Stay Woke

Stay Woke

For the past week or so, ever since the baseball incident, Detective Munch has been at the top of his game.

He’s been on his best behavior, in a good mood, helpful with The Hammer, cooperative with us. There’s been nary a fit or whine-fest, and we only almost missed the school bus once. It’s kind of scary. He’s been so good it’s almost like our parenting is paying off!

This is when I need to remind myself not to get cocky, kid. Stay woke!

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My Son Is A Drama King

My Son Is A Drama King

I could never be an actor. I’m too self-conscious. I love watching TV and movies, and I admire what many of those performers are able to do, but that’s not for me. (Not that anyone’s asked!)

My 6-year-old, however, may have a future in the spotlight. Not necessarily because he’s good at pretending (he is) or that he’s a good liar (he’s getting there), but because the dude loves to put on a show!

That is not a compliment. My son is a straight-up drama queen — excuse me, a drama king — and it’s killing me.

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Parenting Regrets

Parenting Regrets

I still remember the night I got a call from my oldest friend and he told me his wife was pregnant. I’ve known this dude since the second grade (Turkey Hill Elementary School Class of ’86 represent!) and he was the first friend of mine to become a parent. It was a big deal.

I was young at the time, and drunk at the time (and maybe other things at the time?) and I had some strong suggestions for how he should raise his child. Living the single life in Southie, having kids of my own was still a long way off for me, but that didn’t matter. I had OPINIONS.

Even just thinking about it makes me hate myself. I knew nothing. More than 12 years later, I still know nothing. Nothing except the stuff I wish I hadn’t done.

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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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