Letters to the Editor
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Dear Mr. Rose,
It seems that you have some misgivings about being a parent. Can I have your children then?
Sincerely,
An Infertile woman.
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Is EVERYBODY in this forum projecting?
This story was simply about a guy who isn't utterly fascinated by every syllable uttered by his children. As a previous poster mentioned - it's okay to admit this! It's okay if sometimes you don't think you're children are perfect! It's okay if sometimes you don't think your children are brilliant conversationalists!
It's okay to recognize the good moments as well as the bad moments of parenting.
Calm down people! Look at how much these posters are reading into this guy's life! It's amazing how they're able to fill in so many blanks with the minimal information given in the article. Apparently there are plenty of bitter people looking for an excuse to vent about something that actually has very little to do with this down-to-earth, funny, honest article.
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Did anybody notice the last paragraph of the essay?
I think you all misread this article. Although I agree it was annoying.
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Not even funny
I'm stunned at this prominent article and its mostly unintelligent responses. I stepped away from salon for a couple of weeks; has it been taken over by idiots and bullies?
Rose's piece isn't even the slightest bit clever or satirical. It's sarcastic but not in a smart or funny way; the examples he gives about the stupid enthusiasm of his wife and children--how dare they get excited about their first-time-around lives--are lame enough to have been written by a 9-year-old ("a broken stick!" "a red sweater!"). Where's the nuance? I can't believe this guy is an award winning writer (I looked him up). The writing alone is worse than sophomoric. It's bad enough that I actually suspect salon hired him to elicit bad reviews so they can claim, with evidence, that it's not only women writers who get picked on at this site, a concern that Joan Walsh has articulated. There is simply no way this piece passes any publisher's writing standards.
As for the content: Mr. Rose, you are a bully. What's with the "rubber band-chewer" references? Jesus! What an ass. Proud of those bullies you raised the first time? You know, the ones who beat others up at school. If that was supposed to be hyperbole or something, it didn't work. And if it's real--that your kids beat up other kids who weren't cool enough for them--then they are jerks, and you are a jerk for bragging about it.
The way you treat and even think about your new crop speaks volumes about what you did the first time around. This isn't just a weary, "been there, done that" kind of crankiness. This is evidence of a seriously mean, selfish person who thoroughly disrespects his kids. And the way you mock your wife for her concern for the kids' safety? I believe THAT'S the evolution you should have been talking about--you know, the idea that mothers who protect their children's safety generally end up passing along their genes, as opposed to the ones who let their kids choke to death or whatever. God you're an ass. Can't say it enough.
Letter-writers: It's called reductionism when you read about an ass who neglects and emotionally abuses his family and conclude, "Thank god we finally have someone who isn't consumed by his children!" Like there's no middle ground? Are your standards that low? Erma Bombeck may not have been the world's most talented writer, but, even when she "picked on" her kids to the nation, we all knew her deep affection for them. Same with Anna Quindlen, Annie Lamott, etc. There are rants about kids, confessionals about politically incorrect impulses toward them, that still reveal an abiding, if complicated, love. I suspect most of the supporters of this piece do not have children. I sympathize with your frustration at the obsessive parenting pieces here and elsewhere recently, but trust me, this is not funny and he's not a good dad. Parenting is intense and life-changing. You should probably just avoid articles about it.
To Joan or whomever is in charge, and to salon's advertisers: I'm outta here. This piece took the cake. It was nice while it lasted.
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And.....the point?
I'm not offended by Daniel Rose's article on parenting. I have one son who, since I slept poorly last night, is getting on my nerves. So I know where he is coming from. (Sort of!)
And I'm sure that Daniel Rose loves all his kids as much as I love my son but I really have to ask. What is the point of his article???
The only thing I could get from it was that possibly it was written as a demonstration of how the distractions of parenting could stop you from writing anything meaningful about Fathers Day.
Was that it Daniel? Please say yes.
If Salon is looking for 1000 words of banal insight on any subject, give me a ring; I'll have it ready in two days.
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Ha Ha
Bet Wife #1 and Son #1 and Son #2 think you are *really* funny, too, Dan! Ha. Ha. Maybe Sons #1 and #2 can identify with you, as one of the kids in the family. Oh, ooooops, they are grown-ups by now, so maybe not so much . . .
Hope you don't plague some *other* poor girl and her offspring with your "Round Three" quest for a shrine in the Peter Pan Hall of Fame.
I had three kids and adore them. However much I might (pathetically) want to re-live my young womanhood, I would never inflict my neuroses on young people who deserve to experience the blessings of being young, joyously, with others (parents, sibs, friends) and in their peer group.
Get your vas deferens tied/cut, now. Please.
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And I thought the self absorbed mothers were bad
I'm too damn old to have another kid, because I waited too long to have the first one, so I have less than total patience with someone who's so overwhelmingly fortunate, but can't be anything other than pissed off that he has to waste time on his kids instead of whatever the hell else seems so damn important to him. And you think I might want to visit his web site for more of the same crap? Letting my subscription lapse is looking pretty good if this, along with hand-wringing about having a nanny, is the kind of thing I can expect to look forward to week after week.