Venting Is Allowed

Venting Is Allowed

I recently wrote a post for Scary Mommy about a boy struggling with cancer. To raise awareness for the struggle sick children and their families face every day, his mother shared a heartbreaking photo of her son, bald, gaunt, and clearly in pain.

In the Facebook comments for the post, someone mentioned that the story reminded her that she should be grateful for what she has, instead of whining about what she doesn’t.

I get that, but I don’t think those two things are mutually exclusive. Venting is allowed. Especially for parents.

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My Mom Is Too Nice For Words

My Mom Is Too Nice For Words

I’ve written about my father before, but I’ve never really written about my mom. Not because there’s nothing to say, but because there’s too much to say. It’s scary to write about her! How can I do my mom justice? How can anyone?

I don’t know that I’d call myself a “mama’s boy” because I’m too much of a jerk for that – and every time I go home I revert to being a teenager again, which means I’m even less nice to everyone than normal, no matter how long I was in your womb! – but moms are pretty special, and it’s hard to capture every reason why. In the case of my mom, it’s particularly hard, because she’s so nice.

It’s hard to praise niceness. Niceness can seem bland. But there’s nothing bland about my mom.

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Positive Traits My Kids Got From Me

Positive Traits My Kids Got From Me

This blog isn’t exactly known for its positivity.

If I’m not (facetiously) trashing my kids, I’m (facetiously) trashing myself, or I’m (facetiously) trashing other parents. What can I say, trashing things is fun!

To paraphrase Shakespeare, every once in a while, I come not to bury, but to praise. Today, I’m looking on the bright side, and sharing some of the positive traits I’ve passed down to my two sons.

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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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