I love my kids, I just hate parenting
![[E-card] Weekend Parenting](https://i0.wp.com/dadandburied.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/beach-tired.jpg?resize=500%2C233&ssl=1)
My weekends used to be sacred. Then I had a kid, and they became his weekends.
Suddenly, every weekend is packed with activities, and play dates, and birthday parties. I have to take my kid to all of them, which leaves hardly any time for bars! But that doesn’t mean I don’t find ways to relax.
I’m usually a pretty attentive father, but weekend parenting requires a slightly different approach.
So last week was kind of shitty.
Taxes screwed us. The New York City public school system lottery screwed us. I got sunburn. I went to the dentist. My landlord raised the rent. I got spoiled on “The Americans”. I thought Harrison Ford kind of ruined the Star Wars trailer. It was pretty lame all around.
As a result, I found myself in a bit of a funk for a few days. Thank god I have a kid.
Every year around this time, a million different websites do some goofy version of a March Madness competition. So far I’ve seen brackets for beer, TV shows, bands, even junk food.
But has anyone done one about parenting? Probably! But now I have too! Introducing March Sadness: Dad and Buried’s Tournament of Complaints!
Where even the winner sucks!
A few weeks ago, I questioned whether I am a good parent. My answer was no.
Both before and since I posted that piece, I’ve been told I’m a good dad, by family members, by online acquaintances, by total strangers who read my blog and follow my Facebook page.
But I don’t believe the hype.
Not because they’re wrong; despite my hand-wringing, I’m probably a pretty good dad. (And even if I’m not, it probably doesn’t matter.)
Because they have no idea.
On Friday, I wrote about our tendency, as parents, to overvalue our impact on our kids.
We wring our hands over every little thing we do wrong, terrified that the slightest misstep will set our kids on the wrong path. But once you consider how many other influences are out there, you realize that such micromanagement – of our parenting, of their lives – is impossible.
I can’t get my son to do the littlest things right now, why should I think I have the power to get him to do big things when he’s older? I’m all out of control.