Category: Parenting

Dear Diary …

About 8 years ago, I started creating humans. OK all I did was have kids, but man doesn’t it sound impressive when you say it that way. I AM THE CREATOR OF YOUUUUU!!!!!

Anyway … after raising kids for 8 years I’ve learned one thing above all else … I absolutely HATE taking them to the grocery store with me.

It is the … WORST!!!!

For me Diary … the grocery store is almost like a boxing match. It involves precision, strategy, and skill … all with the goal of winning the fight of “getting as much stuff for as little as possible.” And when my kids are there, that is completely ruined.

I’m already losing before I even walk through the door because I’m entering the battleground arena with … the dreaded “Dork Cart.”

That’s right Diary … the mark of shame of grocery shopping parents everywhere … that cart with the giant plastic car attached to the front of it. Broadcasting to the world as I walk through the doors … LOSER ALERT! LOSER ALERT! … Dorky parent pushing gigantic unwieldy cart of coming your way … LOSER!!!!

And God bless the grocery store for figuring out a way to make that cart twice as big as a normal cart, but also managing to hold about half the groceries because you’ve sacrificed so much space for your dork car attached to the front. Not to mention the fact that it has the maneuverability of an obese whale, to basically guarantee you’re going to be in the way of every other shopper in the store.

So now I’m already off my game. I know I look ridiculous, and I’m doing 300 pound bicep curls to just try to get this beached whale of a shopping cart into the next aisle.

Meanwhile, now I have an evil little devil barking orders to me in the front of the cart. Actually … I shouldn’t say “barking,” because my son basically talks in his normal voice, and assumes that I can hear him perfectly fine while I’m a mile and a half away at the front of this gigantic cart.

“Daddy …. [[[muffled and mumbled nothingness]]]”

What?

[[[muffled and mumbled nothingness]]]

Yeah. Great. Whatever.

And let’s not forget, he’s now in a perfect position to just start grabbing stuff off the shelves that he wants. Fruit snacks … oreos … applesauce … whatever it is that he sees … he can just grab and stuff in that little car compartment without me even noticing.

So now I’m just trying to get the hell out of there … so all manner of precision and care is thrown out the window … while all the while the little demon is saying “Daddy can I have this? Daddy I want that! Daddy can we get cookies? Daddy that box has Batman on it!”

And of course, because I’m p-whipped … you know “Parent Whipped” … I’m buying him stuff just to shut him up so I can just get what I need and get home.

So not only does a trip to the grocery store not save me any money … it actually costs me money, because I end up buying a pile a crap I had no intention of bringing home with me.

And Diary … I would continue to tell you more about how much I hate grocery shopping with the kids, but my daughter has just informed me that I’m “taking too long on the computer and she wants a turn,” so now she’s totally ruined my focus and I can’t remember what I was going to say anymore. So I’m outta here!

Till next time Diary … I say goodbye.

Dear Diary …

When you have kids, your tolerance level for all things gross goes WAY up. The simple fact is that kids … are nasty … and you gotta deal with their nastiness to the point that it becomes a simple everyday activity that is no big deal. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat at the dinner table and talked to my wife where we say … “Mmm … this lasagna is wonderful … so did Lennon poop today? He did? And it was a big poop? OK great … can you pass the parmesan cheese? This meal is delightful!”

That said … I’m not immune to all the things they do, because quite frankly, I’ve never seen anything grosser in my life that my four year old son eating a bowl of Cheetos. It’s agonizing!!

Diary … it’s as if he starts that bowl with a mission … eat these Cheetos as messily as possible … with my entire hand jammed in my mouth and cheese dust smeared all over my face.

Oh … and the noises …

[[[[This is where you here gross munching sounds of you’re listening to the playback of this]]]

Ugh!!

How can you even stand yourself while you’re sitting there like a blob covered in orange goo?

But he don’t care one bit. Just jams his cheesy fist into his face, munches them all down, and then casually demands … “Wipe” … with his orange fingers in the air.

I don’t even get a “please” … It’s basically … “Slave … come over here and serve your Lord.”

And Diary … while we’re talking about kids and parenting … can I just go ahead and say something that I know all parents are thinking but are afraid to say because they think they’ll be judged as horrible parents? We hate doing crafts!

Now I’m sure there’s a handful of mutant Pinterest-obsessed parents that actually like doing little craft projects with their kids, but most of us hate it. And here’s why … 99% of the time, we’re the ones that have to sit there and do all the work!

The whole point of these stupid crafts is supposed to be giving the kids something to do to keep them occupied, but their unskilled little hands stink at it, and we end up having to help them. And by “help,” I mean now I’m sitting at the table and doing it all while they’re in the other room watching TV and yelling “are you done yet?”

Same with things like Play Doh. Man my opinion of Play Doh changed dramatically when I became an adult. I thought … ooh … I LOVED the Play Doh Burger Maker when I was a kid … let me get it for MY kids! Yeah … terrible idea!

Now I’m sitting there like a dummy for an hour building things for them with the Play Doh Burger Maker and then dealing with all the dried up Play Doh nastiness that builds up inside that cheap piece of garbage. Oh and speaking of “garbage,” that’s exactly where the Play Doh Burger Maker ended up one day while everyone was at school.

Oopsie … problem solved!

I hate to say it Diary, but you know what’s really good at keeping them occupied? The iPad! iPad don’t sit there and make me do a bunch of origami swans like a dummy. iPad lets me take a nap. Thank you, iPad!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Dear Diary …

Did you know that my son’s birthday is coming up soon? I did. Because he’s been reminding me every day since the day after Christmas … letting me know ALL the toys he wants for his birthday. Oh … and by “soon,” I mean that his birthday is “three months away.” So … actually I have about 90 more days to hear about what he wants for his birthday.

Oh and in case you were wondering what he wants for his birthday, I can tell you … Everything. He wants absolutely everything.

If he sees a commercial on TV … Daddy I want that for my birthday.

If he sees a LEGO set in a catalog … Daddy I want that for my birthday too.

If he watches a YouTube video with an ad on it … Daddy I want that for my birthday too!

So there you go … that’s his list. “All”

He even came to me last week and said “Daddy we need to make my list for everything I want for my birthday.” And I look over and see him holding a gigantic piece of art construction paper … like he’s making his own billboard.

I mean … at least he’s aware that it’s going to take a piece of paper that size to write down the sheer volume of everything he’s expecting to get. And that’s the problem … his expectations are huge.

So yeah … looking forward to that day in three months when his expectations are crushed. Happy Birthday!

Moving on Diary … I keep my computer in the basement. That’s the office space in the house. It’s where I go to pen my genius that is … well … this. And the reason for having the computer in the basement is obvious … I need to be able to hole up in my creative cave so I can create said genius.

The problem, Diary? As I write these things to you right now EVERYBODY IN MY HOUSE IS STANDING DIRECTLY BEHIND ME AND DRIVING ME INSANE!

I’m down here in the cave, people! You know, penning that genius and stuff, and all I’m getting is 27 different voices in my ear.

[[[A mumbled mess of insanity you probably just need to listen to on the attached audio]]

AHHHHH!!!!

This is not helping. I mean … Diary … this ain’t genius! Listen to this! I don’t even know what I’m typing anymore because I can’t concentrate to save my life. And every time there’s finally a quiet spot and I think … “Ahhh … OK … now I know what to say…”

[[[More of said insane blabbing of voice]]]

Yup … so this is pretty much the best you’re gonna get. Enjoy!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye

Dear Diary …

I think we can all agree … It’s time to make some changes.  And normally Diary, I’m not one of these New Year’s Resolution dorks …

“Hey what’s your resolution?”

I just always think they’re phony and we never stick to them.  But you know what? For a lot of reasons 2016 was a big steaming pile, so I think this year I’m board … change is good!

But let’s not stick ourselves with the same lame resolutions … let’s try to come up with some that would actually make the world a better place.

Here’s one … let’s make kids actually do things.

My kids don’t do or play anything … they just watch other people do things. I mean, when I let ‘em play on their iPad … they don’t even play games.  They go on YouTube and watch somebody else play Minecraft.  Or somebody else build LEGOs. Or whatever.  They don’t DO anything!

And I’m not here to be all high and mighty … because I give them their iPads to I can sit and watch other people on TV do stuff that I’m not doing.  Doing stuff is hard, man!  It’s WAY easier to just sit around and watch other people do stuff.

But you know what we are when we do that?  Losers.  I’m saying it about myself, too.  I know you do what I do … sit there … watch other people do stuff … and think, “I could do that if I wanted to.”  But we don’t.  So this year … we’re gonna!

But also … let’s not do dumb things.  My generation of parents … we are idiots.

I have a friend … couple weeks ago … he had to help out at his daughter’s pancake breakfast at school.  6:30 in the morning … on a Saturday!  What is wrong with us?  Why do we plan these things at such stupid times?

He’s the same guy often taking his kid to soccer games … an hour away … for a game that STARTS at 7 on a Saturday morning.  Unacceptable! And why does every kid have to travel now for every activity?  I see plenty of soccer fields in my neighborhood … remind me again why I gotta drive to Martinsville to play on their grassy area instead?

Moving forward … we need to change it up … 2017 is an action year my friends! Time to do better!

But as we move forward … let’s also look back one last time and pour one out for all the sad losses that we had in 2016.  And no, I’m not talking about all the celebrity deaths … forget those people!  I’m talking about how many socks I lost in the laundry in 2016 … It was freakin’ ridiculous!

Diary … I have what I call “The Pile of Sock Orphans.”  Every time the laundry comes back, and I end up missing one sock, it’s poor soulmate gets tossed in The Pile of Sock Orphans.  It’s so sad … like that old Cider House Rules movie … the new load of laundry is the prospecting Mom and Dad … coming into the orphanage … looking to adopt a sad little sock orphan … “Please sir … am I the right color to match you?”

And all that ever happens?  Fresh fish!  New orphan tossed into the pile.

Where do they go?  Is there a black market for solo socks or something, and my wife is making fistfulls of cash selling off one of my socks to these other sad Piles of Sock Orphans?

I mean … there is no other reasonable explanation. Nobody else in the house has a problem with this but me. Where are all my socks???

Till next time Diary … I say .. Goodbye.

Dear Diary …

In my house there is one simple rule. OK … there are plenty of rules, cuz I love rules, but there’s one rule in particular … Don’t wake up Daddy when he’s sleeping. I get up at 3:30 in the morning and I will freely admit, I am a VERY cranky baby if you dare wake me up when I’m taking my nap. Little baby has gone down for his rest, and you must leave me alone.

And yes, selfishly I don’t want you to wake me up because I wanna sleep, but this rule is also in place for your own good, because Daddy is MEAN when you wake him up from his nap.

Diary, I’m not proud of it, but the last time my daughter woke me up, I may or may not have thrown the remote control across the room and said “WHAT???? WHAT IS SO IMPORTANT THAT YOU WOKE ME UP FOR IT???”

Not my finest moment. For the record, it was not important, but still not my finest moment.

So … my daughter gets it. She doesn’t wake me up anymore. Some could say it’s because she’s older now and listens better. Others could argue I scarred her so deeply with my outburst that she’ll sort this fear out later in therapy, but … well … at least she don’t wake me up anymore.

My son on the other hand … He don’t get it. I tell him … “Daddy is taking a nap, please don’t wake me up.” But to him, that just means, “Try not to be loud, but still wake up Daddy if you want a snack.”

So what he does … which I’ll admit is kind of adorable … is he just quietly goes …

“Daaaaaaaady”

“DAAAAAAAADY”

“I need a snack.”

(Oh and I should add, it’s directly into my face.)

Alright look here Doo Doo Brown … Quietly waking up Daddy still counts as waking up Daddy. Cut it out!

Oh and here’s the other thing (By the way can you tell I had to watch the kids by myself all weekend?) … These little demons make demands the second you walk into a room. They’re just sitting there … loafin’ .. watching TV and drooling out the sides of their heads, but the minute I walk into the room it’s like “Oh … the help has arrived! Bring me your finest meats and cheeses!”

Diary do they ever realize that I don’t just work here and I’m not just the butler? They don’t? GREAT!

And when they do make their requests, why do all children proceed to mumble them? The rest of the time they’re painfully loud. I mean … this is a quote from my son yesterday, “AHHHHHH!!!!!!”

But the minute he wants some Cheeezits …

[MUMBLES] “Can I have some Cheezits?”

What?

“I said [MUMBLES] can I have some Cheezits?”

I think all of this is on purpose. I read the news. This is psychological warfare. And they are winning.

If our government wants to find new torture methods that aren’t so invasive like waterboarding … Just make these terrorists deal with the demands of a couple 5 year olds for a few hours. We’ll have ISIS wiped out in one single parent weekend. Bank on it!

Till next time Diary … I say … goodbye.

Dear Diary …

I come to you today to expose a SCAM that is going on right underneath your nose. You are being lied to, taken advantage of, and ripped off. Because Nutella is NOT a snack … it is a DESSERT!!!

Children are scamming us parents and they’re using Nutella against us as a way to sneak extra desserts into their lives. I mean … my daughter already gets TWO desserts. Every day! One after lunch and one after dinner. And now when she comes home from school I get, “Could I have Nutella toast for my snack?”

No! Nutella is a dessert!

“No it isn’t. It’s a snack.”

I don’t know who told you that, but just because it’s got a picture of a nut on the jar, that don’t make it a snack.

Let me ask you this … would you give your kid a piece of toast with chocolate cake frosting on it and call it a snack? I’m hoping your answer is no … right?

OK good … then let me point something out to you … Nutella has more calories, more fat, and more sugar than cake frosting.

So if anything, you should be trying to scam me into thinking that cake frosting is a snack … not Nutella! Look … it’s delicious … I agree. But it’s NOT a snack. You’re little scam is over with.

Moving on Diary … Here’s a phrase I would like banned from the English language … “I didn’t mean to.”

And this applies in particular to children because I hear this one ALL the time when they spill something, drop something, break something, or whatever.

“Yeah but I didn’t mean to.”

Yes … I understand that accidents happen, but you should also be more careful and try not to set yourself up for failure.

For example … we got this BIG painting that hangs over the couch in our living room. And the other day my daughter is jumping and flailing around on the couch … tosses her head back, and knocks the whole gigantic painting off the wall. Luckily I was there to catch it, so I didn’t end up with a cartoon-like situation where it falls right through her head and the painting is completely ruined.

“But I didn’t mean to!”

I know you didn’t MEAN to, but that doesn’t make it a total accident. I can guarantee you that I could sit on that couch every day for the next 100 years, and this isn’t going to happen to me because I’m not going to fling my arms all over the place and jerk my head back like a Pez dispenser when I sit down.

I’m just going to sit. Normally. So the picture is never going to fall off.

I’m also never going to spill my bowl of Cheezits all over the floor because I’m not going to carry the bowl on the tips of my fingers while I toss the bowl all over the place and carelessly run through the house. I might spill ‘em cuz I’m drunk, but that’s the only time.

I don’t know what it is about kids carrying food and drink where they just think they can hold it in any ridiculous way they want and there won’t be any consequences. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve given my son a plate of food to carry and he immediately tilts the whole thing forward and spills it on the floor. What did you think would happen if you did that you dodo?

And yes, you’re four, so you haven’t taken a physics class yet, so I get it if it happens once. Maybe twice. But after that, your tiny brain should be able to say say, “hey maybe I shouldn’t tip my plate while I carry it around.”

“But I didn’t mean to!”

Outta here with that. Till next time Diary, I say … goodbye