Great Children Don’t JUST Happen – http://wp.me/p4733E-vN
In all seriousness, this is an awesome post. Check it out, especially if you’re new to the parenting game.
If I had to add one it would be this:
Raising great kids is a lot like raising a great marriage. You get out of it what you put into it.
Coming from a father’s point of view, if you think you’re just going to bring home the bacon and let your wife fry it up, to quote one of my favorite TV shows: Dude, You’re Screwed.
It’s below freezing. I’ve got three layers on my upper body and I’m comfortable. My head is merely “okay”, I’ve got a light balaclava on but anything exposed is cold. My legs and ass are freaking freezing, even with knee warmers over my leg warmers. Sadly, I didn’t think I’d need my foot covers because my wool socks are so good… I was wrong, my feet feel like bricks. Cold. Frickin’. Bricks.
My wife and I are on the mountain bikes so we’re not even moving all that fast. Still, it’s kinda ugly. We get 53 minutes in though, better than polishing the leather sofa with my butt – especially after everything I ate this weekend. That was Saturday…
We’re out Sunday too. We’re home so I’ve got my foot covers now and my feet are warm. My legs are cold again. I asked for a real pair of thermal tights for Christmas, the first time in years I’ve asked for something specific. Managing the cold on a bike is like trying tamp out a brush fire in high winds. Hands are cold, new gloves. Head is cold, new hat. Ears are cold, new hat with ear flaps. Core is cold, one more layer. Feet are cold, merino wool socks. Feet are still cold, foot covers. Eyes are cold, actually thought about goggles. Now my legs are impossibly cold and I have to do something about them.
The truth is, I just hate the cold. Below 35 degrees, I’m miserable. Oh, I put on a good show, but I hate it.
In the end, I’ll keep riding till it’s too icy for comfort – no matter how much I hate cycling in the cold, I hate cycling on the trainer more and as has been usual for the last four years, I’ll keep throwing darts at cold body parts till I finally get it right. Who knows, eventually I could come to love being cold – but I’m not going to hold my breath waiting for that to happen.
In the end, I’ll always suck it up, because there’s one thing I can think of worse than being a little cold and whiny… Being fat.