Cousin Wonderland

Cousin Wonderland

I don’t have a cousin family.

This isn’t to say I don’t have cousins, but they are older and live far away, and I’ve never had much of a relationship with any of them. It never bothered me much until I went to school in Boston, where seemingly everyone is best friends with their cousins, and I felt like I’d missed out.

My sons won’t have this problem. My brother just had a baby, and my wife’s side of the family has been pumping out kids for years. We spent this past weekend with a few of them at Dutch Wonderland in Pennsylvania, and my boys loved every minute of it.

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The Great Escape

The Great Escape

Work sucks.

I like my job, I love my boss, but it’s still work. And work sucks! Especially when the alternative to work is a hanging with friends all weekend, or being on vacation, or enjoying retirement, or simply lying on the couch binge-watching TV shows.

But when the alternative is staying home with the kids all day? Work is the great escape.

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Spring Break Has Changed

Spring Break Has Changed

A few weeks ago, the Buried clan went on a road trip during Detective Munch’s spring break.

We spent a few days in Washington D.C. and then spent the latter half of the week, and Easter weekend, with Mom and Buried’s family in South Carolina. Then we drove the full fourteen hours back while The Hammer battled a fever and the world’s most prolific runny nose and we battled headaches, frustration, and traffic.

Spring break ain’t what it used to be…

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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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Surviving the Family Road Trip

Surviving the Family Road Trip

My parents live in Connecticut, about two hours away. We often take a family road trip to visit for the weekend, especially in the summer, because they have a pool — and also because my six-year-old prefers Grandma to me.

My wife and I dread those trips. Not as much as we dreaded them when we lived ten hours away, but at least back then we only had the one kid to worry about. Sure, two hours is a lot shorter than ten, but that eight-hour difference is more than made up for by the nightmare that is a screaming baby in the backseat.

We had a family road trip or three over the long Thanksgiving weekend. And, thanks to the approach Mom and Buried and I take, we survived them all. You can too!

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