Surviving the Family Road Trip

Surviving the Family Road Trip

My parents live in Connecticut, about two hours away. We often take a family road trip to visit for the weekend, especially in the summer, because they have a pool — and also because my six-year-old prefers Grandma to me.

My wife and I dread those trips. Not as much as we dreaded them when we lived ten hours away, but at least back then we only had the one kid to worry about. Sure, two hours is a lot shorter than ten, but that eight-hour difference is more than made up for by the nightmare that is a screaming baby in the backseat.

We had a family road trip or three over the long Thanksgiving weekend. And, thanks to the approach Mom and Buried and I take, we survived them all. You can too!

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Tolerance Is Not A Virtue

Tolerance Is Not A Virtue

Over the weekend, while I was giving my son a bath, we started talking about Disney’s Robin Hood. My son said he liked it — except for the ending, when the main characters kiss and get married.

“Ya know, you might want to get married someday…”
“I might want to marry a boy.”
“You can do that.”
“Boys can marry boys, and girls can marry girls.”
“That’s right. The important thing is that you marry someone you love.”

(I’ll stop quoting our conversation there, before he expressed his desire to marry Mommy and also to marry multiple friends from his kindergarten class.)

The conversation got me thinking…

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Kids Are Brats Sometimes

Kids Are Brats Sometimes

I’m not one to mince words or make excuses. I never have been, and that didn’t change when I became a parent.

This is why I often find it irritating to hear all the ways parents try to avoid blaming their kids for bad behavior. This is aside from the fact that most other parents, and other parents’ children, are irritating to begin with! (No offense, fellow parents. I barely like myself when I’m parenting. It’s not really a good look on anyone.)

Sure, we all make excuses for our kids from time to time, and some of them are warranted – even necessary. Kids are kids. I’m 40, and not only do I struggle to contain my emotions half the time (especially while watching football or when my 5-year-old wakes me up at 2 a.m. by jumping onto my crotch), I also barely know what I’m doing half the time. I certainly don’t expect my children to have a handle on themselves.

But that doesn’t mean they get a pass. That doesn’t mean that every time they misbehave it needs to be rationalized.

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Can’t Stay-At-Home Moms Get A Little Love?

Can’t Stay-At-Home Moms Get A Little Love?

I was a stay-at-home dad once, for almost two years. I wasn’t a fan. But that wasn’t my wife’s fault.

It was boring. It was isolating. It was exhausting. That wasn’t my wife’s fault either. (It was my son’s.)

Yes, I bonded with Detective Munch and we had plenty of good times, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t prefer going to work to being home all day. And it’s partly because I remember those days that now that my wife is home with a new baby, I’m determined to help her out as much as I can.

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Vacationing with Kids

Vacationing with Kids

I’d like to say that it seemed like a good idea at the time, but I’d be lying.

I’ve gone on vacations with my kids before. (Well, with my lone kid. The second one is brand new.) And while they’ve been fun, they don’t exactly qualify as vacations. Vacations are meant to be about relaxation, and recharging, maybe some reading, and maybe getting some extra rest. Vacationing with kids is a different thing entirely.

This past spring, when I took my 5-year-old and my 3-month-old on our first family-of-four vacation, I was not anticipating much in the way of relaxation. (I’m not really anticipating either of those things ever again.)

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