The Horrible Awful Sleep Conundrum

I dread the evening routine at our house. Typically it involves brushing teeth and story time, and then lying in bed arguing with Taviri for hours. He is scared to be alone at night, so we usually stay with him until he falls asleep. This has been an easy enough thing in the past- there were days when he was asleep in ten or fifteen minutes, and we get up and go on with our day. Lately, however, it's been a problem. He does not want to sleep. He is scared of the closet, of the imaginary monsters. Tonight he told Jaime that he "feels like something is there, and I'm just barely getting away!" Of course he has to freak me out thoroughly in the process of keeping me up. The weird thing is that I'm not sure what to do. He isn't arguing to stay up, or get something. Even if I were inclined to just "give in" and do what he wants, there isn't anything to do! I can tell him his room is safe, but he stopped trusting anything he couldn't verify with experiment at age 3. And honestly in a world where Michelle Bachmann is considered a viable political candidate it feels disingenuous to tell him there are no monsters. This is a way in which having a sensible, matter of fact daughter cheers me up. Arkaedi is just as creative as he is-- her games are full of voices and characters and strange events. But she just deals with everything. There are, as she describes them, "monsters with no eyes" in her room. Cause for concern, sure. But nothing to miss a nap over. She is going to get to bed and cuddle her lemur, or pink Godzilla, and go to sleep. The monster will just have to accept that. Taviri is all histrionics. Arkaedi is business. I never thought that one thing I would really wish for would be for the kids to go to bed on time. I've become my mother. Except... I kind of believe him when he talks about the monsters. But like Arkaedi, I want a good eight hours of sleep before I have to deal with them.

Princesses with Frogs, Ponies with Wings

I've recently finished dozens of books. The one advantage of being underemployed is plenty of time. And libraries are one of my favorite uses of free time. Arkaedi knows the poetry section better than most three year olds, I would imagine.

One book in particular, called Cinderella Ate My Daughter, is a light, poppy, conversational book about a woman (Peggy Orenstein) who has a little girl. This little girl is enamored of princesses. Specifically, the trademarked Disney Princess line. This book is my first exposure to this culture. Somehow, perhaps due to her age or our peer group, Arkaedi has no interest in princesses. Having lived in either Seattle or Ithaca, I am surrounded by parents who closely monitor what their children watch and read. There is an across the board tendency to avoid commercial toys and games. I don't think anything of that stuff, really. To me it's a relic of the past. I even call her "Princess" sometimes, but she doesn't usually respond. She prefers Arkaedi. Or, as she says, "Unkaedi." I hope that she is just pronouncing it incorrectly, but perhaps it's a code word, and she is actually a changeling. Maybe the real Arkaedi is in fairyland.

Today I had my first taste of what could be in store for me. We were at a friend's party, for a little girl Arkaedi's age. The theme was unicorns. "Ponies!" Arkaedi immediately exclaimed. This was awesome. She even got a goody bag that included her own unicorn toy. We got into a discussion about unicorns, pegasus, ponies... but she didn't care. They were all ponies. "You call them that! I say they are ponies with wings! Ponies with horns!" She will have no dictionary nazism. Things are what she says they are! I actually came out of the conversation a little excited about unicorns, no matter what we were calling them. Which is strangely embarrassing.

I loved the unicorn party, because it was not exclusively corporate. They weren't a trademarked type of unicorn (Sorry, pony with horns). They were just fun magical toys, and the kids were enamored. The imaginative play was there, the ubiquitous scripting that invades most children's activities was avoided. It was great.

The one thing that really sticks with me from the Peggy Orenstein book, however, is the association of looks with a girl's value. Beyond the corporate shilling, which I think I can mitigate to some extent, there is the larger problem of "Princess" being code for thin, white, and perfect. This is a lot harder. For one, my normal nickname for Arkaedi is Pretty Sue. Sure, I tell her she is smart, and strong, etc. Which research does indicate is very important to avoiding some of the traps of self esteem being tied to looks. But I still call her Pretty. Many times a day. As if enforcing the concept of pretty as central to her being. Or, more accurately, focusing everyone on her looks.

And the other side of the problem for Arkaedi: She IS pretty. She is really gorgeous. Everyone says that about their kids, of course. But Arkaedi is prettier than a lot of kids. Her big blue eyes, her amazing hair... these are going to get her attention. At three, she doesn't know that. She doesn't seem to even know what pretty is, in truth. She says I'm pretty, which is a sure sign that the concept is not sinking in. Whatever I am, it is most certainly not pretty. I have never occupied the same general area as pretty. Scruffily handsome, maybe, on my best day. But Arkaedi has learned that pretty means smart, beautiful, awesome... whatever she feels like. Pretty is Pony with Horns, not Unicorn.

I wonder how I can hold on to that idea. Or if I should abandon calling her Pretty. Switch to some other nickname. I can certainly come up with a great nickname, if I need to improvise. Something that tells her how powerful, amazing, courageous, charming, and wonderful she is. Something that tells her that when I'm sad or confused or feel like a failure all I need to do is look at her to feel like life is perfect. Something that tells her that I need her to be her, with all her heart, every day of her life.

I'm sure I'll come up with something good. Then she'll change it if she wants. That's Unkaedi.

Healthy Snacks, Kids And The Joy Of Proportionate Response

I pride myself on providing healthy foods for the kids. I don't mean my kids only eat perfect foods, or anything. I'm not the food nazi that many of my fellow Seattlites are. And trust me in Seattle you see some real nutcases with food. My kids have an occasional doughnut from Mighty-O, or a cookie or Jaime made cupcake. Food is fun, we shouldn't flip out. And though my kids are vegan, if Viri borrows a cheese cracker and eats it on the playground I'm not going to have a fit. Life is too short.

All told, however, my kids eat well. It's not that hard. Check out the picture of Pretty Sue having lunch. Our lunch today was walnuts and carrots and hummus. They loved it. (Viri: "Look at Arkaedi going to town on her food! She's eating and eating!") I did very little. I put out some fresh organic carrots and walnuts, and popped a lid off a container of hummus from the store. It was easy. And kids love it. I don't understand why some people don't feed their children this kind of thing; unless the food nazis have inspired a reaction against it. Or parents really buy into commercials. Are either of those things true? I don't know. Try these simple meals. Kids will thank you.

I stuck black beans in the crock pot for dinner. I have the rice cooker primed. Brown rice and beans for dinner, and they'll enjoy it. It didn't take me any energy or time. I may, if I feel fancy, saute a few tofurky brats in olive oil with garlic and toss them in the pot. That'll be mostly for me.

I really hope that we can start a parent cooking class as part of Jaime's practice. It'd be really great to provide the resource, especially as a parent who isn't that much of a cook. I'd like to show them that you don't need to be a wonderful cook, just use some real veggies and whole grains and it'll end up healthy, pretty much whatever you do.

And no need to be a pretentious food nazi either. Kids who eat well won't have a heart attack if they eat a few chocolate chips either. And Mighty-O doughnuts are good for the soul.

Parenting In The Land Of Uncertainty

There are a lot of things that you must come to terms with as a parent. One of the most difficult is the fact that you must put your kid out into the world and let them be themselves. With Viri starting at preschool this week, that has been particularly burdensome for me. I'm not good at letting go. Even in the small, eight hours a week way. I'm anxious, for him and for me.

There are two reasons for this. One, I'm sensitive to his nature. He takes things seriously, and I worry he'll get upset, or hurt. That isn't particularly logical or helpful, but there it is. I didn't start off so well with the educational system, even though I eventually enjoyed it, and I'd like him to have a less traumatic first few years. Two, I'm sensitive to my nature. I don't like dealing with teachers or administrators who have their own agenda and want to criticize me or him for little things that make their lives difficult. There is a precedent for this. When Viri was two, we sent him to this horrible woman who was "Waldorf-inspired" and highly unpleasant. She spelled his name wrong, and yelled at us for not having him potty trained, and basically just gave us lip about everything. The one I remember best is her frustration that he didn't want to sit for snack time. At two. We took him out quick.

This school seems far better, of course, and I have high hopes for it. I know also that I need to let go of what I want and what embarrasses me and just let him go out into the world. Even at four there is value in the lessons he is learning, and while they shouldn't be harsh or unbearable, they don't necessarily need to be sunshine and lollipops either. I understand that. I want him to learn to function in school and in society. I want him to find teachers and mentors who will foster that.

But I know him. I see him every day, every waking hour, and have for four years. He is difficult, and loud, and physical. He is obstinate and pushy, and single minded. He is also passionate, and sincere, and fun. He is kind and loving and gentle and open. He is a lovely and sweet and brilliant little person, and I want him to grow to be a lovely and sweet and brilliant man. I'll push him and prod him if that's necessary; but I won't let him be undervalued. He deserves better than that.

Honestly, every human being deserves better than that. Viri is the human being given to me as a son, however, and I have responsibility to be there for him. I intend to do that. I've made three good decisions in my life, and one of which was having Viri. Now I need to add a few more to guide him along the way.

Arkaedi And Balance Of Loveliness

I try to treat my children fairly. I think I succeed, by and large, but there are a few areas where I am unsure of how to proceed. I don't want to treat them as interchangeable kids. I want to acknowledge and respect the differences, both as individuals and as a girl and boy, respectively. I have a feeling this will become even more important as they grow, and the similarities and differences are highlighted.

I get some strange looks when I talk about Viri being a big boy, or Arkaedi being pretty. I imagine some people are worried that I am projecting stereotypical roles upon them. To a certain extent, perhaps I am. I'm not always sure where to draw the line between traditional and repressive. I'm not sure I am even capable of doing so. I am a product of my culture, good and bad. I don't think a philosophical response to a visceral emotional stimulus is even a good idea. I try and mitigate the worst of my culture. I was lucky enough to be raised without racism or other hateful influences in my home, so I don't need to raise my own children above that. My parents did that work for me. To what extent do I need to work on my gender bias?

I know I will love my kids no matter what they do, or how they choose to live. I will, when they are old enough, try and explain to them I am pushing them to be the best they can be, not necessarily what I or anyone else imagines they should be. I hope they'll understand that. I have nothing but love and respect for my parents, for all the work they did. They wanted me to be me, and even when they didn't get what I was doing or why, they loved me. I imagine my kids will see the same thing, and forgive me if I do make mistakes. I'm sure I will; I'm not perfect.

A funny story about how I talk to my kids: Viri and I were leaving the restroom at a public park, and he had been pretending to be a chicken all day. I got yelled at several times when I said his name. "I'm a chicken! Call me chicken!" So, as we passed this group of grandmothers, I urged him along, "Come on, chicken!" "I'm not a chicken!" he yelled. The grandma's scowled at me. Great, thanks Viri, now it sounds like I was mocking your cowardice! They think I'm a jerk!

Now when they hear me calling Arkaedi a pretty princess they're really going to hate me.

Hearts And Fests

We got some culture on yesterday, as me and the kid and the Jaime headed down to the Seattle Ratha-Yatra. Herc and Sarah did nice posts about them as well, I would read them. I'm not an expert on the Vaisnava path, certainly, but as I understand it the purpose of the festival is to get the deities out on the streets, so everyone can see them and be reminded of the Beloved. It was a small gathering for such things, but a really nice group.

One of the things I love about Seattle is the opportunity to expose my children to interesting ideas and people. The ratha-yatra, and the thousands of other little and big festivals and services in the city, give my kids the chance to learn that the world is a big place, with a diverse and wonderful population, all playing and working and worshiping in unique ways. The city is a human place, built by people, and it can really be a place that helps a person's perspective expand, with the right mindset.

Viri had an interesting response to the event. At first, he wasn't very interested, and he was ready to go home. When we got home, he crawled up in my lap. "Papa I was surprised when they played music so loud. I was scared. Then my heart jumped out of my chest. I liked it."

Well. I think that was exactly the point. Good job son.

I don't know how long we'll be in Seattle. We may even move to a small town next year. But I do think I have a responsibility to get my kids out there, learning and experiencing the world. No matter where I live, I will be attending festivals, driving to museums and parks, and giving my children the opportunity to explore the world. When they're old enough, they'll be off do grow on their own. For now, it's up to me to make their hearts jump out of their chests.

That Viri Is One Bad... Shut Your Mouth!

My kids had an amazing day. Arkaedi Sue was sweet and cute, talking up a storm about everything in one and two word phrases (Thank you, Papa, officially her first three word phrase, is amazing every time I hear it.) And carting around two babies. ("Babies eat? Babies milk? Thank you me.") Arkaedi now has said and done 1.46 trillion of the top 2 trillion cutest things in the history of the world. And these days she's doing it in pink shorts and an Ichiro cap. Perfection. Days like this remind me of how amazing my kids are and how much I love them.

We had a difficult kid at the daycare today. As in, biting kicking fighting difficult. (He was also the first kid under five I've ever heard call someone names. Names like 'poop-head' but still. How does he learn verbal insults? I've dealt with hundreds of kids and never heard that from a 4 year old.) Viri was the defender of the downtrodden. Viri stood up to him, protecting the other kids when he hit or bit. He told me once that he was going to stop him from being mean. "I'm going to tell him stop hitting or throwing things. And if he does it again I'll stop him." Keep in mind this is a kid much older, if only slightly bigger, than Viri.

What impressed me was that A) Viri never resorted to violence himself, short of one exasperated shake of his hands at the boy, and B) Viri seriously did not back down. Once, the boy was charging, screaming at Viri, and Viri planted his back foot and stuck out his arms, letting the boy run into him. It was as though the boy had hit a wall. And Viri didn't hit, or bite, or anything. He just held him there until he backed away. Then, he said, "I'm not going to play with you. I'm a little scared of you." You and me both, son.

It was a long hot day, and tomorrow J begins the three day board exam trial. It was nice to have a sign that we're on the right parenting track. I'm making mistakes, sure, but when push quite literally comes to shove my kids are alright. And that's at 3 and 1. Good job kids.

I'm Having Fun Fun, Old Man!

I probably have a lot of weaknesses of which I am totally and blissfully unaware. In fact, I am sure that I have. There is one weakness, however, that I and everyone I know are well aware that I suffer from: I am attached at the hip to my kids. So, today, Viri is off playing at the beach with a friend. This is a great thing, he'll have a great time, and I am reminded that I don't need to micro-manage my children.

For some reason, it's especially difficult with Viri. Arkaedi is younger, but she seems so stable. She seems so tough. She is my baby girl, but I sense her strength in everything she does. She even sits at the top of tall slides with a confident swagger.

Viri has strength too, of course. He just seems fragile from certain angles. He will do great things, I know. But he needs support. I want to provide him with all of that support and more. People don't always get him. He's odd, I admit. But I don't want people to confuse that oddity with problems. He is very sweet and smart. He is definitely an avatar of justice, and he wants to make things right. At three, that can be obstinate, or whiny. At thirty, it will be leadership. He's a better man than I'll ever be, and I want him to have the chance to realize that greatness.

As Arkaaedi Sue sleeps peacefully on me, I am happy to have this chance to let him go out and be an independent little boy. I want to write this down, to remember how blessed I am. I have a sweet daughter cuddled to my chest, a great and wild boy running around on the beach with friends. I also have, hopefully, the sense to let them go when they need to go, and shelter them when they need protection.

Tomorrow Is A Day

I am back into my normal routine tomorrow. Instead of mostly caring for the kids, I am full time caring for the kids, and working with other kids who I didn't sire. It's busy, crazy fun. I have mentioned often enough that I like kids, so I won't repeat myself more than I have to. Okay, I will repeat myself more than I have to, just not more than I can. That's all I'll promise.

I'm excited to be back into my schedule, really. The one thing I will not miss is the freedom to take the kids everywhere. This week, we've been to the zoo, the beach, the library, and stayed home. I've been doing my normal work with them, but wherever I wanted. I've had the ability to rework a plan when they are hungry, or fussy. When I'm with other kids, I can't shift gears so fast. And I am nothing if not a creature of habit. I'm such a creature of habit that I use cliches like creature of habit, even though they make no sense.

I hope all goes well tomorrow. I'm stocking up on food, I have various toys ready. They are going to bed at 7:30 tonight to give them a good night's sleep. I've planned it all perfectly. Which, as we know, means absolutely nothing when dealing with kids. Especially my kids. Which is a big reason I love it.

Night Train... To Normalcy

Everyone is slowly returning to their homes, and the summer visiting season is over. I'm really sad I won't get to hang out with my friends as much, and some of them I may not see for months. But, I'm excited to get into our routine, and be with my kids full time.

We've developed a nice rhythm, and I really enjoy my working with them. It's the perfect work for me, because it's hard, but real. I know them well, and I love the opportunity to have this level of engagement with them. Soon enough, they'll be too big. Before I realize it, honestly, they'll be living their lives without any input from me. Which is fantastic, of course. But it makes me cherish this time.

Visits with my friends are wonderful, and they really recharge me. They also remind me why I need recharged: to do the work I was meant to do. For the next few years, that means taking care of my wee ones.

And eating chocolate and drinking coffee. That too.

Nice Robot, Don't Hurt Me.

One of Viri's favorite movies is now one of mine. It's one that most of you have probably seen, 1999's The Iron Giant. I really can't say enough good things about this film, the second movie about a huge sentient being that I saw this week, and the far less strange one. (I highly recommend the strange one too. Just don't see it with kids.)

The movie, in case you haven't seen it, is about a giant robot who lands in Maine, and is befriended by a little boy. A strange CIA type guy is trying to find the robot and destroy it, and the boy and his beatnik friend help the robot hide. It's an amazing story, exploring themes of love and friendship and humanity, and it's cleverly (or bizarrely, I guess, depending on your perspective) packaged into this kids' movie about a big robot. (As Viri insists, a "nice robot.")

It's one of the rare films that makes me teary-eyed every time I watch it. The basic message, and one that my three year old quickly got, is that you are who you choose to be. Not who you pretend to be, or who others say you need to be, but who you put work and energy and time into being. It's a cool message, and one that director Brad Bird would slip into his big Pixar movie as well. It's a nice message for the intended audience, I think. As a parent of young children, it's a nice message for your kids to see. They are just entering that age when they will be defined by their friends, their social status, and any number of other things. It's good to be reminded, and to remind them, that your choices define you. Our free will allows us to pick up or set aside options, and to take charge of the process of becoming. Part of that, of course, is choosing friends and social circles and other things that will define us. Part of it is realizing those things are part of our world, and learning to love what there is to be loved.

Already my son is learning that we grow, and change, and we can take charge of that process. We can't control every element of a situation, or even a lot of the elements; but we can make choices that matter. It is choosing that makes you a nice robot, or a bad robot. Not exactly how Viri would put it, but the basic sentiment remains. (Viri said things like this, and basically summarized the movie: "I'm a nice robot! I'm big! Don't hurt me! I'm mad, I'll shoot you with my laser cannon! I'm going home now. I help people. Robot's going to get fixed? All better? Good.)

Carkeek And Arkaedi Lessons In The Mellowness

I spent a very pleasant day at Carkeek park today. I'm getting to be a regular there. It's an amazing place, and I highly recommend it. It's quickly becoming my favorite Seattle spot. Well, my favorite non-food Seattle spot. The favorites would be Mighty-O and Wayward, followed by a lot of parks. I would be a liar if I said my absolute top spot in Seattle didn't include coffee.

The summertime reminds me of the fun of Seattle, as well as the craziness. The park was packed tonight, and people were crazy. It gets a little sunny here and people start driving like maniacs and shouting. It's like they are suddenly in a film about LA. Relax, my friends. We are still mellow Seattlites, lost in our own thoughts. Perhaps we should mellow? Here, check out a mellow Arkaedi Sue:

See? She knows how to do it.

Speaking of Arkaedi Sue, she is into full toddler mode. It's really fun. She is racing with Viri, and throwing rocks into puddles. Viri is only a few months away from having a real playmate who can keep up with him. Which is making my job a ton easier. Even with Viri starting the exploration of his big kid boundaries, things have been easier lately. Maybe it's just the nice weather. Either way, I'll take it.

Sayings of Susan

I actually used an old line of my mother's today, in exactly the situation she would have. I was preparing my kids for bedtime, and Viri was fussing. He said the standard "I'm not tired," and without pausing I said, "Well I'm tired of ya, so it's bedtime." I must have heard that a million times growing up, and I hadn't thought of it in years. It brought up fond memories, oddly. I guess the remembrance of being forced to go to bed is nice, even as the experience was, to my young mind, traumatic.

I do a lot of things differently than my mother did. I would never subject my kids to the bedtime song. (The complete transcript: "B-E-D-T-I-M-E, HA HA HA!" The pitch and speed increased as bedtime became closer.) The song is seared into my head as a death knell, but again I remember it with some fondness. The distance, and understanding of the joys of your children going to sleep after twelve hours of craziness, changes my perspective.

One of the things that is hardest about losing a parent young is the experiences that you have that allow you to relate to them are not able to be shared. Having two small kids, I get a lot of what mom was always saying. Even if I am quite different in many ways in my parenting style, and we are really different in our life experiences, I still come out with some of the things I heard as a boy from her.

Actually, maybe the bedtime song isn't such a bad idea. I really could get into the HA HA HA chorus.

You'll Miss It

I sat in on a Conscious Fathering class today, a class that I'm preparing to teach. It was really interesting, with some great information about the first few months of being a father. The one thing I wanted to say to the dads was that they will miss that early time.

You don't think about it, and you might think you'll be glad it is done. But I miss the baby smell, and the tiny little person. I'm glad they don't stay that way. Children grow up, they move away. (Sometimes, as Woody Allen reminds us, to ridiculous places like Cincinnati, or Boise, Idaho.) I'm glad my kids are growing. But enjoy that baby time, dads.

Golden Gardens In April

We visited Golden Gardens again today. It's always one of my favorite parks, and today was a nice day to be outside. Herc and I listened to the ramblings of my insane children, which is always amusing. They both had a good time, and were stuffed with yummy vegan goodness from Wayward Cafe, so it went fairly well.

Viri is starting to be a little rough with Arkaedi, which we're trying to head off at the pass. I really lost my patience with him a few times this week, and I feel bad about that. Both because it isn't fair to him, being three and all, and because it doesn't work. He behaves better when everyone keeps calm. Today we calmly talked to him, and modeled how to act around the baby, and he was much better. She was happier, even, as though she sensed the change in mood when we reacted to his behavior. I think she really did get a sense that it was being dealt with calmly, and responded well to that.

It's easy to be rough with kids. They drive you nuts, and you want to smack them for hurting their sibling, or throwing food. But it just doesn't get results. If I lose it and smack his bottom, I feel bad and he just continues to misbehave. When I keep my voice calm, and explain the situation, he behaves. It's strange, and maybe a little counter-intuitive. I get better results when I stay calm, though, and I can't argue with the evidence. Always start with the reality of what is in front of you, I say. When I see good results from my actions, when everyone leaves the situation feeling better, I'm going to note that. I'm going to do whatever it takes to get the best resolution to the problem for my entire family. It says a lot about the nature of the world that measured reactions get to the heart of the problem, and start the peace process.

I still have a lot to learn about keeping my voice calm, and moving slowly and deliberately. I'm really learning this year what a spastic little man I can be. Good to know, I guess. Another thing my kids have taught me. I'd better not start a list of what they teach me though, it could get embarrassing when that list far surpasses the list of things I teach them. Maybe I can pay Viri back with teaching him to throw a curveball. Of course, knowing him, by the time I get around to showing him a pitch he'll have a whole repertoire and be pitching AAA ball. I just need to resign myself to being a spring board for the best members of my family that will come after me.

I can't throw a good curve anyway.

Curious George And The Children's Museum

Viri and I joined a group of stay at home dads today for a trip to the Children's Museum. It was fun, but I made a few basic parenting mistakes. First, I told Viri there would be monkeys involved. There was a Curious George interactive exhibit thing, and I honed in on the monkey element of the event. I forgot that people who do these kinds of things for kids never have kids, or involve kids in the process, or even have ever heard of a child. Possibly they think children are some magical fairy that no one can see or hear, but we believe in for vague superstitious reasons. The exhibit was highly interactive. For people of my generation and older, that means busy and purposeless. There were images from the books, but no monkeys. As we left, Viri told me seriously, "There were no monkeys, Papa. You said there were monkeys. There were no monkeys. There were no monkey toys." He would have accepted by mistake if there had at least been monkey toys, I guess.

This leads me to the second mistake. I slotted about forty minutes for the entire event. Never, in the history of parenting, has anything happened in only forty minutes. It's generally accepted that the conception of the child is the quickest event in the entire timeline of parenting. So, this was a big and avoidable mistake. This meant that I had just enough time to greet the dads, chat a bit, then drag Viri away from the toys and games in order to rush back and get J and Arkaedi Sue. We then rushed off to a stupid meeting. That is maybe the worst time management in the history of humanity. Luckily, Viri took it in stride. He just ate yogurt in the car and fell asleep.

The dads were cool, and it was really neat to meet up with a bunch of guys basically doing what I'm doing. I wondered what their wives did. I imagine we're in the same boat; they married successful women who wanted a guy they liked, and didn't care about our complete lack of marketability. I hear a lot about women who seek guys who can take care of them, who have money and power. We're probably at the other end of that spectrum. There's a bar graph in some sociology department that has us, a huge squiggly line, then them.

The trip was fun, and I do wish I had planned it better. The next get together with the dads will be more leisurely, and I'll allow more time. I'm probably going to have to take Viri back to the museum sometime, to make up for today. I don't mind, really. It's an okay place, even if I do have issues with the design of most of the exhibits. The Children's Museum is an odd name for a place, too. It sounds like a futuristic cyborg built it, in memory of the strange biological creatures, and they way they started as small versions of themselves called "children."

I hope this post will further enlighten the cyborgs who rule the future. Maybe it'll get a poorly designed exhibit of its own!

Drop-Off Mentality: My Plea For Parent Licenses

A good friend of mine sent pictures of his newborn today. I was really excited, as I always am about kids. I am definitely a kid person. I understand that not everyone is, and that's fine. Some of my closest friends are not kid people, and they know that. They live their lives without having children, or even interacting with them that much. This shows self-awareness, of which I am most definitely in favor. My problem is when people are not aware of what it means to have children, then have them anyway.

I'm slowly leaving my job because of these people. There has been an influx of parents not interested in the attachment parenting model that many of the parents were interested in when the organization started. This is one of the big mistakes that I made getting involved with the job. I should have looked for a coherent philosophy. It had previously run on trust, faith that we agreed on general principles of childcare and parenting philosophy. We didn't all necessarily follow a rule book. (I do time outs, for instance: I still consider myself an attachment parenting proponent.) I am not concerned with parents all having the same philosophy; but understanding the way the daycare works would be a plus. Instead I am forced to compromise my beliefs in order to appease parents, which I cannot do.

I am concerned that I work with kids that I think are poorly treated. Some of the parents I work with are amazing, and do everything they can to raise a healthy child. We may disagree, but it will be respectful, and I understand that they are doing what is right for them and their family. A few, however, are drop-off parents. They think they can outsource the raising of their children to providers like me, or family. I don't mean they work, and need daycare. I depend on the need for daycare in order to pay my bills, and I support it. I mean they use it as a substitute for being involved, and want the child out of their way so they can get the real work of being themselves done.

I don't pretend like I do everything right. I certainly don't imagine that I know how to be a parent and others don't. I learn a lot from my friends with kids, and I frequently go to them for guidance. But I will be present for my kids. They will be clean and well-fed, with nutritious foods. They know that either me or Jaime will be there when they have a problem or an issue that needs resolved. It's what I signed up for by having children.

I'm sensitive when it comes to kids. Seeing kids treated poorly, even a little poorly, stabs right into me. I would do absolutely anything for the kids in my care, and it is painful to see that not all of the parents would.

Alienation In Parenthood

I was lucky when I became a parent. I had access to some parents who encouraged our attachment parenting tendencies, and helped us find a way to work with our child, to help him understand the world and find his way in it. Viri, especially, needed this attention. Now, through strange work circumstances and new acquaintances, I'm around a lot of people who don't subscribe to our viewpoint. I'm beginning to realize how detrimental that is to us, and to our interaction with Viri. And, much as before, I am in a situation where I need to leave my current situation and find a place of comfort for me and my family.

Some of us make choices to be different, to be outside. Many people I know are comfortable with that, even enjoy it. I've never been that way. I want to fit in with people. I don't mind that aspect of my personality. I like it, even. I was outcast as a youth for being smart, and getting good grades. I was outcast as a young man for being contrary and rebellious. Now, I'm outcast for a parenting style that my job doesn't want to use. That's an odd one. It doesn't especially bug me, except that I started this job specifically to be allowed to be the parent that I want to be. Once again I made an attempt to fit into a space that either I misread horribly, or changed drastically.

My quote for these times that J gets a kick out of is this: Gravity pulls, and atoms spin around. Anywhere in the middle gets messy.

This reflects my opinion of the universe. I think it is an orderly place, on the whole. Humanity, endowed with free will, can try and make human enterprises, but they are doomed to mediocrity. The big picture all shakes out, but trying to control middle sized human things, and failure is often the result.

I want to do something that makes things work, for a brief moment, in the big picture. I think my dream job is leaping around like the character in Quantum Leap, taking care of little things so that the entire universe operates how it's supposed to. Everything isn't always fun, or pretty. But his job is to make sure that the whole tapestry looks right. There is something deeply satisfying about that show.

In a sense it's what I like about working with children. They are just little bundles of potential, and it's rewarding to work with them and see what happens with little positive changes. The frustration sets in when you hand them off to parents who don't even listen to what they did that day, much less follow through with steps to help their development. I understand parents have it tough, it's a hard job. I screw up a fair number of things with my kids. But I work constantly to give them the tools they need, and I never refuse to listen to something that might help me to do that. (Viri today: "You wanted to smack me! You're bad, Papa!" He's right. I did kind of want to smack him for pushing past Arkaedi and knocking her down. Perceptive.)

It pays off. I have two wonderful kids. Kids who deserve better than our current crazy schedule, and difficult parents. So, I'm listening. Next quarter is going to be different.

Well, That's It Then. Spankings All Around.

I'm a father. Ask me what I do, that's all I can think to say. I guess I work for money, too, if that's what is meant. Parenting is what I do. I'd like to teach again, or repair motorcycles, or play baseball for a living. I'd like to do various things, but the one thing I do every day is be a father. I lose patience, and I make mistakes. I probably make some mistakes that I'm completely unaware of, and will come out years down the road. On the whole, I think I do a pretty decent job. I would even say that it is something I am better at than most other things I have ever tried. I wondered if I would be able to be good at it, once upon a time. I don't wonder anymore. I don't pretend to be perfect at it, but I know I'm meant to be here and now, raising these two. And I am good at it. Certainly better than playing baseball or repairing small engines. I hope someday that my kids will agree. Despite the occasional skeptical look on their faces, I think they are okay with me.

The two big differences I notice between me and other parents around me have to do with what I want from the kids, and what they can expect from me. First, I have high standards for them. I expect them to be who they are, and behave appropriately. Viri was having problems today and I told him, this isn't who you are. You know better than this. He looked at me seriously, and said, "Yeah. I'm a big boy. I'm a big help." It's who he is, and he knows it. When Arkaedi Sue gets bigger, I'll expect her to be who she is as well. Parents sometimes look at me like I'm crazy when I ask Viri to help clear the table, or pick up the trash. I know he's only three; but I also know who he is, and what he's capable of doing.

The other difference is that I express myself. When I'm upset, it's clear to everyone. I pulled Taviri across the room the other day for a time out. Not roughly, but purposefully, and I was noticeably upset. I told him, I'm upset, what you did made me mad, and you need a time out to sit and think about it. I see this as a good thing. There is no confusion with me, no fits of rage. If he hits the baby, I am mad. If he spills a little water by accident, no big deal. I think people want to pretend a lot around kids, and not express honestly what they're feeling. I can't do that. And I don't think it would be healthy if I did, for me or them.

I see parenting as preparing the kids to be adults. I have no illusions about it, they are more important than me, they have greater destinies, and I want them to be ready to rise to it. They were born to me for a reason, and I have to accept that responsibility. People talk about doing anything for their children, but they don't set aside anything of their lives when they have them. I see parents trying to live almost independently of their children, and I don't understand that. This time in my life is about letting my kids grow, and guiding them. It's what I signed up for when I procreated. I'm going to do things for myself as well, of course, it's not healthy to neglect my mental health; but it fits in around them, and it's my responsibility to make it work.

I've talked a bit here about finding out what I like, and understanding my identity separate from the intellectual. My children are something I feel one hundred percent. There is no hypothetical that doesn't have me there for the kids, trying my best to do what's right. If I honestly reflect about my children, and what it means to me to be a parent, I come back to an image that I can't shake. It's a silly image, but I think of it a lot. It's an old grainy western, and the posse is riding out, strapping on guns and saddling horses. And the sheriff looks back at me and says, "You don't have to go, Barker. Stay home." And I scoff at him, pulling on my boots and picking up my rifle. "I'll pretend you didn't say that."

Walk On, Arkaedi Sue

It also syncs up nicely to Monster X's "Take a Walk." But that's a little much for a little girl. These are not quite the first steps, but third or fourth steps, definitely.

If this looks good and works, expect a bunch more video posts in the future. I'm really excited to start putting these up, and in Elvis songs alone I have an entire documentary genre in my head. (That would be "Crazy Children and Elvis" for the film historians out there. Like Ken Burns' but with more wiggling and less still shots of Stonewall Jackson)