When it comes to your kids, is it wrong to be too honest?

I ask this only partially as someone who writes a blog about having a kid. Both “partially” because no one needs a blog to publicize what they’re feeling – especially today, with twitter feeds and facebook and spray paint – and “partially” because while I write about things that are really happening in my life, I certainly don’t write about them with a straight-face.

If you haven’t figured it out by now, I can be pretty sarcastic. And as much as I use this blog to both record (verb!) my thoughts on my life as a father and as a sort of record (noun!) of my son’s young life, almost everything I write on here is a skewed version of reality.

Before launching Dad and Buried, I saw far too many blogs that were straightforward (read: boring) about having a kid. And while I definitely try to tell the truth about what it’s like for a guy like me to suddenly be a dad, I sure as hell don’t let that truth get in the way of a good joke or two (hundred). Even if the joke doesn’t have a punchline and mostly consists of me swearing.

I have had some complaints from some people (notably: my parents, my wife) about the tenor of my posts. My parents think I swear too much, my wife worries that people won’t understand that I’m joking and actually do love my son. In the interest of covering two birds: fuck those humorless assholes (by which I mean neither my parents nor my wife). I think it’s pretty obvious that I’m usually only about half-serious when I bitch about my kid, and am always 100% serious about loving him and wanting to be a good dad and hoping to one day exploit him and steal all his money. But if you read this blog and don’t get that, I truly don’t care. It’s not my responsibility to tell you otherwise.

But, once he can read and see for himself, it will be my responsibility to make sure my son understands how I really feel about him, regardless of what I write on this (facetious) blog. And with the internet being what it is, it’s not out of the question that he might some day read DadandBuried.com, maybe even this post, and not quite get it. (Especially since he’s a genius and will be reading at a very young age, and is already – at 6 months old! – better with technology than I am.) Of course, I highly doubt it – not only will I ensure that he develops a very sophisticated sense of humor, but the odds are it will be at least somewhat in line with mine. It’s science.

The fact is I write for myself – God knows no one else is reading this thing (tell your friends!) – and if I start to censor my thoughts just because someday my kid might think I don’t love him, then this blog will have no point at all and not even I will want to read the cheesy thing.

Sure, maybe I’ll tone down the swears so my son doesn’t pick up on it and start sounding like that guy from In The Loop (although that would be kinda totally awesome). The last thing I want this blog to be is some rainbow-and-lollipop-flavored bullshit about loving my family and learning from my son every day and everything is so great and fatherhood is such a blessing and blah blah blah shoot me now.

So I’m not going to stop being honest, and I’m not going to stop swearing (at least not completely) and I’m definitely not going to stop joking. Hopefully my kid will get it. If not, he’s probably not my son after all, so who the fuck even cares?

BAIL CITY.

FYI: this blog entry inspired this post.