zygote daddy

an absence explained

Sorry for not posting in a while. It's been kind of an emotional roller coaster for the dear wife and me this past week, and I wasn't exactly sure what to say on this here weblog.

So God, the universe, and meiosis all got together for a little sit-down last week (the day before Christmas Eve, incidentally). They decided that our little zygote just wasn't meant for this world, and that his or her purpose lies elsewhere.

Thankfully, the dear wife is safe and healthy, but it wasn't, needless to say, the optimal Christmas experience this year. On the other hand, being with family during this difficult time made it much easier to cope. The dear wife and I are very lucky to have such a supportive family. I hadn't quite appreciated that fact until now.

So what, then, will happen to the narcissistic exercise you are currently reading? Nothing, really. You didn't think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?

Or in words far more eloquent that my own:

"If we bring a little joy into your humdrum lives, it makes us feel as though our hard work ain't been in vain for nothin'."

Update: 12:58am, 31 December. Wow. Have I really gotten to the point where I am mining silly Gene Kelly movies for blog material? I need to get out more...

another (tentative) victory for children

Just saw this a minute ago. Seems there's a chance we might actually leave a little of our natural heritage for our children, after all. At least until the next Senate vote...

[In the interest of giving credit where credit's due: photo by Subhankar Banerjee]

still adrift in the "ownership society"

The dear wife and I went on down to our local social services office this afternoon to try and make appointments to sign up for Medicaid and WIC, you know, trying to keep the little zygote going. We were feeling a little weird about being there, this being our first experience on the receiving end of public assistance.

And you know, they make it abundantly clear that you are officially among the dregs of society.

All the other government offices in our town are in a picturesque old brick school building in the center of town, flanked by several stately churches and the quaint shops of Main Street (and yes, it's actually called "Main Street").

Not social services. It is stuck in behind some tired old strip development, adjacent to a couple of check-cashing stores, a pawn shop, and that pinnacle of extortion, the rent-to-own store. There is no sign on the building.

So we walked in and found the person to talk to about Medicaid. She handed us a bunch of forms, and told us that the dear wife would have absolutely no problem qualifying, seeing how she is with child and her present (and non-cobra-able) insurance is set to expire four days after her due date.

Did I forget to mention that?

Anyway, the Medicaid receptionist then sent us down to the WIC office in the basement, and that was where we all of a sudden came to terms with what it means to receive government aid. The line into the tiny office was out the door. Young mothers, infants in tow, were sprawled everywhere. In the elevator lobby. Back by the restrooms. Just standing around, waiting for their appointments.

I'm sorry, what kind of office that caters to pregnant women and infants only has two chairs in its waiting area?

It was utter chaos. The employees kept shouting back and forth to each other, trying to figure out who was there for their checks, who was there for an appointment, and who needed to be somewhere else entirely. After waiting for 20 minutes in what we thought was a line, or maybe it was just a cluster of people in a somewhat linear shape, we decided to give up and try calling for an appointment. Of course, from the tenacity with which the receptionist ignored the ringing phone, I have a feeling that may not be much faster.

I have a feeling this will be an interesting adventure.

a victory for children

So I go to post a witty anecdote to pass the time while running some computer simulations, when I see in the Times that a federal judge ruled that "intelligent design" can't be taught in Dover, Pa. public schools.

Today is a very good day for the children of Dover.

I was worried. Pennsylvania is a nice place. I know some great people from Pennsylvania. I would hate for their home to become as much of an educational laughingstock as Kansas, now the only state on my do-not-move-here-with-children-under-any-circumstances list.

After all, now that Kansas' definition of "science" includes supernatural explanations for natural phenomena, science teachers are free to teach about wicca and astrology.

Oh yeah, and pirates.

By the way, have you been touched by His Noodly Appendage?

on teaching kids to love themselves

So here, as promised, is the other article Auntie M sent to me. I found this one particularly frightening, frankly. And sad. And above all frustrating. It seems no matter how much lip service is given to producing a healthy body image in children, cultural perceptions of male and female body size and proportion are hard to shake. Keep in mind, this article was written about three-year-olds. A small snippet:

Mothers were more likely to report that their daughters had a good appetite, but not their sons (p<.05). And mothers were also worried about their sons being underweight (p<.01), but not their daughters.

Fathers showed identical perceptions. They also worried about their sons being underweight, but not their daughters (p<.05) and also said their daughters ate enough food, but not their sons (p<.05).

"While parents' intentions are good, their worries about their children's eating habits and body size are misplaced and not at all helpful," Dr. Joiner said. "Parents are buying into the media ideal of thinness for girls and perceiving that their daughters may not be thin enough, even at this young age. They also have stereotypes about male culture that boys should be big and strong and physical."

I really hope the dear wife and I are strong enough to overcome the relentless cultural messages, both subliminal and overt, that dictate social acceptability. All I want is for my children to love themselves as much as I know I will, no matter what they look like, how they dress, or who their friends are.

If only self-worth were valued in our society as highly as social acceptance.

 

a couple of assorted things

Man, how awesome are my sibs. Let me share a few assorted things they have been kind enough to pass along recently. First, the humorous. Christian (over at winberis.com, a great blog about something I don't understand, but find myself reading religiously nonetheless) sent me a great little site a while back, and it is really more amusing than it ought to be. Kind of tangential, but there are children involved. Poor, poor children.

Second, Auntie M (that's a great nickname, by the way, sis) sent me two articles appropos this here weblog in the past few days. The first is about a really cool parenting-related scientific discovery. The second is one that I will likely discuss in a future post, after I ruminate on it a bit.

Thanks guys! You're the best!

our kid's advanced for its age already!

Teenage rebellion strikes every family. It's one of life's little inevitabilities. Every family has the kid that, purposefully or not, goes against everything his or her parents stand for. What they don't tell you is that the "teenage" part is a total misnomer.

In our family, it seems to be coming a tad early. It ought to be called "embryonic rebellion".

The dear wife is a passionate, caring, principled woman. She became a vegetarian in middle school to protest the obscene amount of natural resources that go into meat production. She dabbled for a time in veganism to avoid contributing to the cruelty of factory farming, reading every list of ingredients in the grocery store to make sure she didn't buy anything containing even whey. She has relaxed a little bit, but we still buy our milk and eggs from local family farms.

Then a certain zygote with a taste for the contrary came along.

You see, morning sickness has finally reared its ugly head. I tried giving the dear wife veggies, fruit, whole grains, beans, that kind of thing. You know, like all the books tell you to do. No dice. The zygote responded with, "What, are you kidding me? What is this crap? I'm gonna make you hug the toilet all morning, just to teach you a lesson. Ha!"

Yes, the zygote doesn't seem to like our normal diet all that much. What does it want? Well, let's see, what are the foods the dear wife can eat that don't make her puke?

1. bacon (and no, fakin' doesn't fool the zygote)
2. donuts
3. fast food hamburgers
4. hot dogs (at least we can buy organic ones, but they're a buck a piece)
5. Taco Bell tacos

Horrified yet? Us too. But there's more. If the dear wife doesn't consume one of these items every couple of hours, the zygote reminds her that just because she isn't hungry, that doesn't mean she shouldn't start getting used to feedings every two hours. Just for practice.

I swear, it's a little Napoleon in there.

The poor dear wife must be crying herself to sleep every night. But I wouldn't know. After coming back from a hamburger run at 4am, I'm asleep before my head hits the pillow.

just one more thing

Just reading over my last post. Am I the only one bothered that it isn't Toys "R" We? I'm not even especially bothered by the phonetic use of the letter "R", but you don't turn a store into kiddie shangri-la that can't figure out the correct use of first-person plural pronouns. No wonder kids in this country are behind everyone else.

Shakespeare cringes in his grave.

can I invest in whomever makes ritalin?

Don't you hate it when you try to apply a "one post, one topic" philosophy to your online narcissism and then within one day, TWO pieces of post-worthy news come out, and you can't decide which to use? Actually, seeing how this is only my first week as a blogosphere resident, I didn't know I hated it until now. So here is one of them, and next time I'll share what Auntie M was nice enough to send me this afternoon.

OK, enough preambulary incoherence.

Anyway, today the Times published a story on the prevalence and utility of electronic media for young children. It seems it's a big waste of time to let kids be kids, and that their time is much better spent sitting in front of a computer or television.

After all, it is a much more efficient way to make sure yor kid is above average as soon as possible. Fresh air, natural curiosity, and social development are WAY overrated. Besides, you need to cram this stuff in early, so that there is time for soccer, vocabulary drills, ballet, gymnastics, and resumé-padding at the nursing home later on.

"You're never too young to learn, and kids nowadays are more advanced because of all these educational toys," said Iesha Middleton, [a] parent shopping at Toys "R" Us. Ms. Middleton's son will be 3 next month. "I tried to teach my son his ABC's when he was 1, and I didn't get very far, but with the Leapster, he learned A-Z really fast, and he can count up to 50."

Yes, your son will have been able to count his weekly commitments when he was two, but when will be learn what dirt tastes like? Or how high he can go on the swing before it does that THUD! on the way back down? When will he experience the unsurpassed joy of spending a summer afternoon looking for newts and crawdads in the local creek? Surely those have to count for something.

a little (but important) tangent

The National Low Income Housing Coalition released its annual data recently, and I thought I would pass it along. Something kind of tangential to the thrust of this here weblog, but it speaks to the inaffordability of housing in most of this country. Kind of been on my mind A LOT recently.

Cheers.