I love my kids, I just hate parenting
When you’re a parent, you take on a lot of roles.
You’re still the person you were before you were a parent (to varying degrees), but now you’re also the person your kid knows as Mommy or Daddy. And then you’re the million different things your kid needs you to be over the course of the day.
If this were a resume it would 30 pages long.
I don’t believe in astrology. That’s probably because I’m a Virgo.
I’m sick of looking at stupid fortunes based on whether your folks got it on on New Year’s Eve, Valentine’s, or Bastille Day. They are vague to the point of meaninglessness. But I guess they can be kind of fun, like fortune cookies.
I just wish they were more specific to my role as a parent.
This Father’s Day, we took our son to his first amusement park. (Because what do you get for the dad who has everything? LOWER BACK PAIN!)
I guess, technically, it was his second amusement park, but that’s only if you count our visit to Sesame Place when he had just turned two. But he doesn’t even remember that and I’m still doing my best to forget it. This trip was a lot more successful.
Somehow, despite the fact that “Dutch Wonderland” isn’t a cool nickname for Amsterdam, even the adults had fun!
Children will never admit to being tired.
They’ll shake their heads while they’re yawning if they think it will buy them five more minutes of doing whatever stupid bullshit they’re doing. My son hates going to bed more than I hate trying to put my son to bed!
They simply don’t know what’s best for them. So it’s up to us to decide.
I’ve never really liked post-apocalyptic movies.
You know the ones, where the world is shit, whether by circumstance or calamity, and everyone left is fighting for survival and scrounging for sustenance. Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome‘s dry, desert dystopia just depresses me (although I definitely enjoyed Fury Road). Everyone is so dirty! It looks miserable. One of the reasons people prefer The Empire Strikes Back to Star Wars is because for once, Tattoine isn’t involved.
The good news is I’m almost 40; the odds of having to experience such a hellscape in real life dwindle with every birthday I have. The bad news is that with every birthday he has, my son may actually be getting closer to experiencing such a life.
Thankfully, I don’t really care.