Dude always loved coffee. Probably since birth. Maybe even before that. And the Internet was much smaller back then, so we didn’t have a million opinions on how to do parenting properly. So we fed him coffee. And decaf is only consumed by the spawn of Satan, so we gave him the real thing. *insert gasps of a thousand moms
Relax. He’s fine. Sort of. He has a weird twitch every time someone says ‘coffee’ or when he sees a Starbucks. Even though I suspect the Starbucks-twitch has nothing to do with the fact that they serve coffee but more with the fact that girls hang around the place like antelope around a pool of water during the dry season. Continue reading
Sucks in a get-over-yourself-such-is-life kind of way. They are notoriously difficult to write about because when I do, I end up looking like a slobbering idiot with tears streaming down my face, splashing all over the keyboard, ruining the electronics and causing a short circuit that leaves the whole office building without power for three days. It seems electricity and water does not make a great pair.
Not that I write any posts at work.
Luckily these unfortunate occurrences I’m referring to only happens annually. Like today. Continue reading
Parents have a crappy job. It starts with wiping of said substance from the soft posterior of the little angels we bring home from the hospital and then it goes downhill from there. Fast. I’m not referring to the countless moments of joy and regret kids provide parents with on a daily basis. I’m specifically referencing the task of forming, sculpting and trying to raise responsible adults who will do more than simply wipe their own butts one day.
I’m talking about discipline. That’s the tough job. The part of parenting I hate. The having to say “No” part. The part where you create boundaries and then struggle for the rest of eternity to make them stay within those boundaries. And for every parent it’s different. Some of us have narrow boundaries, whilst others have boundaries as wide as the universe itself. There’s no right or wrong. To make matters even more complicated, it’s also our job to decide when we need to make the circle bigger, to expand the boundaries, even if it’s just a little at a time. And we need to make them bigger because the aim is to reach the point where you can demolish all the boundaries and simply let them fly. Or at least fall out of the nest without breaking their neck in the process. Continue reading
Being a father is tough. Just like being a mother but without the whole giving birth and having kids suck on your tits thing. It’s the most difficult job in the world, they say. It’s the most rewarding job in the world, they say.
What “they” don’t say, is that you’ll make mistakes. Mistakes that will probably result in your kids having to book a therapy session or two. (Besides, it’s not my fault they walked in when I was posing with the Borat bathing suit. Moving on…) What “they” also don’t tell you is how much you’ll end up loving the fruits of your loins. How much you are prepared to sacrifice for the little angels who can suck your wallet dry in one trip to the mall. How much pride and joy they can make you feel, and how nothing else on this blue ball makes any sense without them in your life. Continue reading
Actual footage of Dude’s room
Teenagers are wonderfully skilled at throwing clothes on the floor. If they decide to introduce “the ability to generate piles of clothing” as an Olympic event, all the participants would be between the ages of 13 and 19. Like gymnastics. Even though modern society has invented wonderful ways to keep clothes need and tidy. Useless inventions like coat hangers, shelves, cupboards, organizing compartments and the shirt folders made famous by Sheldon. Not to mention the whole practice of ironing. Continue reading
I’m not a prune. I have used the f-bomb before. Yes, even on this site. I use shit often, at least once a day. It’s a regular thing. I’ll giggle at a dirty joke and if it’s really dark, I might even burst out of laughter and then cover my mouth in shame, especially if Wife’s around. As a rule I tend to avoid r-rated stuff when I’m around my kids, because they’re a… you know, my kids. Continue reading
As parents we fantasize about being alone without the kids…yes we all do it!
Dreaming about having a night off. Experiencing an evening of bliss when we don’t worry or talk or ponder about our kids. Especially if it happens in the midst of the tough parenting stages, which occurs from the time they’re born until you die. Because parents are never NOT parents. Once we take on the role, it turns into a life-time appointment, like a supreme court judge.
The only trouble with fantasizing about having a night off from parenting is that it’s never as great as we imagine it would be.
Having teenagers in my house means my kids have grown into little adults with whom I can have a conversation with. Continue reading