I love my kids, I just hate parenting
The title of this post is an exact quote from my wife. Thanks, honey?
It’s a borderline offensive thing to say, but she’s right. No one knew I’d be, let alone expected me to be, a great dad. Or even a good one. Not her. Not you. Least of all me.
Okay. Maybe least of all you.
Despite my best efforts, I think I’m going soft. My son is turning me into a wuss.
My wife likes to “joke” that I am a robot (I use quotes because she’s never laughing when she says it and I’m pretty sure it tears her up inside), or that I have no heart, because I never cry at commercials or movies or TV shows.
I like to think it’s because I’m not shallow and/or because my father raised me to believe that showing emotion was a sign of weakness (my father is John Wayne).
But having a child seems to be reducing my stoicism in uncomfortable ways. I’m beginning to care about people.
This weekend – this gorgeous, unseasonably hot weekend – Mom and Buried and I took Detective Munch to the park. We couldn’t keep him cooped up on such beautiful days, right? Plus, on Sunday, there was a Food Truck Rally happening and I needed me some food. Little did I know, there would be a side of bad parenting with it.
We weren’t the only ones with this idea. The park was teeming with people, many of them waiting in long lines to sample some Kimchi Tacos or Sicilian slices or gourmet ice cream sandwiches. We went for the tacos and they – and the accompanying nachos – were fantastic.
The other thing that happened in which I fell down on the parenting job and everyone thought I was an asshole? Not so fantastic.
Back when I was single, or even married without a kid, planning things wasn’t necessary. I’d get an impromptu phone call from a friend and just say “sure, I’ll be right there!” Then I’d actually be right there, and we’d spend the next 11 hours sitting at a bar.
Nowadays, if I don’t have something on the books at least a week in advance, I can’t even answer that phone call. Just getting yourself and your kid out of the house takes an eternity. When you become a parent, the concept of “spur of the moment” ceases to exist.
Having children means the death of spontaneity.
My wife called me today to alert me to the latest adorable thing my son did. Are you ready for this?!
She was getting him ready for his bath, and he decided that the moment right AFTER his diaper came off was the perfect moment to urinate. So urinate he did, all over the floor. Then he slipped in his own urine. And fell. Into his own urine.
SUPER CUTE, right? The kind of thing you’d expect to see an adorable homeless man do while you’re waiting for the subway. I’m actually a little shocked I haven’t seen that happen. I live in New York!
But toddlers and the homeless have a lot of other behavior in common. So much so that it can be hard to tell them apart.
Let’s try.