the perils of being a rocker dad

Hey all,As you know, I've recently become a father. But, as you also know, for some time now I've been a rocknroll superstar on the local dingy, beer-stained tribute band scene. As a member of bands paying tribute to Kiss, Motley Crue, and others, it has been important for me to retain my streams of rocker hair (even as it begins to thin ever so little on top -- if anyone wants to buy me some rogaine for my next birthday, I wouldn't be offended).

Now, when doing dadly duties like changing diapers and burping, it's mighty convenient to put the old mop back in a pony tail. But here, kind blogreader, a problem arises. I want Daisy's formative images of me to be accurate. If during these early days, weeks, and months she sees me only in pony tail and glasses, I fear she may see me only in terms of one aspect of my personality: the pretentious wannabe bohemian intellectual type. To be sure, that side of my life is important, but what about the mighty Rawk Warrior who lives alongside (and sometimes in conflict with) him? Daisy needs to know me not only as Daddy, not only as a responsible adult, not only as a thinker, but also as a God of Thunder, a Lord of Darkness, and Monster of Metal, as an arena rocker prowling a sticky-floored stage at a dank suburban watering hole.

As a result, I make sure to wear my hair down around my daughter, even when doing the tasks described above.But last night, while wearing a favorite Screaming for Vengeance shirt and letting my mighty mane flow upon my shoulders, I picked up Daisy to burp her. She promptly spat up onto my shoulder and into my hair, as if to say, "Get off it, you vain piece of semi-talented crap! You Jon Lovitz with stringy long hair and a Les Paul!" Such are the risks a rocknroll dad must take -- spitup in the hair. Does this compromise my rockingness? Hell no! When I thought about it, what's more rocknroll than puke in your own hair? Maybe Daisy is just reminding me what rock is all about! What kind of rocker would I be if I minded getting my hair tangled and wet with regurgitated milk? I mean, would it bother Ozzy or Nikki Sixx?Thank you Daisy, for keeping me real.