R cruised into our yard on his gleaming, orange Strider bike on a sunny day in SoCal. I jogged in behind him, shutting the white gate and wiping a bead of sweat from my temple. He settled onto a familiar patch of grass near the porch. “Daddy, will you please play ‘Life Is A Highway?’” […]
“Life Is A Highway” Or “Life Finds A Way”: Am I Cooler Than My Son? Read More »
My 3-year-old, R, returned from preschool one day and squeezed a giant turd right into his underwear. “Let’s-go-let’s-go-let’s-go!” I yelled, hoping the worst was yet to come. I whisked his 1-year-old brother, K, into my arms and climbed the steps into our house. R waddled behind me. In the bathroom, I surveyed the damage. Oh,
Poop In One Hand, Freedom In The Other: My Latest Thoughts On My Stay-At-Home Dad Career Read More »
My mom dropped me off early for first grade, like she always did. The other early-arriving kids scampered across the vast asphalt playground. Most gathered around the hoop of swinging rings, like they always did. I walked slowly toward The Rings, took a long look, and retreated to a grassy patch of trees. Alone, I
Kicking Trees: An Introvert on Parenting An Introvert Read More »
I do the cooking for my family. No surprises there; it’s in the stay-at-home parent job description. Like many dads, I am overly praised for this (sorry moms), just like I’m overly praised when I strap my son in a baby carrier on my chest, when I change a diaper, or when I admit that
I Like To Cook… As Infrequently As Possible Read More »
We were all enjoying a wholesome, family dinner. I sat across the table from Beast Wife. R was at the head of the table. And 11-month-old K sat in his high chair, perched slightly behind Beast Wife’s shoulder. As we discussed the issues of the day, something caught the corner of my eye: via GIPHY
Hilarious and Horrifying: My Baby Pretends To Smash Beer Cans on His Head Read More »
My two sons (ages 3 and 1) have already threatened my position as family patriarch with violence. Am I crazy to be a little afraid? The first time it happened, it was bath time. My oldest, R, was in the tub and we were playing a little game I had invented. I took a small,
Are My Toddlers Trying to Kill Me? Read More »
I sing sad, degenerate country songs to my kids. Is that bad? It all started when R was three months old. Beast Wife and I started to “sleep-train” him, our eyes fixed on the glorious promise of a baby who slept through the night. Our guide was “Moms on Call,” a simple, to-the-point, if rather
Lullabies: Do Sad Country Songs Count? Read More »
“How’s work going?” “Oh, you know. It’s good. Just waiting for [wife’s name] to start killing it so I can quit and become a stay-at-home dad.” I’ve had many conversations with my friends that sounded a lot like this. Did we hate our jobs? Not exactly. Were they our passions? Uh, no. There’s a reason
Announcing My New Job: Stay-At-Home Dad. What Just Happened? Read More »
