Shut Up, Parents

Shut Up, Parents

I love to complain. Especially about my kids.

Parenting is a never-ending hellscape of stress and headaches, and as such it offers plenty of fodder for whining. God knows I do a lot of it.

That said, even I am sick of some of the typical rants. It’s time for parents to shut up about some of this stuff.

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Door Stoppers and School Shootings

Door Stoppers and School Shootings

Last spring, Mom and Buried found an unopened package of rubber door stoppers on the street.

In my neighborhood, people put stuff they don’t want on their front curb, and it’s understood that it’s all up for grabs until the garbage man comes. Sometimes it’s old books and DVDs, sometimes it’s random bits of clothing, sometimes it’s a gently-used AC unit or a TV or a bookshelf.

Door stoppers are not something I would have even looked twice at, and needing them had never really occurred to Mom and Buried either. But she grabbed the package anyway.

Because the door stoppers aren’t for us. They’re for our brand-new third grader.

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The Disease of More

The Disease of More

My 7-year-old always wants more.

He wants more toys, even though he doesn’t play with half the ones he has. He wants more dessert, even when he can barely ask for it because his mouth is already full of dessert. He wants more time before bed, which he usually gets by tortuously extending the bedtime routine. All this demand for more makes me want less — less whining, less stress, less kids!

Of course, children aren’t the only ones who want more. Adults have the same obsession, especially parents.

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“Not All Men” Is Meaningless and Counterproductive

“Not All Men” Is Meaningless and Counterproductive

One night in college, a friend summoned me to her room.

I’d been interested in her for some time – I wanted to be “more than friends” – but up to that point, things had remained chaste. It was late, we’d both been out separately, doing whatever it is we’d been doing, and when I got to her room, she was clearly drunk.

Twenty years later, I still remember how I felt that night.

This is why “NotAllMen” doesn’t matter…

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