A Watched Pot Never Boils And Man Was I A Fat Little Kid

I'm alive! I am A-L-I-V-E! It's been a while, a long while since my last post. I had a few drafts saved in the vault, but none of them ever got finished. Why you ask? Well let me tell you. My Littleman not only became mobile, started cutting teeth, talking, and runs into things with the aggression of a NHL enforcer, but he can now actually play. *Cheers Loudly* He's not boring anymore! Babies are for moms, but toddlers are for dads. All of those days lamenting over the fact he couldn't do anything that was fun, and being more and more convinced him and his mother were plotting against me has now been redeemed in the sweet sweet interaction know as "play." It's been over a year since the last post and my what a year it has been. So what types of play does my kiddo like? I'm glad you asked curious reader. He loves to wrestle around on the floor and jump on/off of me onto something else or visa versa. He loves being tickled and attacked and if I haven't fulfilled the quota of appropriate tickles he will grab my hand and place it on his belly, say "more, MORE!" or a more diabolical thing he will do is use reverse psychology and say "all done" to which I am expected to reply with "Daddy says when we're all done" and he squeals with joy. He likes playing with his toys and coloring and putting coins in his Batman piggy bank, and a whole lot more.  

This whole play thing has made the difficulty of those early months pretty worth it. Being a father and being a husband and a father at the same time has been a pretty challenging transformation. It's been like trying to balance on a tight rope with a jenga tower in each hand. For me I was just getting used to being a husband just 2 1/2 years into marriage and then the planned curve ball of our Littleman showed up in spectacular screaming and poopy fashion changing the game. It's fascinating how learning to be a father has been trying and then blending being a father and a husband together has been an additional challenge. I'll be talking about that in a future blog. But the balance was struck due in large part by my amazing wife who has taken on so many responsibilities with grace and success. But there's one problem, I got cocky. It's amazing how an improved sleep pattern and learning to actually not only love your child, but like him, can change the way you look at things and help you forget the times you almost abandoned him in the woods to be raised by wolves.   

Whether it's remakes or sequels to movies we loved like Star Wars, buying products or clothes with images from shows and characters we watched from our childhood, or just reminiscing about the past there is one undeniable truth, nostalgia is a powerful force. After litteman was born there was an unspoken but very clear understanding between my wife and I and that was the idea that we might be "one and done" parents. While I actually like my kid now, I'm not disillusioned about how difficult of an infant he was. "Every first child is challenging"...this may be very true, but 'G' was a difficult baby. Not sleeping for more that 2 1/2 hours (if we were lucky) at a time until he turned 11 months old, terrible acid reflux/ colic, and crying even if we held and rocked him. He still doesn't sleep through the night and wakes up on average about 3 times. And yes we: tried that medicine, that essential oil, that home remedy, that sleep cycle, that parenting style, read that book, that blog, and cried out to God in tears in the middle of the night for relief. All that to say we weren't necessarily going to have another kid right away, or possibly ever. Where was I again? Sorry I was reliving some traumatic events there. Anyways, nostalgia, that's were I was. Nostalgia is a powerful thing. About 10 months ago I was visiting with my father and he brought up that he had found some old family videos from my childhood. One afternoon we popped a couple of VHS tapes in the VCR (feel free to google those acronyms if you're not familiar with such archaic technology) and I was whisked away down memory lane. One of the videos was of a Christmas morning and a rush of memories, thoughts, and feelings rushed into my mind. First was, man was I fat little kid, and second boy did I love growing up with a little brother. You see I'm one of four boys and growing up while we constantly fought and got on each others' nerves I loved growing up with my brothers. I remember calling my wife after watching the video with my dad and meeting her in a parking lot to talk to her about the future of our fledgling family. And it was there in front of a majestic looking Big Lots that we decided to try to have another child. I wanted my son to grow up having siblings and knowing what the bond of brotherhood was all about.   

And like most things, we should be careful for what we pray for because we might just get it. Sure enough my amazing wife became pregnant and we are not 9 months and 4 days into pregnancy number two. Yeah you read that right we are now 4 days past the actual due date for baby number 2. Littleman was 11 days late so his new compatriot may be on the same sort of time table. And a phrase that continues to echo through my mind is one my Grandma always used to say and that is, "a watched pot never boils." And boy does that seem to be the case. My wife and I are about as antsy as can be and it's just amplified by all of the texts, calls, and comments face to face. "No baby yet?!" Let me pause for a moment and say, all of this communication is a sign that we are wondrously blessed with amazing people who love us and are excited to share in our new joy. But with that being said, CUT IT OUT! I mean people who see my wife face to face, see her baby bump, see the lack of a new baby in her arms or a carrier say point blank, "no baby yet?" YES, no baby yet, OF COURSE no baby yet! Just look! But I digress. This whole 'watched pot' thing is so true in parenting in general too. Whether it's a new step like walking, talking, teething, or toilet training, all parents can get impatient. This is especially true when you play the comparison game with other children in your family, friend groups, or church. I know full well, there's a TON of things I don't know  when it comes to raising a kid, let alone getting ready to raise two. But I make a resolution right now not to compare my kiddos to other kids in regards to why are they're not _______ing yet or as good as so and so. I also challenge myself not to compare them to each other. I don't know what our second child is going to be like, but I know he's going to be very special! Every kid is different, every parenting experience is different, and thank God for mothers who make sure us bad dads don't screw everything.

And Here I Thought I Wanted To Abandon My Son

So about a month and a half ago I had an opportunity to go out of town and attend a week long seminar for a masters class I'm taking this semester. While I wasn't necessarily looking forward to a rigorous week long master's degree boot camp, I was excited to take a week off of work. And selfishly I was looking forward to a week off from being a dad. You see, my wife had to work that week, and the class was out of state so her and littleman would stay at home. I excitedly packed up my Xbox One and the Blu-ray extended edition of the Star Wars series thinking about the great fun I would have reliving my bachelor days of "nerding out" and losing myself in alternate universes. As soon as I got to the apartment I was staying at I hurriedly unpacked and plugged in my Xbox, set the blu-rays out and exhaled a sigh of victory. And approximately the very next millisecond felt awful as I realized I missed my little boy. And here I thought I wanted to abandon son...

(pure joy)

I've talked about my littleman and the challenges that we face because of the fact we're first time parents and because, well frankly, he's a pain in the butt-ocks (said in a Forest Gump voice). Whether it was the reflux and throwing up, waking up every hour and a half to two hours (which he still does :/), constantly wanting to be held, tantrums at not being able to do what he wants, and so on. The recent fun and something I'll be talking about in the next post is the teething and the starting to walk...yeah, that's right, things are getting real at the Adams house. Needless to say long nights, longer days, fatigue, frustration, and overall weakening resolve to not leave him in the woods for the wolves to raise all play in to wanting to take a break.

We all want breaks from our kids. I think if you'v been a parent for at least 20 minutes you've experienced the desire to take a break. That is especially compounded every additional 20 minutes of parenting added thereafter. I've talked about selfishness in previous blog posts, and while selfishness certainly plays a part here, that is not the only element at play. We all deserve a break, a moment to pee uninterrupted, to sleep more than an hour at a time (which I'm convinced my wife has still yet to do...I love you honey!) But let me tell you as someone who recently had a week away from his little boy for the first time. It sucks. Sure the first time you eat a warm meal that hasn't gotten cold because you and the wifey takes turns wrangling junior from play with the salt and pepper shakers its amazing. But things rapidly go down hill. While I was away I couldn't figure out why I couldn't really enjoy myself. I mean the obvious thing is I miss him, but it was more than just the thought of missing the little guy. I think I figured it out days later though.

(Look at them. plotting their escape and the havoc that will ensue)

They've become such a part of our lives that there's no going back. That's it! Sure you would miss them, but it's more than that. I've spent the last 8 months to make the most rude, selfish, annoying house guest welcome in my home and now he's so ingrained in our home, in our family, that it just wouldn't be our family without him. All of that effort, that sweat equity adds up to a pretty strong bond. Oh, don't get me wrong he's still a pain and I still wish I had more time to myself, but he's pretty awesome too. His crying, as amazing loud as it is, doesn't bother me like it used to, the nights where mom's at work and its just us two aren't nearly as bad as they used to be. It's amazing what the human body can adapt to. He's becoming this little person and I get to daily see the transformation. I may be one bad dad for wanting to have left my kid for a week, but I bet I'm not the only one out there. The thing that matters is that the bond is made and nothing is going to steal me away from that beautiful blob that's changing every day.
 

(My littleman's first swing at the park)

My Son Made Me Cry At The End Of Finding Nemo

My son made me cry at the end of Finding Nemo. Well, maybe he really didn't do anything and was actually asleep for the last forty five minutes of the film, but still, he's guilty somehow. For those of you who were living under a rock in 2003, Disney's Pixar Studios released another instant classic about a not so funny clown fish named Marlin and his adventures to save his son Nemo who was captured by a human scuba diver from 42 Wallaby Lane Sydney. This adventure takes him all over the ocean, meeting and surviving run ins with all sorts of interesting sea creatures, over coming insurmountable obstacles, and growing as an individual to eventually **spoiler alert** save the day and be reunited with a renewed love and understanding of what it is to be a father and friend. This emotional roller coaster of fun, excitement, and love has always been a favorite of mine. And until I watched it the other night for the first time with my baby cuddled up next to me, I actually thought the movie was all about Nemo. 

Littleman loved the bright colors, funny voices, and the quick paced action, and sure he fell asleep half way through, but I mean come on...I'm already half way in. It'd be rude to my man Walt and "Mr. Pixar" if I didn't finish watching their quality film. I always had watched the film from the son, Nemo's perspective. It was natural for me. I'd like to think I have a great relationship with my father. I have a great relationship with my mother too, but that'll be a conversation when me and the littleman watch Bambi or some other such mother and son movie. But I digress...love you mom! So I love my dad, and for me, especially still living at home and just having gone to high school when the movie first came out, it was natural for me, as with most movies, songs, stories, or any other media to assume the role with which I was most familiar, the son. I sympathized with Nemo, having a father who was loving, but sometimes felt over protective and even a little untrusting of the world around him much like Marlin in the film. Watching Finding Nemo before I paid attention to Nemo's bravery, his ability to overcome obstacles on his own despite his father's worries, and his willingness to "just keep swimming" no matter what was ahead of him. But just as the movie was getting good I found myself more judgmental of little Nemo and sympathizing with his dad noticing the grand adventure and changes he was experiencing in looking for and doing anything for his son. 

 

Now after being a father for six months I was ambushed and without realizing it at first, to unknowingly watch it from the father, Marlin's perspective. Not only has my littleman changed a lot, but I saw for a moment the other night how I had changed. I am actually seeing the world in a very new and different way. I had watched this tons of times before thanks to my nephews and niece's love for it, but the movie I watched the other night was brand new. It wasn't Finding Nemo, but Finding Marlin. It's amazing how my eyes have been opened to a brand new way of looking at things, even things I thought I had already experienced the way they were meant to be experienced or learned the way they were supposed to be learned. I know it might sound stupid to look at a children's movie with such pause, but it's really awesome how much the way I viewed something as silly as a cartoon has changed since I became a dad. Granted even if I am one bad dad making mistakes along the way. So what else has changed, will change? I suppose there's always more than one lesson that can be learned from the same experience and different experiences from the same event.

And it just seems crazy... how something I've experienced before can be a brand new and completely different experience just because my wife popped out a mini me? Granted an extraordinarily handsome and intelligent mini me, I mean after all he is a mini me. Changes, so many changes. Not just in my son, or my wife, but even if just an inkling in me as well. And yes, you can call me a wuss, I did get a little misty eyed when Nemo and his father Marlin were reunited in the end. It was a beautiful conclusion to a movie that had both father and son learn to appreciate each other more than they ever had before. Sure, my kid can't walk, talk, or use a toilet just yet, but I'm excited to see what our relationship will grow into. The world is starting to look quite a bit different, and I think I like it.

I'm Tired...A Half Year In Reflection

I'm tired. Like really, really tired. My wife and I  haven't slept in six months. Well we have, but not uninterrupted or peaceably anyways. On December 30th my littleman turns six months old. During a time of the year when many are reflecting on the past twelve months, I'd like to take a look at the last six, and so this is a half year in reflection. In a time when many children would be sleeping through the night by now, our little fella' still likes to wake up every two hours on the hour and demands to be fed. It's crazy how our sleep patterns have changed and I would've never guessed six months ago that I would ever get used to sleeping two hours at a time or that I would ever get used to our child's cry. And by getting used to his cry I mean I no longer would rather scrape a rusty cheese grader against my forehead than hear his continuous screech. I've not only gotten used to it, but I can now tell distinct differences in his cries, if he's sleepy, hungry, in pain, or just being a pain. It's quite awesome learning how to understand him, even though rather than talking he has chosen the most annoying method of communication imaginable. To be honest though, my wife has done an amazing job taking care of our littleman and lets me sleep most of the time as she's breastfeeding and I'm not exactly any help in that department. God bless her, I have actually gotten some uninterrupted sleep, quite a bit of it, but I'm fully convinced that those amazing mothers accept that until the kids are out of the house they'll never get another night of continuous sleep. And even though the last six months have flown by in somewhat of a slumber ridden stupor, if I look back and really think, there's a lot of stuff that has happened.

 

It's amazing the many changes I've witnessed in the last six months. Changes in my life, my wife's, and so many changes in our littleman's life as well. And all of these changes took place so quickly. It seems like right when I'm about to get used to something or start developing a new habit or skill, it quickly becomes outdated, ineffective, or just useless. Here I thought I was just getting good at changing diapers and my son decides to learn how to roll over. And it always seems that his greatest desire to wiggle, roll, and kick those legs are when I'm wiping poop off of his backside. It only takes one ill timed roll to start learning how to react on the fly. And that is kinda what being a father up to this point has felt like, learning on the fly, making decisions in the moment, and hoping that it's for the best and that you're not going to break or scar your kid. My kid has transformed from this fragile helpless blob to a strong, bold headed, burst of personality. My wife has transformed into a pro mom and has done a great job at not stopping being a pro wife. It could've been really easy for my wife to completely ignore me and focus only on the baby. I have heard from several friends who felt like their wives abandoned them when their children were born. It can be difficult to balance both of those roles with their different responsibilities. There's a sense of duty in parenthood that makes you feel as if that tiny thing that sorta looks like you is all there is, and that you're willing to burn the world down to the ground to secure it's safety and well being. And amidst the chaos of raising a child I'm trying to do the same as my wife, be a good dad and remember not to neglect being a good husband. I know right after having the kid, everything non baby related got thrown out the window as it was all hands on deck to make sure his introduction to the world went as well as it possibly could have. But now six months later the world still revolves around him, but not at nearly the same pace as it had, and that's a good thing. He laughs now instead of just crying, he's eating some solid foods not just milk, he moves around a lot and I'm not afraid of his head falling off anymore, and so much more.    

There's one thing that all of these changes have in common and that is they are all necessary. Despite whether or not we like change, it is an inevitable and necessary part of life. And when these unexpected or expected, good or bad, fun or not so fun changes take place, the only thing we're in control of is how we let these things affect us. I've had older friends who have raised children already tell me to enjoy each stage of childhood while it lasted. I reluctantly and politely shook my head up and down to be nice as I thought to myself I can't wait till this kid's older and sleeps all night, or can talk to express what he's feeling, or when he would eat solid food so that mommy would stop being his favorite. But even in the six short months that have flown by, sure enough, there have been little stages and I've seen my littleman change in big ways. And believe it or not I even miss some things, like when he first came home from the hospital and couldn't help but to keep his tiny little noggin against my chest rather than throwing his arm into my throat as if he was trying to apply the sleeper hold while he looks around inquisitively. Time passes by so quickly and my kiddo is changing at a rapid pace. And me and the misses has to as well in order to keep up with him.    

So what on earth will the next six months look like?! I have no idea, but I look forward to finding out. Had you asked me to predict what the first six months of fatherhood were going to look like P.B. (Pre Baby) I would've never had guessed it'd be anything like its actually been. Sure I knew that there'd be poopy diapers, restless nights, and plenty of crying but just like with everything in life we're better at predicting what can go wrong than dreaming about the wonderful things that can go right. There's been more unexpected joy in the last six months than I could have ever imagined. Yes I'm tired, sometimes stressed, and constantly being stretched beyond my comfort zone. I mean I never would have used my hand to catch vomit out of an infant's mouth P.B. but when you're a dad, things change. And I just so happen to love the transformation that my family and I am undergoing.  

My Baby Started A Gang War

My baby started a gang war. Well, at least he's starting one. Maybe, that's a little too strong, there's no bloods and crips, no gang colors, and bullets haven't flown just yet. But don't be mistaken, sides are being drawn. Except in this turf battle it's not East Coast versus West Coast, it is my parents versus the in-laws. Now to be honest my parents and the in-laws have been very polite in their limited interactions. But it is an amazing thing, the rights and privileges, your parents and in-laws receive and demand once you have a child. There's a transformation that takes place in switching your view of your parents from being your parent to being your child's grandparent. And there is a delicate balance, much like a turf war, that I as a parent have to be aware of.

It really isn't anything like that, but there is a sense in which attention and time will be fought over. My in-laws live close by in the next town over, and my parents live out of state six hours away. My child is now five months old and so my in-laws have had dibs on spending time with my littleman purely because they're so close. Outside of the occasional visit, my parents really haven't had the opportunity to spend much time with my boy. There's also a difference in how my little guy is viewed by both sets of grandparents. You see, my wife is an only child, and this is our first child making him their first grandchild. The only pride and bond stronger than a mothers is a first time grandmother! And sincerely she's been an amazing help. Now for me, I'm one of four boys and both of my older brothers have children. One has two and the other three. That makes my littleman grandchild number six for my parents. Now I know they love him just as equally as the others, but it's certainly a different experience than my wife's parents are going through. So there has been a pretty good balance...except my parent who were six hours away are now halfway through a move placing them now ten minutes away from us as they've purchased a new home in the same town! Now I'm excited about this, my wife is understandably a little nervous as any wife would be, but I believe my mother-in-law is pretty concerned. Now she's got someone who is honing in on her turf! So is there a way to keep my wife, parents, and parent-in-law all happy?! Maybe...but regardless of the outcome it's going to take some patience on all of our parts and calling a cease fire might also help.

Maybe you've felt or are feeling this struggle with the holidays coming up and trying to manage your relationships and the delicate balance of not hurting anyone's feelings while still trying to enjoy the holidays. In the Adams household we do the "every other" holiday routine. I'm sure many of you have certain traditions or practices. Maybe your family doesn't really do a whole lot for Thanksgiving, but Christmas is your big holiday, or maybe New Year's Eve. No matter what your tradition is, one tradition that is as old as time is this very struggle. Just remember the holidays are an opportunity to grow closer together as a family, even if you feel like pulling your hair out and just taking your wife and kids on a cruise to avoid it all, lol.

When it's all said and done, this stress is induced because you're loved and your family is loved. No gang...I mean family is perfect. Part of the fun is the chaos, the not knowing, and the attempted balance even if you never get it. You can never be loved by too many people. So even though you cannot choose who will love you, be glad they do, even if the way they show you causes some stress. Remember, how you treat your parents is how your child will most likely treat you...no need to make a child take up sides when we're all on the same team. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!!

Trying To Hold My Baby Is Like Arm Wrestling A Greased Up Kracken

Trying to hold my baby is like arm wrestling a greased up kracken. I mean, it's like my child wants to be dropped! All the while bungee jumping off of my shoulder using my bottom lip as a tether. It's like he hit the three month mark and entered super squirmy mode. I can remember when I was so excited that he "found his hands." He'd sit their staring at them, moving them, and being entertained. But now he's starting to know how to use his hands...and even his feet! Both him and his hands and feet are conspiring against me, I just know it. When did the days of him being this limp wrapped up burrito looking thing go away. He used to be so calm, so docile...well pterodactyl screaming aside. I mean I used to think the little guy was boring because he didn't do anything, aside from eat, poop, cry, sleep, repeat. But now he's finding his personality, and oh my. Let's just say if he wasn't my son and we met at a party, we probably wouldn't hang out.

When did my son get so strong?! I feel like maybe this kid actually came from Krypton. If this kid's hand/foot eye coordination gets any better I'm going to need riot gear just to change his diaper. I remember when he first came home and how paranoid I was that I might drop him or I'd bump his soft spot and the parent police would come and take him and his little deflated head away. Now I'm starting to think it was all an act. He is way too strong for a baby. People who use that saying, "it's like taking candy from a baby" have obviously never tried to take something from my little guy's kung fu grip. It amazes me how quickly the little guy has changed...and with as clumsy as me and his mom is, that's a good thing. Babies need to be stronger by month two or three as that's when their parents are at their weakest and most uncoordinated due to sleep deprivation. But it really is an encouragement. Like the other day he went to hold the bottle I was feeding him and my mind instantly filled with joy thinking of the day he'd be able to hold the bottle on his own. And yes, this is exciting for more reasons than just finally being able to use two hands for something again.

Just as he's learning and growing in bodily strength he seems to be discovering his different emotions as well. He now knows that there's more to feel other than hungry, sleepy, and furious indignation. This is amazing, but can be exhausting. It wouldn't be as big of an issue if he had an attention span that was longer than a fruit fly, but unfortunately that is not the case. He can be in the middle of laughing and start to cry. He seems to experiencing all of these new emotions one right after another after another. My little bipolar dude. But I think all baby's are at least a little bipolar as they learn and grow. Some days it seems completely random, what he's feeling and how he's expressing himself...like through screaming as loudly as he can. It seems like he could be upset at first then you realize he's just testing his voice. And from what I understand from other parents who have bravely battled on the fields of child rearing, children will always test their limits. Whether the limits they have physically, or the limits you place for them.  

All this to say, he's starting to develop a personality. And I am incredibly grateful. He's no longer this lump of pink play-dough, but a little human-like person. My wife is convinced he's going to be like me...loud, obnoxious, and passionate. If I was anything like this little dude when I was a baby, Mom and Dad, I am so so sorry, lol. He is an amazing kid and I love him dearly. I don't know what exactly I thought fatherhood was going to be like. But it's an amazing thing to get to see this little formless thing take shape, and grow in so many ways. It makes me question if I'm still growing. Is there a point where we as adults become happy with our limits? Do we stop exploring and become content with our understanding of the world? I know I haven't, or at least if I did...this little guy is stretching and growing me, forcing me to look at the world brand new every day just like he is.

(My littleman, Gideon)

I've Never Been Drunk, But I Imagine It's A Lot Like Having A Colicky Baby...

I've never been drunk, but I imagine it's a lot like having a colicky baby. Well, let's hold on a second, back up, and give a little bit of an explanation. So my wife was blessed to go back to work a while back and do part time. She's a nurse and works second shift, 7 pm-7 am, two days a week. We're actually pretty lucky as the two days she works coincides with my days off. This means that two nights a week I'm responsible for giving our son a bath, going through the bed time routine, and help send him off to sweet sweet dream land. It's quite a noble quest, one which a pantheon of parents before me have attempted and, ye verily, have even succeeded. However, while this is the goal, it is hardly ever the actual outcome...enter the drinking analogy.

So our night starts out with two close bros, a bottle of special drink (mommy's home brew), high hopes, and endless possibilities. But by about three hours in we're both crying, one of us has thrown up all over the place, and the other is tired, dazed, confused, and wishing he could start the night all over again, desperately looking towards the morning. It is about 3 am and we're 30 minutes into a second colic crying fit and I'm starting to have a new found respect for my wife who usually deals with this little mean drunk. The night goes by in a massive blur filled with frustration and regret. By the time its all over with we're both passed out wherever our heads happened to land last. I am so, so very weak...and my wife is the strongest woman I know.

I can barely get through a mere two nights, how on earth does my wife manage the other five?! I am quite literally begging for her to tag me out the moment she gets home from work. It's as if I'm a luchador wrestler that's fighting WAY outside of my weight class...which is saying something cause I'm kinda a big guy. Like I said, she's strong. I'm often jealous of how great my wife actually is with our littleman. It seems to be so natural and enjoyable for her. I know she has her struggles, but she carries them with such grace. She plays with him, reads to him, does "tummy time," constantly narrates her activities to include him in what she's doing, and somehow manages to carry him on her hip and successfully accomplish any task including cooking and cleaning single handedly. I on the other hand am lucky to walk straight, remember to feed myself, and constantly test the limits of my bladder while watching our little tyke, Thank God for good moms. My wife and own mom included. The Lord knows us dads could not possibly survive without them, nor could our children.

One of the hardest things about dealing with a difficult baby is not sounding like a jerk or a wimp to other parents who do not know what we're going through. I know I'm not a super star parent. I mean, come on, the name of this blog is "One Bad Dad" but I'm not a weenie. I thank God my son has ten fingers and ten toes and is healthy, intestinal pain aside. Every child has their challenges, or so I assume. Maybe you've been through what I'm going through, or maybe you're one of those evil parents that when they ask me how it's going and I have the strength to answer honestly you brag about how junior is seemingly perfect. Either way we all have our challenges in parenthood...if it's not happened yet, just wait, it'll eventually come. Just remember though, until it does, cut your fellow brothers and sisters in arms a break. And the next time I see you and have a heavy 5 o'clock shadow, stained t-shirt, and staggered demeanor know that it wasn't from a hard night of partying, but of parenting.