It must be a Sunday afternoon when you're down to mixing tequila with expired children's electrolyte drink. Which, by the way, wasn't bad though a bit apple-y. (Mari confirmed my appraisal.)
When you become a parent, it's like the first volume of your life is closed, and a whole new volume begins — with an unstable plot forever on the edge of catastrophe. You can't even call upon the author to explain, because this thing is unscripted.
Now, I don't know much. And according to my wife, I don't parent much. But I thought I'd better get this down while I can. Because some day I'll be gone and one of my kids might want to know what the hell was going on when they were small and living with us.
Also, the kids might want to know some stories from the family. Who were their grandparents and their great-grandparents? The kids don't live in the same city as any of their grandparents, and only one great-grandparent was alive during our eldest child's life.
A story in which a pilot in my family chucked his pager out the window, thousands of feet above worldly concerns.
my grandfather was a smuggler during WWII
I've been interested in genealogy for many years. These are some of the interesting findings
The tale of our first born's transition from unwilling mute to gabby bilingual.
How to look like a hero while waiting for your kid to get around to something. Also; gear talk!
An exercise in getting some fresh air, being near water, and losing your patience with a defenceless child.
The Boy's math is beyond me, and he's only 11.