I love my kids, I just hate parenting
My instinct is to joke about it. To make fun of the whole thing, to poke fun at the people who fall for it, to bemoan the dumb victims and their bad parents.
But he whole thing is so twisted it makes my stomach churn. These are little kids.
No matter how desperately I wish it were funny, the Momo Challenge isn’t a joke. Real or not, the prospect is terrifying.
I am not the world’s best gift-giver. Not by a longshot.
But one Christmas, when we were still dating, I got my wife the perfect gift.
It’s been downhill ever since.
I love to complain. Especially about my kids.
Parenting is a never-ending hellscape of stress and headaches, and as such it offers plenty of fodder for whining. God knows I do a lot of it.
That said, even I am sick of some of the typical rants. It’s time for parents to shut up about some of this stuff.
“Does it get better?”
That’s the question a follower asked me, in a lighthearted panic, after I posted a meme about unruly kids.
It’s just after my often-challenging eldest son’s 8th birthday, and this idea of things becoming easier is on my mind, so all (most) joking aside, I thought I’d try to answer. (But I hate being threatened by more experienced parents who warn me about the tween years or the teen years or the unemployed-and-living-in-my-basement years, so I’m going to try to answer without doing that.)
Mom and Buried has worked in theater – musical theater – for a long time. She’d been angling to watch Annie on one of our movie nights for months, having depleted our stores of Pixar, Star Wars, and age-appropriate superhero flicks.
Last summer, thanks to “CBS Sunday Morning,” she finally had her chance!
One day, after seeing a segment about the play on the sleepy morning news show, my 6-year-old asked Mom and Buried if they could watch Annie.