I’m not really the thankful type.
That’s not to say I’m not thankful for things, I’m just not the kind of guy that runs around telling people what I’m thankful for and how blessed I am. The good thing about Thanksgiving is that it reins those people in by giving them an entire holiday during which they can babble about their happy lives all day long. Of course, in the online world (i.e., Facebook), it has become the 30 Days of Thankfulness, because why be annoying for one day when you can do it for a whole month?
But if you can’t beat ‘em – like, literally BEAT THEM TO DEATH – join ‘em. So rather than get arrested this November, I’m giving some thanks. Deal with it.
I’ve been writing a lot of lists lately.
As a result, my friend at AskYourDadBlog – a far nicer, far more successful, far more irritating outfit – thought he’d be clever and insult my recent rash of list-making by suggesting a new one, called “10 Ways Having Kids is Like Writing a List About Things That Are Like Having Kids.”
Joke’s on him though, because I DID it. And it’s glorious. And it fills me with (more) self-loathing.
Mom and Buried and I only have one kid. Which makes us worse than all those parents who have more than one. Truly. We’re worse parents AND worse people.
At least we’re still better than all those people out there with NO kids! Am I right?
The fact is, having one kid is so easy it’s a joke. It’s pretty much exactly like having zero kids, except you actually have the one kid. Thankfully, one kid barely even registers in your life.
I’m a stay-at-home dad but since I only have one kid I’m really just a stay-at-home guy. I basically sit on my ass at home all day. Sometimes, I forget my son is even there! I honestly don’t know where he is right now, but I’m sure he’s fine. He’s just one person. He can handle himself.
I don’t know why only children even have parents.
Parents are the worst. Actually, politicians are probably the worst. And other people’s kids suck pretty bad too. And Nazis.
In fact, I changed my mind. I’m going to go out on a limb and say the Nazis are really the worst.
But parents still suck pretty bad. I knew it before I had a kid and it’s become even more apparent since I’ve joined their ranks.
Here are some of the reasons why.
Full disclosure: I’ve done it myself.
Years ago, in my cynical pre-fatherhood stage, I compared babies to pets. Unfavorably, because at least pets have, as I wrote at the time, “furry upside.”
I stand by that, as I enjoy my still cynical mid-fatherhood stage. In many ways, pets are more rewarding than babies. Obviously, babies evolve, and eventually having a child has advantages over owning a dog or a cat (don’t even talk to me about birds and fish and gerbils and hamsters). Eventually.
Right now, I have a toddler. And sometimes I might rather have a puppy.
When you’re a parent, you tend to repeat yourself a lot.
I constantly find myself telling my son the same things over and over again in attempts to get him to listen. It’s partially because he’s only three and therefore very stupid, and it’s partially because he’s diabolical.
I’m pretty sure he pretends to be dumber than he is, feigning ignorance just so he can continue to do whatever idiotic, dangerous and destructive thing he’s currently doing and then act all surprised (read: start crying) when he finally realizes we’re mad. The dude’s favorite word is “no!”, so it’s a tad suspect when he suddenly doesn’t understand our stern reprimands and just keeps swinging his plastic baseball bat perilously close to the TV.
Whether it’s his stupidity or his subterfuge, Mom and Buried and I have to constantly repeat the same collection of phrases, which I’ve compiled below. If there were an english-to-parenting dictionary, there’d be a list of “common phrases” at the front, and it would probably look a little like this one.
By pure coincidence, I’ve already written two posts this week that have “six” in the title, both uncharacteristically nice (here’s the first one and here’s the second one. I figured I’d make it an even three, and get back to my old self, by potentially summoning the beast with the third “six” in the trilogy.
It makes sense, since this post is really just me playing devil’s advocate. Although I’m a firm believer that having kids doesn’t have to change your life entirely, it definitely does change it. Just not that much. My blog is living (not literally) proof that you can keep your shitty personality and hateful sense of humor when you become a parent; you just have to want to.
I didn’t stop being a sarcastic jerk when my son was born, even though I quite sincerely love him with all my blackened heart. And I didn’t stop drinking, or going out to eat with my wife, or watching the TV shows I like or the sports I love. In many ways – but for the purposes of forming a hilarious Satanic trilogy of my last three posts, in six ways – being a dad is a lot like not being one.
Today is my son’s birthday.
This day doubles as the one time a year I allow myself to get a little bit cheesy on my blog, or, if you read my post last year, a lot cheesy. When you write stuff like this, the occasional corrective is a good thing. But don’t get used to it! I do it as a gift to my son, reassurance to the readers out there who think I hate him, and an eff you to my friend Tim who thinks I’m betraying the Dad and Buried mission statement.
Don’t worry Tim, I’ll get back to pretending to hate my kid tomorrow. Especially if the Dolphins lose while I’m at the park cutting his cake.
Today, we celebrate!
It’s football season! And you know what that means: it’s fantasy football season!
Bore everyone to tears with game recaps! Anger wives and girlfriends by spending too much time doing research! Turn leisurely Sundays into stress-filled angerscapes of regret and frustration. I can’t wait!
I’ve written about my relationship with fantasy football before, even going so far as to consider skipping the birth of my child to attend my draft. That was a choice I didn’t end up having to make, thankfully, and it resulted in one of the best day’s of my life: the day I won it all.
These days, almost everyone in the league has kids, and since everyone with kids wishes they had better kids, I thought I’d imagine what the top picks in a Fantasy Parenting draft would look like. Continue reading