Can You Be Happy Without Kids?

Can You Be Happy Without Kids?

As a world-famous blogger who hates his kid and once mentioned Bronies, I get A LOT of weird spam. Most of it regarding my penis.

Sometimes I actually get asked advice, and sometimes I get yelled at; sometimes I get praise, and sometimes an old teacher from high school reaches out to say hi. (Most of the time I get yelled at.)

Yesterday, I got an email that I initially thought was spam. I’m still not positive it’s not. Just in case, I’m responding to a reader who wants to know if she can be happy without kids.

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Co-sleeping? More Like NO-sleeping!

Co-sleeping? More Like NO-sleeping!

We’d wanted one for years.

As soon as we got married, we started planning for it. We knew we’d need a bigger place first, and should probably try to save up a little too. But there was never going to be a perfect time for it. We just had to take the plunge, come what may.

It would change our lives, without a doubt. But we were confident the benefits would make it worthwhile. We watched our friends with envy and we knew we had to do it too.

So we did it. We finally got ourselves a King mattress.

Unfortunately, then we had a kid.

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Requiem for a Cream-colored Lovey

Requiem for a Cream-colored Lovey

Thank you all for coming. I’m sure my toddler will appreciate it years from now, when we show him pictures and explain everything, since he’s barely three and doesn’t understand what it’s all about and won’t remember a single moment.

It’s been a tough couple of days since Lovey left us, particularly for Detective Munch, who has lost his sidekick, his snot rag, his bunk-mate, his whipping boy, his partner-in-crime, his napkin…

His best friend.

It’s a sad day, but we’re here to celebrate a life well-lived, not mourn an untimely – but inevitable – passing. Let’s face it, if Lovey hadn’t been lost, he probably would’ve disintegrated; dude was FILTHY. (By which I mean: well-loved.)

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Five Ways Kids Are Like Dogs

Five Ways Kids Are Like Dogs

Full disclosure: I’ve done it myself.

Years ago, in my cynical pre-fatherhood stage, I compared babies to pets. Unfavorably, because at least pets have, as I wrote at the time, “furry upside.”

I stand by that, as I enjoy my still cynical mid-fatherhood stage. In many ways, pets are more rewarding than babies. Obviously, babies evolve, and eventually having a child has advantages over owning a dog or a cat (don’t even talk to me about birds and fish and gerbils and hamsters). Eventually.

Right now, I have a toddler. And sometimes I might rather have a puppy.

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Things Parents Say

Things Parents Say

When you’re a parent, you tend to repeat yourself a lot.

I constantly find myself telling my son the same things over and over again in attempts to get him to listen. It’s partially because he’s only three and therefore very stupid, and it’s partially because he’s diabolical.

I’m pretty sure he pretends to be dumber than he is, feigning ignorance just so he can continue to do whatever idiotic, dangerous and destructive thing he’s currently doing and then act all surprised (read: start crying) when he finally realizes we’re mad. The dude’s favorite word is “no!”, so it’s a tad suspect when he suddenly doesn’t understand our stern reprimands and just keeps swinging his plastic baseball bat perilously close to the TV.

Whether it’s his stupidity or his subterfuge, Mom and Buried and I have to constantly repeat the same collection of phrases, which I’ve compiled below. If there were an english-to-parenting dictionary, there’d be a list of “common phrases” at the front, and it would probably look a little like this one.

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