I love my kids, I just hate parenting
No better way to close out this blog’s best year yet than with a photo of the little guy who makes all my bitching possible. So here he is, enjoying his first snowfall – and now that we live down south, probably his last for a while: Thanks for reading! See you in 2013. HappyRead more about See You in Hell, 2012![…]
My wife worships Christmas.
Once the Thanksgiving dishes are done, it’s all Yule all the time. Nothing but Christmas music in the car, nothing but Christmas movies on the television, nothing but Christmas shopping on the weekends.
And she was like this BEFORE we had the kid. Now that he’s here, and he’s alive enough to begin to understand Santa and presents and cookies and the tree and all that, not only has Mom and Buried’s Christmas-loving resolve strengthened, but I no longer have a Scroogey cane to stand on.
Especially on Christmas Eve, when there’s work to do!
Earlier this week I wrote about the ways my son is my puppet master. He often literally controls my body, forcing me to watch what he wants to watch, go where he wants to go, dance when he wants to dance, etc. It can be frustrating.
But I’m an adult and he’s a toddler. So while he gets a fair amount of leeway, since he’s both the cutest child of all time and the likely future of humanity (or its ruin, as indicated by the shadow he’s casting in this photo), he is really only able to control me when I let him control me.
Otherwise, I control him.
A year ago at this time, my son was just starting to walk. So installing the typical holiday furnishings was an invitation for disaster. He’s learned a lot in the last year of his life (for example, he’s graduated to running, nonstop), but he certainly hasn’t learned common sense. As such, having a large treeRead more about Zombie Post: Decorate at Your Own Risk[…]
Parenting isn’t a competition.
When it comes to raising kids, comparing how you’re doing to other parents or measuring your kid’s development against others their age is just not a good idea. Children are like snowflakes – annoying, loud, inconvenient, smelly snowflakes. They’re all annoying and loud and inconvenient and smelly in their own unique ways.
Every parent is unique too. We all have different styles, even compared to our spouses. Making it about who’s winning is poisonous to your relationship and potentially damaging to your offspring.
That said, when it comes to which parent Detective Munch takes after, I am totally crushing my wife.