have the balls to confront the person you’re addressing face to face.

Sincerely,

A friend


Sean Michael O’Donnell is the author of the best-selling memoir Which One of You is the Mother?