Anyone who has read this blog can surely sympathize by now; Raising two daughters isn’t always easy. There’s a lot of, “I hate you!” and “I wish you were never born!” These types of words are thrown around quite frequently and with reckless abandon.
My wife grew up as an only child, as did her Mother before her. The fighting affects her. She doesn’t understand how or why sisters could talk to each other in such a way.
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My baby girl is growing up. I can’t believe it.
It seems like it was only yesterday that she was shitting in the bath tub, eating chalk and falling down the stairs. It all happens so fast, I tell ya.
Some Dads get a bit timid when it comes to dealing with their daughter’s progression. I personally don’t see the problem. Every time my little princess says something that indicates she’s advancing on to the next level, it makes me smile. It’s like watching someone break the high score on Ms Pac-Man. Did you know there are 256 levels on Ms Pac-Man?
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I’m alone.
She’s gone.
She told me she was leaving me and that she was taking my kids away from me too.
At first I was stunned.
Why would she leave?
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Family trip commence.
Witness my mad parenting skillz.
Airplane style…
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I hate you Valentine’s Day.
I hate you because you are right.
I hate you because you remind me of what a complacent sh*t I’ve become.
I hate you because you make me feel guilty.
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My oldest daughter and I are very musical people.
We both love to sing and perform.
For her 5th birthday, I bought her a microphone and an amplifier. She uses it all the time. We have guitars in the house, a piano, keyboards and all sorts of musical influences, that serve as a constant source of inspiration and encouragement.
The only thing that’s been slightly disappointing for me, from a selfish standpoint, is that our tastes in music seem to differ quite a lot.
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I am a bad parent.
I have been lying on the couch, watching football all afternoon. My wife is out with my youngest daughter. I am home alone with my 7 year old.
I haven’t fed her lunch or even checked on her in quite some time. She knows where we hide the 100 calorie packs. This should suffice.
I’m not overly worried but I am becoming a tad concerned. …read more
Sometimes being a Dad is dangerous. Sometimes it’s delightful. Other times, it’s delicious.
Dangerous
On Saturday night, I got slugged in the face by a bedazzled purse filled with Chucky Cheese Tokens. Yep that’s right. My 7 year old filled her purse with about 50 gold tokens and tossed it, in all of it’s glittery glory, right at my mug. She was standing about a
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I Hate You…
May I have candy?
You must first eat your supper.
You’re mean. I hate you.
My daughter has been bugging me for weeks to take her to the $1 store. For some reason she views this place as some type of shopping mecca. I’m not sure what she expects but whatever it is she’s imagining, the bar is set pretty high.
7 Year Old – “Daddy, can we please go to the $1 store today? Please. Please. Please.
Out-Numbered – “I suppose. What is it that you want there anyway?”
7 Year Old – “My friends got beautiful rings there and everything is $1. Can we go?”
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