Inside “The Ricki Lake Show”

Just recently heard the news that The Ricki Lake Show was cancelled a couple of weeks back. As Nelson on The Simpsons might say: “Ha, Ha!” I know that sounds mean, but, now that the show has finally bit the dust — trust me, if you ever watched it, you knew it was inevitable — I can talk freely about what a bad experience actually being on The Ricki Lake Show was. Whew!

Last summer, one of Lake’s producers reached out to a bunch of the guys in my stay-at-home-dads Meetup Group. They were looking to do an in-depth show on the growing trend of SAHD’s. That sounded great to us, so, several of the guys responded to their email query. The next step was to fill out an application stating why we would make good guests on the show. Then came the phone interviews. Yes, I said interviews, plural. All totalled, I think Mrs. Yeti and myself were probably interviewed at least four or five times, a piece, by at least three different people. It was insane.

And while part of the problem was that Lake burned through producers like crazy (I think there were at least three producers hired and fired during the show’s mercifully short run!) and we had to be re-interviewed when the new team came onboard, the real problem was that no one wrote anything down. I’m not kidding, we had to give them the same information dozens of times. I was like: “Hello? Would it kill you to make a file for us on, oh, I don’t know, a computer, perhaps?”

Then we had to shoot a day-in-the-life video of Greta and I doing our thing. As with everything else they demanded along the way, the producers told us we needed to shoot our video and get it to them ASAP. “We needed it yesterday.” were their exact words. So, we busted our hump — actually, my brother busted his hump, we just went about our business while he taped us! — and got them a video in record time. The producer confirmed she got our video, said she loved it and then nothing. For weeks. No calls. No e-mails. Nothing.

Almost a month later, we got a call from a new producer who apparently got our name and contact information from some scribbled notes the former producer left in her office. “[Producer #1] said you guys were a cute couple and that I had to make sure and get you on the show.” Producer #2 said. Flattered, we agreed to move forward. Which meant, you guessed it, more phone interviews where we talked about the exact same stuff we’d talked about before.

Our hook all along was that I wanted to talk about the very real phenomenon of postpartum depression in men. I had been through it — hell, I still go through it! — and I know several of the SAHD’s I hang out with have felt the same way. And while I’m sure some women would call us crazy, I can tell you for a fact that anyone who takes care of a baby all day for any extended period of time feels crazy sometimes. And if they tell you they don’t, they’re lying. It’s the hardest job there is.

Anyway, that was what I wanted to talk about on the show. The isolation that I felt, the depression, the straight-up insanity of it all. And then I wanted to talk about how I got over it. The way meeting and hanging out with other dudes (sorry, ladies, I tried that route too and mostly, I just felt judged) who were in the exact same boat I was, finally lifted me out of the darkness and helped me feel better. Blogging about my experiences totally helped too. It still does!

So, that was our angle. We were the couple with the male postpartum depression. And while I always knew the chances of our story being trivialized or sensationalized on a show like Ricki Lake’s were high, part of me hoped we could actually help people. Or at the very least, help some other crazy shut-in SAHD know that he wasn’t totally alone. That was my hope at least.

What ended up happening was much less exciting. By the time we actually were given a date and time to show up for the taping our episode was called “Blended Families” and the totally random topics on our show were literally all over the place. There was a trash-talking stepmom who hated her stepson, a large group of children whose mom died and left them with their aunt to raise, the gay couple from Tori Spelling’s reality series and their bratty daughter, and then, in the last two segments of the show (which are always the shortest) the producers managed to shoehorn in the topic of SAHD’s. How blended families relate to SAHD’s is beyond me, but, that’s where we ended up.

And then, to add insult to injury, Mrs. Yeti and myself weren’t even allowed to sit onstage with the other SAHD’s. Instead, we were interviewed in the show’s closing seconds from the audience. If you knew how long they spent picking out our clothes (no, we were not allowed to wear our own clothes, crazy, huh?) the fact that you could barely see what we had on made absolutely no sense at all. What a waste of time and effort!

Another highly annoying thing is that they told us not to bring Greta to the taping, but the other two SAHD’s (the ones who got to actually sit on Ricki’s couch!) brought their kids onstage with them. Just kind of annoying.

So, while the first two SAHD’s showed their day-in-the-life videos (neither one of which held a candle to our rocking video, BTW), Mrs. Yeti and I were shuttled into our seats in the audience. And after the next “commercial break” Lake shoved her mic in our faces and interviewed us for maybe two or three minutes. It might have lasted longer had one of the SAHD’s onstage not interrupted me to say that he himself had never felt isolated or judged by SAHM’s. I was so blown away by his totally self-serving comments that I just kinda stood there looking stupid while he talked. But, inside, I was like: “Dude! You had your turn, shut the fuck up!” Grrr!

I checked out his blog later and can safely say that the dude is a first class asshole who gives daddy bloggers a seriously bad name. I mean, come on, man, I’ve got like two minutes to talk to Ricki. Why you gotta interrupt me? Total d-bag!

Luckily for me, the show had an actual doctor sitting in the front row who confirmed that male postpartum depression isn’t just real, but, actually something that several doctors have been studying. Ha! Put that in your blog and suck it, dude on stage! And then, with the clock ticking on the show, Ricki asked Mrs. Yeti if she thought I was a good Dad. Tearing up a bit, Mrs. Yeti replied: “Oh yes, he’s an excellent father!” It was very sweet, and, despite the fact that I was a giggly, sweaty mess, Mrs. Yeti looked absolutely gorgeous onscreen. Seriously, she came off great!

And just like that, the show ended and Lake literally bolted for the door. As far as I know, she never spoke off camera to any of the guests that day. Nice, huh? I understand ditching out on the studio audience, but, come on, would it have killed her to linger a little bit with us backstage? What a joke.

That said, everybody else behind the scenes was lovely. Our “handlers” were great and though the decor and snacks in the green room sucked ass (Three flavors of Pringles? Really?) we still had fun sitting in there eating them with my brother and sister-in-law. And, honestly, it was kinda cool having our names on the green room door even if that green room looked like a single dude’s apartment after a bad divorce. You know: couch, chair, coffee table, Pringles. So lame!

Lamer still was the fact that after all that rush-rush here, rush-rush there, our show didn’t air for another five months. Our episode aired on the Friday before the Christmas break. Yep, it was so bad that they totally buried it. In fact, to give you an idea of just how bad our episode was, Lake’s producers (who had changed AGAIN by the time our episode aired) played the show’s big, fancy Christmas episode the day before our episode. Wow, talk about a lump of coal for Christmas.

Oh, I almost forgot, Lake’s producers did try and do a full episode about SAHD’s later on in the show’s run. They even contacted our Meetup Group again looking for guests — I guess they forgot that most of us had already been interviewed for their show and that Mrs. Yeti and I had even appeared on it! But, this time, no one replied.

So, I repeat: “Ha ha!” Suck it, Ricki Lake…

One more thing…

Oh yeah, check out the pic below to see something else I did last night. Crazy, huh? My facial hair was so f-ed up after the razor setting disaster that I decided to just shave it all off and start from scratch. Beard experts say that makes it grow in thicker, so, we’ll see.

I haven’t had a hairless mug in over five years — it started as a WGA Strike beard and just kept going — and, let me tell ya, it feels very strange. Greta, who has never seen me without it, keeps stroking my face and saying: “Daddy threw his beard away”. So, I think she likes it. But, I felt like I was walking around naked all day. So, here’s hoping it doesn’t take me five years to grow it back.

Oh, and speaking of facial hair, I found a picture of my doppelgänger Kevin James rocking a beard (see below), and, am I right or am I right? Does Paul Blart not look way better with some scruff?

Sick Day

Urgh…I dunno if it was all the dance recital craziness last week or the fact that it’s been hotter than hell outside, but I woke up in the middle of the night on Monday in a cold sweat. By morning, I was sweaty and achy all over with a headache that just would not die. Thankfully, no fluids were being expelled from anywhere, but, man, I have never felt more tired, thirsty, and just plain old worn out.

And as I lay there in bed with Greta kicking me to get up, all I could think of was that now I knew what movie stars and musicians talk about when they are hospitalized for “exhaustion” or “dehydration”. I was like: “Wow, that’s a real thing. And all this time I thought Lindsey Lohan was making that shit up!” Nope. It’s real. I’ve been there and, man, does it suck. Especially with a toddler.

Actually, Greta was very supportive. When I told her I was sick, the first thing she did was look at me all concerned-like and say: “You need medicine, Daddy?” I nodded, and then she got really excited and ran out of the room to get some of “Greta’s medicine!” I followed her to the kitchen where she was standing on her stool trying her best to reach the Disney Princess Gummy Vitamins on top of the fridge. It was terribly sweet, but, somehow I knew that chomping on a purple gummy Jasmine was not going to be enough to cure me.

So, I made Greta something to eat, somehow sold her on the idea of having a “picnic day” in daddy and mommy’s bed and popped a movie into her portable DVD player. And, as terrible as that sounds, that was how we got through most of the day. Me drifting in and out of feverish dreams and her sitting on a pillow beside me watching The Princess and the Frog for the sixteenth time. I know, nice parenting. But, seriously, what is a sick SAHD to do?

Luckily, for both of us, there is a Mrs. Yeti, and she came home early from work. And then she took Greta to IKEA for dinner and some play area fun upstairs while daddy slept off his movie star sickness amidst the crumbs and sweat in the picnic bed.

I’m feeling loads better now, but, I did learn three very valuable lessons during my brief stint in fevertown. The first is that two-parent households have it way easier. Honestly, I don’t know how single parents do this job alone. I just don’t. It’s way too hard. So, single parents of the world, consider yourselves saluted! God bless each and every one of you.

The second thing I learned is that kids eat free at IKEA on Tuesdays. Wow, who knew? And finally, the third and possibly most important lesson I learned this week is that picnic day in daddy and mommy’s bed is a horrible idea. Seriously, our bed look like a crime scene and we just did laundry. So, until we venture to the laundomat again, all I can do is close my eyes, plug my nose, and pray that those hideous brown streaks on my pillow are from Nutella.

Dumped by my Meetup Group…

Had kind of a crappy day today — hooray, my every other day sucks philosophy proves true again! — you know the kind where you can’t figure out what to do with yourself? And your child won’t listen to any kind of reason or logic and/or do anything you want them to, and you kinda just wanna crawl back in bed and hit the RESTART button? Well, that was today in spades.

And then, about midway through the day, it hit me…today was Thursday. See, Thursdays used to be the day my newest Meetup Group of super-cool SAHD’s would get together at the park with the kids and vent and chill and laugh until the sun went down, or, you know, someone had to go home. It was always the highlight of my week, and then, something happened. One Dad said his kid’s nap schedule had changed so he couldn’t come in the afternoons anymore, another said he had to do the kid-exchange with his wife before heading to work and the hour just didn’t work for him anymore either. And so on and so on…

But as the SAHD’s dropped from the schedule like flies, I kept RSVP-ing and showing up with Greta at the park. Sometimes Meetup members showed up, sometimes they didn’t, but, it was the perfect time for us — for the record, 2:30PM is like, my favorite time to do anything…not too early, not too late. The perfect time! — so, we kept going. Until last week…

That’s when the captain (or the founder, or, whatever they’re called) of our Meetup Group sent me a snippy e-mail stating that he was thinking about disbanding the Thursday get-together because, and I quote: “As it is, that time is no longer convenient for me, or anyone else but you, for that matter.” Ouch! I was like, hold up now, did I just get dumped by my freaking Meetup Group?!

My wife says it’s no big deal and to just keep going to the park at the same time every Thursday, but, I dunno, man, part of me feels like that is the last place I wanna be on Thursdays at 2:30PM. Oy, I can see it now…me and Greta walking around the park in our faded, tattered wedding dresses, full-on Miss Havisham-style: “Where have all our lovely friends gone?” Nope. Not gonna do it.

Our captain did ask me if there were other times we could get together and I suggested a couple, but, the total radio silence on his end since that initial e-mail has pretty much confirmed things. I was stone-cold dumped by my Meetup Group, yo. Urgh, and how totally pathetic is that?

So, I reckon Thursday afternoons are just gonna keep on sucking for a while…or, you know, until I start my own “Fuck Your Meetup Group Meetup Group” on Thursdays at 2:30PM at the same park. Hmmm…come to think of it, that might be kinda fun!