I love my kids, I just hate parenting
Today, I turn 40.
This used to be a big deal. It used to mean middle age. But I’m not really sweating it. Sure, there are some things I’m disappointed I haven’t accomplished yet (*coughMYBOOKcough*) but 40 is the new 30, so I still have some time.
But there is one thing that bums me out about today’s milestone.
Like many parenting bloggers, I use nicknames when I write about my kids.
I employ these nicknames in a half-hearted attempt to protect the privacy of children that I already wholeheartedly exploit every single day. (And it would be even more wholehearted if someone would actually pay me to exploit them! My door is always open.
As you probably already know, when writing about them online, I refer to my five-year-old (he’ll be six in two weeks!) as Detective Munch and I refer to my baby as The Hammer. I get asked about the origins of those names fairly frequently, but I don’t think I’ve ever explained them (on my blog). So if you’re curious, today’s your lucky day.
But there’s a catch. I need your help!
I’m not that great of a parent. Not when you consider my parenting fails.
I’m probably an okay dad, in the whole “good time guy” way some dads are. I get along with my kids, we like to horse around and goof around and get around ooh ooh I get around! (God I’m old.) But I yell too much, and I say “no” too much, and I say “don’t do that” too much, and my five-year-old definitely prefers his mom. After all, I’m the bad cop.
But sometimes my bad parenting actually works out. Some of my parenting fails are actually kind of wins!
Before I became a parent, I had a lot of fantasies about how I was going to influence my kids to like the stuff I like, and to teach them the stuff I wanted them to know.
I forgot how quickly other influences crop up. My kid is not even six and I’m already fighting a war on multiple fronts.
I think TV is winning.
This week, I’ve been “working from home” while managing my baby and entertaining my five-year-old. Needless to say, it hasn’t been the most fun week I’ve ever had.
Shockingly, the baby is a piece of cake compared to the five-year-old.
Somehow, Detective Munch has found a way to turn a twelve-hour day into one that feels like it’s 312 hours. It’s the longest day of all time. With that many hours to fill, it’s no wonder he’s so bored.