Apt. 11D

Crush

At 3:30, as the school bus stops with a “sssss”, Ashley with her blond locks runs off the bus with a shriek. “Jonah licked me!”

Yesterday, we heard that Jonah kissed her. Today, he licked her. What’s going on? Well, my 5-1/2 year old boy has a crush on a brash blond in hot pink and animal prints. Loni Anderson with a thing for Carebears.

First day at SUNY-Binghamton in Freshman Lit, a boy in the next chair turns to me and asks with a grin, “Did you ever see frogs explode in a microwave?” Horrified, I turned away without saying a word. Later, I sat with my new dorm friends in the dining hall and told them about the strange boy’s remark. One guy, Chris, who ended up as a good friend throughout college, roared with laughter. “He LIKED you.”

Why? Why would my kid lick and disgust this girl? Why would the college boy disgust me with his frog-brain-splat story? What the hell is wrong with men?

As a mother with two boys, I’m often asked “are you going to try for the girl.” Sometimes they add a “poor thing,” I think because people generally assume that boys are harder than girls and that the boys will leave me high and dry once they ship off for college.

Actually, I’m quite happy to have boys. Please excuse the generalizations, but I think boys are easier and more suited to my personality. They are simpler. They don’t play mind games with me and rarely cry. They’re always up for trips to the mall and the city. Once they grow out of the wiggly stage, they follow me around like little puppies.

They might not be so devoted to me later in life, but they also won’t call with a rant about how I’ve destroyed their lives and hang up in tears.

So, I’ve been quite content with my two XYs, until I got that little jolt of reality today. I’m going to have to do a lot of reprogramming to get these little savages fit for the world of women.

I just went digging around the attic for Anne Lamott's Operating Instructions, but to no avail. We still haven't properly unpacked the library. Anne has a funny passage about how unsettling it was to learn that she was pregnant with a boy. Something about having an alien penis in her uterus freaked her out. Anyhow, I can't quote it right now because the books have been turned into dusty mountains for an electric train which snakes around them.

I Love It

I love this picture of the Iraqi woman in her burka flashing the victory sign with her finger still wet with ink. The wet ink is a testament to her bravery and her belief that it was worth staring down enormous dangers in order to vote. She went to the voting center despite the possibility that the child behind her with Downs syndrome could have a bomb strapped to her chest. I love that look of pride and defiance on her face. She is my hero.

It is a powerful reminder that we should value our peaceful march to the voting booth in the school basement every November. Despite the wrong choices others make in that place, I worship our ability to make them freely. I hope it shakes some of the cobwebs from our complacent citizens.

No matter what you think about this war, how we got there, and what the future holds, we have to treasure this moment. When hundreds of thousands walked through the streets of their shattered towns to vote for a new leader. I have deep respect for the people of Iraq.

Letter to the Times

While I applaud David Hochman and the New York Times for calling attention to the many excellent parent blogs on the Internet, I am dismayed by the underlying sneering and condescension of the article, “Mommy (and Me)”.

Because the piece appeared in the Style section, I had not expected a serious look at the issue. Next week, the lead Style article will probably investigate the many tiaras of Paris Hilton or the latest trends in doggie sweaters. However, I was surprised by Hochman’s unfair misrepresentation of parent blogger as narcissistic, hyper involved in their children’s lives, attention-craving, opportunistic, and thoughtless of their children’s psyche and privacy.

Parent blogs showcase fabulous writing and wit; many have important political and social subthemes. The best ones are anything but cloying. They discuss their kids and their lives with irreverence and humor. Millions read them because they offer universal truths about life, they provide a window into the hidden world of parenting, and they have funny potty jokes. Years from now, historians will view these blogs as primary sources for documenting private life in the 21st century.

I can only guess that the New York Times chose to misrepresent the parent blogs, because its editors hold a bias against families and parents who raise their children at home.

The Mommy Blog Article

David Hochman's article on the mommy blogs is in tomorrow's Times, but available on line right now.

No comment right now. Strict policy about no blogging on weekends. But here are some links until I come back tomorrow.

Clancy of CultureCat Bitchphd Anne Elizabeth Kevin Wizbang Number 2 Pencil Jay Allen Oswegatichie Waiting for Nat Trish Wilson Mimilou Mother Shock MUBAR Finslippy

And be sure to hit the links in the Times article. Hochman highlighted some great blogs.

UPDATE: My response.

Voices in Our Head

Tim Burke's lastest post is a must read. He discusses the benefits of academic blogging and explains why he is often the intellectual referee of the academic blogosphere. (Long time readers of blogs like Crooked Timber know of Tim's gravitas.)

His comments about the strangeness of the bonds that we form through blogging I think will appeal to everyone.

...my blog writing does feel surreal to me sometimes. It involves me in a discursive world that sometimes feels like a small town where everyone knows one another. Kieran knows Harry who knows Russell who knows Laura who knows Rana who knows Elizabeth who knows John. They all know me, or at least the highly public, constrained, particular reduction of me who manifests in my online voice.

There’s a circle of people reading and writing about each others blogs and so much of what they have to say influences my waking thoughts. I crave their approval and respect. But at the same time, so little of that conversation comes into explicit ways into my day-to-day professional life or my personal life. I can come home and say, “You’ll never believe what that Belle Waring had to say today!”, but it takes so much set-up to stop the flow of an always-moving discussion and explain it to my wife that it’s not really worth the effort. I can say to a colleague, “I think you’ll really like what Russell Arben Fox had to say recently”, but I always feel vaguely embarrassed when I do, because I don’t know what they’ll think if they do go and look—will it take too much prior experience of ongoing discussions to appreciate it? will they wish I hadn't wasted their time on something that they couldn't immediately cite and make 'normal' scholarly use out of?—and because I feel a little like the guy who goes to lectures by engineers and tries to tell them about his perpetual motion machine. Sometimes it’s like being under the spell of some alien intelligence, on the other side of an ethnographic divide, a native mumbling to the patient, civilized researcher about the inexpressible interior feeling of his own culture.

Burke adds, "... I am constantly transformed and affected by relationships with are entirely in my own head as far as everyone around me is concerned."

The world of blogging is a small town, an inside joke, a blunder, a chimera, yet very real. Read it.

"There's Something Wrong With Your Kid"

My son is 2-1/2, and he doesn't talk. Well, he says a few words. And now and then, he'll do something odd like pull back the shades and ask, "Did it snow?" He understands everything. He plays well with his brother. He has mastered both the Mac and PC. He uses sign language. He just doesn't talk.

At the suggestion of some readers, I read Thomas Sowell's books: The Einstein Syndrome: Bright Children Who Talk Late and Late-Talking Children. I understand that many disagree with his conclusions, though I'm not sure why. I'm new to this literature. I'll present his ideas, and I'll let the debate rage on in the comment section. (I would prefer if commenters did not discuss my kid. Thanks.)

Sowell is an economist who got involved in this topic after writing a column about his son, who was a late talker, but gifted in math and computers. Many wrote to him with similar experiences with their own children. Sowell maintains that many individuals who are unusually gifted in math and music, don't learn to speak until relatively late. Perhaps their brains function differently. These left brainers are also slow to potty train, are loners, and are generally pains in the asses.

All these children learn to speak eventually, but they and their parents are unfairly stressed out and demoralized by a system that does not know how to deal with different kids and that is hung up by labels.

Our educational system is set up to deal with a "normal" child. Those who don't sit in circle group or obey commands are labeled. Those with disabilities and those who are gifted equally suffer under this rigid system.

So-called experts put these non-conforming children through an unreasonable battery of tests, especially for their age. Those who refuse to comply may be assumed to be unable to comply. Oddball cases are pigeonholed into categories that are inappropriate. These experts are, in many cases, not even qualified to make such assessments. Some stand to gain financially by applying such labels.

The treatments imposed on misdiagnosed children may do more harm than good. Forcing a child to speak before they are able may do lasting harm on their self-esteem. Sowell recognizes that some children with disabilities are well served by early intervention, but it doesn't follow that this is the right road for everyone.

I enjoyed Sowell's book not because it validates every mother's fantasy that her child is the next Einstein. But because it points at flaws that I've seen in the system after only four months of involvement.

Ian's speech therapy seems to be making little progress. He has gotten more used to people trying to make him talk; there are less screams. He has strengthened his mouth muscles, so when he is able to talk, it will be easier for him. But he hasn't said any new words. I just don't think he's ready for it yet.

His therapist stresses us out. He's strapped in a high chair for 50 minutes where he is forced to do puzzles that are too easy for him. After every session, she writes up his progress. The daily report card is a record of his poor progress. She urged us to increase his therapy. But that would involve more testing and one less social activity per week. No, he is only two and he has to have fun also. I refused.

Because the state will stop funding his therapy in April, the town must now assume responsibility. I went to the school last week, where a five member panel reviewed his case and struggled for two hours to find a label for him. "He understands everything and plays well with others. No, not on the spectrum. He isn't a messy eater. Not apraxia. He knows his ABCs. Not mental retardation. Maybe it's selective mutism." Uh, no.

Now we're looking forward to another battery of tests. We also have to endure a visit by social worker who is going to make sure that we're not beating him. Ian, I'm sorry.

Sowell thinks the best thing he did for his son was to spend lots of time with him. His son received therapy by a highly trained professional, but the boy made the most progress when he was just with his dad playing around with a tape machine. I like him for that.

We've become too obsessed with development milestones. We've become too obsessed with engineering the perfect kids and patching up defects with therapy. Some defects might work themselves out with age. Some defects are fine and even interesting, like the mole on Cindy Crawford's cheek. Maybe some defects are part of the cost for having a surplus of talent in other areas.

Sowell offers a much needed questioning of the therapy culture. He doesn't discount therapy entirely, but he prescribes a dose of common sense, which is what our oddball kids need most.

Opportunities for Coalition

Last week, there were two articles by social conservatives on supporting mothers. I provided the links, but didn't add any analysis. You can't swing at every pitch. Elizabeth does a good job with the Gilbert article.

Let me just add that this is very important change in this movement. Social conservatives seem to be willing to enlarge government to advance their cause -- enabling more women to stay home with their kids and make more babies. If you believe that mothers, working in the office or at home, need more support, then you have to make coalitions with different groups. Hold your nose if you must.

My readers have helped me to see that social programs alone are insufficient. There needs to be a social revolution, as well, with more men and women downsizing their lives and reinvigorating community life to bring about any meaning change.

Later: Sowell book review.

Cost Benefit Analysis

Diaper. Pants. Shirt. Sweatshirt. Socks. Snow Pants. Boots. Coat. Hat. (Won't wear gloves).
Outside. Immediately falls in snow hands first.
Inside.
Time spent getting the two year old dressed = 15 minutes.
Time spent outside = 2 minutes.

Underwear. Pants. Shirt. Sweater. Socks. Snow pants. Boots. Coat. Hat. Mittens.
Outside. Build an enormous mountain of snow for his sled. Boy declares that he's had enough and needs to watch a video.
Inside.
Time spent building enormous mountain = 30 minutes.
Number of runs down the mountain by the 5 year old = 1

When Floral Prints Attack

I finally got around to watching The Stepford Wives this weekend. Nice work by Nicole Kidman. It's always good to see Jon Lovitz working. The movie is a bit of a mess, as the critics have pointed out, but what bothered me most was its elitism.

Joanna Eberhardt, the Nicole Kidman character, is a big TV executive in the city making a ton of money and wearing chic black outfits. After she's fired when one of her reality show characters goes bizerk, she and her family moves to Stepford, CT. Joanna meets the women of this town who dress in floral, pouffy dresses topped with Barbie hair. She's horrified.

Not only do the Stepford wives dress badly, but they do THEIR OWN GROCERY SHOPPING. Horrors! With frozen smiles, they wheel their carts through the aisles (still without children) and buy eggs.

In the Ira Levin book, the pre-robotic women cleaned their homes and raised their children, they just did it badly. In this movie remake, the pre-robotic women had high powered careers and farmed out their duties to maids and nannies.

Is this the new ideal? A life without domestic responsibilities. Where the boring tasks of sale shopping and cleaning the microwave are passed onto others. A lifestyle that few can afford.

Russell Arben Foxwrote last week about his brother in law and his family who take great pride in the simple life. They take on jobs that most of us have delegated to others such as growing fruits and vegetables and knitting. As much as I find all that fascinating, learning to weave my own yarn doesn't sound all that simple. I would rather use my time doing more noble pursuits -- blogging and drinking -- and delegate the scarf making to the little elves at Target.

I guess what we delegate and what we do is kind of arbitrary. But this movie suggests that the movement to delegate is growing.

In the movie, the men force their wives to assume the job of nanny and maid for unspecified reasons. Behind the scenes and covered by two way mirrors, I wonder if the servants were really the ones pushing the buttons and laughing as their employers do the work for a change.

Blogs, War, and Bloody Children

I went over to the Daily Kos, because Instapundit questioned bloggers who call themselves activitists, but take advantage of certain benefits that go to journalists. Is there a conflict there?

Anyhow, check out this post by Kos. It shows photos of children covered by the blood of their parents who were killed by US troops. Powerful stuff.