holycrapimyourmom

If you're a parent I bet your days are filled to the brim with utter fear and anxiety that at any minute the world will end. It's scary enough having kids and worrying they're going to hurt themselves just by falling off their roller shoes, let alone the possibility of them walking into a Chuck E Cheese on a random Tuesday and having to duck and cover because one of the animatronics with a history of violence has beef with the day manager. (How did he get hired in the first place?!) So what are we, as parents of the future generation, supposed to do to deal with all this insanity? While there are the logical and thoughtful solutions suggested time after time like, uh, how about we don't give that dude who with a Google history exclusively on "How To Burn A Cat Alive Without Making A Mess" that AR-15, ideas like that  are clearly insane and threaten the very core of all American values of being able to own ALL THE GUNS.    It seems like the only thing we can...

This morning I was hanging out with my little girl. She usually watches an episode of Sesame Street while we get her ready. It's entertaining enough to keep her focus, and distracting enough for us to get her dressed without a struggle. Today though we actually had some leisure time as she wasn't going to day care and mommy was feeling lazy AF. I decided that maybe we could try something else, as it's gotten painful to re-watch Sesame Street over and over. I'm starting to become like one of those weirdo cinephile folks who can mouth word for word every line in some jaunty art film they worship. Except in my case it's not exactly high art but rather the episode where Elmo is learning how to ride his tricycle. I flipped through Amazon Prime to see if I could find anything interesting in the kids section. And interesting is exactly what I found. I stumbled across some old episodes of Mr. Rogers Neighborhood and immediately put it on. I hoped my kid would be...

Recently at a store I frequent I had an interaction with the checker I always chat with. He's a nice guy, young, stoned, friendly. For a dude who's constantly baked his memory is impeccable. He always asks about my daughter, and our dog, Dave, and wants to hear about the thing I told him I was going to do the last time I saw him, etc. You get it. Just as I was about to say goodbye he asked if he could check out my engagement ring, since he was in the market and wanted some ideas! And even though I fucking hate it when other people do this, I squealed and jumped up and down a little bit. It seems it's an involuntary response. I asked about his girlfriend. Dude: "She's super cool, very chill for a Caucasian." Me: "Oh, that's good. Most white people are the worst." Dude: "She's like a hippie chick, but not a Vegan or anything." Me: "Thank God." Dude: "And she wants to have kids one day, which is awesome!...

If there is one thing I know about myself it is that I simply can't eat an ice cream sandwich with any sort of dignity. If there is a second thing I'm sure of, its that I am not emotionally healthy enough to handle the children's book The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein. That book sends me into a sobbing fit so powerful I need my inhaler to pull me out safely. Every time I open the book I am cutting myself emotionally, and this post is a cry for help. If you're not familiar with this classic let me give you the cliff notes. It's about a boy and a tree. When the boy is young he loves the tree and hangs with it all the time, and the tree is so happy. They play and he climbs and he eats her apples and sleeps in her shade. The tree even allows the boy to carve their initials into her side that's surrounded by a heart. She loved this boy so much she allowed him to brand her permanently. Things were pretty awesome for a long time, until the boy got a...