Happy Mr. Mom’s Day!

Happy Mr. Mom’s Day!

So you’re a stay-at-home dad? Or a single dad? Or a dad out with his kids with no mom in sight? If so, I bet someone has called you Mr. Mom, or a babysitter, or given you awkward, unnecessary kudos for doing nothing besides being a half-decent parent, or something like that.

As a one-time/sometime Stay-at-home dad myself, I’ve never had a problem with any of that stuff, not even being called “Mr. Mom”, despite the clear double-standard (no one ever calls women “Mrs. Dad”), but I know plenty of attentive fathers who do.

Some dads take to their blogs to voice their frustration, some dads boycott offending brands and advertisers, some dads use their influence to try to change things. I’m none of those dads. But I understand the struggle.

And I say: if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em!

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Sunday Schooled

Sunday Schooled

I’ve shared my thoughts about raising Detective Munch with religion before. I’ve even discussed why he was circumcised (COME AT ME, BRO!).

But as a Catholic so lapsed the term just plain doesn’t apply anymore, I’m a little conflicted. I definitely think some of the more universal values Christianity teaches (kindness, discipline, humility) do a kid good, and despite the problematic trappings, it’s a decent delivery system for them. And yet, he’s never been to church. Until yesterday.

Growing up, I went to Church every weekend, and my parents still do. And although I’m not sure how well years of catechism and church-going and Catholic high school did me, we are currently living with my parents. And “when in Rome,” right?

So went along to Easter mass. And my son took it about as seriously as I do. Consider Sunday schooled.

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The Happiness Problem

The Happiness Problem

My son turned three and half the other day. My wife threw him a little party.

Few things seem so obviously tailor-made for a Dad and Buried rant as the absurdity of half-birthdays. Unfortunately, when my wife got excited about Detective Munch’s mini-milestone, I found myself swept up in half-birthday fever myself, against my better judgment.

Despite my reservations – about spoiling the kid; about rewarding him for nothing; about the fact that his terrible threes haven’t exactly been his behavioral high-point so why the fuck should he get an extra made-up holiday right smack in the middle of it? – I helped celebrate it. Enthusiastically. We gave him a toy truck and a cupcake!

I think I’m part of the problem. I sang “Happy half-birthday” to him, for Christ’s sake.

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Half-Birthdays Claim Another Victim

Half-Birthdays Claim Another Victim

Valentine’s Nay

Valentine’s Nay

Valentine’s Day approaches.

Countless couples and would-be couples are, as we speak, scrambling to find romantic ways to mark the occasion. It’s stressful and time-consuming and expensive and, for those without sweethearts, frustrating and pathetic and why does God hate me?!

We all know that in its modern-day incarnation, Valentine’s Day is a holiday propped up by candy companies and card companies and restaurants and Yankee Candle, and yet even those of us who reject the concept often end up making some kind of concession to it, if only so our significant others don’t feel left out when the sheep in the office get flowers and they don’t.

Even the least cynical among us can see through the heart-shaped nonsense to the heartless industry behind it. So why do we get our kids involved?

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