Dear every other parent in the drop-off / pick-up line at school tomorrow,
I know that school just started. I know that it’s an exciting time for you and for your small child. But please, please, pretty fucking please, stay in your line. I know it’s tough…I’m sympathetic to your pain. I’m in line too.
Thing is, we’re all in line. So get your ass where it needs to be and inch forward like everyone else. Thumbs up emoji.
So Chicago Bears quarterback Jay Cutler is all over the social news today because wife, Kristin Cavallari, lit him up on Instagram for not being able to handle the rigors of parenthood.
Cutler was alone with his two sons (a 2 year old and an 8 month old) for some period of time while Cavallari was out of town, and as she announced her arrival (“the eagle has landed”), she faced a barrage of panic (that you can see above), ending in “I’m about to leave”. And hey, it might have been a joke, who knows.
But all I’m here to say – to you dear readers, and to Jay Cutler – is: I get it.
I can’t think of old style video game arcades without getting a little misty. Those loud, dark rooms, packed with upright arcade machines, all singing to themselves, ready to explode when someone dropped a quarter into them…it was magic.
A magic that, frankly, kids these days don’t get.
One of the most terrifying things about growing up is balancing health. And becoming a dad, you are all of the sudden in charge of another person’s life: your child’s. So while worrying about your kid’s health, it’s natural to kind of forget about your own.
And that’s what’s terrifying me about getting older. I’ve hit the age where my friends and I have more frequent conversations about whose mother or father had died, or which of my graduating class (1998!) was the first to have a heart attack. I’ve got an incredible group of friends, online and off – and it terrifies me when I more frequently hear about them “hitting that age” where health is starting to catch up with them. I wonder when it’ll catch up with me.
When you become a parent, there are a lot of little things that you lose – sleep, personal freedoms, the ability to use the bathroom without the threat of unflattering household commentary afterwards — but, the one thing I didn’t expect to have ripped away from me when I became a dad was my steadfast belief in the overall awesomeness of time travel.
But that’s exactly what happened. I absolutely hate time travel now. The very idea makes me shudder.
And it’s all my daughter’s fault.
You’ve read by now that this last weekend was the first weekend in America in over 50 years without the traditional Saturday Morning Cartoons. Tears were had all over Facebook, and everyone declared that the terrorists won.
And while everyone went bananas, my son and I watched cartoons. On Saturday morning, even.
Our Philips LCD TV was only eight years young and its warmth would light up a room. It gave us incredible memories – like the time that one show was on. Or that other time when that other show was on. And probably reality television. And video games. All of the video games.
Philip the TV had more life to give. But that life was cut short Saturday night, murdered. And the murderer was my son.