The Rear End

Better than Being in a Rock Band

lay off the minivan-driving parents (they’re busy with important work)

Mike Paulus, illustrated by Beth Czech |

Disclaimer: Hey hipsters/rockers/13-year-olds trapped in a grownup’s body/pretentious asses … check out that sweet little illustration of a little kid holding her parent’s hand. Take a good, long look. If that picture makes your skin crawl, this is one of those times you should flip to a different part of the magazine, or in extreme cases of “too cool for this shiz-ness,” just put it down altogether, and collapse upon the nearest sofa for a nice, soothing nap. You can dream about being the drummer for Deerhoof or interning at Pitchfork or something. Sleep well, little one. Don’t worry yourself over the following paragraphs about being a parent. It will all be over soon ...

OK, now that those people are gone, let’s talk about them. I hate it when people just immediately discount you because you’re a parent (or you have a screaming toddler riding in your grocery cart). It happens all the time. Am I right, parents?

Some people assume that, if you have kids, that’s all you care about. That’s true with some people, of course, but how is being overly obsessed with your kids better or worse than being overly obsessed with your band or your art or PlayStation 3? The only difference I can think of: a kid has an astronomically better chance to positively impact the world than your band does. Not always. But pretty much always.

I probably hate parent-haters so much because I used to be one – until I got a kid and began to know better. Obviously, having a kid doesn’t allow you to unlock the secrets of the universe (it’s tequila that does that). In other words, if you’re stupid, you will probably be a stupid parent. You might even get stupider. But as a parent, you sure get tested – in ways you never thought mattered, all the damn time.

If any of you hipsters are still reading, here’re some questions: Any of you guys have any experience cleaning spaghetti vomit out of a mattress? Anyone? Didn’t think so. Anyone ever tried to teach a human being how to use a toilet when they’re heartbreakingly terrified of peeing without a diaper on? No? Hmm. I guess they didn’t cover that in your Intro to Philosophy course. And it probably didn’t come up while you were backpacking through Spain and learning all about yourself. Have you ever tried to explain death or birth or being mean to someone who is simultaneously way less logical and way more intuitive than yourself? Try it sometime. It’s hard.


Kids are smarter than you. And, statistically speaking, an honest-to-god good parent is probably smarter than you as well, at least in the things that matter. I’m not counting myself in the “smarter than you” camp, but having my own kid, I often find myself pretty humbled by truly good parents. And so should you.

Speaking of awesome people, I’ll tell you who’s awesome. I’ll tell you who’s got their act together. I’ll tell you who is hilarious, smart, and has the ability to change the world: my kid.

She’s a genius. And much to my surprise, she’s one of the funniest people I know. Seriously, besides my wife and this one guy named Tom who lives in Minnesota, my 2-and-a-half-year-old daughter is probably the most hilarious person I’ve met. It’s mind-boggling. I can’t believe that, at such a young age, she’s already going out of her way to say funny things and make you laugh. I mean, she can’t even wipe her own butt.

OK, I won’t fool myself – I know most kids have this innate drive to see you smile and laugh at what they do. But since my own kid is the only child I live with and play with and bathe and dress (I swear), she’s my focus. And talking with her is sheer joy. Sure, she repeats a bunch of “grownup” language and it’s hilarious, but lately she’s been coming up with her own gags. She just really seems to want the people around her to be happy.

I’m not sure where this could possibly lead her. Maybe to a high-profile career in sitcom writing. Or acting. Or producing (everyone wants to produce). I’d be happy with whatever profession can lead to the highest paycheck/international fame that can be directly attributed to good parenting.

Honestly, my wife and I just want her to be a kind a gentle neighbor to her fellow Chippewa Valleyans. So far, in addition to all the jokes, she mostly just tries to kick our cat. I hope that’s just a phase, because if my kid grows up to be a no-good cat-kicker, I’m going to owe all you hipsters a big apology.