Christmas Heave

Christmas Heave

My wife worships Christmas.

Once the Thanksgiving dishes are done, it’s all Yule all the time. Nothing but Christmas music in the car, nothing but Christmas movies on the television, nothing but Christmas shopping on the weekends.

And she was like this BEFORE we had the kid. Now that he’s here, and he’s alive enough to begin to understand Santa and presents and cookies and the tree and all that, not only has Mom and Buried’s Christmas-loving resolve strengthened, but I no longer have a Scroogey cane to stand on.

Especially on Christmas Eve, when there’s work to do!

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The Papa Master: Five Ways My Kid Controls Me

The Papa Master: Five Ways My Kid Controls Me

Nobody wants their kids to run their lives.

Mom and Buried and I are doing a pretty good job of preventing our little tyrant from eliminating all of our free time (i.e., our drinking) and running roughshod all over our social lives (i.e., our drinking with friends), but, fantastic parents that we are, we still spend a lot of time with our son, doing what he wants. Or what we think he needs. Or what we think he’s saying he wants (he still doesn’t do English so good).

And while we do our best to have separate identities other than just “Mom” and “Dad,” there are still times he has control of our lives. And, in some cases, our bodies.

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Who Does My Son Take After

Who Does My Son Take After

Parenting isn’t a competition.

When it comes to raising kids, comparing how you’re doing to other parents or measuring your kid’s development against others their age is just not a good idea. Children are like snowflakes – annoying, loud, inconvenient, smelly snowflakes. They’re all annoying and loud and inconvenient and smelly in their own unique ways.

Every parent is unique too. We all have different styles, even compared to our spouses. Making it about who’s winning is poisonous to your relationship and potentially damaging to your offspring.

That said, when it comes to which parent Detective Munch takes after, I am totally crushing my wife.

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Exercising His Demons

Exercising His Demons

It’s happened. The toddler has finally gained enough balance to make running possible.

And now running is all he ever does or wants to do.

The title of this post alludes to exorcism, but if he keeps this up it’s more likely I’m gonna need my last rites.

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Top 10 Reasons Why I Love My Son

Top 10 Reasons Why I Love My Son

Weeks ago, I wrote a facetious post about why I hate my son. Despite the title, it shouldn’t have taken long for most readers to realize the post wasn’t about hating my son at all, but was actually about how he’s changed my life and why that’s okay.

But since there are so many literal-minded people out there who got upset at the suggestion, facetious or not, that I hate my son, and also dislike the fact that I put such language out there for him to one day discover, I thought – even at the risk of over-boarding on cheese – I should lay it out as sincerely as possible.

I mean, it is his birthday after all!

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