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.

Space Ghost And Dino Boy Together Inexplicably

My son's obsession with strange and disturbing cartoons continues, this time with the discovery of the 1966 insanity that is Space Ghost and Dino Boy. They aren't together in the show, just paired together in separate shorts for no discernible reason. They have nothing in common: Space Ghost is a superhero who turns invisible and wastes everyone's time until a monkey can save him or get saved, and Dino Boy is a virulently racist kid who travels around with a caveman and dinosaur and runs from things.

Space Ghost is a pretty good time in some ways. The voices are over the top. (Jace is voiced by Tim Matheson, Vice President Hoynes in the West Wing!) The animation is horrible, but colorful. Space Ghost has a fun array of powers from his wrist bands, although the turning invisible seems the least effective of them. When you can make giant pile-drivers appear and smash your enemies, is there a need for subterfuge? But despite some of these silly problems, and the attempt of the writers to shoehorn the whole "invisible space ghost" theme into a science fiction show, Space Ghost is pretty good. The real problem with this show is Dino Boy.

First of all, the boy is voiced by Johnny Carson, and that made me waste time discovering that it isn't THAT Johnny Carson. I bet he got really sick of that. Second, the premise is one of those half baked ideas that drive me nuts. The boy crashes in South America, and finds a lost kingdom of cavemen and dinosaurs. Now I recognize that these writers didn't have Wikipedia to look up La Paz, but come on, writers. You know South America is not Pangaea. Is it that hard to just make the kid fly through a time warp? I'll forgive the caveman/dinosaurs living at the same time thing. It's a cartoon. But I won't forgive lazy storytelling.

The second, larger problem, is that the show is oddly racist. The bad guys are weird caricatures of Africans, or sometimes Native Americans. One strange villain is a short dark skinned guy with a bald head, straight out of a racist political cartoon of the 19th century. I understand that 1966 is not 2009, but come on, guys. It isn't 1830 either. At one point Viri just turned to me and frowned. They don't use any bad terms, so I didn't want to turn it off; but the creepy image was a bit much. I would definitely avoid it for my kids, if these strange and disturbing cartoons weren't so captivating to Viri.

The Dino Boy doesn't do anything either. The two episodes I watched involved him running from bad guys he found. He just wanders around and finds trouble? Then runs away? Solid storytelling there! At least Space Ghost had fun monsters that chased him and developed ridiculous plots to capture him. (My favorite: Metallus invites him to his ship, shows him his plan, then lets him go. Later, Space Ghost just comes back and beats him up. Can you explain your thinking on this, Metallus?)

I've got to continue to find some of these for him, and for my own twisted curiosity. I'm especially curious about the Alex Toth cartoons, like Space Ghost and Herculoids. He also wrote early Green Lantern comics, which I would love to expose Viri to when he gets old enough. If he likes the style of the cartoons, he'll really like the Golden Age comic style, once he's able to appreciate it. For now, it's crazy animation and invisible monkeys! And Dino Boy wandering around Copacabana being racist!

Thunder Thunder Thunder Thunder... Cats! Thundercats, Why?

As I wrote a few weeks ago, my son has a bizarre interest in strange or awful cartoons. Recently he discovered one from my youth, Thundercats. It is way odder than I remember. Unlike the broader social messages of He-Man, Thundercats is more about a dimwitted man child, Liono, and the little lessons he learns as he grows up. This seems very strange, since he appears to be thirty, but okay, I'll accept it. Combine it with the surreal Rankin/Bass animation, some mummies and mutants, and you have a mid-eighties romp into madness.

Viri loves it. He's been drawing Thundercats, playing that he is a human/cat thing, the whole shebang. (That always weirded me out about the show-- are they can people? Why no tails? Why no fur?) There is one episode with a space-policewoman, which he is crazy about, as you would expect. Police, laser guns, and cat people? Viri heaven!

The premise of the show has always confused me. These cat people are on some strange planet. I'm not sure why they are there, or why they brought the ghost of a dead leader. How do they survive with only one woman? (That's a very Ryan question, I apologize.) Why is the man named Tygra, which is clearly a woman's name? The whole show is crazy, it doesn't surprise me that it is quickly becoming Taviri's favorite. His taste tends towards the bizarre.

Here is a fun fan trailer of a Thundercats movie.

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.

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.

Father Of An Agent And Patriotic Day

It's the holiday of holidays in America. The Fourth. The day to celebrate all things USA. I tend to skip it. Unless there is pie; I'll show up for pie.

As I have documented here, I am in the middle on a lot of issues. Not a moderate, but interested in all sides, that's me. The one place I am probably far to the "left," much as I dislike the term, is jingoism. I do not support a country, any country, for the same reason that I do not support a political party: I don't accept that others who think differently, act differently, or speak differently are in any way inferior to me.

That said, I do LIKE it here. I live here. My parents were born here, as well as my kids. It's a lovely place. There are some good people, some nice places to live. I just don't really feel the need to go nuts expressing things I like about the States, especially at the expense of others. I certainly don't want any of my likes or dislikes to get caught up with issues like military might and imperialistic financial systems. It's a far cry from "the Cascades are pretty" to "bomb Iran," in other words, and I'd prefer to just be left out of the whole discussion.

Because the one thing I do actively hate about America is our violence. This is a country that fetishizes and relishes violent spectacle. We love it. When people ask me what I liked most about Japan when I lived there, I usually talk about the transportation system, which is great. But the honest answer is that I liked how peaceful, in general, the people were. No one was ever going to resort to violence to solve mundane problems, and I liked that. As a person who loves people, and wants the best for them, seeing how easily we rely on violence in this country, how much we seem to enjoy violence, sickens me.

I'm not a complete pacifist. I admire those who are. I would even admit that they are probably better people than me. But though I would never swear to refrain from any violent activity, I don't think it's good. I don't think it's nice, and certainly I would never say it's fun. It may be, may possibly be, necessary, at times. But it's awful that it is.

I wonder what I am teaching my kids about violence. I wonder if I can even shape their opinions. Viri, yesterday, was walking past a police car. He pointed at it, and asked if it was a police car. I said yeah. I wasn't really paying attention, this is a big city, police are everywhere. He pulled me around to face the car, and said very seriously: "Thank them, Papa! Thank them for the hard work they do!" I laughed, and it was funny. But I wonder what conversations are in store for us. What will Viri's attitude towards these institutions be? It almost makes me want to move somewhere else. If it is his nature, however, there is no where that would really matter. I guess what I can do is teach him, steer his ideas, and accept who he will become. I definitely don't want him to grow up to be a carbon copy of me. The opposite of me is fairly scary, too. I hope he finds kindness and wisdom, and is a good Taviri. I hope this country, the good, the bad and the ugly, is a pathway to that. Happy Fourth, I guess. Don't hurt anyone today, America.

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.

Viri Has A Room

He won't use it, of course. But he does have a room. And mere minutes after getting his own room, he ran in and slammed the door in a pout. I think that is a record. So far he does love playing in it, though, and keeping Arkaedi Sue from destroying everything. It's really cute to watch him arranging it. He is a Jaime junior.

I have a new favorite Viri quote too. We were at the PCC today, and we walked past a sign. It had a girl, just a normal woman, standing there. Viri looks at it, shakes his head, and says, "That stupid girl." And walks on. Okay, Viri... and What?!

Captain Train and the Falls

We had a dual purpose trip this week. We needed to kill time in the foothills east of Seattle while J was on shift at a senior's center and occupy the children. Thanks to the help of Herc and Sarah, we did it! And how, you ask reasonably, did we do it? Waterfalls and trains is the answer! These pictures come courtesy of Herc and Sarah themselves. I didn't think to bring my camera, which is odd for me.

(I hate that bumper sticker that says war is not the answer. I don't like war, but if the question is "What do you call it when two countries send soldiers to attack each other?" then war is the answer. Just say you hate war.)

I had never been to Snoqualmie Falls before this week. It's strange, considering I lived on eastside for a bit, but I haven't been to most places east of Seattle. It's a shame too, because the place is really neat. I loved the little towns around it. J says I can't live anywhere further than ten blocks from a restaurant and coffee shop, but that isn't exactly true. It can be up to a ten minute drive to either, and I can maybe tolerate it. Possibly. I would cry silently at the trees sometimes. Okay, I am a city person, but I can see myself having a nice life in a small town. I'd need to drive into the city on the weekend on eat Thai food and read the NY Times, but I could do it. For a lovely place with trains and falls, I could try.

The train museum was really interesting. I had tired and fussy kids, so I had to leave a little early. I definitely want to go back and let Viri ride the trains. He'd be insanely happy. Arkaedi Sue seemed pretty excited too, since she is getting at the age where she wants to be involved. I'm having a hard time remembering that she is not a baby. I'll be having that problem until I die, I imagine.

J swears this is where we're living in a few years, so I am preparing myself. I get nervous in the country. I remember, in WV, always feeling a little nervous about the people around me. I would think to myself, "Why is that man in the John Deere hat just standing there? What is he doing? Where is he going?" I was pretty nervous for a large chunk of my youth. Then, I get to the city, and it goes away. I have no idea what people are doing around me, and I don't care. They're just city people, doing city things. They could be selling crack or planning a murder spree, but they don't make me nervous. The country, with the open spaces, the distance between people... something about it gets to me.

I'm going to need to work on it. J says our next house will have a creek running through it. I'm going to ask the condo developers downtown if they have a creek, but I doubt it. Maybe she'll settle for a rooftop garden?

I doubt it.

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!

All Star Superman: One

I really liked comics as a kid. I was a big collector, plastic bags and all. I pretty much stopped paying any attention once I discovered woman-love. Recently, however, I picked up a new Superman series called All Star Superman. It's really amazing.

I never liked Superman as a kid. He was always so one dimensional, I thought. I liked the darker characters, or at least the ones that I could imagine being on some level. The Batmans, the Wolverines of the comic world seem attainable. Superman was a god; he was perfect, he could do everything. In my comic world of the late 80s, there was too much self awareness for that. It was all about angst and suffering. It's exactly the reason teenagers are irritating and cannot be trusted. Hormones make them self absorbed and stupid.

Now, I get Superman. He was created by people who wanted a hero that could do everything. He slowly got more powers as the world got more dangerous and scary. Now, he can do everything, because that's what we need him to do. You can pretend to be Wolverine, or Spider-Man. But when everything is really falling apart, you want Superman. I understand that desire now.

All Star Superman doesn't deal with irony. There is no subtext. Superman is not all powerful, but he is the closest thing a person can imagine still operating within our world. The creators of this comic don't want teen angst, they want to explore the meaning of having a real savior wandering the streets of a city. What does it mean to have someone who really can shoulder the burdens of the world patrolling your skies? It's a fascinating idea, and the writers do a good job with it.

The characters are sketches, intentionally so. Lex Luthor is the envious human, fearful and totally ego driven. Lois Lane is the girl waiting for the white knight. Jimmy Olsen even gets told as the old school, "Superman's Pal" character that isn't seen much anymore. It's a blast to read. I've been sharing it with Viri, which is fun. He doesn't get much of it, even a simple modern Superman story has a lot that a three year old won't comprehend. He did have some fun comments, though, as usual. When anyone is in danger on the page, he reminds me. "Don't worry, Papa. Superman will help them. He'll take them to jail. He's nice."

I see the value in this for kids. I was really affected by these archetypes as a child, and my son is sensitive to the ideas in the same way. He knows Superman is pretend, but he wants the idea to exist. I'm glad he does. I want it to exist as well.

Running About With Viri

Today we tried a little outing. It was a nice day, and Viri has not been outside nearly as much as usual. He did pretty well. He was a little fussy, for him. We both missed having Arkaedi Sue around, I think. She makes the outings more fun. I figure the rest did her good though, because by the time we got back she was really happy to see us.

Viri and I have a big quarter next quarter, with some educational projects. I had actually planned on getting his letters done, but he already learned them somehow. Today he was telling me what they were. I never really taught him, but I guess he just picked them up as he went.

It's going to be odd dealing with someone as bright and sensitive as Viri. I always picked up things quickly, especially when it came to language and words. He's going to be better than me, I imagine. He already picks up words and ideas that I assume go over his head. We need to get him into some language programs, start developing that ability early. I always wish I had, since languages are the one ability I have that really stands above the others.

Well, first we'll get everyone healthy. Then we'll worry about tomorrow. I'm hoping this is a weekend of good health for the whole family. Here's to sleep and rest!

Megalon the Pimp: Construct Him, Bitches!

We had a surreal moment today at the Barker household. We were finishing dinner, and Viri turns to J and says, "Help me make a Megalon, bitch."

Wait, what? Did you just command us, curse us, demanding we construct a monster for you? We asked him to repeat, to clarify. "Megalon please, bitch!" This time the hands are waving around. He's getting exasperated with us for not taking care of the issue at hand. The please is a nice touch, son, but I'm not sure I like what is going on. I hope we're wrong. Could you show us? "No, I can't show you a bitch. It just is." Okay, a fair point... you need an example.

I finally get him into the living room, where he models what he wants. Apparently it's a Megalon bridge, for Megalon to knock down. This is much better, and really puts the please in a proper context. Bitch and please just sound odd together.

I'm glad he wasn't trying out new curses or anything, but I was a tiny bit disappointed. Because if he had been saying what I had thought, the hilarity of it would have made the insult almost worth it.

I really needed this after my day today. It was another frustrating work experience, with me stuck trying to plug the proverbial dam. I have said many times that for 40k a year, no problem, I would deal with the stupid problems without complaint. But for ten bucks an hour, it is above my pay grade. Thankfully I have an awesome family to come home to. I am so glad to be done and out of the Bastyr craziness in a few months. I have reached the limit of my patience. I'm angry, and I don't do anger well. It isn't a natural state for me. I walk away when I get mad. When it's a work situation, it's harder to just walk away. Centuries of West Virginia conditioning make this an impossible situation for me; it's fight or flight.

I need Viri to come in and solve the problem. "Look, bitches, I don't want to argue! Just get to making a Megalon. I don't have all day!"

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.

Viri Speaks: The Quotable Giant Monster

I've told many people about how Viri has a way with words. He's not a huge talker. He has his little speeches, though, that are just amazing. I've worked with a few dozen kids in the past few years that are his age, and no one has quite the ability to capture a situation like Taviri Issa.

Today was a classic. It started with Arkaedi knocking over a bunch of bags, and Viri exclaiming, "I'm the good one!" He saw a rare chance to not be in trouble, I guess. Later, he was sharing his toys with Arkaedi, in an effort to continue as the good one of the family, I expect. "Give her the yellow one," I told him, referring to the little hammers in the Break the Ice game that he loves. "It's orange, Papa. I thought it was yellow. I was wrong." He shook his head sadly. Okay, I can tell it's one of those nights. He's rolling.

He got a time out just before bed, for knocking over Arkaedi in a careless dash across the kitchen. "I'm a bad boy," he tells me sadly. He's lamenting the return of the good kid crown to his sister. "No, Viri, not bad. Just a good boy who needs to think about his mistake." He seizes this opportunity. "Good boys don't need time out! I can get up? I'm done?" I'm a little stunned. Uh, no. Wait! Who knew my philosophy degree was only useful in dealing with my three year old? Your state of goodness is only in potentia! There is no a priori reason for me to accept the goodness, I must witness it and prove that it follows from your behavior! While I'm thinking, he tries another route. He finds a little flower on the floor from some art project. "Look, Papa, a flower. Only good boys have flowers. I don't need a time out." I'm almost ready to give it to him. The sheer effort is worth something. I go for the classic father line, the sledge in our toolbox. "I'm the Papa, I said time out! Three minutes, now sit down." It works. But he's only three. I don't know how long I can Papa-voice my way out of this.

He marches off, chanting, into the living room. I barely catch what he is chanting. "Oat, oat! Soy, soy! Oat, oat! Soy, soy!"

He points to the movie we had been watching before starting the bedtime routine. The MST3K Godzilla versus Megalon. "Tom Servo! Jet Jaguar! I see you!"

We don't even give him sugar. Thankfully.

Downtown Streetcar Rides: A SLUT For Viri!

We took a ride on the Seattle Streetcar today. We still refer to it as the SLUT. Unfortunately, the Seattle Streetcar is no longer the South Lake Union Trolley. But, despite the lack of a fun acronym, we did have a good time running around today in downtown Seattle. Viri was very excited to take the trip, and I think it lived up to his expectations. He fell asleep the second he hit his carseat, and when he woke up, he blearily asked if the train had taken him home. In Viri's world, the trains are benevolent and don't need rails. It's a fun world.

Sunday is our official, recognized by the governing bodies, tax deductable family fun day. We make it a point every Sunday afternoon to get out and do something that we want to do. Sometimes, like today, we let Viri decide. When Arkaedi gets older, she'll pick some too. If she chose now, we'd just all stay home and nurse and toddle around the kitchen, and it wouldn't be fun for anyone. Herc and Sarah accompanied us today, so it was a family and friends fun day. Sarah actually voted for the stay home and toddle and nurse option, but we went with the Viri plan, thankfully. (If there are any Grinchs around that need help, the sheer wonderfulness of watching Arkaedi Sue toddle around the kitchen will make anyone's heart grow three sizes.)

It ended up being a nice enough day, and we got in a little walk and a quick run through downtown. I definitely don't miss living there, but it's fun to visit. I like the size of Seattle's center. It isn't huge, but there is a lot to see and do if you want. The market was fun, especially, even though the vegan cinnamon rolls usually for sale in one of the little bakeries were all sold out by ten. You'd think they'd see my little cadre of hungry vegans and make more...

All in all, a great day, one of the days that makes me happy to be who I am and where I am. The decisions I know were right, that I never think twice about or begin to regret, are exactly three. The decision to marry Jaime, and to try and have Viri, and later Arkaedi Sue. Days like this remind me why I never think twice about those.

Monkeys Make Our Children Awesome

I often write about how kids are funny. They are. The sincerity and inexperience blend perfectly, and they make people laugh who pay any attention to them at all. Today I discovered the perfect straight man to the comedy child: the monkey.

Viri grabbed a plush monkey toy as he passed me, and nonchalantly began the greatest two minute run in history. I couldn't capture it fully, but I grabbed a pen and took notes. The rough highlights alone are a template to a brilliant comedy album.

Poor baby. Aw my monkey's hurt. I'm taking my monkey on the spaceship. Look at my monkey! Trying to escape... Go on, monkey. My monkey's trying to hold my hand. Why are you holding my hand monkey? Monkey no! Don't bonk my monkey.

I have no idea what was going on in his head, this all happened in a few short minutes as he paced around the room. Then he dropped the monkey toy and ran off.

I can't even pick my favorite from these lines. It's like trying to retell a Pryor joke. Every bit is gold, and the telling is such a crucial part of it. If I could master "Go on, monkey" in Viri's voice, there would be no need for me to ever tell a joke again. That would get laugh after laugh long after I was gone.

Don't bonk my monkey.

Golden Gardens in February

Continuing our travels through the beaches of Seattle, today we visited Golden Gardens. It's an amazing place, with some perfect views of the Olympics, and the kids really enjoy it. It's nearly intolerable in the summer, due to the explosion of hippies and other ne'er do wells that hang around. A drum circle is always happening, general mayhem and nastiness ensues. But in the fall and winter, it's perfect.

Today was another nice day, nearing sixty, and Viri was too tempted to just run into the water and get wet. His feet did get a little wet, and he was not happy about that. I get odd looks from other parents here in Seattle when I deal with Viri and his antics. I let him do a lot, and have high expectations of him. Part of the totality of enjoying these things, to me, is the process of learning to be social. The park is fun, and playing in the water is fun, but one thing you learn is that sometimes that means wet feet and other problems. If Viri doesn't get really hurt, I want him to experience the water and learn that getting wet in February, even a warm one, isn't so nice. I feel like I get two reactions to this: One is the chiding, "Why did you let him get wet?" parent. The other is the "It's just wet feet, don't make him feel bad" parent. Once again I have the impression I am in the middle of two extremes. I'm fine with his wet feet, but I'm going to explain it to him. He doesn't need to turn in a report or anything, but why not learn the lesson in front of him? I expect a lot of Taviri, and I know that. I also love him a lot, and he knows both of these things well, at the age of three.

This is another reason for the beach in winter: I can be alone with the kids, and work on these lessons before the extreme factions get their two cents in. They'll have plenty of time for that during his education. This is the time to build that foundation, so the education doesn't undo him.

Arkaedi enjoyed the beach, but she is mad that she gets stuck in Papa's arms all morning. I let her down, and she gets upset because it's dirty. I pick her up, and she wants to walk. For a one year old, it's a no win. She did get to ride in the swings, so that was fun. Another nice thing about Golden Gardens, the playground is right on the beach, so the kids can go back and forth. Assuming, of course, that the gaggle of hippies are in Lodi, or wherever the hippies around here go in the winter. Maybe they just dig into the ground and cover themselves in leaves. I'm really not up on the habits of hippies.

I'm not sure where I rank Golden Gardens in the scheme of Seattle parks. Definitely one of the nicer ones, but the crowds and traffic are distracting. Maybe somewhere in the top ten. I need to sit down and really work out a clear picture of my favorites. For one, it'd make choosing a place to go with the kids easier.

More fun photos here!

Child Juggling. Fun. Low Cost, Join a League!

I spend most of my time dealing with kids. Either my children or someone else's child is typically with me wherever I go. I enjoy this quite a bit, and it amazes me that most people don't. I had a bizarre conversation with a mother this week who was basically trying to find a way to find ways to keep her child away from her.

I understand needing a break, certainly. Kids take a lot of energy and time. But if I get more than a few hours away from my kids, I miss them. As they grow, they're going to have more and more of their own activities and hobbies, and my time will naturally decrease. That is the way things work, and it's fine. I look forward to being older and having my children live full and productive lives, and I don't regret that this will happen. But I can't imagine wishing that time away sooner.

One of the reasons I work with children is that I love them. They are so direct, and sweet. People sometimes think they are angelic, or pure, which I think is a big mistake. They hit and bite and scream too. But they do it honestly. There is a sincerity to kids, especially toddlers, that I really enjoy. The hippies who wish we could all just "be like kids" are pretty messed up, however. I'm glad I don't cry when I drop a raisin, or hide when I poop. I'm grateful to my wife when I bring up buying a new computer and she doesn't just scream at me or hit me and take the credit cards. Adult dialogue is rewarding and useful.

That said, I also don't get the people who want their children, or any children for that matter, to just go away. They are fun, and goofy and sincere. That's worth a little trouble. And they very quickly grow up and go away. That's worth the time.

Some of Viri's greatest hits so far:

"The poop was trying to escape. I said no, poop! Don't go back in my butt!"

"HA HA HA. This."

"People falling is funny. Butts are funny too."

"I left and you were sad and missed me and you cried."

"Hi, Haley! Shut up, Nick!"