I love my kids, I just hate parenting
Today’s Wordless Wednesday (with some words) revolves around my son’s current obsession: superheroes.
He’s constantly pretending to be one and frequently enlists me in exciting battles, during which he’s usually wearing a costume and always jumping on my private parts.
While I may occasionally sport a mask or two during these games, he almost always wears a cape.
He has a lot of capes.
Yesterday, I spent almost 90 minutes at the playground with my son, watching as he raced around with friends old and new, pretending to be a superhero, playing impromptu games of tag, and participating in climbing competitions and slide-caravans.
He knew I was there, and occasionally sought me out if there was a conflict or he wanted a drink, but otherwise he didn’t need me much.
So I scrolled Twitter and checked Facebook and sent a few emails and texts.
Does parenting while distracted make me a bad parent?
Earlier this week, I poked fun at the recent trend of celebrities bravely “normalizing” breastfeeding by doing it in public. The idea is that movie stars and models and whatever the hell Kardashians are can help remove the stigma around public breastfeeding.
Despite the fact that breastfeeding is as normal as it gets, this movement to remove the shame many women feel in regards to feeding their children is actually necessary. There are whole bunches of people who can’t stomach the sight of a woman breastfeeding in public!
On my Facebook page, I wondered – rhetorically – just who these garbage people are, going around making women feel shame over feeding their kids? Because I guarantee you, most of them have behaved far worse. We all have.
It’s not always easy to make exercise a part of your life, especially as you get older and other things take priority, like drinking, and not exercising.
But having kids is no excuse. Not because it’s easy to squeeze in the gym when you have parental duties, but because we parents actually get a ton of exercise without even needing a gym membership. Especially when our kids our younger.
It turns out that a lot of the stuff I would do at the gym, I’m already doing at home. Take a look at my parental exercise equivalency chart to find out if you are too.
Last night, we had our neighbors over for a few drinks. Somewhere between my third and fourth beer, I forgot that I have a kid and a job and am thirty-eight, so I had three or four more beers. Now I want to die.
Thankfully, today is Friday, so I’m at work instead of sitting at home trying to occupy a four-year-old who wants me to pretend to be a firetruck-slash-dinosaur and get on my knees and chase him around the house all while holding my head and trying not to throw up.
Hungover parenting is not a lot of fun.