I love my kids, I just hate parenting
My wife loves when our son sleeps in our bed.
It’s tight, he inevitably chooses some weird, awkward position that usually involves one of his feet in her face or my crotch, but she loves it. Even when his presence makes any actual sleep totally impossible and leaves her completely exhausted the next day.
If I’m being honest, I love it too. Because I know it’s not going to last.
Last week, I was lucky enough to score passes to a sneak preview of a Star Wars event at the LEGOLAND Discovery Center in Westchester.
On Friday afternoon, we picked Detective Munch up from school, braved the rush hour traffic, and trekked up to Yonkers. For a few hours, he frolicked in the (atypically uncrowded) indoor playground thing, built and raced LEGO vehicles down ramps, watched a 3D LEGO movie, and generally had a great time, all while surrounded by a bunch of cool Star Wars stuff. There was even a guy walking around in a Chewbacca costume (Detective Munch was perfectly happy observing him from a safe distance).
Then, at the end of a fun night when we made extra effort to do something special we knew our son would love, something he did love, he threw a huge fit, collapsed on the floor, and screamed “I HATE YOU!” in my face.
So… You’re welcome?
Among the many things on my mind as we prepare for the arrival of our second kid are my son’s feelings.
Welcoming a new baby to the family is going to be an adjustment for everyone, but the little boy who will suddenly be sharing a house, his toys, and his parents’ affection may have it hardest of all. No, my (eldest) son won’t be changing (many) diapers or getting up to feed his little brother (at least not all the time), but he’s not gonna be the only kid in town any more, and it won’t always be easy for him.
So I thought I’d take this opportunity, in the final stretch of calm before the storm, to reassure him.
If you follow my social accounts (Facebook, Twitter, Instagram), you may remember a photo shoot my son and I did with Dove Men+ Care back in February. We had a lot of fun that day, and despite the fact that in one of the photos I’m pretending to play a guitar that I wouldn’t be able to play even if it were actually plugged in, I’m not even being sarcastic!
How could I be, when Detective Munch looked so amazing in the resulting photos? We’re talking peak Andrew McCarthy, in the St. Elmo’s Pretty Mannequin at Bernie’s era.
I left that shoot thinking it might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship, and then they sent me a package of hair products. Ouch! Don’t they know the new baby stress is making me lose my hair?
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I’ve told my parents I hate them, and you have too.
You probably said it when you were a little kid, like mine did last night, and you also probably said it again when you were a teenager, and maybe you’ve even said it recently, deep into adulthood, you ungrateful man-child.
Every kid says it, and every parent knows it will happen, because kids are mean af.
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