The Blame Game

The Blame Game

In the six short years of his life, my son has discovered many new things.

From the taste of an iPhone to the joy of farting and from the delightful sound a messy belly-based raspberry makes to the ear-piercing “welp!” a knee to Daddy’s crotch can elicit, the early years of a child’s life are full of amazing new discoveries. Some of which are innocent and fun, others of which portend a forthcoming decade-plus of agita and frustration for parents.

Like Detective Munch’s discovery and immediate appropriation of lying. And, thanks to his little brother, a newfound awareness of blame.

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Have I Already Ruined My Kids?

Have I Already Ruined My Kids?

If you’ve read this blog before, you’re probably no stranger to my anxiety as a parent. If you are a parent, you’re probably no stranger to it either. Parenting makes paranoids out of all of us.

In the past I’ve written about the general stresses of the gig, and I’ve occasionally focused on my fear over my own shortcomings, and how they might affect my kids. lately, I’ve been less concerned about how my parenting might eventually ruin my children, and more worried that it already has.

Have I already ruined my kids?

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Treat Yo Self

Treat Yo Self

Children are expensive.

And not just like, “Wow, I didn’t expect it to cost that much!” expensive, more like, “Wow, the cost of this item is really cramping my style, I should probably return it!” expensive, and maybe even “I bet if I sold this I’d make a fortune!” expensive.

They’re the kind of expensive that makes you question your life choices. Parents need some guilt-free spending to offset our crushed dreams.

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Sharing the Spotlight

Sharing the Spotlight

If you’re reading this and/or you follow me on social media (and if you don’t, WTF is your problem: here’s my Twitter and my Facebook), you probably know that I take great pleasure in exploiting my children in a desperate reach for fame (ha!) and fortune (*starts crying*).

If you follow me on Instagram (again: if not, what gives, jerk?), you’ve probably noticed that The Hammer has been dominating my timeline.

And I’m starting to feel guilty about overlooking his older brother.

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My Baby Fell Off the Bed and I Bet Yours Did Too

My Baby Fell Off the Bed and I Bet Yours Did Too

When my first kid was 9 months old, we went to Ireland.

We were dreading the long flight. It went fine. We were dreading the long drives around the countryside. They went fine. What we weren’t dreading was the hotel room we were staying in, or the king-sized bed we’d be sleeping in.

Little did we know that those were exactly what we should have been dreading.

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