04 Nov

Dad and Buried Posted in Shut Up 30 comments

My Little Bronies

This morning, my brother alerted me to this story in the Wall Street Journal, about a burgeoning subculture of older people (read: teens and up) who are enthusiastic about the new version of the “My Little Pony” cartoon.

Older male people.

As a free thinking liberal who supports gay marriage, female hockey players and David Bowie, I have no problem with this on any kind of gender-stereotyping level. Besides, there’s a good chance that my previous sentence, in which I lump these male “Pony” enthusiasts in with homosexuals, is potentially offensive to the aforementioned “bronies.” (Yes, bronies. That’s what they call themselves. I know, right?)

The Scariest Job in the World

Last week I wrote a lighthearted piece about my wife’s obsession with Halloween. And I posted this terrifying clip from “Twin Peaks,” featuring a character I truly consider to be the most frightening fictional creation of all time.

Those posts were meant to be fun, and so is Halloween. Being scared is fun (unless you’re my wife or my friend Suj or my older brother Mark) and eating candy is fun and dressing up is fun (especially if you’re my wife or my friend Suj). And having a little kid with whom to experience Halloween makes all of those things even more enjoyable.

Obviously, today actually is Halloween, and while this post may be violating the generally accepted tenor of the holiday, it seems an appropriate time to discuss one of the toughest aspects of being a parent.

It’s completely and utterly terrifying.

25 Oct

Dad and Buried Posted in Judgment 2,375 comments

Parenting is Not a Competition

Parenting is not a competition. But that doesn’t stop some parents from treating it like one.

Last week I wrote a post about the self-loathing I felt upon stating my son’s age in months. The first comment I received was a joke about how I should get my son checked out because he’s not yet walking on his own.

At least I hope it was a joke.

21 Oct

Dad and Buried Posted in Babies 245 comments

Crock of Ages

This entire blog is dedicated to my attempt at staving off the inevitability of becoming something I hate:

One of those people who is known as a parent first and a person second. One of those people who can’t seem to talk about anything except kids and kid-related stuff. One of those people who goes to bed at 8pm because parenting is so tiring, who stops having fun (read: drinking) because parenting is so all-consuming. One of those people who only listens to kids music, who only watches children’s programming, or who only hangs out with other parents.

Or one of those people who relays his child’s age in months. Today, I failed.

The Parent Excuse

A friend of mine is in a fantasy football league in which one owner drafted a defense in the sixth round.

When questioned as to why he made such an idiotic pick, said owner explained that he made the pick because his young son had been begging him to take the Steelers D all day and he couldn’t hold him off any longer.

Um, what?

Dad and Buried

Tag: motherhood

My Little Bronies

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The Scariest Job in the World

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Parenting is Not a Competition

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Crock of Ages

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The Parent Excuse

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