Moms are Overrated

Moms are Overrated

For the third week this month, Mom and Buried is traveling and I’m on my own with my kid.

DON’T PANIC. We’re okay.

Sure, maybe the first time my wife went away I was all: what am I gonna do? But several weeks in and now I’m all: ain’t no thing but a chicken wing on a string. I’m a real-life dad, not a Seth Macfarlane character; I can handle it. Newsflash: it’s parenting, not the Thunderdome, and dads can do it just as well as moms.

I’d even venture to say we do it better.

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The Story of My Life

The Story of My Life

Most parent bloggers have a gimmick, even if we don’t call it one or think of it that way.

Maybe you’re the “creative dad” or the “do-it-yourself dad” or the “sensitive dad” or the “tattooed mom” or “the vodka-drinking mom” or the “traveling mom”. Or maybe you filter every parenting experience through an “I’m a gay parent” or “I’m a single mom” or “I’m a stay-at-home dad” or “I have twins.” We all have a hook. I’m no exception.

Of course we do! With so many of us churning out post after post on the same handful of topics – say what you will about how unique your kid is or how groundbreaking your parenting style is, we’re all faced with the same issues and we all celebrate the same milestones – we need some kind of hook. Without them we’ll float away.

But does there come a point when our blogs, and even our lives, become so weighed down by the manufacturing of these moments, by constantly feeding these hooks, that it becomes detrimental? Are we straining so hard for attention that our lives are becoming artificial?

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Help a Father Out

Help a Father Out

One of the lessons I am trying to impart to my young son is that it’s okay to ask for help.

It might seem obvious, but there’s a long-standing perception within some corners of male culture that asking for help betrays weakness. Why do you think we never ask for directions?

I’ve personally never been one for being macho. The concept is outdated, and even the word is silly. I’m teaching my son that there’s no shame in knowing your limitations and asking for help. Especially when you really need it.

Someone who really needs it right now is the founder of the Dad Bloggers group I’m a part of on Facebook, Oren Miller. If you haven’t heard his heartbreaking story, get your tissues ready. And then open your wallets. Because his family is in for a tough road, and is friends and fellow Dad Bloggers – a great, diverse, generous group I’m proud to be a part of – are not going to bother waiting for them to ask for help.

We’re going ahead and doing it anyway. I hope you will too.

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Mom and Buried Attacks!

Mom and Buried Attacks!

Hello, Dad and Buried followers! Chances are you’ve been reading D&B for some time now, and I know what you’ve been thinking: who is the woman lucky enough to have snagged the “amazing” man behind this “amazing” blog?

That would be me. Eat your hearts out, ladies.

That’s right, I am Mom and Buried. After much pathetic begging on his part, I’ve finally decided to oblige my dear husband and write a guest post. I figured you’ve been wondering for a while now about the better half of this parenting operation and it’s high time I ended the suspense.

Besides, it is Father’s Day, after all.

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Happy Mr. Mom’s Day!

Happy Mr. Mom’s Day!

So you’re a stay-at-home dad? Or a single dad? Or a dad out with his kids with no mom in sight? If so, I bet someone has called you Mr. Mom, or a babysitter, or given you awkward, unnecessary kudos for doing nothing besides being a half-decent parent, or something like that.

As a one-time/sometime Stay-at-home dad myself, I’ve never had a problem with any of that stuff, not even being called “Mr. Mom”, despite the clear double-standard (no one ever calls women “Mrs. Dad”), but I know plenty of attentive fathers who do.

Some dads take to their blogs to voice their frustration, some dads boycott offending brands and advertisers, some dads use their influence to try to change things. I’m none of those dads. But I understand the struggle.

And I say: if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em!

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