March 28

Toddler Games

The new toddler trend in my house is counting. It is really exciting to hear my sons go “One, two, Tree, pho”! I am not even being sarcastic, I love hearing them count! I am sure after the excitement wears off I will be plotting ways to kill The Count from Sesame Street. Currently though, it is adorable.

Why am I telling you about my boys’ new found ability to count? Well, the other day Killian was doing something he wasn’t supposed to. If I can remember correctly, he had just taken a toy from his brother and had no intention of doing the right thing, like giving the toy back to his screaming and pissed off brother. So, in my best parenting voice I gave him the count.

You know the count right? The “you have three seconds to do the right thing or I will swoop in with some parental discipline and nobody will be happy when I am done” count. Well, as I masked my general annoyance over having to deal with the hundredth sharing problem of the day, I said to Killian in my dad voice, “ Killian, I am going to give you until the count of three to give that toy back to your brother.”

Angry cries from Nicolas, total lack of acknowledgement from Killian. As Nicolas looked at me waiting for me to swoop in and defuse the situation, I began my count.

“Okay. ONE!

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“TWO”

Before I could get to the next number, Killian shoots up and shouts  “TWO!” while jamming his fingers into the air. Now, He could have been putting up two fingers to correlate with saying two, but I don’t think so. He and his brother haven’t quite mastered the fingers to go along with the counting. So here he was, after exclaiming two, with his two fingers in the air. His index finger and middle finger were tightly together while his thumb rested over his ring finger and pinky.

The kid was giving me his version of  the F@&$ing symbol from the Hunger Games. Yes, I know they hold up three fingers, but I would recognize a sign of rebellion from my district and this two year old was in direct defiance of President Papa!

What do you do when your son goes all Mockingjay on you during a parental count off? I couldn’t be mad, it was too adorable. As Nicolas rose up next to his rebellious brother, equally excited to join a rebellion and completely forgetting the stolen toy, two fingers jolted up into the sky.

“TWO!”

So here I was, full on toddler rebellion. The boys kept pumping their signs of rebellion into the air, chanting two, looking at me. The odds were not in my favor.

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Anyways, when I go missing for a few days and I am found bound and gagged in my room- It was Killian Everdeen and Nicolas Mellark who are to blame.

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March 25

Beating Up Bully Families

I originally posed the question on Facebook. How do you react when your child is bullying? In a month filled with bullying awareness and compassion, I have yet to see anyone touch on this subject. There are hundreds of posts about standing up to bullying, yet none of these people were ever bullies? Something seems off here… No one has a kid that is a bully? No one was a  bully at one point in their life?

What was clearly established as I surfed around looking for answers was that bullying is a trait, passed down from parent to child, and the best way to  handle it was with violence. I promptly punched my boss in the face then punched his mother in the face for making her son such a dick. Bullying solved, bullying staying solve.

We automatically assume that there are just family trees of bullies. I mean, O’DOYLE RULES! Right? The problem must begin at home, the kid must be learning how to bully from his parents. Parents of children who are labeled a problem child sit there decrying the unfair treatment they receive over their son’s public tantrum, only to spend the same breath accusing the family of a bully of being bad people.

With this logic, victims of bullying are part of a long line of victims who have no idea how to stand up for themselves and are a prey to the big bad wolf.

I would like to apologize if my opinion is unpopular, that just seems to be the weakest cop-out I may have ever heard. You ask not to be judged, you say you give your child your all, but THAT parent who is dealing with a child who clearly needs help too is the bad parent? Make no mistake, accusing a parent of being a bully who taught their child how to bully is A) calling them a bad parent and B) somewhat eerily similar to the judgmental ass who accosted you and your child in public with glares and comments.

Let’s not get off topic, the problem here lies with the bully, which none of us have ever been or raised. How do we deal with bullies?

We should teach our kids how to stand up for themselves. I know, lets just punch our fucking problems away! We can break a cycle of cruelty by physical force, teaching people that they better watch out or violence. This is an awesome way to fix bullying. I can see nothing wrong with this at all. We will just tell them as a last resort, punch your problems away. We should talk about that.

I punch someone in the face, because they are a dick. That solves the problem? All punching people in the face whenever they upset me gave me was broken hands and a mean reputation. My first fight was justified, as were the countless fights after. When I felt that there was no other option than to rain down some sweet physical justice on someone because they upset me and it was my last resort. The line between right and wrong wasn’t blurred, because I only punched bullies. No, I wasn’t the bullies bully, that is nonsense, I was in the right!

Bullies don’t go away, they just get different names and positions of power. Kind of like my dick boss who makes me do all his work. I am sure our senior boss will understand if I punch him in the mouth because that is how you stand up to your problems. I can’t wait to go to work and judo-fucking-chop my boss, I really can’t. That is standing up for yourself 101, correct?

I wish I could talk to parents of bullies. There doesn’t seem to be any around, just a room filled with the victims of bullies and their children who also seem to be bully victims. Bully families must be taking this afternoon to go have a picnic and do some family bullying somewhere. There is no way anyone is in denial about raising a dick or at some point being a dick. Why would they do that? No one is afraid of being accused of bad parenting because their child who needs help brings glares and rude remarks from fellow parents,right?

“Daniel is a real bully, he must get it from his dad. Charlie punch him in the mouth if you have to.”

Instead of damning a family because of their child’s outbursts, we could try to open up lines of communication. And no, not by accusing them of being a bad parent or human being.
“Daniel is a dick, but Charlie can be a real asshole some days. What about we get together for lunch and make these kid’s play nice until the line blurs between playing and being. Let’s make a friendship here and drink some beers in the process.”

Maybe, just maybe, we shouldn’t assume the family tree is made up of bullies and the best way to solve the problem is by roundhouse kicking our way down each branch! Eh, that sounds hard. Just punch your bully in the face and blame the parents for it, seems to be working out well.

Besides, no one here knows what to do if raising a bully anyways; all our collective knowledge and experience is in being a victim.

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March 19

Sometimes I Hide From My Kids

I always try to tie my posts into reality. I mean, there are a ton of perfect parents out there and I guess I don’t fit that mold. More often than not, my parenting successes are followed by an inward sigh of relief for not fucking things up. Sometimes I read these posts by what I can only assume are the most thoughtful, patient, kind and caring parents only to feel bad because I called one of my children a dick under my breath. I’m not jealous of these parents abilities at holding their kid close at all times and skipping to the latest Disney movie in family bliss. I don’t size up my family to theirs in professional photographs, of moments filled with photoshopped happiness. Maybe because, through all the love and adoration they post online, you kind of have to feel sorry for the blatant bullshit they so desperately hope you, a stranger, believes.

 

At this exact moment, Hozier drifts through the speakers to battle with the sounds of Doc Mcstuffins on the television. A newborn is passed out in his rocker, dead to all the noise around him. The boys are half in my lap passing my Bruins cap between the three of our heads. They go from jamming to Hozier to watching Doc and giggling. It is peaceful and calm, everyone is getting along. The house looks tidy, toys are mostly picked up and a broom might have even touched the floor today.

 This is parenting.

two hours ago…

 

I was in the bathroom. No, I did not need to use the facilities. I had a Monster energy drink and was updating my Facebook. Outside the door the baby played in his little gym, looking at the dangling sun, smiling. His brothers on the other hand, were fighting over basketball rights. As banshee screams and meltdowns echoed through the house, I sat in the bathroom. Enjoying my Monster and catching up on the cyber world.

 

 You’re probably thinking to yourself right about now,

“Why would he admit to that?”

 Am I right?

This is parenting.

It was eight in the morning. Diana had just left for work. I had just finished feeding the kids breakfast before their basketball tantrum started. I was going through the motions of the day, getting everyone set up for what I can hope is a good day. When the fight over the basketball started, one of three exactly identical basketballs mind you, I just wasn’t ready to parent. I didn’t want to choose sides and I didn’t want to yell. In that moment I wanted some peace and quiet. I needed it, instead of lashing out at my children in a groggy state.

 

So, I did what I do when my kids have me feeling ever so slightly overwhelmed. I took a bathroom breather.

 

Yeah. I hid from my children.

This is parenting.

 

I work overnights. From 10 pm to 6 am you can find me picking things up and putting them down. After work I come home and try to catch as many winks of sleep I can before hitting up the dad zone. My wife and I both make sacrifices to make this family work. I sacrifice sleep.

 

On a good day I can get five hours of rest before being thrown into a chaotic mess of toddlers, toys, and tantrums. On less than good days I get twenty minutes.

 

And on those less than good days, I hide in the bathroom. Two, three, maybe five times I retreat to that bathroom to collect myself.

 

I would rather be known as a dad who avoids his kids when he is annoyed than be known as a dad who lashes out at his sons in anger without thinking. Don’t get me wrong, it happens, but I try to curb occurrences with potty cool downs.

 

I look around to the mess of my house. My walls are covered with hand prints. Toys spread across the floor waiting for a clean up that probably won’t happen anytime soon. I am sure you could find forgotten Cheerios if you went sofa searching.

 

Looking at the kitchen you can see dishes piled in the sink, waiting for someone to need a bowl. The funny thing is we clean. It just can never stay that way, no matter how hard we try. An especially bad day of tantrums, coupled with a long night of work. The housework falls to the wayside, as we fall exhausted to our pillows.

This is parenting

 

I assume that many parents go through this, regardless of child count in their house. Being a perfect parent is HARD. I want to clean and maintain a clean household. My wife wants to clean and maintain a clean household. At the end of the day it is difficult! My kids favorite activity is to recreate scenes from Twister, as they thrash any evidence of us being cleanly folk.

This is parenting.

It is a never ending mess of toys and tears.

 

Sure, I am complaining. Not about my kids or anything. I am complaining because I am tired of seeing these posts which make parents out to feel like shit for taking moments away for themselves. I am tired of people trying to pretend that they took a picture in the corner of a room because of the lighting and not the mess on the other side of the room.

This is not parenting.

Who do we have to talk to about pulling this dribble off the internet? Tearing down these sites of Stepford wives and Dads of the Year. There has got to be more parents out there tired of being fed condescending spoonfuls of bullshit that only lowers their confidence in ability. One of the major reasons you wont see me on popular blog sites geared towards parents is because I don’t want to participate in lying or pretending my hair isn’t one tantrum from being torn out.

 

Parenting is toys and tears. it’s messes and mistakes. It’s growth, for both child and parent. Sometimes it’s a calm day on the couch. Most days, it’s a cluttered house and a parent hidden in a bathroom.  Stop wasting your time reading the dribble, enjoy the real and know you’re not alone.

 

And that, is parenting.

The inspiration for this piece came from a good friend and mother to eight boys. Check out her post it ties in quite well with these sentiments.

Tune in next week when I sell out and pretend to have parenting under control for a spot on one of those sites! Just kidding, they would never accept me. Can’t accept what I would never submit.

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March 14

Ten Things of Thankful #91

I keep wanting to write up this grand-slam, homerun intro on being thankful. Have it include jabs at Thanksgiving and mention of my hunger for a Turkey dinner. After hitting delete on my fifth failed zinger I have decided to just get into what I am thankful for and quietly head towards the door. I will say that I love this hop, even if I have never done it before. It is a fantastic notion to sit down weekly and find ten things to be thankful for!

1) Writing

It is so interesting, to me at least, that I only just began this foray into writing. Growing up I always disliked writing! Too many rules! One of my main gripes about the current education system lies in the fact it attempts to take something like writing and make it uniform. Writing is an art form. Writing is self-expression! I am thankful to have found so much enjoyment and passion over these past few months through writing words and giving my emotions a voice.

 

2) Reading

I have always loved books. At a young age I could turn off reality by diving into a book. There have been a few books that shaped me as a person. The power of an author to mold your mindset is startling and delightful. I find myself coming out of a good book as a changed person. From Perks Of Being a Wallflower to The Shadow of The Wind. I came out of these books different, more thoughtful, a more whole human being. Right now I have the pleasure to be reading Order Of Seven and only four chapters in I can tell this will be a book I come out of changed.

3) Blogging

This is almost a mixture of the first two! I have grown quite fond of this platform to have a voice. I have grown even more fond of reading others’ stories and getting to know people through their writing. Before I started a blog I didn’t really read blogs. Man, I was missing out! From writing about my past to getting lost here, blogging is my new favorite past time.

4) Killian

Man, I am going to spend the next three points on each child. If only because I feel bad listing Nachos as a thing I am thankful for! Killian, my little powerhouse! This kid is freakishly strong and talented, he has a bright future in sports! We just spent the past half hour on free throws with the basketball hoop. Each time he got better and became more fluid with his shot. He isn’t even two yet! Yesterday he hip tossed his brother while they wrestled! His brother, who weighs as much as him, flew through the air and Killian barely broke a sweat. The kid is strong and coordinated! As a former athlete (current couch potato) and avid sports fan, I am so thankful to have this love for physicality and sports with him!

5) Nicolas

My artist! His love for singing and music is awesome! I love rocking out with my little guy! We will dance around the kitchen to the Arctic Monkeys or Taylor Swift, it doesn’t matter. Music is a big deal to me, even if I am not the most musically talented. I do, however, write song lyrics! Not that they are very good, but one day we will share in this enjoyment! He is also a little wild child. Like a mini me! He holds this infinite source of energy I am sure some comic book villain would love to sap for fuel of a destructo-ray gun. Sometimes it is scary how similar we are!

6) Ezra

The newest addition has revitalized me as a father. Not to say I was burned out per se, I just missed my kids being so little and adorable. I missed the cuddles and the two naps a day! With Ezra I get to relive those precious moments that cemented my love for being a father. And the best part? It is so completely different and new again! It is like a reboot of the first time around! And it is AWESOME!!! So yes, I am extremely thankful of my little chipmunk cheeked child who has me redoing the new dad phase all over again.

7) Being a Young Father

I get a decent amount of “You’re only 23?!?!” Yes, I am young, aren’t I? I actually enjoy being a young dad. I have a good amount of energy for my kid’s to siphon and I am also up to date on the cool and hip lingo! My kid loves Princess Sophia, that’s his bae! Imagine if i was thirty or forty? I might not be cool enough to say bae! I like being a father, and I work my ass off trying to be good at it. I am thankful for the drive to want to change the world and also chase children in circles.

8) Nachos

Okay, I had nachos for lunch and have yet to get over it. They were delicious! Steak and cheese drizzled the top and completely satisfied my grumbling stomach. Mmmmm nachos.

9) Caffeine

Okay, all that young dad stuff is great, I sometimes need a boost. Working at night and raising three kids under two during the day takes a toll, even on me! Thankfully there are so many different options and ways to ingest caffeine. I can fight the monster of sleep deprivation for days! literally! So, hell yeah! caffeine, the shakes are worth it!

10) uhm…?

You guys thought I would forget my wife huh? Well, my biggest supporter and mother to my three beautiful boys. She is what I am most thankful for. Through thick and thin, she is always there with words of support and a hot cup of coffee. Seriously, she is the force behind everything I do. Without her I would be incomplete. D’awwwww

 

Make sure to check out some other AWESOME bloggers who have participated in TTOT! I don’t know how to add a fancy banner or anything ( I will learn by next week and be thankful for it!) but you can find the other thankful people here! A special shout out to Lizzie! This is wonderful and I am happy to be a part of it!

What are you thankful for? Share, I want to hear your voice.

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March 13

The Sh*tty Situation of Diaper Changing Stations

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Isn’t it a little fucked up that Kelso is making the most sense in the world these days?

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Diaper changing stations in the men’s bathroom. Mind-fucking-blown. Seriously though, the fact that this is an issue bothers me. Why? Because men’s bathrooms should already have diaper stations! This should be a non-issue because public restroom interior designer Brad ( I need to attach a name and title to the person I am bitching about, so as not to feel like I am shouting at a bathroom) should have put them diaper stations in when he built the fucking bathroom. But nooo, he wanted to add the fancy hand dryers that nobody likes. If you like the hand dryers just know this, one time my friend walked in on a homeless man shoving his dick into one of those. And it wasn’t because he needed to dry his dick off.

 

I know, I am a little late to this trending topic. About as late as Brad is to installing those flip down tables. I actually fought with myself over even writing about this subject. Personally, without having those tables in the men’s room I don’t have to change diapers. Who likes changing diapers? Who woke up this morning and was just PUMPED to change a child’s diaper while said child flails around, possibly sending fecal debris flying onto walls or worse. With the lack of a proper place to change the children, I get out of diaper duty in public. I will admit to liking that. While championing diaper stations in all restrooms I lose my get out of  diaper changing card. It is a tough one, but I love my wife and am willing to help change diapers in public for her sake. D’awwwww.

 

I know I have gone a little Lewis Black in this post. I mean, It’s goddamn changing tables! The ones  I have seen are sometimes in the handicap stall unassuming on the wall! Why was it too hard for Brad to throw up one there before smiling at his fucking (literally) hand dryers? What the fuck Brad? Now Kelso is pissed off and the dads who have been championing this issue for years begrudgingly line up behind him, all the while muttering “I posted that first, screw you Kelso”. Way to go Brad. Way. To. Go.

 

Before I back to ranting about a place to clean up my son, can we get into how a celebrity created this buzz over a social media post? That’s what the Amazon Family campaign needs. I wonder if we can keep Kelso on retainer as our champion Achilles to further change the landscape of parenting and do away with some more gender bias. It’s just a thought! Brad Pitt has about forty kids running around, he might give some dad causes a good discount to drop a tweet. It is just a suggestion. A good suggestion in my opinion.

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Click and sign the petition. It’s now the first rule of fight club.

 

Okay, back from my spiral off. Where was I? Ahhhhh, Brad. Not Brad Pitt, Brad public restroom interior designer. Listen dude, go buy some fold up tables and put them in the fucking guy’s bathrooms. I am being nice about this! Don’t get my wife over here. She is rather tired of having to change all the diapers when we are out. By rather tired I mean she is standing over me with that glare she has mastered and baby poo smeared on her white shirt making sure I write this. Don’t get my wife involved, trust me.

 

And thanks Kelso. I am sorry I gave Jobs such a bad review on Rotten Tomatoes. Make a Dude, Where’s My Car Two with Stifler please.

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March 12

Ban Public Breast-feeding

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Oh great, another Pasta Fagioli ruined by some woman trying to nourish her hungry child. Doesn’t it bother anyone that she thinks it’s okay to feed her child at the table like that? Someone should boot her from the restaurant!

 

If you have ever thought these thoughts, congratulations! You are going to love my proposed laws to stop these mothers who think it is okay to feed their child in public!

 


 

 

Ban all mothers who breastfeed from going in public! Say no to public lactaters!

 

Okay, I propose we outright ban mothers from going into public. Not ALL mothers. Just the ones who recently went through childbirth and now think it is okay to provide sustenance to their child whenever and wherever! Those mothers. The Lactaters. How dare they? Trying to provide nutrients to their offspring, and expecting me to mind my own business! They are the problem with society today!

 

I say we don’t allow them to leave the house. No, they must stay home until they are done breastfeeding. And no, I am not giving you the restroom. No, I don’t want them in the restaurant bathroom feeding their child where people go to release their bowels. My chicken alfredo and I are out here knowing you are crammed in some nasty bathroom stall trying to be a parent. If anything, a mother and her child should have to drive all the way home to breastfeed their child. Don’t care that you live forty-five minutes away! Don’t care that this is your first time out since spending nine months carrying the next generation. Nope, go home and feed.

 

Ban all bottles! You’re not getting off easy moms!

 

My bread sticks were recently ruined by mom at table two feeding her son. No, he wasn’t suckling on a breast. It was still pretty disgusting! He had a bottle! have you seen the top of a bottle? It’s designed to look like a nipple! Get that filth out of public too! I can’t believe an issue has never been risen over this! I will take charge though and clean up the brothel we used to know as Olive Garden!

 

Seriously, what right do these women have to take care of their kids? No right I gave them! I didn’t vote and pass a “mind your own business and let them feed their child law”. I would never just sit there and eat my food while not worrying about someone trying to simply care for their children. I am a people watcher and watching people take care of their kids by feeding them sickens me.

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Disgusting!

 

Women need to stop dressing however they want!

 

A little off topic, but still on the subject of women. I am tired of seeing all these women out here in tank tops because its 80 degrees out. Boo hoo! I don’t care that I am sitting here in shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt. I don’t have those boob things!

Look, I get it and I am willing to be flexible here. I am not calling for women to start wearing a burka. Just poodle skirts. And giant loose-fitting sweaters. That’s more than fair and fashionable. Women who decide to be rebels will be sent home with the breast-feeding moms to think about their actions! I am not against women wearing what they want, as long as none of their skin from their neck down shows. I am being very reasonable here!

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Let’s give them a comeback!

 

Babies shouldn’t be allowed to cry in public!

 

That’s right, I said it! I am tired of your baby being a baby. I can’t tell you how many times I have been to my local diner to see some snot-nosed, breast-feeding, diaper wearing baby whining. I am done with you ruining my Denny’s! I don’t care that it says “family restaurant”! They did that to be nice! Why yes, I am glaring at you!

 

I am a strong believer that kids should be neither seen or heard. That is why I propose all restaurants install a family section that is windowless and sound proof and locks from the outside. I am even willing to volunteer in installation and eat my afternoon brunch outside the door to make sure it works! I don’t think this is unreasonable at all. I don’t like children acting their age all up in my public space.

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Blueprint of new family room at Denny’s.

Ban all women and children from public!

This is the end all, if all else fails measure. The easiest way to not offend me is by not being allowed to leave the house. And while I will still be disgusted by the knowledge that you take care of your child’s dietary needs, there is not anywhere else I can banish you other than your home.

 

Or can I?

 

My final proposed law is to banish all women and children to Antarctica! Let them be the penguin’s problem! Then and only then will I be able to mind my own business when out in public! Only then will I feel safe and comfortable with my meal!

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Your problem now.

 


As you can see I have thoroughly thought through these matters and come up with what I believe to be agreeable compromises for everyone. I think by working together we can rid the world of the problems brought about by breast-feeding. I didn’t even get into my legislation about women greeting their husband’s at the door with a scotch and a smile. We can save that for a later date!

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March 7

Guest Post by Nicolas Underwood

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The other day I was playing on Facebook hard at work writing when I felt the need to use the bathroom. While away my son Nicolas climbed the chair and sat at my laptop and began typing. As I returned to him slamming away like he was writing the next great novel, it was hard not to shove him away from my $1500 brand new laptop. As I prepared a tactical takedown he lifted the empty can of monster that I had finished before my potty break. To his mouth went the can as he fake drank it, before a satisfied “ah” and smile. The can was then put back down and he continued writing his great masterpiece.

How could I stop him? I have always tried to push my kids and encourage them when it comes to an activity they enjoy. I couldn’t suppress his desire to be a writer! I know just how much joy writing brings me, so I let him write. Below is his first feature, where he discusses diapers, his love for his mother and talks nap time regulations.

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Nicolas Underwood is an almost two-year old brother and twin. In his free time he enjoys licking random objects and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. His love for licking objects is only rivaled by his new-found love for smashing at his father’s brand new laptop.

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March 4

Forever Punk

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And they say we are too young

As if youth is a crime

And naivety is our punishment

We just don’t understand the way of the world

For we are too young

And as we fight back, at the typecast of youth

Constantly battered down

As if heated metal to be forged in the proper ways of the world

What if they are the problem?

They being rules and regulations and age

Why must we act?

Why must we pretend?

Why must the flame burn out?

And so the few of us

In our refusal to conform

We fight back

With our green skinny jeans

We stand in defiance of the rules

Of the regulations

And more importantly

Of the age

How are we too young?

Do we not go through the same motions?

Are the waves of life not washing upon our shores too?

With bills and children and jobs and responsibility

Shall we still sit at the kids table for the supper we have prepared?

Does our fire discomfort you?

Because you had the fire to change once

And you let it burn out

It’s only fitting we too join the ranks

Of giving up and giving in

For your fire barely smolders, if it exists anymore

No, I think we will light ablaze your rules and regulations and age

Burn it to the fucking ground

With our youth, with our fire

And when it burns and people ask “WHY?”

We will smile and simply reply

“Because we are the youth”

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March 2

Potty Training 101

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So has begun the days of potty training! The day started with high expectations of at least a rudimentary understanding of the functions of the toilet. It is a little after noon now, and I have lost all my wits, thanks a lot potty training.

My foot feels forever unclean, and I still sense there might be some urine resting in toe crevices. The internet, which has never been found to be wrong, told us to keep them in one room. while stuck in that room they should be nude. So, we trap them naked in the living room, okay. This shouldn’t be a big deal, easy enough right?

 

WRONG! WRONG! WRONG! 

 

I started my morning super motivated. I was ready to be the Mr. Miyagi of toilet use. I happen to be rather great at peeing in a toilet myself, so how hard could it be to teach two year olds the trick? readying myself to sensei the kids in the art of toilet-kun-do, I was filled with confidence. Bring it on potty training!

 

The first hour was filled with my toddlers playing tickle our ding dong. How do you tell a toddler to stop wanking it to Doc McStuffins? Well, I now have that to add to my resumé. I had quelled their creepy touch myself session, then Princess Sophia came on. Wank City was promptly revisited. And this time, no amount of “Stop touching yourself” was working. Princess Sophia is now banned in this house because I cannot unsee these things.

 

If toddler touch myself was the worst part of this situation, I wouldn’t have such a problem with potty training. Unfortunately, This was not the worst part.

 

After touching their magic sticks became out of fashion, one child promptly peed on the wall. This was a lovely experience, because afterwards he clapped and smiled, because the wall was where I wanted him to pee, not the toilet I constantly walked him to for the past hour. Out came the bottle of cleaner! I cleaned the pee up and put the cleaning supplies away only to see the other brother peeing IN THE EXACT SAME SPOT!

 

This wasn’t even the worst part of day one in potty training.

 

So, with fondling and wall pissing finally over, my children decided it was naked dance party time. This was actually kind of cute, because naked toddlers dancing to Dropkick Murphys was really funny to watch. which lead me to another issue. as my kids flailed around shaking it like they just don’t care, I wanted to share with my friends the adorableness I was getting to bear witness to. You really can’t share this moment without everything you say coming out in a way that would get you an interview with Chris Hansen. I couldn’t videotape the moment for fear of some weirdo pervert online or social justice stick up my ass person seeing it and causing all sorts of mayhem. I can’t even say I recorded the moment in my mind without feeling like Tobias Fünke, which I probably sound like right about now.

 

This isn’t even the worst part of potty training.

 

After a few hours of plying the children with candy and cell phones, the boys finally were just sitting on their potty’s. Great right? If they never move, eventually they will pee in the potty! When that happens, I can reclaim sensei status, scream “Victory is mine” and they will finally understand the chair with holes true purpose. I was excited, constantly watching for a stream or tinkle ( back to sounding like Tobias, great!), when one son got off the potty. In my mind I though “Okay, let him stretch his legs and then he will go back to sitting and maybe peeing.”

 

Now before I move on, many will notice I said sitting to pee. I really don’t know much about teaching someone to pee but i figured it would be easiest to teach them how to sit and pee than later on teach the finer points of aiming. I don’t know if this is the “right way” to do it, but hey if it isn’t why don’t you come train these kids. 

So my son looks at me and smiles, which I take to be a good sign, he is happy and maybe even motivated to let the stream run in his little potty. I smile back, because I am not a heartless bastard and love my kid. That was my mistake. The kid took that as an invite over to be next to me.

 

Then he peed nonchalantly on my foot. Might I add he returned to his potty afterwards and clapped. He was so proud of leaving his potty to piss on my foot that he clapped. I didn’t even immediately clean my foot off. I just sat there in awe at the pure audacity of this child to knowingly and purposely piss on his own father.

 

And that was the worst part of potty training.

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