IMAG0070My name is Phil, and I am the proud father of three boys (and now a girl, too!)—all six years old and under. No, my wife and I do not own a plantation for which we need to breed additional workers. We are not part feline where our biological makeup requires that our children come in litters. Nor are we striving to land our own reality television show to accompany welfare as our primary source of income. Nope, we are just your typical, run-of-the mill masochists who aren’t happy in life unless there are gremlin-sized people (or gremlin-sized gremlins, depending on your outlook on parenting) poking and prodding them, yelling and/or screaming (and there is a difference), while leaking tears, urine, vomit, etc. (and you do not want to know what that etc. entails). We knew very early into our marriage that our attraction to this kind of circus left only two options: parenthood or the medical field. Since neither of us were attracted to the idea of seven more years of schooling, we opted for the former and the result is complete happiness.

Understand that happiness is a relative term. We have days when we are miserable beyond belief, days when the only thing holding my hair in place is the plastic bag I’ve shoved my head into.

For non-parents and parents alike, however, there are two mantras to remember about parenting. These sum it up in a nice, tidy package:

My three boys. I know what you're thinking. No, they are not sucking out their brother's brains; they're kissing him...I think.

My three boys. I know what you’re thinking. No, they are not sucking out their brother’s brains; they’re kissing him…I think.

The first is a phrase that comes from my birth mother (I was adopted as a baby, but reconnected with my birth family back in my mid-to-late twenties. She says it’s something her mother used to say, though whether my birth grandmother coined the phrase or not, neither of us can say for sure. The mantra goes:

“God made them cute so that we don’t murder them.”

I live by this understanding.

The second is simply that you’d be amazed what you can put up from your kids as opposed to kids in general. There has to be some genetic language embedded in our code that helps us forget the shortcomings of our own children while magnifying the psychopathic tendencies of everyone else’s.

So whatever you read on this blog, whatever you may think of my life from the content on these pages, understand that I love my family with all my heart and wouldn’t trade places with anyone in the world. And I’m almost 85% sure that that isn’t the lack of sleep talking.

Yeah, I’m pretty sure about that.

If you’re curious about my professional credibility on parenting, you can check all that out here.