I love my kids, I just hate parenting
For some reason I occasionally catch the parody bug, like a younger, better-looking Weird Al.
Today, I happened upon the classic “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas” poem, and decided to give it the old Dad and Buried spin.
It’s a bit of a lark, but after a weekend of traveling, shopping, family and general holiday stress, I’m in the mood for a lark. I hope you are too. But I don’t blame you if you’re not.
Merry Christmas!
Is there anything more annoying than asking your parents what they want for Christmas and hearing them say, “For you and your brothers to get along”?
Yes, there is. Asking them what they want for Christmas and hearing them say, “Nothing.”
Even more annoying? Asking your kid what he wants for Christmas and not being to hear anything over the ensuing filibuster. Seriously, I just walked out of the room and I can still hear my three-year-old rattling off items from his list.
Kids want everything, adults want nothing. Thankfully, when you have children of your own, it kind of balances out.
As a world-famous blogger who hates his kid and once mentioned Bronies, I get A LOT of weird spam. Most of it regarding my penis.
Sometimes I actually get asked advice, and sometimes I get yelled at; sometimes I get praise, and sometimes an old teacher from high school reaches out to say hi. (Most of the time I get yelled at.)
Yesterday, I got an email that I initially thought was spam. I’m still not positive it’s not. Just in case, I’m responding to a reader who wants to know if she can be happy without kids.
Although I’m a firm believer that having kids doesn’t have to change your life entirely, it definitely does change it. Just not that much, not if you don’t want it to. My blog is proof that you can keep your questionable personality and hateful sense of humor when you become a parent; you just have to try!
I didn’t stop being a sarcastic jerk when my son was born, even though I quite sincerely love him with all my blackened heart. And I didn’t stop drinking, or going out to eat with my wife, or watching the TV shows I like and the sports I love. In many ways, being a dad is a lot like not being one.
I made a list of some of them.
Read more about Six Ways Having Kids is Like Not Having Kids …
Mom and Buried and I spent the weekend enjoying a local music festival. We knew from the start that Detective Munch wouldn’t be accompanying us to the many night-time shows, but – because we wanted him to experience some live music, which he loves – we took some of the daytime events.
On Saturday, we went to the less interesting (read: bluegrass) bands that were playing outside somewhere, rather than inside some dank dive bar my son couldn’t get into. It worked out okay; the kid got to dance and interact with dogs and strangers and we got to have a beer or two while doing our best to prevent our son from getting bit by disgruntled dogs and strangers.
It’s called compromise, and it’s part of being a parent. But on the eve of his third birthday, it’s time for my kid to start holding up his end of the bargain.