I love my kids, I just hate parenting
So for this week’s assignment, I was paired with Martinis and Minivans, a similarly-minded blogger who writes about how her kids drive her to drink.
I only have one kid, and I’ve basically been drunk since he was born, so we made a good team.
Unfortunately the judges didn’t think so.
That’s where you come in.
I am not totally against the idea of corporal punishment.
But if my kid swats at my face one more time, I am totally putting him in time-out!
Sigh.
It’s happened. The toddler has finally gained enough balance to make running possible.
And now running is all he ever does or wants to do.
The title of this post alludes to exorcism, but if he keeps this up it’s more likely I’m gonna need my last rites.
When my wife and I moved in together, one of the first things we did was get a cat. (The next 500 things we did were have arguments about what we would name the cat.)
The cat and I were best buds. The cat and my wife were frenemies. The cat and the world-at-large were chilly acquaintances. The cat and my son? Unfortunately, they never had a chance to get to know each other.
Now that he’s getting a little older, that’s something I want to correct.
A few years ago, in this blog’s early days, I watched a documentary called The Business of Being Born and posted a review. The movie was a one-sided piece of propaganda designed to terrify women away from hospitals and into the arms of a doula. I don’t have any problem whatsoever with the concept ofRead more about Zombie Post: Attack of the Home Birthers[…]