..but for now, read this article from Rochester's alternative newsweekly City, which contains this glorious nugget:
The challenge as a parent is to raise children who neither talk like pimps nor spend hours in dark labs measuring bat balls.
(Oh, and sorry in advance for getting My Humps stuck in your head.)
Friday, December 30, 2005
Thursday, December 22, 2005
How lovely are thy branches!
Harrison points at our Christmas tree and says "Ooooh!" every morning when he wakes up and every afternoon when we get home, and usually a few times in between. He does it when he sees the picture of the Christmas tree in The Night Before Christmas.
"Oooh!"
Where did he learn that?! What a funny little sponge.
"Oooh!"
Where did he learn that?! What a funny little sponge.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Please...
...let this ruling be the turning point back from the brink of theocracy and the prospect of Harrison getting a public education in creationism:
"the fact that a scientific theory cannot yet render an explanation on every point should not be used as a pretext to thrust an untestable alternative hypothesis grounded in religion into the science classroom or to misrepresent well-established scientific propositions"
So scary. Thank, er...God!
"the fact that a scientific theory cannot yet render an explanation on every point should not be used as a pretext to thrust an untestable alternative hypothesis grounded in religion into the science classroom or to misrepresent well-established scientific propositions"
So scary. Thank, er...God!
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Can I tell you guys's something?
Harrison got a new teacher, Meredith, last week, and I am so relieved because: 1. I like her; 2. she knows what she's doing; 3. she knows A LOT of songs; 4. she is attentive to Harrison and can tell me specifics about his day and his development; 5. she's adhering to the curriculum instead of just feeding, changing, and keeping the kids from biting each others' fingers off; and 5. she's a graduate student and uses proper grammar and punctuation. (Yes, I realize that I am a grammar snob, [Can I say that without one of you combing through my posts to find my numerous typos and mistakes? Please?] but something is wrong when the "teacher" sends home a picture of fish that Harrison has colored that says, "Harrisons Happy Fishes").
Harrison's new teacher is a library studies master's student, studying to be a children's librarian. She has 8 years of experience as a toddler teacher and nanny. This lady knows her stuff, and I feel relieved that she's there and that Harrison doesn't have various, temporary floaters helping out the (wonderful) assistant teacher anymore.
I'm glad that the program manager took her time to find someone very qualified who will end up staying for a while. Honestly, I don't think the instability and disorganization of the last two months bothered him in any way, but it bothered me.
Harrison's new teacher is a library studies master's student, studying to be a children's librarian. She has 8 years of experience as a toddler teacher and nanny. This lady knows her stuff, and I feel relieved that she's there and that Harrison doesn't have various, temporary floaters helping out the (wonderful) assistant teacher anymore.
I'm glad that the program manager took her time to find someone very qualified who will end up staying for a while. Honestly, I don't think the instability and disorganization of the last two months bothered him in any way, but it bothered me.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
I am the Grinch
Doug thinks I'm a Scrooge, but I'm just not going to give in to the crazed parental gift-giving that overtakes most Americans families. The kind of family that goes into debt at Christmas. The kind where the present pile spills out several yards beyond the diameter of the tree and threatens to sustain itself by feasting on small children.
Growing up, Val and I usually got one toy apiece, some socks, and some underwear. Often the socks and underwear were wrapped together in one box, so that really only counted as one present anyway. Not having grown up with crazed American Christmas, my mom (Hi Mom!) didn't get the point of wasting an extra box and an extra sheaf of paper just so we'd have another present to open under the tree. (We're actually still trying to convince her that wrapping presents in this fashion is just wrong.) My parents made it clear that they couldn't afford to buy us a pile of toys, and we knew that it was them and not Santa that had to pony up the dough.
It was the present-opening at my grandparents' house that we looked forward to. Every year after Thanksgiving dinner they asked us to make a list of the things we wanted, usually one big toy and a couple of outfits. I have such vivid memories of this—sitting on my grandma's mushy sofa, pouring over the Montgomery Ward or Sears Wish Books, and picking out what I wanted.
[I remember choosing Western Barbie one year. She had a jazzy white, silver, and black jumpsuit the likes of which no cowboy has ever worn. She also had a plastic white cowboy hat and one eyelid that could wink if you pushed the big button in her back. That's what cowgirls do, you know!? They wink and wear skintight body suits and all you need to do to make it really authentic is yell, "Yeeeeeeehaw!"]
So that was my Christmas: I got a few things I needed and a few toys, and I was pretty happy. More than anything I looked forward to making construction paper garlands with my sisters, which we draped over the French doors that opened into the sun room where our family's tree stood; setting out homemade seating cards and little white cups filled with dinner mints at each place setting at my grandma's drop leaf dinner table; and all the board games that we'd play with my extended family when the meal was done.
Next year Harrison will understand enough about Christmas that we can start to read Santa stories and have him make a wish list. I do want him to believe in Santa and in magic. The geek in me knows that there's not enough magic in the real world.
But it frustrates me that holiday magic has gotten completely co-opted by consumerism. Already, there's pressure from other parents, other mothers to buy buy buy. What does Harrison want for Christmas? And what are you getting Harrison for Christmas? When asked by people that I don't really know or who don't know Harrison, it feels competitive.
Harrison is 19 months old. He doesn't know what the hell Christmas is. He doesn't know what toys exist other than the ones that he already has. He doesn't watch much TV, so he doesn't see toy commercials or discuss the latest hot thing with his friends. In fact, he doesn't have any friends! He doesn't know who Santa is and he's still more interested in the gift wrap than the gift. He doesn't pay attention to characters or franchises or product placement or cross promotion.
I know the day is coming soon when he will enter a target demographic. He'll be aware that other kids are getting loads of plastic junk and that he's not getting the same amount of plastic junk. He might be a little upset about it. Still, I don't want to sacrifice the good things I can afford for my family by going into debt at Christmas. I don't want Harrison to have a sense of entitlement for that mountain of presents under the tree. I'm excited to create traditions for our family that are not about consumption.
Harrison's not going to get just socks and underwear, but I do refuse to be that woman wrestling other moms for the last Dancing Elmo on the shelf.
Growing up, Val and I usually got one toy apiece, some socks, and some underwear. Often the socks and underwear were wrapped together in one box, so that really only counted as one present anyway. Not having grown up with crazed American Christmas, my mom (Hi Mom!) didn't get the point of wasting an extra box and an extra sheaf of paper just so we'd have another present to open under the tree. (We're actually still trying to convince her that wrapping presents in this fashion is just wrong.) My parents made it clear that they couldn't afford to buy us a pile of toys, and we knew that it was them and not Santa that had to pony up the dough.
It was the present-opening at my grandparents' house that we looked forward to. Every year after Thanksgiving dinner they asked us to make a list of the things we wanted, usually one big toy and a couple of outfits. I have such vivid memories of this—sitting on my grandma's mushy sofa, pouring over the Montgomery Ward or Sears Wish Books, and picking out what I wanted.
[I remember choosing Western Barbie one year. She had a jazzy white, silver, and black jumpsuit the likes of which no cowboy has ever worn. She also had a plastic white cowboy hat and one eyelid that could wink if you pushed the big button in her back. That's what cowgirls do, you know!? They wink and wear skintight body suits and all you need to do to make it really authentic is yell, "Yeeeeeeehaw!"]
So that was my Christmas: I got a few things I needed and a few toys, and I was pretty happy. More than anything I looked forward to making construction paper garlands with my sisters, which we draped over the French doors that opened into the sun room where our family's tree stood; setting out homemade seating cards and little white cups filled with dinner mints at each place setting at my grandma's drop leaf dinner table; and all the board games that we'd play with my extended family when the meal was done.
Next year Harrison will understand enough about Christmas that we can start to read Santa stories and have him make a wish list. I do want him to believe in Santa and in magic. The geek in me knows that there's not enough magic in the real world.
But it frustrates me that holiday magic has gotten completely co-opted by consumerism. Already, there's pressure from other parents, other mothers to buy buy buy. What does Harrison want for Christmas? And what are you getting Harrison for Christmas? When asked by people that I don't really know or who don't know Harrison, it feels competitive.
Harrison is 19 months old. He doesn't know what the hell Christmas is. He doesn't know what toys exist other than the ones that he already has. He doesn't watch much TV, so he doesn't see toy commercials or discuss the latest hot thing with his friends. In fact, he doesn't have any friends! He doesn't know who Santa is and he's still more interested in the gift wrap than the gift. He doesn't pay attention to characters or franchises or product placement or cross promotion.
I know the day is coming soon when he will enter a target demographic. He'll be aware that other kids are getting loads of plastic junk and that he's not getting the same amount of plastic junk. He might be a little upset about it. Still, I don't want to sacrifice the good things I can afford for my family by going into debt at Christmas. I don't want Harrison to have a sense of entitlement for that mountain of presents under the tree. I'm excited to create traditions for our family that are not about consumption.
Harrison's not going to get just socks and underwear, but I do refuse to be that woman wrestling other moms for the last Dancing Elmo on the shelf.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Friday, December 09, 2005
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Last night
Evil toddler stands next to couch where Mama sits, grunting and patting couch cushions.
Mama: "Up?"
Evil toddler: "Up!"
Evil toddler gets boost and proceeds to smack Mama in face repeatedly.
Mama grabs ET's hand: "No! Hitting is not nice!"
Mama gets up from couch and sits away from ET, avoiding eye contact and ignoring, as instructed by parenting books, Super Nanny, and Nanny 911.
ET begins hitting self in face repeatedly.
ET: "Nah nii!" ("Not nice!")
Mama: "Up?"
Evil toddler: "Up!"
Evil toddler gets boost and proceeds to smack Mama in face repeatedly.
Mama grabs ET's hand: "No! Hitting is not nice!"
Mama gets up from couch and sits away from ET, avoiding eye contact and ignoring, as instructed by parenting books, Super Nanny, and Nanny 911.
ET begins hitting self in face repeatedly.
ET: "Nah nii!" ("Not nice!")
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
Mad Hot
Doug and I enjoyed this great little film yesterday.
If you didn't already realize that kids are simultaneously amazing and weird after watching Spellbound, this is further proof.
Monday, December 05, 2005
Carnival
Come one! Come all! Come see the performing monkey Harrison! Step right up!
See his amazing act of mimicry: What does a cow say? Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm! What does a cat say? Meow! What does a dog say? Grrrrr! What does a sheep say? Baa!
Watch as he dances freakishly on command!
Be entranced as he points at different parts of the human body with little or no coercion!
Witness his breathtaking ability to throw any item into the kitchen trash bin!
Behold as he"brushes" his own teeth and "wipes" his own nose!
Just a nickel a trick, folks! A nickel a trick!
See his amazing act of mimicry: What does a cow say? Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm! What does a cat say? Meow! What does a dog say? Grrrrr! What does a sheep say? Baa!
Watch as he dances freakishly on command!
Be entranced as he points at different parts of the human body with little or no coercion!
Witness his breathtaking ability to throw any item into the kitchen trash bin!
Behold as he"brushes" his own teeth and "wipes" his own nose!
Just a nickel a trick, folks! A nickel a trick!
What!?!
Rothschild® Toddler Boy's 2-pc. Snowsuit
Was $79.99; Now $31.99
Includes bonus headband
Cell phone pocket in jacket
Self-adhesive tab at pant hem for improved fit
Two-piece snowsuit includes jacket with inside cell phone pocket, CD/MP3 holder and glove pocket. Pants have three pockets. Polyester; polyester lining. Washable. Imported.
[Updated to add:
A: Maybe I should get Harrison a cell phone [for Christmas]?
S: Damn. He already has one. He does need an MP3 player though.
A: Do you think he wants the ipod photo, or the ipod nano?
S: Actually, I think he might like a Blackberry instead. He's very busy.
A: Right. Lots of playdates to coordinate, and those hostile takeovers of playground toys.
S: Exactly. And I do wish he'd stay in better touch while he's at daycare. If he had the Blackberry, then he could send me emails at work and text message my phone while I'm en route to pick him up.]
Was $79.99; Now $31.99
Includes bonus headband
Cell phone pocket in jacket
Self-adhesive tab at pant hem for improved fit
Two-piece snowsuit includes jacket with inside cell phone pocket, CD/MP3 holder and glove pocket. Pants have three pockets. Polyester; polyester lining. Washable. Imported.
[Updated to add:
A: Maybe I should get Harrison a cell phone [for Christmas]?
S: Damn. He already has one. He does need an MP3 player though.
A: Do you think he wants the ipod photo, or the ipod nano?
S: Actually, I think he might like a Blackberry instead. He's very busy.
A: Right. Lots of playdates to coordinate, and those hostile takeovers of playground toys.
S: Exactly. And I do wish he'd stay in better touch while he's at daycare. If he had the Blackberry, then he could send me emails at work and text message my phone while I'm en route to pick him up.]
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