I love my kids, I just hate parenting
Every parent dreads the day they can no longer relate to their kids.
Every parent worries that, sooner than later, their kids will transition out of interest in the things their mom and dad are interested in and begin cultivating their own unique pursuits and hobbies. Every parent dreads the day their kids make them feel old and out of touch.
All three of those days came for me over the weekend, courtesy of Yo-kai Watch!
Detective Munch and I haven’t been seeing eye-to-eye a lot lately. We tend to butt heads as is, but lately it’s been a bit intense.
I say stop, he says go! I say yes, he says no! I say up, he says left! (We’re working on his opposites.) Some of it is typical five-year-old defiance, some of it is clashing priorities, some of it is matching personalities.
Thankfully, we do have some common ground.
It’s an easy joke to make.
When there’s another mass shooting, or Trump leads in the polls, or the wrong movie wins Best Picture (remember Crash?), or Trump is an official nominee, or Trump is the actual President(!), it’s funny — kind of fashionable, even — to announce that you’ve had enough and are moving to Canada, or Amsterdam, or Australia, because the country has finally gone insane.
At what point does the joking stop? At what point do you start seriously considering leaving your home country because you’re scared for your kids?
I don’t really understand why some parents dress their tiny children as monsters for Halloween.
Aren’t they terrifying enough already?
If you follow my social accounts (Facebook, Twitter, Instagram), you may remember a photo shoot my son and I did with Dove Men+ Care back in February. We had a lot of fun that day, and despite the fact that in one of the photos I’m pretending to play a guitar that I wouldn’t be able to play even if it were actually plugged in, I’m not even being sarcastic!
How could I be, when Detective Munch looked so amazing in the resulting photos? We’re talking peak Andrew McCarthy, in the St. Elmo’s Pretty Mannequin at Bernie’s era.
I left that shoot thinking it might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship, and then they sent me a package of hair products. Ouch! Don’t they know the new baby stress is making me lose my hair?
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