02
Jul
Tag: Holidays
17
Jun
Mom and Buried Attacks!
Hello, Dad and Buried followers! Chances are you’ve been reading D&B for some time now, and I know what you’ve been thinking: who is the woman lucky enough to have snagged the “amazing” man behind this “amazing” blog?
That would be me. Eat your hearts out, ladies.
That’s right, I am Mom and Buried. After much pathetic begging on his part, I’ve finally decided to oblige my dear husband and write a guest post. I figured you’ve been wondering for a while now about the better half of this parenting operation and it’s high time I ended the suspense.
Besides, it is Father’s Day, after all.
15
Jun
Bad Teacher
Usually the father I talk about on my blog is Yours Truly because, let’s face it, that guy is fascinating. But seeing as today is Father’s Day, and I’ve only been a dad for three and a half hellish and interminable years, we’re going to talk about someone far more boring: my dad.
My father is a veteran of the daddy wars, having raised three kids (if you can say that any guy whose wife gave birth to children in the ’60s and ’70s actually “raised” anyone, which we know you can’t since we’ve all seen Mad Men and good dads are an entirely 21st century construct. I’m just glad he quit smoking cigarettes before I was born).
Like most fathers, he was determined to mold me and my brothers into well-rounded, compassionate, successful, miniature versions of himself. (Because what is having children if not the ultimate example of narcissism?) And that required some teaching.
In honor of Father’s Day, I’m going to talk about some of the lessons my father brought to bear during his ongoing tenure as my dad. Lessons that, unfortunately, I failed to absorb even a little bit.
06
Jun
Fathers and Gums
If you’ve read my blog before, you might not expect me to write a post about my favorite moments as a father. (Even though I already have.)
After all, most of my posts are about the stuff that sucks about being a dad. But that’s all strategy. Like the Cassius Clay of the dad bloggersphere, I lull readers to sleep with angry complaints about my son and parenting and toddlers, only to suddenly sting like a sentimental bee!
Admit it: the optimistic, sappy stuff carries a lot more weight when it comes from a pessimistic, cynical jerk like me. So I parcel it out at key moments, to ambush you and your tear ducts. Usually I reserve the sap for my son’s birthday, like this embarrassment from a few years back. But as Father’s Day approaches, my friends at Oral-B and Life of Dad asked me to write something about the #PowerofDad, so I thought I’d grit my teeth (get it? Teeth? ORAL-B!) and get ‘er done.
So here comes a bunch of crap I like about being a dad. None of which includes brushing my son’s teeth because holy Jesus that’s a nightmare.
28
May
Party Pooper
Newsflash: Kids are stressful. They disrupt your life, and the lives of the people around them, even when they’re on their absolute best behavior. They are the ultimate party pooper.
That’s why we parents often prefer to hang out with other parents. Not only so we can bitch about the stress to someone who has had similar experiences, but because when there are other kids around, your kid has something to do rather than keep pulling your arm and causing you to spill your drink.
Also because your own kid’s bad behavior is less noticeable when he’s part of a team. There’s strength in numbers. For parents, numbers provide solidarity.
For our children, they provide camouflage.