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Welcome to "Can I Be Frank?"

Excited to announce that the blog has now evolved into a BOOK! The first book, Can I Be Frank?: An Auto-BLOG-graphy is now available in print and an eBook. You can purchase the print version for $16.95 (and the eBook for $3.99) at Barnes & Noble and Amazon websites

Click here to purchase Can I Be Frank?: An Auto-BLOG-raphy

A portion of the proceeds from The Auto-BLOG-raphy will be donated to several charities that work to cure Autism and Spinal Muscular Atrophy.

Thank you for reading!

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

The Unemployment Chronicles: Hi, my name is Frank and I am a Soccer Mom

If you have followed the trials and tribulations of my seemingly endless job search via C.I.B.F.’s The Unemployment Chronicles series then you have a clear understanding of the insane journey I have undergone since leaving the full time work world.

In this ‘spare time’, I have experimented with several childish and, at times, outright moronic activities. From drinking morning Bloody Mary’s and taking bubble baths to growing mustaches and buying Cadillacs.

In this break from reality, I have mastered a plethora of useless skills. The daytime TV schedule; memorized from Ellen to Oprah. When my Sunday paper arrives I now can quickly sift through the circulars and identify the ultimate deal on hot dogs, cereal and detergent.

As far as the whole “stay at home Dad” role I have been forced to take on? Well, let’s just say I can now teach a PhD level course at flippin Hahhh-vid!


I am the league MVP at making kids lunches.

The F. Lee Bailey of settling child disputes.

Drop offs and pick ups you ask? I drive blindfolded.

In the high stakes game of little girls’ hair styles - ponytails, pigtails, braids and barrettes - I am the long lost savant son of Paul Mitchell and Vidal Sassoon

Kids parties and playdates? Chuck Norris drives ME there.

And even after conquering all of these challenges listed above, I still had the time to work on projects, job hunt and, of course, write this nationally recognized blog each week.

That is…until a couple weeks back.

I am have come to the debilitating reality that, as Alice Cooper so brilliantly shouted, SCHOOL’S OUT FOR SUMMER, and my self-proclaimed mastery of this household has reached a critical crossroads. Just when I thought I could match up against the likes of Carol Brady, June Cleaver and ALL 3 men (Selleck, Danson and the other guy) from 3 Men and a Baby ….summer is here and I am back to square one.

Allow me to elaborate…

Monday, 6:00AM:
The household awakens. My wife gets ready, administers a few chores for me to manage during the day and heads off to her meaningful professional life. I lay in bed until the last possible second when these 3 cherubs of mine force me to get upright and get moving because today marked the true beginning of summer life at home!

One of them is in summer school, one in soccer camp and one in some reading program (Really? Reading Camp? Must take after the mother because I remember taking special pride in my ability to forget how to read during the summer hiatus)

I drop all of them off before 9:00AM. But, unlike school, these activities only last 2-3 hours, so instead of attempting to do something productive with my day, I am now forced to run around and deal with mundane tasks such as the bank, the food store, the post office and then hurry back for picks up. Did I mention it is also 95 degrees?!?! In a blink of an eye they are all back in my possession and it is only NOON!

To make matters more difficult, my wife has ramped up her professional commitments and is working MORE hours as a dedicated hospital nurse.

While I am very thankful for her willingness to do anything it takes to help the family, I am officially jealous.

Her day was spent assisting mothers and their newborn babies; my day was centered on Spray N Washing a pair of Size 5 capri pants covered in grape popsicle.

She was applauded in a newspaper article for her incredible efforts (yes, she really was); I was thanked by some pimple-faced high school kid for remembering to put sunscreen on my child.

It is just too depressing for words (well, I guess it isn’t because I am sitting here typing in this heat which I am now convinced is the seventh circle of hell).

OK, I need to stop. Guess I will go run through the sprinkler before my afternoon cry.

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