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About Me

I'm a 33-year-old father and husband born and bred in Massachusetts. I have a beautiful son named Will, a gorgeous wife named MJ who is far too hot to have married me, a dog I love and two cats I put up with. I'm a smart-ass former newspaper reporter with a penchant for turning a phrase, who decided to go corporate and is now enjoying life as a content manager for a website.

This blog is not just another "daddy blog." Sure I write about my son, but these pages are a record of my life. I don't just highlight the fun milestones like first steps, I also chronicle the "other stuff." The fights, the torment and the doubt that inevitably come with being a husband and father. It's not always puppy dogs and rainbows, but it is very real. And often there is beauty in the sadness, redemption in the struggle.

Thank you for checking me out, giving me a try and sticking around for the journey. If you'd like to contact me you can email aaron_gouveia (at) yahoo (dot) com.

Dad Bloggers Group

Bloggin’ Ain’t Easy

“What the hell are you always doing on that computer?” Ever since I started my blog and began dabbling in all the corresponding social media accoutrements, that phrase has escaped my wife’s lips on multiple occasions. I don’t blame her. My wife, bless her heart, is largely ignorant of all things Internet so it’s not [...] [...]

Barnyard Bitch

The donkeys were a big draw, for sure. The goats and the huge Scottish Highland Cattle weren’t too shabby either, but nothing could compare to the chickens. We took Will to Taylor-Bray Farm in Yarmouthport over the weekend. It’s a small place with free admission, but they have some animals and it’s a nice open [...] [...]

Douchebag

I live in a condo and that means neighbors are in close proximity. Some of them are great. Others? Well, just refer to the title of this post. I had a run-in recently with one of the neighbors who falls in the latter category, and I’ve just had it with him. I just want to [...] [...]

What Kind of Dad Am I?

The red wagon cruises clumsily through the neighborhood with a blonde-haired boy in tow. All of the sand used to battle winter’s icy roads has collected in small islands on the street, creating a harsh sandpaper effect when sandwiched between the hard plastic wheels and the concrete road. The goofy golden retriever with her tongue [...] [...]

Father-Son Farting

My dad and I went to the Boston Garden last night to watch the Celtics kick the holy hell out of the Miami Heat, while Will stayed with my mom and fell asleep at their house. I didn’t get back to pick him up until 12:30 a.m., at which point I had to wake the [...] [...]