Yesterday, one of my blog entries – my Gender Neutral piece from December – was featured on the Huffington Post.
Now that I’m a superstar, I kind wanted to burn all my bridges and let my enemies know how I really feel, until I realized that my enemies won’t even bother reading this.
Then I remembered that this is the internet! Of course my enemies will read this! What’s the internet for if not to anonymously tear someone a new one? Like this guy, who took exception to my open-minded take on gender roles, and why I don’t really mind if someone mistakes my son for a girl:
“Parents like you are what is wrong with this country and children these days.” AWESOME!
So yeah, now that I am getting flamed on comment boards, I think it’s safe to say I’ve totally made it.
So thanks for reading, I’ll never forget you; especially if you share the HuffPo link with all your friends!
The last time March Madness rolled around, I had a full-time job. The job afforded me the flexibility to work from home one day a week, and on a day like today – the second day of the tournament – such a set-up seemed ideal.
Of course, working from home wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, as I was never able to be as helpful to my wife as she would have liked, just as my days as a stay-at-home dad aren’t spent boozing and watching sports. Except for when my kid naps.
You can read all about the double-sided sword that working from home proved to be in the post I’ve resurrected below. And I know half of you banged out sick today, so you have time.
Original Post: Home-work: Almost as Bad as Actual Homework
In many ways, having kids is great.
I can’t think of a lot of examples right now, but I like interacting with the hot moms at the playground, and I’ll probably be able to get a dog out of this whole thing pretty soon, since my son is obsessed and my wife can’t tell him no. So those are some perks. Plus, kids change your perspective and make you a better person and shift your priorities and let you see outside yourself and zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Those Z’s are purely figurative, by the way, because the flip-side to that “I’ve never been happier!” coin is that children also steal your sleep, drain your finances, shred your lifestyle, eliminate your free time and, I’m learning, increase your blood pressure.
Before he was even a twinkle in my eye, I had some ideas about what I wanted to teach my hypothetical son. Most of us do; without necessarily meaning to, we all take stock of what worked for us as kids, what we vow never to do as parents, what values we consider most important, etc. When you finally have children of your own, it’s a bit of a thrill to realize just how important you are to them, and how much influence you have over their development.
But my son is only two; it’s a bit early to tell him to always wear a rubber and when to double down. He needs to be able to swing off a tee before I can toss any real heat his way. But that doesn’t stop me from occasionally buzzing one by his ear.
I joke a lot about how difficult parenting is & how much of a hassle children can be, but there’s not a parent among us who wouldn’t rather suffer 5000 more tantrums than endure what the parents of the lost in Newtown are going through today.
My heart goes out to all of them.
Hug your kids.
In case you haven’t heard, a couple of celebrities are having a baby!!!!
Complications aside, that’s what Kate Middleton’s pregnancy boils down to. The Royals over in England have long ceased meaning much politically and are now merely celebrities; attractive, wholesome celebrities. But, no surprise, the media is treating this like the biggest thing since Kate Middleton got married. Which was also meaningless, especially in the face of Pippa’s glorious rump.
I sympathize with the Duke and Duchess. Because being pregnant is a pain in the ass, but that’s nothing compared to being pregnant under the glare of the entire Western media. Which is itself nothing compared to the pain in the ass that is owning a child, celebrity or not.
I’ve been here almost two weeks now, and as I prepare for my first official Thanksgiving as a North Carolinian, I’ve decided that even if I can’t be expected to totally embrace my new surroundings, I can at least do my best to help my son acclimate.
After all, there are certainly some lessons he could learn from his fellow (gulp) Southerners.
Like their kindness. Or at least their courtesy.
Lately I’ve been participating in this blog contest, Blogger Idol.
In order to enter the contest we needed to submit an audition, explaining our blogs and inviting the judges to take a look at them. Somehow I managed to make the finals, over the course of which I am tasked with a new assignment every week that is meant to stretch my writing abilities. Our assignments are rated by a selection of judges, whose scores are then combined with at-large votes from the online community.
I am still alive, but none of the assignments so far has exactly been in my wheelhouse, and several of the judges have professed reservations about some of my drinking-related and/or fatherhood-griping-related content. Which has confused me a little, since I auditioned and all. But it’s not their fault if they don’t like my blog or my sense of humor. It’s the luck of the draw.
But now I am faced with a bit of a dilemma. Because I want to win the contest. But not by changing my style.