The Downside of Success

The Downside of Success

I had a good childhood. My parents were attentive and supportive, and we didn’t want for much.

My brothers and I had our own rooms, we had a pool in the backyard, I had a bike, we had cable, a VCR, at one point we had a Laserdisc player for some reason, and we had a big screen TV. I wasn’t spoiled; there was plenty of stuff I wanted that I didn’t get, like the latest video game system, a TV in my room, a car, a girlfriend, a social life, etc., but there was nothing I needed. It was pretty great!

Too bad it’s ruining my kids’ lives.

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I Am A Real American (and So Are You)

I Am A Real American (and So Are You)

Last fall, in the aftermath of the most recent “deadliest shooting in U.S. history,” this time in Las Vegas, I Got Mad Online. Upset, angry, and frustrated at what happened keeps happening, I posted a variety of tweets, links, and images to social media.

In response to one such item – the Instagram image of an old tweet (meta!) that reads “NRA = No Rational Argument” – someone commented, “DadandBuried- Not a Real American.”

Cool.

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Shut Up, Parents

Shut Up, Parents

I love to complain. Especially about my kids.

Parenting is a never-ending hellscape of stress and headaches, and as such it offers plenty of fodder for whining. God knows I do a lot of it.

That said, even I am sick of some of the typical rants. It’s time for parents to shut up about some of this stuff.

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Victims Are Not To Blame

Victims Are Not To Blame

Last week, my wife went to book club.

As occasionally happens when she (read: anyone) gets together with her friends, the night got away from her and she was out later than she’d anticipated. So I texted her for an update and learned that, due to a series of mishaps with the subway, she’d ended up far afield from where she wanted to be.

Enlightened Nice Guy that I am, I got irritated and scolded my wife for not having taken a car and for putting herself in harm’s way. After all, it was after dark, and SHE IS A WOMAN!

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Does It Get Better?

Does It Get Better?

“Does it get better?”

That’s the question a follower asked me, in a lighthearted panic, after I posted a meme about unruly kids.

It’s just after my often-challenging eldest son’s 8th birthday, and this idea of things becoming easier is on my mind, so all (most) joking aside, I thought I’d try to answer. (But I hate being threatened by more experienced parents who warn me about the tween years or the teen years or the unemployed-and-living-in-my-basement years, so I’m going to try to answer without doing that.)

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