13 May

Dad and Buried Posted in discipline One comment

Whining Enthusiast

I’ve written about my son’s whining before.

Of course I’ve written about it before. It’s such a large part of my day-to-day existence, the presence of the whine, the powerlessness to do anything about the whine, the desire to drink lots of wine because of the whine, that how could I not have written about it before?

But that was foolish. Because in the time since I wrote that post, things have taken a turn. And I’ve learned that whatever whining that I was, ahem, whining about back then was hardly whining at all.

Parental Advisories – Volume 9

Look. It’s not that I don’t want to give you people advice, it’s that you won’t allow me to. Even after my previous EIGHT installments of my parental advisories, in which I’ve dominated the field and proven my bona fides as someone who can write middling jokes while being kind of insulting and mostly side-stepping your very real domestic problems. I own the space!

You want in on this expertise? Then you’d better get to asking more questions!

Until then, I’ll service the meager few who’ve got the balls to admit – and/or are so drunk they actually think – that I’m a better parent than they are.

Like these brave souls below.

17 Mar

Dad and Buried Posted in Drinking 2 comments

The Winter Soldier

My family is the victim of poor planning.

Like everyone else, we participate in the standard holiday season that begins in November and ends in January.Unlike everyone else, we also have a few more holidays thrown into that fall/winter zone. And I.m not talking about All Saints’ Day or Pitchers and Catchers day.

My wife’s birthday is in early November. My son’s birthday is in mid-September and happens to land on the day before our wedding anniversary, and my own birthday hits just a week before that, although, let’s be honest, my birthday is meaningless. Throw in my wife’s beloved Halloween and the Hallmark hell of Valentine’s Day, and from September until mid-February my life is a calendar-choked spending spree of forced romance and legitimately meaningful milestones that leaves me both physically and financially spent.

Like I said, poor planning. And this long winter is just making it worse.

Dad of No Trades

This morning Detective Munch handed me an old iPod he’d been playing with and asked me to fix it. I told him I couldn’t, and he wanted to know why.

“You fix my trains!”
“Sometimes.”
“Why can’t you fix this?”

This doesn’t offend me; he’s only three. Plus, iPods aren’t exactly the easiest devices to dissect and MacGyver back to life. But “fixing” his trains mostly involves replacing the batteries, and the truth is he could ask me to fix almost anything and I’d be at a loss. I’m not a handy man.

A common male stereotype is that men can fix things. Kids expect dads to fix things. But – unless you count breakfast, which, don’t, because I can’t even make decent pancakes – I can’t fix shit.

Am I failing my son?

Zombie Post: Return of the Act

This weekend is the Oscars, an awards ceremony I always expect to enjoy more than I actually do. Still, I continue to watch them every year. I used to manage to see most of the contenders before the show, but that’s gotten harder since I became a father (and most of my viewing consists ofRead more about Zombie Post: Return of the Act[…]

Dad and Buried

Category: TV

Whining Enthusiast

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Parental Advisories – Volume 9

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The Winter Soldier

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Dad of No Trades

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Zombie Post: Return of the Act

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