The Longest Day

The Longest Day

This week, I’ve been “working from home” while managing my baby and entertaining my five-year-old. Needless to say, it hasn’t been the most fun week I’ve ever had.

Shockingly, the baby is a piece of cake compared to the five-year-old.

Somehow, Detective Munch has found a way to turn a twelve-hour day into one that feels like it’s 312 hours. It’s the longest day of all time. With that many hours to fill, it’s no wonder he’s so bored.

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DIY Reject

DIY Reject

You probably already know that I am not much of a handyman. Or much of a decorator. Or very organized. I’m such a DIY reject, I should probably call it DISE – Do-it-someone-else!

Usually when something even slightly DIY needs to get done, I rely on friends who are handier than I am. Or on Mom and Buried, who is also handier than I am. Because I’m a useless man-baby. I can’t even baby-proof my house without destroying the things I’m trying to protect. I need help.

Unfortunately, I’m too lazy to do the research necessary to find the proper resources to handle this stuff for me. I’d heard good things about using Angie’s List to find that kind of help – apparently it’s like a non-sketchy Craigslist, or maybe a Yelp where the reviewers aren’t scumbags? – but you needed to pay to join, so I never explored it.

Did I mention I was a cheap man-baby?

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Control Freak-Out

Control Freak-Out

There are a lot of things I don’t want my kids to become. Bullies, jerks, people who say “All Lives Matter”, Republicans, Jets fans… a lot of things.

Not all of them are within our control, but a few might be. Preventing him from being spoiled, teaching him to be kind and grateful are others. Those are things parents can influence. Right? Maybe? Please?

Help. I think I’m having a control freak-out.

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Let Freedom Sting

Let Freedom Sting

If you’ve been following me on social media, you probably know that I’ve been on my own the past few days.

We were at my parents for the holiday weekend, and while I came back to NYC on Tuesday to go to work, Mom and Buried and the kids stuck around. The kids got to hang with Grandma (consequences be damned) and Mom and Buried was able to get some work done without paying for a babysitter. Or camp.

Meanwhile, I was living the high life, bachelor style! FREEDOM!

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Wherefore Art Thou, Disney?

Wherefore Art Thou, Disney?

When I was a kid, we visited Disney World.

At some point we ended up on a breakfast cruise, and there are pictures of me there, cherub-faced and smiling wide, surrounded by Mickey and Minnie, Chip and Dale, Cinderella, and assorted other Disney characters. I don’t remember it, but I’ve seen pictures, and I have no doubt it was one of the happiest days of my life. (We visited Disneyland too, but come on. There’s a reason all the pictures from that trip are from Universal Studios.)

I worshiped Disney as a kid. My five-year-old has no idea what Disney is.

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