I love my kids, I just hate parenting
It’s Super Bowl Sunday and I’m about to start cooking drinking. Is tomorrow a holiday yet because let’s be serious! For today’s Zombie post, I was planning to resurrect an old one about why, even though I love watching it, I probably won’t let my kid play organized football. And then I realized that wouldRead more about Zombie Post: Are You Ready for Some Football… Posts?[…]
Whenever I get down about my performance as a dad, all I need to do is take a quick run around the Internet until I find a video like this, and my spirits are immediately lifted.
I’ll bet it’ll have even you semi-decent, borderline-involved dads out there feeling better about your own shitty parenting in no time.
Merry Christmas!
Now that I have a car (stupid North Carolina), I find myself listening to the radio more than I have in years. Of course, the radio is terrible. So I throw on sports talk.
Which is also terrible, especially local sports radio. But the national shows, like ESPN’s morning shows and a few others, are tolerable. This morning, I heard Dan Patrick tell a story about how, one day during the 2004 playoffs, some of his son’s classmates – Yankees fans – pissed on the kid’s Red Sox hat.
Suddenly I’ve started questioning the way I’ve been indoctrinating my son into fandom.
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.