I love my kids, I just hate parenting
Every parent craves, nay, every parent requires some time away from the kids.
Mom and Buried and I just had some, when we went away on a babymoon for a few days over the weekend.
Unfortunately, when you have kids, being away from them can be a bit of a mixed bag.
You know the made-up word “babymoon”?
I don’t like it. I don’t use it. I wish it didn’t exist.
By the way, this weekend, Mom and Buried and I are going on a babymoon.
Despite all my whining, I love my son. He’s a pain, but he’s my pain.
It’s other people’s sons – and daughters – that are the problem.
I know what you’re thinking: why hasn’t Dad and Buried written about his son’s penis?
Well, you’re in luck!
Choosing a name for your kid is never easy. Especially the second time around.
When things are purely hypothetical, it’s a cakewalk. It’s when the timeline starts shrinking that the panic sets in.
Mom and Buried and I had a little trouble the first time, and things haven’t gotten any easier as we approach the third trimester with our second son. In fact, they’ve gotten much harder. Not only do we have to agree again, the name has to fit with the first kid!
If we have a third (NO CHANCE IN HELL), one of us might lose a limb.