I love my kids, I just hate parenting
If I could, I’d eat nothing but snacks.
Sure, I’d miss cheeseburgers and steak and Al Di La and sushi and all that, but give me a bag of chips – or even some raw broccoli – and a jar of french onion dip and I’m set for life.
This predilection for constant nibbling in between meals makes my role as a parent difficult. Because I am forced to stop my kids from doing the same. (Especially when it’s my snacks they’re stealing!)
Everyone needs sleep. Parents more than most.
(Well, air traffic controllers more than most, probably, and, soldiers and doctors and stuff too. But parents are definitely on the list. Especially parents who happen to be military doctors turned air traffic controllers!)
We’re tired. And that’s just the way it is and always will be.
We never get enough sleep, but what if there’s a way to improve the sleep we do get?
In the six short years of his life, my son has discovered many new things.
From the taste of an iPhone to the joy of farting and from the delightful sound a messy belly-based raspberry makes to the ear-piercing “welp!” a knee to Daddy’s crotch can elicit, the early years of a child’s life are full of amazing new discoveries. Some of which are innocent and fun, others of which portend a forthcoming decade-plus of agita and frustration for parents.
Like Detective Munch’s discovery and immediate appropriation of lying. And, thanks to his little brother, a newfound awareness of blame.
When I was a kid, I was all about chocolate.
As I’ve gotten older, not much has changed. My general snacking taste veers closer to the salty side of things (chips and dip will literally be the death of me), but if I’m having dessert? GIVE ME CHOCOLATE OR GIVE ME DEATH. (Seriously. If you bring a pie to my dinner party, don’t even get out of the car. I DON’T DO FRUIT-BASED DESSERT.)
Detective Munch is different. He loves candy! Don’t get me wrong, he loves chips too, like Daddy, but when it comes to dessert, he’s much more apt to choose sugary candy over delicious chocolate. At least, he was…
What is it with children and Cheerios?
My 6-year-old eats them, my baby attempts to eat them, they both spill them and play with them and throw them around. Meanwhile, my cupboard is full of them, my floor is littered with them, the backseat of my car is covered in them, and I’m constantly stepping on them.
I bet you are too. Because when you have kids, you have Cheerios. There’s no way around it.