



After my son was born, more than one friend told me, “This is when your life really begins.” What a load of bullshit.



Some of my friends are couples who can’t conceive and they’re on the brink of hysteria. Trying to reel them back in is a Sisyphean effort. They won’t know how the baby will zap away their freedom until it’s gone. Without the hassle of caring for a child, you could:

1. Become fluent in a foreign language.

2. Save hundreds of thousands of dollars.

3. Dedicate your life to personal excellence.

4. Help other people with their problems.

5. Sail around the world. (You can barter with locals using your old iPhones as currency.)

Eighteen months ago, before I owned a small human, my life was great. I was killing it with my career and building an empire. Weekly bouts of Brazilian jiu-jitsu and daily running made my body tight like a swordfish. Most importantly, my mind was clear and unfettered. I believed I had all the tools and potential to make a “dent in the universe.”

After my kid was born, when I was still reeling from the high of my accomplishments, I wrote a smug article for Street Carnage called “How To Grow Up.”

I figured that since I knew everything, I should share it with everyone. They could thank me later.

Now the train has come off the tracks. I have no time for myself. I have no time for my friends. I have no time for my wife. This is me competing in a triathlon before my son was born:

Here’s me two weeks ago in a race (one-year-old at home with mom):

The difference is evident. Life is beating me down.

The baby has been a kryptonite to my success. Before I spawned, the sun was shining on me. Now I have a never-ending list of things to do that grows every day. Priorities go from “must-do” to “when I get time” to “never.”

Comically, we are having another baby in November. Why would I do such a masochistic thing as impregnating my wife AGAIN? I’m looking at the long run. I hate babies, but I like kids. After a year, they’re a different beast that can walk and babble. They look more like little boys and less like a crippled Winston ChurchilIs. I know that one day I will appreciate them being around. One day, I will enjoy teaching my sons to tie knots and ride bikes.

Until then, I will continue to atrophy, eat ice cream, wear Old Navy shirts, and have a Samsung Galaxy holder on my belt. The point is, you don’t have to have a baby. So if you can’t make one, don’t sweat it. Fuck as much as you want to, but don’t obsess about it. This overpopulated world doesn’t need anymore of these cuties fucking up your steez.

—KENNEDY



