Seven Terrible Halloween Costumes for Kids

Seven Terrible Halloween Costumes for Kids

My son was born in the middle of September, so when his first Halloween came around, he was barely even a thing yet, let alone someone who might one day want to dress up as Thing. But that didn’t stop Mom and Buried from putting him in a little lion outfit and parading him around the neighborhood, to the delight of everyone because that shit is cute.

When his second Halloween came around, he went as a monkey. We initially tried a skeleton outfit but that did not go over well. To be honest, neither did the monkey, most of the time. But crying and screaming was kind of his thing back then. (Not that that’s changed much.) Last year was his third Halloween, and he was totally on board, chomping at the bit to be Jake the Neverland Pirate.

Finally, it was up to him to choose his costume. And it should always be from now on.

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Ten Things I Hate About Parenting

Ten Things I Hate About Parenting

Parenting is the worst thing in the world and the worst part about it is how fast it goes by.

Such is the paradox every mom and dad must come to terms with as soon as their first child is born. The bad parts are plentiful, the good parts are transcendent, and everything is over before you know it. I bitch a lot about pretty much all of it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t also love it. Personally, if I can’t bitch about something, it might as well not even exist. Which makes every rant against the hassle of child-rearing just further evidence of how important it all is to me.

Which means this list of things I hate about parenting is actually kind of a love letter, if that helps you feel better.

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Hard Knock Life

Hard Knock Life

The other day, during a particularly stressful endurance test at the dinner table, Mom and Buried chided me for getting so frustrated at Detective Munch’s eating (or lack thereof) habits. She told me that I needed to step back and realize that as hard as parenting can be, it’s pretty tough to be a three-year-old too.

My inadequacy as a father notwithstanding – although I would argue that no parent should be judged by their reaction to a toddler’s dinnertime hi-jinks – that’s some bullshit right there.

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The Story of My Life

The Story of My Life

Most parent bloggers have a gimmick, even if we don’t call it oneĀ or think of it that way.

Maybe you’re the “creative dad” or the “do-it-yourself dad” or the “sensitive dad” or the “tattooed mom” or “the vodka-drinking mom” or the “traveling mom”. Or maybe you filter every parenting experience through an “I’m a gay parent” or “I’m a single mom” or “I’m a stay-at-home dad” or “I have twins.” We all have a hook. I’m no exception.

Of course we do! With so many of us churning out post after post on the same handful of topics – say what you will about how unique your kid is or how groundbreaking your parenting style is, we’re all faced with the same issues and we all celebrate the same milestones – we need some kind of hook. Without them we’ll float away.

But does there come a point when our blogs, and even our lives, become so weighed down by the manufacturing of these moments, by constantly feeding these hooks, that it becomes detrimental? Are we straining so hard for attention that our lives are becoming artificial?

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