Today, we went swimming with old Austin Stay-at-Home Dads group friends that we haven't seen as much since Thumper started school last year, then went to their home to hang out and make s'mores. We saw them at a playground play date yesterday, and as we stood on the bridge over the pond throwing expired baked goods down to the ducks, Thumper told his longtime friend, "I'm so happy to see you again." So we made arrangements to go swimming together today, and he loved seeing those kids again, and meeting their new dog, and I loved chatting with their mom and catching up again.
After that, we went to another ASAHDs family's house for a multi-family pizza party. My kid ran around and around and around their circular layout apartment (that, apparently, LBJ and Ladybird occupied in the '30's), and danced, and played, and I sat around talking, and drank a beer, and everybody ate round after round after round of incredible little pizzas with carmelized onions, rich cheeses, tomatoes, peppers, and a crispy homemade crust. We talked, and laughed, and reminisced, and shared experiences, and enjoyed the kids enjoying themselves.
And it occurred to me that this has been the summer of reaching out for us. We're doing much with many people, and it's been very satisfying for both of us.We've been reconnecting with dads' group friends that we lost contact with over the school year. We've been discovering new friends, for both him and for me, and for Aerie. We've been swimming, and going to birthday parties, and exploring new places. We've been camping, and climbing, and jumping off of high places, and as much as I thought I was fine with my own little world, I've deeply appreciated the degree to which it's expanded this summer. You people, you're all so special. I've loved how much you've made me push my own boundaries and reject my own shy, introverted social awkwardness. Thanks so much for this wonderful summer, and I hope it keeps on keeping on, right through the new school year. Smoochie smoochies!
Showing posts with label Playdatin'. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Playdatin'. Show all posts
Thursday, August 8, 2013
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Living in Suburbia with a Sociable Child
I was interviewed this afternoon for a potential "featurette" or some such thing in a local fitness magazine. They're planning a Fathers' Day theme for their June issue and are focusing on my stay-at-home dads' group. The focus is dads staying fit with their kids. Or something.
With my up-and-down weight loss/gain history, I'm probably not the best guy to interview about staying fit, and I found myself answering her questions about how the group has affected my life with how I've learned to be more sociable and open to strangers. Much of that has to do with Thumper and his love of talking to anyone and everyone more than it has to do with the group, but some of it is related to meeting new people with a common thread to their choices and lifestyles. There is value in relationships developing from the "we are pre-made friends because we belong to the same group, so we might as well talk to each other" aspect of strangers coming together because of similar choices.
Perhaps some of it is living in a neighborhood with a relatively high percentage of resident owners vs. rental properties, where the same people see each other over the years walking, driving, checking the mail, swimming at the neighborhood pool. Perhaps some of it is Thumper entering the school system, and parents seeing each other again and again at school drop off and pick up, volunteering, and other school events.
But honestly, with no disrespect to friends and neighbors: I sometimes miss the complete anonymity of living childless in Boston. For my morning commute, I would put on headphones and sunglasses, put my nose in a book, and have absolutely zero expectation of engaging in small talk with strangers on the subway. I would go to the grocery store and never run into friends of friends or acquaintances. I was invisible, unknown, anonymous, and it felt safe. Secure.
It could be lonely, too.
Now I have friends, neighbors, acquaintances. I have a network of people that I sometimes help and that sometimes help me. We share childcare. Our kids play together in backyards and playgrounds. We get together for potlucks, drink beer, and watch our kids ride bikes and play the didgeridoo.
Well, OK, that didgeridoo thing's only happened once. So far.
Looking back on the play group, and the journey so far with my son who is so much more outgoing and confident than I remember being when I was a child, I've moved quite a distance from the awkward 13-year-old who was sure that everyone else in school was working with a script that he never received. I chat with strangers at the park. I make small talk with friends in the grocery store parking lot. I introduce my wife to the parents of Thumper's classmates that we run into at the pool, and my heart doesn't stop, the world doesn't end, I only want to hide a little bit, and everything is pretty much all right.
Invisible still appeals to me, though.
With my up-and-down weight loss/gain history, I'm probably not the best guy to interview about staying fit, and I found myself answering her questions about how the group has affected my life with how I've learned to be more sociable and open to strangers. Much of that has to do with Thumper and his love of talking to anyone and everyone more than it has to do with the group, but some of it is related to meeting new people with a common thread to their choices and lifestyles. There is value in relationships developing from the "we are pre-made friends because we belong to the same group, so we might as well talk to each other" aspect of strangers coming together because of similar choices.
Perhaps some of it is living in a neighborhood with a relatively high percentage of resident owners vs. rental properties, where the same people see each other over the years walking, driving, checking the mail, swimming at the neighborhood pool. Perhaps some of it is Thumper entering the school system, and parents seeing each other again and again at school drop off and pick up, volunteering, and other school events.
But honestly, with no disrespect to friends and neighbors: I sometimes miss the complete anonymity of living childless in Boston. For my morning commute, I would put on headphones and sunglasses, put my nose in a book, and have absolutely zero expectation of engaging in small talk with strangers on the subway. I would go to the grocery store and never run into friends of friends or acquaintances. I was invisible, unknown, anonymous, and it felt safe. Secure.
It could be lonely, too.
Now I have friends, neighbors, acquaintances. I have a network of people that I sometimes help and that sometimes help me. We share childcare. Our kids play together in backyards and playgrounds. We get together for potlucks, drink beer, and watch our kids ride bikes and play the didgeridoo.
Well, OK, that didgeridoo thing's only happened once. So far.
Looking back on the play group, and the journey so far with my son who is so much more outgoing and confident than I remember being when I was a child, I've moved quite a distance from the awkward 13-year-old who was sure that everyone else in school was working with a script that he never received. I chat with strangers at the park. I make small talk with friends in the grocery store parking lot. I introduce my wife to the parents of Thumper's classmates that we run into at the pool, and my heart doesn't stop, the world doesn't end, I only want to hide a little bit, and everything is pretty much all right.
Invisible still appeals to me, though.
Friday, October 7, 2011
Being a Boy and Being a Man
I grabbed a book to read while Thumper bounced his ass off at Extreme Fun this morning, and because it's been on my shelf for 10 or more years, and I've never read it, I picked Christina Hoff Sommers' The War Against Boys: How Misguided Feminism Is Harming Our Young Men.
Now, before you get worked up over the term "Misguided Feminism," I think the essence of the book, that perhaps the author didn't choose to represent in the title because provocative turns of phrase are just plain good marketing, is that improving the academic standing of girls does not necessarily have to come at the expense of boys, and vice versa.
I bought this book years ago, when I was still thinking about the novel that I started to write but never finished as part of my Honors Program Creative Writing directed study in 1996 or thereabouts, a project I was still thinking about finishing in 2000 or so when I bought the book. The idea occurred to me, through the fervor of political correctness that permeated the University atmosphere throughout the '90's, that men in general, and white men in particular, were the villains of the historic and cultural tale that we were told, and how that indoctrination into our own villainy would affect us in the long term. It was supposed to be a novel about the marginalization of men, the irrelevance of men in family and cultural life.
So, anyway, here I am, 11 or 12 years later, a man in a non-traditional gender role, happily married to a woman who is happy with the value of the contributions that I make to our family, trying to teach my son how to be a good man, (despite the accusations of chauvinism that may now and again be raised against me), and I picked up this book. Having finished only 50 or 60 pages, I'm not in a position to say anything meaningful about the book itself, but it's certainly timely as I try to navigate the rough waters of playground etiquette and aggression.
A couple of weeks ago, Thumper ended a thoroughly pleasant play date by punching his best friend in the face. Most play dates or other excursions to playgrounds, bounce houses, and other places where children gather, involve some discussion, sooner or later, about not hitting, about being nice, about not taking toys from other kids. This, according to the book, is exactly the kind of aggressive behavior inherent in boys that the "shortchanged girls in public school" movement believes must be actively "re-socialized" if women are to make significant progress in this society. Sommers seems to assert that that progress has already been made, and then some, but that's not really the point.
Ultimately, though, I don't think raising a boy is so different from raising a girl, as far as trying to teach them to fit into the social order. Do we not all try to teach our kids to be nice to each other? Maybe for boys it's teaching your son not to punch his friend in the face while for girls it's teaching your daughter not to ostracize, or ridicule, or manipulate, or I don't know, whatever the little girl version of not being nice is. I don't believe in the pathology of masculinity, the idea that without intervention, the average man will likely become a predator of women. I believe in the value of teaching my son to be proud of strength and speed and skill, to work to improve these things in himself, to want to play games where scores are kept and winners declared. And I believe that these things can be taught while also teaching him not to punch his best friend in the face, to remind him that he does not want to be hit, or have toys taken away from him, and so he should not hit, or take toys away from, others.
I do not accept that masculinity is defined as a thirst for power and dominion, and that if it is not quelled early, it will develop into a destructive force.
I also hope that he can get through school without feeling marginalized, undervalued, despised, feared, or ignored.
Now, before you get worked up over the term "Misguided Feminism," I think the essence of the book, that perhaps the author didn't choose to represent in the title because provocative turns of phrase are just plain good marketing, is that improving the academic standing of girls does not necessarily have to come at the expense of boys, and vice versa.
I bought this book years ago, when I was still thinking about the novel that I started to write but never finished as part of my Honors Program Creative Writing directed study in 1996 or thereabouts, a project I was still thinking about finishing in 2000 or so when I bought the book. The idea occurred to me, through the fervor of political correctness that permeated the University atmosphere throughout the '90's, that men in general, and white men in particular, were the villains of the historic and cultural tale that we were told, and how that indoctrination into our own villainy would affect us in the long term. It was supposed to be a novel about the marginalization of men, the irrelevance of men in family and cultural life.
So, anyway, here I am, 11 or 12 years later, a man in a non-traditional gender role, happily married to a woman who is happy with the value of the contributions that I make to our family, trying to teach my son how to be a good man, (despite the accusations of chauvinism that may now and again be raised against me), and I picked up this book. Having finished only 50 or 60 pages, I'm not in a position to say anything meaningful about the book itself, but it's certainly timely as I try to navigate the rough waters of playground etiquette and aggression.
A couple of weeks ago, Thumper ended a thoroughly pleasant play date by punching his best friend in the face. Most play dates or other excursions to playgrounds, bounce houses, and other places where children gather, involve some discussion, sooner or later, about not hitting, about being nice, about not taking toys from other kids. This, according to the book, is exactly the kind of aggressive behavior inherent in boys that the "shortchanged girls in public school" movement believes must be actively "re-socialized" if women are to make significant progress in this society. Sommers seems to assert that that progress has already been made, and then some, but that's not really the point.
Ultimately, though, I don't think raising a boy is so different from raising a girl, as far as trying to teach them to fit into the social order. Do we not all try to teach our kids to be nice to each other? Maybe for boys it's teaching your son not to punch his friend in the face while for girls it's teaching your daughter not to ostracize, or ridicule, or manipulate, or I don't know, whatever the little girl version of not being nice is. I don't believe in the pathology of masculinity, the idea that without intervention, the average man will likely become a predator of women. I believe in the value of teaching my son to be proud of strength and speed and skill, to work to improve these things in himself, to want to play games where scores are kept and winners declared. And I believe that these things can be taught while also teaching him not to punch his best friend in the face, to remind him that he does not want to be hit, or have toys taken away from him, and so he should not hit, or take toys away from, others.
I do not accept that masculinity is defined as a thirst for power and dominion, and that if it is not quelled early, it will develop into a destructive force.
I also hope that he can get through school without feeling marginalized, undervalued, despised, feared, or ignored.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
No One Expects the Feminist Inquisition!
Thumper and I are feeding the ducks at the pond near the playground. He notices a mom sitting on a park bench giving a baby wipe bath to a boy about his own age. He wanders over to chat while I keep throwing bread.
I glance over, and the mom is speaking animatedly. Thumper comes back over to me, wearing his angry face.
RODIUS: What's the matter, buddy?
THUMPER: She said I was "appropriate."
R: What did you say that was inappropriate?
T: I said maybe that boy didn't want to sit down.
R: Maybe you should let her worry about that boy and mind your own business.
T: OK. I think she's mean.
R: If she's mean, just stay away from her.
T: OK. I think she's mean. Maybe she's evil.
R: She's not evil, buddy.
We walk further along to the bridge and throw the rest of bread to the ducks. He's still mopey. When the bread's gone, he lays down and says he wants to go home. I pick him up, put him on my shoulders, and head towards the parking lot. The path takes us past the bench, where the woman is still wiping down her kid. Maybe he fell in the pond or something, I don't know. I decide to ask her what happened.
RODIUS: Excuse me. Did something happen? With my son?
NUTJOB: He just started smart-mouthing me. When I told him that was inappropriate, he said his dad was over there, so I told him maybe he should go back over there before I tell his dad what he said.
R: What did he say?
N: He was smart-mouthing me and exhibiting male chauvinist behavior.
R: Well, what did he say, so I can correct him?
N: He was being a chauvinist.
R: He's three.
T: He's showing off the behavior you've shown him.
R: Lady, I'm a stay-at-home dad. I'm showing him non-traditional gender roles. I don't think I'm a chauvinist.
THUMPER: Hey, Dad! Is she mean? Dad? Dad? Is she evil and mean? Dad? Is she?
N: Well he's calling me names right now, and you're not correcting him.
R: Thinking to myself, "I'm not entirely sure he's wrong..." I say nothing.
N: Asshole!
I decide this is a fruitless endeavor and walk on. We go to the bathroom. When we're walking out, she's walking past.
NUTJOB: Asshole! Have a nice day, asshole!
RODIUS: You're the only one using words like that. You realize that don't you?
N: flips me the bird and walks away.
THUMPER: What did she say, Daddy?
R: She called me a name that's not very nice.
T: I think she's mean. I think if she's going to call you a "werdernerder," she should call herself a "werdernerder."
R: You're right.
T: She's mean.
R: Yes, she is.
I swear that I did not exaggerate, embellish, or omit in order to make myself look blameless. I really have no idea what I could have done differently.
Some days it's not worth leaving the house.
I glance over, and the mom is speaking animatedly. Thumper comes back over to me, wearing his angry face.
RODIUS: What's the matter, buddy?
THUMPER: She said I was "appropriate."
R: What did you say that was inappropriate?
T: I said maybe that boy didn't want to sit down.
R: Maybe you should let her worry about that boy and mind your own business.
T: OK. I think she's mean.
R: If she's mean, just stay away from her.
T: OK. I think she's mean. Maybe she's evil.
R: She's not evil, buddy.
We walk further along to the bridge and throw the rest of bread to the ducks. He's still mopey. When the bread's gone, he lays down and says he wants to go home. I pick him up, put him on my shoulders, and head towards the parking lot. The path takes us past the bench, where the woman is still wiping down her kid. Maybe he fell in the pond or something, I don't know. I decide to ask her what happened.
RODIUS: Excuse me. Did something happen? With my son?
NUTJOB: He just started smart-mouthing me. When I told him that was inappropriate, he said his dad was over there, so I told him maybe he should go back over there before I tell his dad what he said.
R: What did he say?
N: He was smart-mouthing me and exhibiting male chauvinist behavior.
R: Well, what did he say, so I can correct him?
N: He was being a chauvinist.
R: He's three.
T: He's showing off the behavior you've shown him.
R: Lady, I'm a stay-at-home dad. I'm showing him non-traditional gender roles. I don't think I'm a chauvinist.
THUMPER: Hey, Dad! Is she mean? Dad? Dad? Is she evil and mean? Dad? Is she?
N: Well he's calling me names right now, and you're not correcting him.
R: Thinking to myself, "I'm not entirely sure he's wrong..." I say nothing.
N: Asshole!
I decide this is a fruitless endeavor and walk on. We go to the bathroom. When we're walking out, she's walking past.
NUTJOB: Asshole! Have a nice day, asshole!
RODIUS: You're the only one using words like that. You realize that don't you?
N: flips me the bird and walks away.
THUMPER: What did she say, Daddy?
R: She called me a name that's not very nice.
T: I think she's mean. I think if she's going to call you a "werdernerder," she should call herself a "werdernerder."
R: You're right.
T: She's mean.
R: Yes, she is.
I swear that I did not exaggerate, embellish, or omit in order to make myself look blameless. I really have no idea what I could have done differently.
Some days it's not worth leaving the house.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Conundrum
I say that I live in Austin, but I'm actually in the suburbs outside of Austin. Austin is a unique, liberal oasis in the center of the conservative desert of Texas, if you're inclined to think of conservatism as a barren wasteland. I'm not; I was once conservative, though I have more liberal leanings now. But one way in which I never meshed with conservatism was in my religious beliefs.
A few days before Thumper was born, I wrote about how I was pondering his religious education. I have, in the intervening years, come to the conclusion that our conversations about religion will develop independently of my constant over-thinking. But I've noticed lately that here, in my suburban landscape, there are a lot of upper middle-class white folk who are surprisingly (to me) religious. They also make lots of babies. I suppose it's not surprising, ultimately, that there are good Christian breeders here in suburban Texas, but I've been feeling more and more in disguise lately.
"Vacation Bible School" (familiarly referred to as VBS) has repeatedly been suggested to me as a summer alternative for the boy, and church daycare and/or preschool is also a highly recommended solution, even from my south and central Austin friends who are not particularly religious. Apparently it's not uncommon for the agnostic or atheist parents to send their kids to church child care, and hey, they don't indoctrinate THAT much, anyway. The more time we spend at our suburban YMCA (which, Lord God, is a lot of time, because of the gymnastics, the swim lessons, the soccer, the child care while I work out, the cool pool with the splash pad, the free babysitting one Friday a month, the cheap babysitting two Saturdays a month... Well, it adds up to a lot of time, is what I'm saying...) the more I seem to find myself listening to conversations between mothers of four and five kids talking about the dilemma of either home schooling or sending their kids to private school, of church, and bible school, and bible studies, and backyard bible clubs. Forgive me if any or all of that should have been capitalized.
I was even invited to attend a backyard bible club, or Backyard Bible Club, or backyard Bible club, today. I didn't exactly or directly respond to the invitation and immediately felt the degree to which I am undercover out here in the suburbs. Religion is a dominant part of the lives of most of the moms that I've met through the couple of moms' playgroups to which I belong, and I do my best to fly under the God radar. I try not to talk about religion, because as far as I can tell, nothing good can come of such a discussion. At best, I will be stuck trying to explain myself, and at worst, Thumper will no longer be able to play with some of the friends he has made over the past year or two. Making friends has turned out to be one of Thumper's best skills, but still, I don't need to be burning any of his bridges.
So it turns out that, despite all my agonizing over the religious education of my child, I'm an anti-religion snob whose first reaction to the word "bible" is distaste, and there's no chance of me inculcating my child in Christ, though I recognize that growing up without faith is a disadvantage and that without early indoctrination, faith is virtually impossible.
Still, there's going to be bounce houses and ice cream at the Backyard Bible Club.
A few days before Thumper was born, I wrote about how I was pondering his religious education. I have, in the intervening years, come to the conclusion that our conversations about religion will develop independently of my constant over-thinking. But I've noticed lately that here, in my suburban landscape, there are a lot of upper middle-class white folk who are surprisingly (to me) religious. They also make lots of babies. I suppose it's not surprising, ultimately, that there are good Christian breeders here in suburban Texas, but I've been feeling more and more in disguise lately.
"Vacation Bible School" (familiarly referred to as VBS) has repeatedly been suggested to me as a summer alternative for the boy, and church daycare and/or preschool is also a highly recommended solution, even from my south and central Austin friends who are not particularly religious. Apparently it's not uncommon for the agnostic or atheist parents to send their kids to church child care, and hey, they don't indoctrinate THAT much, anyway. The more time we spend at our suburban YMCA (which, Lord God, is a lot of time, because of the gymnastics, the swim lessons, the soccer, the child care while I work out, the cool pool with the splash pad, the free babysitting one Friday a month, the cheap babysitting two Saturdays a month... Well, it adds up to a lot of time, is what I'm saying...) the more I seem to find myself listening to conversations between mothers of four and five kids talking about the dilemma of either home schooling or sending their kids to private school, of church, and bible school, and bible studies, and backyard bible clubs. Forgive me if any or all of that should have been capitalized.
I was even invited to attend a backyard bible club, or Backyard Bible Club, or backyard Bible club, today. I didn't exactly or directly respond to the invitation and immediately felt the degree to which I am undercover out here in the suburbs. Religion is a dominant part of the lives of most of the moms that I've met through the couple of moms' playgroups to which I belong, and I do my best to fly under the God radar. I try not to talk about religion, because as far as I can tell, nothing good can come of such a discussion. At best, I will be stuck trying to explain myself, and at worst, Thumper will no longer be able to play with some of the friends he has made over the past year or two. Making friends has turned out to be one of Thumper's best skills, but still, I don't need to be burning any of his bridges.
So it turns out that, despite all my agonizing over the religious education of my child, I'm an anti-religion snob whose first reaction to the word "bible" is distaste, and there's no chance of me inculcating my child in Christ, though I recognize that growing up without faith is a disadvantage and that without early indoctrination, faith is virtually impossible.
Still, there's going to be bounce houses and ice cream at the Backyard Bible Club.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Media Contact
Maybe I'm not the best choice for this role, but as the current administrator of my dads's group, I not only schedule the weekly play dates and approve new members, I'm also the contact for media inquiries. In January, I was contacted by a freelance writer who was working on an article for a major, national women's magazine. He's made it pretty clear from the beginning that he had already written the article and was mostly looking for quotes from members of the group that he could plug into the article to support the conclusion he'd already come to before talking to any of us. As of today, his article has now been returned to him for final edits, and he wants a couple of more dads to talk to for about 10 minutes tomorrow to cull a few more quotes, I suppose.
In May, the photo editor for said magazine contacted me to schedule a photo shoot with our group. She's waffled on dates, saying maybe this week, maybe next week, maybe the week after that to send a hired photographer to shoot us. I suggested she take advantage of the talents of one of our members, who has shot some excellent photos, some of which he took at past play dates. She was non-committal, until today, finally saying she wanted him to take more photos of us at upcoming play dates. She stressed that it's important to her magazine to represent diversity in their photo shoots, especially those involving real people, which struck me as manipulating reality to make it fit some idealized version, true reality be damned.
After 5 months of emails with these two journalistic professionals who won't make a decision and stick with it, I got a little fed up. So I sent the following email to my group today to promote the Wednesday play date, which will be taking place at the business of one of our members:
And thus you see why maybe I'm not the best choice for media contact.
In May, the photo editor for said magazine contacted me to schedule a photo shoot with our group. She's waffled on dates, saying maybe this week, maybe next week, maybe the week after that to send a hired photographer to shoot us. I suggested she take advantage of the talents of one of our members, who has shot some excellent photos, some of which he took at past play dates. She was non-committal, until today, finally saying she wanted him to take more photos of us at upcoming play dates. She stressed that it's important to her magazine to represent diversity in their photo shoots, especially those involving real people, which struck me as manipulating reality to make it fit some idealized version, true reality be damned.
After 5 months of emails with these two journalistic professionals who won't make a decision and stick with it, I got a little fed up. So I sent the following email to my group today to promote the Wednesday play date, which will be taking place at the business of one of our members:
First, let me say that the rest of this message is tongue-in-cheek, and I don't give a rat's ass about satisfying [national women's magazine], since I'm sure the article will not in the least represent us (or at least me) and what it means (to me) to be a stay-at-home dad. I'm sure that the author wrote the article before speaking to any of us, and the gist of it will be that "silly, incompetent dads think they can be moms! Isn't that cute?"
That said, I would really appreciate it if we could turn out in large numbers for Wednesday's play date this week. First, it will be great to see what our own [Dad #1] and his family have come up with as a business idea and to throw our support behind it. It sounds unique, and a lot of fun, and priced more than reasonably, compared to other indoor play spaces. Second, I'd like to see [Dad #2] get national exposure as a photographer, too, if that's also what he wants. So let's come together and support these two dads and see what good can come of this mess for them. Maybe [Dad #2] can get some shots of us in front of a sign or a logo, or a web address on Wednesday.
I suggested to [national women's magazine]'s photo editor from the beginning that she take advantage of [Dad #2]'s talents, but she hemmed, hawed, delayed, and was generally a giant pain in the ass about picking a date to send a hired photographer to. Now she's come full circle and wants [Dad #2] to shoot us Wednesday at All Things Kids, and presumably any other play dates we turn up to over the next few days. Or weeks. Or whatever. I have no idea when they plan to actually pull the trigger on this project and publish the damn article already. It can't be soon enough, as far as I'm concerned.
What she seems most concerned about is "diversity," though she never specifically defined what she meant by that. They like their photo shoots to be diverse, "especially of real people," even if reality is semi-homogeneous. I presume she means it in the "racial diversity" sense, but she didn't specify, so if you're coming on Wednesday, please come at your most diverse. If [Dad #3] shows up, we'll have "white man with blond kids" covered, though that beard isn't quite "Middle America" enough. [Kid #1] and [Kid #2] should definitely come, but maybe it would best if their mom brought them and [Dad #4] stayed home. [Dad #5] and [Dad #6] certainly should be there, and if anybody has any black friends with kids that they can convince to take the morning off from work, I'd appreciate it. As the only woman in the group, [Mom #1], you better show up, or I'm kicking you out, and whichever dad it was that had something about a "partner" in his bio, I'm counting on you, too. [Dad #7] should come, but only as a real person and not as an actor. As the definitive "blue-eyed devil," I'm not sure I should be in any of the pictures, but [Thumper] and I will be there to check out [Dad #1]'s ultra-cool imported European toys. [Dad #2], please make sure to get some self-portraits with the mohawk and the baby strapped to your chest. I can only hope this will be one of the weeks that your hair is blue or some other unnatural color.
Anyway, please come. It's $5 per kid, unless we show up in a group of 10 or more kids, which will prompt [Dad #1] to give us a 20% discount, or $4 per kid. If we can't be racially diverse, maybe we can be, I don't know, politically diverse? If [Dad #8] and [Dad #1] are in the same room with the rest of us, we'll pretty much have the spectrum covered. Religiously diverse? Fashionably diverse? Or diverse heights and weights? Shoe sizes?
That said, I would really appreciate it if we could turn out in large numbers for Wednesday's play date this week. First, it will be great to see what our own [Dad #1] and his family have come up with as a business idea and to throw our support behind it. It sounds unique, and a lot of fun, and priced more than reasonably, compared to other indoor play spaces. Second, I'd like to see [Dad #2] get national exposure as a photographer, too, if that's also what he wants. So let's come together and support these two dads and see what good can come of this mess for them. Maybe [Dad #2] can get some shots of us in front of a sign or a logo, or a web address on Wednesday.
I suggested to [national women's magazine]'s photo editor from the beginning that she take advantage of [Dad #2]'s talents, but she hemmed, hawed, delayed, and was generally a giant pain in the ass about picking a date to send a hired photographer to. Now she's come full circle and wants [Dad #2] to shoot us Wednesday at All Things Kids, and presumably any other play dates we turn up to over the next few days. Or weeks. Or whatever. I have no idea when they plan to actually pull the trigger on this project and publish the damn article already. It can't be soon enough, as far as I'm concerned.
What she seems most concerned about is "diversity," though she never specifically defined what she meant by that. They like their photo shoots to be diverse, "especially of real people," even if reality is semi-homogeneous. I presume she means it in the "racial diversity" sense, but she didn't specify, so if you're coming on Wednesday, please come at your most diverse. If [Dad #3] shows up, we'll have "white man with blond kids" covered, though that beard isn't quite "Middle America" enough. [Kid #1] and [Kid #2] should definitely come, but maybe it would best if their mom brought them and [Dad #4] stayed home. [Dad #5] and [Dad #6] certainly should be there, and if anybody has any black friends with kids that they can convince to take the morning off from work, I'd appreciate it. As the only woman in the group, [Mom #1], you better show up, or I'm kicking you out, and whichever dad it was that had something about a "partner" in his bio, I'm counting on you, too. [Dad #7] should come, but only as a real person and not as an actor. As the definitive "blue-eyed devil," I'm not sure I should be in any of the pictures, but [Thumper] and I will be there to check out [Dad #1]'s ultra-cool imported European toys. [Dad #2], please make sure to get some self-portraits with the mohawk and the baby strapped to your chest. I can only hope this will be one of the weeks that your hair is blue or some other unnatural color.
Anyway, please come. It's $5 per kid, unless we show up in a group of 10 or more kids, which will prompt [Dad #1] to give us a 20% discount, or $4 per kid. If we can't be racially diverse, maybe we can be, I don't know, politically diverse? If [Dad #8] and [Dad #1] are in the same room with the rest of us, we'll pretty much have the spectrum covered. Religiously diverse? Fashionably diverse? Or diverse heights and weights? Shoe sizes?
And thus you see why maybe I'm not the best choice for media contact.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Blog
One post in nearly three months, and I'm wondering if I'm still a blogger. When I think about blogging, I don't have much more to say than what I've already said, except for anecdotes about Thumper that I've already put on Facebook in abbreviated form. When I think I might have something to say, I put it off because I have copy writing deadlines, or database deadlines, or I'm just tired and would rather stare at ridiculous episodes of Black Adder on Netflix for Wii.
Part of it is that I think the novelty and excitement I felt at becoming a parent and at being a stay-at-home dad has worn off. It's not that novel anymore. I have a routine; I feel more confident than I used to. I have friends; Thumper has friends; things are progressing, and there's not that much new. I'm used to being a SAHD; I'm used to being an usher; I'm used to being a copywriter. Telling stories about each of those things seems a little redundant now. The biggest challenge I have now, the one that occupies my mind most and is most ripe for exploration via blog post is my struggle dealing with the aggravation that comes from living with a three-year-old who constantly pushes the boundaries, constantly tests my patience, constantly challenges me not to yell. But writing about my regular failures to meet those challenges isn't exactly inspiring.
But one of the moms from one of my playgroups invited me to follow her blog, one of the moms that I admire because of her energy and positive attitude, despite the fact that she has 3X the kids (plus 2 dogs, a cat, and a snake) and a much fuller schedule than I do. It's one of the things I appreciate about my 3 different play groups: they surround me with parents who seem to be better at it than I am, inspiring me to try to be better at it myself. They're involved; they do crafts; and they don't yell (at least when I'm around). And reading her blog, I remembered that part of blogging is reminding myself of the good things, articulating the things that I love in fuller detail than a picture and a few words on Facebook allows.
Halloween and the 3 days preceding it were a blast, by the way. And did I mention, we ran into Kat Nash at Which Wich?
So, I don't know. I guess I'm still a blogger. But, gah, who has the time? I'm going to go play Bejeweled Blitz now...
Part of it is that I think the novelty and excitement I felt at becoming a parent and at being a stay-at-home dad has worn off. It's not that novel anymore. I have a routine; I feel more confident than I used to. I have friends; Thumper has friends; things are progressing, and there's not that much new. I'm used to being a SAHD; I'm used to being an usher; I'm used to being a copywriter. Telling stories about each of those things seems a little redundant now. The biggest challenge I have now, the one that occupies my mind most and is most ripe for exploration via blog post is my struggle dealing with the aggravation that comes from living with a three-year-old who constantly pushes the boundaries, constantly tests my patience, constantly challenges me not to yell. But writing about my regular failures to meet those challenges isn't exactly inspiring.
But one of the moms from one of my playgroups invited me to follow her blog, one of the moms that I admire because of her energy and positive attitude, despite the fact that she has 3X the kids (plus 2 dogs, a cat, and a snake) and a much fuller schedule than I do. It's one of the things I appreciate about my 3 different play groups: they surround me with parents who seem to be better at it than I am, inspiring me to try to be better at it myself. They're involved; they do crafts; and they don't yell (at least when I'm around). And reading her blog, I remembered that part of blogging is reminding myself of the good things, articulating the things that I love in fuller detail than a picture and a few words on Facebook allows.
Halloween and the 3 days preceding it were a blast, by the way. And did I mention, we ran into Kat Nash at Which Wich?
So, I don't know. I guess I'm still a blogger. But, gah, who has the time? I'm going to go play Bejeweled Blitz now...
Friday, July 9, 2010
More Awkwardness
I'm not sure how to write about this now. I think I've been looking at things from the wrong direction. I've thought of play groups as something good for Thumper, something that helps him learn how to interact with other people, and maybe get some potty training motivation from seeing other kids pause the action while they go pee. I have also thought of it as something good for me, as ideas for destinations and activities when I run out, as pleasant conversation. I had several expectations for the dads' group when I first joined, with almost none of them actually approaching reality. I thought I would find ideas for ways to supplement Aerie's income; I did not. I thought I would find conversations and message board posts about approaches to solving difficulties I was having. But dads don't talk much. They sit in companionable silence. They talk about possible solutions to inexplicable noises coming from rear brake drums. And fishing. And sports. And they tell dirty jokes.
Don't get me wrong; there are a few great guys in the dads group whose company I enjoy and whose parenting I admire. I've had pleasant times and even great times over the past few years. But I haven't made fast friends, and I haven't found the regular, core group of kids that Thumper can play with again and again, learning how to navigate personality conflicts when everyone's not on their best behavior because they've just met. One obstacle is the large size of the group and the large size of the geographical area over which they're spread. The bigger obstacle is the apathy the dads have towards getting their kids together to play.
So I joined the couple of moms' groups thinking I'd have better luck finding friends for Thumper, but not really expecting to find friends for me. I have never minded being the only man on the playground. Moms have always been surprisingly friendly and accepting of me, especially with Thumper's outgoing nature. But I didn't anticipate, when I joined the moms' groups, the frequency of the in-home play date versus the playground/pool/sprinkler park play date. I tried twice to host in-home play dates for the dads' group. When Thumper was almost 6 months old, I hosted. I was apparently a little nervous. It went well, but it didn't turn into a relationship, either for me or for Thumper, and it would be another 2 years before I hosted another. Again, it attracted only one dad and one kid. The kids had fun; I had fun. But I haven't seen the dad, or the kid, since, at playgrounds or elsewhere.
Since joining the two moms' groups, though, we've been to 3 in-home play dates, a birthday party, and a baby shower, on top of many playground, pool, and sprinkler park dates. That's five times in a couple of months that we've gone to other people's homes, along with sometimes large and sometimes small groups of other kids and parents. Thumper loves these play date so much that he has not yet managed to leave one without having a screaming, hysterical fit. It is a cruel injustice that so much fun ever has to end.
For me, though, the in-home play dates add another layer of social awkwardness. Not just with the unselfconscious breastfeeding, but with all sorts of aspects that don't generally come up at the playground. I want to make sure my kid doesn't make a mess and shares and has good manners and covers when he coughs and doesn't club any babies or big-screen TVs with a baseball bat, lest my male parenting style be judged inferior. I want to make sure I participate in food prep or cleanup to the degree that's appropriate, not too much to be overbearing or annoying but not too little, either.
And conversation, especially at the baby shower, just takes turns that seem to leave me behind. When one mom asks the showeree how much weight she's gained, and the showeree says, "Oh sure, bring that up in front of everybody..." I feel like maybe I'm overhearing something I shouldn't, or that I'm the particular everybody it shouldn't have been brought up in front of. When birth stories were shared, with so many hours spent to reach so many centimeters dilation, I just never felt the natural opening in the conversation to talk about Thumper's birth, and transverse breach and c-section. It felt like I'd be intruding.
And then Bingo was played, and I was invited, and I played. I misheard the prize, though, thinking that the winner would watch the showeree's 3 1/2-year-old some day soon so that she could go out and watch the latest Twilight movie in peace by herself before the baby comes. I won at Bingo, tying with another of the moms, and it was explained that the prize was two other moms watching the showeree's and the winners' kids so that we could all go enjoy Edward and Jacob together. It suddenly seemed too much like a date to me, and I mumbled something about what I thought the prize was and wandered away. At the end of the shower, one of the moms who'd offered to do the kid watching reminded the other winner of Bingo that she was obligated to go see the movie whenever the showeree wanted, but she never looked my way, and I felt kind of stupid. And kind of relieved.
And when people began to leave, and the showeree was hugged, I filled one arm with my big bowl of fruit salad and the other with my big toddler so that I wouldn't wonder if I was supposed to hug too, or not. But still, it seemed like the hug could've happened, if I'd tried, but I didn't, and I wondered if she felt snubbed, or felt like I was oddly reserved, or if the hug, if I'd attempted it, would've been even more awkward, especially since I'd filled my arms with cargo.
And then, when I got home, I saw a Facebook Status Update that made it clear that one of the breastfeeding moms had found my blog, and I remembered that, though I'd originally intended to keep my blog anonymous and separate from my Facebook, I'd had second thoughts. I couldn't recall if I'd actually added irodius.com as my webpage in my Facebook info, or if I'd just thought about adding it. Turns out I had actually added it. And my imaginary online life collided with my real life.
It didn't sound like she was offended, though maybe her husband was. Hard to tell. But what struck me from what she said about the whole thing was: I am probably making up all of this awkwardness all by myself. If I feel like I'm standing on the outside, unincluded, it's probably because I'm standing on the outside, not participating. I have been very careful not to offend, not to overstep my bounds, whatever those bounds might be to whoever might be keeping score. And who knows how my own reserve is interpreted by these perfectly nice people who've invited me into their homes.
I wonder how old I'll be when I finally stop acting like that awkward teenage boy who was pretty sure that everyone else was working with a script he never got?
Don't get me wrong; there are a few great guys in the dads group whose company I enjoy and whose parenting I admire. I've had pleasant times and even great times over the past few years. But I haven't made fast friends, and I haven't found the regular, core group of kids that Thumper can play with again and again, learning how to navigate personality conflicts when everyone's not on their best behavior because they've just met. One obstacle is the large size of the group and the large size of the geographical area over which they're spread. The bigger obstacle is the apathy the dads have towards getting their kids together to play.
So I joined the couple of moms' groups thinking I'd have better luck finding friends for Thumper, but not really expecting to find friends for me. I have never minded being the only man on the playground. Moms have always been surprisingly friendly and accepting of me, especially with Thumper's outgoing nature. But I didn't anticipate, when I joined the moms' groups, the frequency of the in-home play date versus the playground/pool/sprinkler park play date. I tried twice to host in-home play dates for the dads' group. When Thumper was almost 6 months old, I hosted. I was apparently a little nervous. It went well, but it didn't turn into a relationship, either for me or for Thumper, and it would be another 2 years before I hosted another. Again, it attracted only one dad and one kid. The kids had fun; I had fun. But I haven't seen the dad, or the kid, since, at playgrounds or elsewhere.
Since joining the two moms' groups, though, we've been to 3 in-home play dates, a birthday party, and a baby shower, on top of many playground, pool, and sprinkler park dates. That's five times in a couple of months that we've gone to other people's homes, along with sometimes large and sometimes small groups of other kids and parents. Thumper loves these play date so much that he has not yet managed to leave one without having a screaming, hysterical fit. It is a cruel injustice that so much fun ever has to end.
For me, though, the in-home play dates add another layer of social awkwardness. Not just with the unselfconscious breastfeeding, but with all sorts of aspects that don't generally come up at the playground. I want to make sure my kid doesn't make a mess and shares and has good manners and covers when he coughs and doesn't club any babies or big-screen TVs with a baseball bat, lest my male parenting style be judged inferior. I want to make sure I participate in food prep or cleanup to the degree that's appropriate, not too much to be overbearing or annoying but not too little, either.
And conversation, especially at the baby shower, just takes turns that seem to leave me behind. When one mom asks the showeree how much weight she's gained, and the showeree says, "Oh sure, bring that up in front of everybody..." I feel like maybe I'm overhearing something I shouldn't, or that I'm the particular everybody it shouldn't have been brought up in front of. When birth stories were shared, with so many hours spent to reach so many centimeters dilation, I just never felt the natural opening in the conversation to talk about Thumper's birth, and transverse breach and c-section. It felt like I'd be intruding.
And then Bingo was played, and I was invited, and I played. I misheard the prize, though, thinking that the winner would watch the showeree's 3 1/2-year-old some day soon so that she could go out and watch the latest Twilight movie in peace by herself before the baby comes. I won at Bingo, tying with another of the moms, and it was explained that the prize was two other moms watching the showeree's and the winners' kids so that we could all go enjoy Edward and Jacob together. It suddenly seemed too much like a date to me, and I mumbled something about what I thought the prize was and wandered away. At the end of the shower, one of the moms who'd offered to do the kid watching reminded the other winner of Bingo that she was obligated to go see the movie whenever the showeree wanted, but she never looked my way, and I felt kind of stupid. And kind of relieved.
And when people began to leave, and the showeree was hugged, I filled one arm with my big bowl of fruit salad and the other with my big toddler so that I wouldn't wonder if I was supposed to hug too, or not. But still, it seemed like the hug could've happened, if I'd tried, but I didn't, and I wondered if she felt snubbed, or felt like I was oddly reserved, or if the hug, if I'd attempted it, would've been even more awkward, especially since I'd filled my arms with cargo.
And then, when I got home, I saw a Facebook Status Update that made it clear that one of the breastfeeding moms had found my blog, and I remembered that, though I'd originally intended to keep my blog anonymous and separate from my Facebook, I'd had second thoughts. I couldn't recall if I'd actually added irodius.com as my webpage in my Facebook info, or if I'd just thought about adding it. Turns out I had actually added it. And my imaginary online life collided with my real life.
It didn't sound like she was offended, though maybe her husband was. Hard to tell. But what struck me from what she said about the whole thing was: I am probably making up all of this awkwardness all by myself. If I feel like I'm standing on the outside, unincluded, it's probably because I'm standing on the outside, not participating. I have been very careful not to offend, not to overstep my bounds, whatever those bounds might be to whoever might be keeping score. And who knows how my own reserve is interpreted by these perfectly nice people who've invited me into their homes.
I wonder how old I'll be when I finally stop acting like that awkward teenage boy who was pretty sure that everyone else was working with a script he never got?
Thursday, July 8, 2010
It Doesn't Really Feel Like Emasculation, But It Is Kind of Odd
I'm spending part of my evening tonight making a big bowl of fruit salad to take to the first of two baby showers that I'll be attending over the next three days. I haven't been to a baby shower ever in 38 years, but after joining two moms' play groups, BAM! Two in a row. For the first, the entire play group was invited, and I thought, "Oh, they don't really mean me. That would just be awkward." But then I was explicitly, specifically invited and encouraged to attend.
I even tossed the apple chunks in lemon juice to prevent browning.
I guess the second shower doesn't really count, because it's for BFF and his girlfriend, and it's being billed more as a celebration than a shower, with gifts not necessary, but still. It's a shower. My second in three days.
There are clear differences in how the moms' groups and the dads' groups operate. For instance, the moms show up in numbers, and the dads show up in ones or twos. The moms host play dates in their homes, and the dads stick to the playgrounds. The dads venture all over two counties, and the moms return to the neighborhood playgrounds again and again.
The biggest difference, though, and perhaps the most disconcerting? In a couple of years of dads' group play dates, breastfeeding has never come up. Not once has a bare breast suddenly appeared in the middle of a conversation. With the moms, it's happening with somewhat alarming frequency. I like to think of myself as a hip, modern man with no philosophical objections to breastfeeding in public, and I like to believe that there's nothing erotic about the use of the breast for the sustenance of children, but somehow, when I'm having a pleasant conversation with a woman and she suddenly pulls her top down, it's a little distracting. I think I'm playing it off okay, but it sends my brain into a little bit of a spin. Should I just not look at her, pretend to be fascinated by what Thumper's doing over there on the other side of the room, even though she's still talking, and talking to me? If I don't look, does that make it even more obvious that I'm discombobulated? Can I continue to ignore that one voice in the back of my head that's yelling, "It's a boob! It's bare! Look at it!" and still hold eye contact?
And am I glad, or maybe just a little bummed out, that I'm so non-threatening that these moms seem to give not a second thought to whipping it out in front of me?
I even tossed the apple chunks in lemon juice to prevent browning.
I guess the second shower doesn't really count, because it's for BFF and his girlfriend, and it's being billed more as a celebration than a shower, with gifts not necessary, but still. It's a shower. My second in three days.
There are clear differences in how the moms' groups and the dads' groups operate. For instance, the moms show up in numbers, and the dads show up in ones or twos. The moms host play dates in their homes, and the dads stick to the playgrounds. The dads venture all over two counties, and the moms return to the neighborhood playgrounds again and again.
The biggest difference, though, and perhaps the most disconcerting? In a couple of years of dads' group play dates, breastfeeding has never come up. Not once has a bare breast suddenly appeared in the middle of a conversation. With the moms, it's happening with somewhat alarming frequency. I like to think of myself as a hip, modern man with no philosophical objections to breastfeeding in public, and I like to believe that there's nothing erotic about the use of the breast for the sustenance of children, but somehow, when I'm having a pleasant conversation with a woman and she suddenly pulls her top down, it's a little distracting. I think I'm playing it off okay, but it sends my brain into a little bit of a spin. Should I just not look at her, pretend to be fascinated by what Thumper's doing over there on the other side of the room, even though she's still talking, and talking to me? If I don't look, does that make it even more obvious that I'm discombobulated? Can I continue to ignore that one voice in the back of my head that's yelling, "It's a boob! It's bare! Look at it!" and still hold eye contact?
And am I glad, or maybe just a little bummed out, that I'm so non-threatening that these moms seem to give not a second thought to whipping it out in front of me?
Friday, June 25, 2010
From Drought to Flood
So now I belong to three playgroups, and my calendar is full. Thumper and I go to play dates and there are people there whose names I know! And whose kids' names I know! I can entice him to go out the door with me sans screaming fit by telling him, "[Insert name of older kid he admires] will be there!"
And dangit, wouldn't you know, my dads' group, who show up to nearly nothing and communicate almost not at all, like they're a bunch of do-it-yourself loner males or something, suddenly planned an outing! A spontaneous outing that sounded like a lot of fun! This morning, they went to McKinney Falls State Park to fish and swim and hike and grill and bike and play horseshoes and throw footballs and have all manner of excellent outdoor fun. The old guard dads were even going to show up in numbers, the ones who were the original members and haven't come to anything since their kids entered school.
I was kind of baffled by this. Last week, Thumper and I suggested a morning swimming in the lake, followed by a picnic lunch. One other dad wanted to come; the idea was met by deafening silence by everyone else. So we went, and we had a great time. The other dad brought his canoe. His little girl is just a month older than Thumper, and the four of us had a fabulous time.
So why do I find it annoying that the dads' group finally planned an outing, and a spectacular one at that? Because I'd already RSVP'd to the first play date of the brand new playgroup, the third to which I now belong. I didn't want to make a bad impression and back out. And it was fun. We went to the sprinkler park. Thumper has gotten over his fear of lifeguards, and has been having a blast at the pools the last few weeks. And he even got wet at the sprinkler park today. He didn't get upset when he got sprayed or splashed by other kids, either. It's a great relief to know we won't be the only two idiots frying on the untouchably hot playgrounds this summer while everybody else keeps cool in the pool.
So we did the same-old, same-old while the dads all had grand fun without us. Stupid dads' group...
And dangit, wouldn't you know, my dads' group, who show up to nearly nothing and communicate almost not at all, like they're a bunch of do-it-yourself loner males or something, suddenly planned an outing! A spontaneous outing that sounded like a lot of fun! This morning, they went to McKinney Falls State Park to fish and swim and hike and grill and bike and play horseshoes and throw footballs and have all manner of excellent outdoor fun. The old guard dads were even going to show up in numbers, the ones who were the original members and haven't come to anything since their kids entered school.
I was kind of baffled by this. Last week, Thumper and I suggested a morning swimming in the lake, followed by a picnic lunch. One other dad wanted to come; the idea was met by deafening silence by everyone else. So we went, and we had a great time. The other dad brought his canoe. His little girl is just a month older than Thumper, and the four of us had a fabulous time.
So why do I find it annoying that the dads' group finally planned an outing, and a spectacular one at that? Because I'd already RSVP'd to the first play date of the brand new playgroup, the third to which I now belong. I didn't want to make a bad impression and back out. And it was fun. We went to the sprinkler park. Thumper has gotten over his fear of lifeguards, and has been having a blast at the pools the last few weeks. And he even got wet at the sprinkler park today. He didn't get upset when he got sprayed or splashed by other kids, either. It's a great relief to know we won't be the only two idiots frying on the untouchably hot playgrounds this summer while everybody else keeps cool in the pool.
So we did the same-old, same-old while the dads all had grand fun without us. Stupid dads' group...
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Comfortable in my Manhood, Except at a Shower
Now that I'm cheating on my dads' group with a neighborhood playgroup that's comprised almost entirely of moms (excepting one other dad that I haven't yet met because he hasn't showed up to anything), it's becoming apparent that gender is not quite as inconsequential as I might have thought. Being the self-confident and progressive male that I am, and having often been the only dad on the playground these past nearly-three years, I thought joining a moms' group would be no big deal. And mostly it is, but now and again it does make for some awkward moments.
I finally got a reply from the first moms' group I tried to join, one that actually has the word "Moms" in its name. Six weeks or so after I requested membership at the suggestion of a couple of the group's members, one of the administrators of the group replied at last and said, "no, thanks, sorry, but we decided a long time ago that we would be moms-only so that none of our members would be made uncomfortable by the presence of men, but best of luck to you and if you'd like tips on starting your own group, I'm happy to help." By then I'd already joined the small, local playgroup, so I felt only mildly annoyed by this reply and its long time in coming.
The local group is small, with a core of regular attendees whose company and children I quite like. I've had fun chatting with them while forcing Thumper to share and be nice and not hit and not throw playground gravel. For the most part, they are friendly and inclusive. We've been invited to three birthday parties already. But there are two moms that seem particularly reserved around me, despite Thumper's apparently-not-irresistible charms. Maybe they're just slow to warm to new people. Maybe it's not personal. Maybe it's not gender-related. But somehow I get the feeling that it is. I don't know. They seem more formal, more guarded, than they are with the other moms. That is, "with the moms;" not "with the other moms."
Also, I find there are conversational turns that leave me behind. At a birthday party yesterday, a pregnant mom who has been very accepting of me was sitting next to me eating birthday cake. She suddenly said, "Oh!" and put a hand to her side, then awkwardly said, "Sorry," when I smiled at her.
"The baby likes cake, huh?" I said. "Yes," she replied, then turned away from me and started a conversation with the mom next to her on the other side about breach positions and gestating babies' punches and kicks and what foods seem to inspire the most activity. It was a conversation I felt like I could have participated in, having lived with a pregnant woman whose baby was transverse breach and who shared her affinity for coffee-flavored ice cream. But body language seemed to make it clear that this was lady talk, and the door was closed. Ah, well.
This morning, I got an email that this same mom sent to the group, asking for mailing addresses of all the members interested in attending the baby shower her mother is throwing for her. Maybe I'm wrong, but I don't think I am, in thinking that traditionally baby showers are strictly for the females. I was reminded of Aerie's wedding shower. Her family surprised her with it by getting us to come to her aunt's house for I think a cousin's birthday party or something like that. When we got there, and it turned out to be a shower, my future brother-in-law earned my eternal gratitude, rescuing me from having to sit through a parade of housewares, home décor, and lingerie by taking me out to drink beer and shoot pool, a manly inoculation against such girly pursuits. So receiving an invitation to attend a baby shower at which I presumably would make the other attendees feel as awkward as I would feel myself, I quickly, and I hope politely, declined.
So, yeah, being part of a moms' group is mostly good and sometimes weird. At least they show up to play dates regularly, though.
I finally got a reply from the first moms' group I tried to join, one that actually has the word "Moms" in its name. Six weeks or so after I requested membership at the suggestion of a couple of the group's members, one of the administrators of the group replied at last and said, "no, thanks, sorry, but we decided a long time ago that we would be moms-only so that none of our members would be made uncomfortable by the presence of men, but best of luck to you and if you'd like tips on starting your own group, I'm happy to help." By then I'd already joined the small, local playgroup, so I felt only mildly annoyed by this reply and its long time in coming.
The local group is small, with a core of regular attendees whose company and children I quite like. I've had fun chatting with them while forcing Thumper to share and be nice and not hit and not throw playground gravel. For the most part, they are friendly and inclusive. We've been invited to three birthday parties already. But there are two moms that seem particularly reserved around me, despite Thumper's apparently-not-irresistible charms. Maybe they're just slow to warm to new people. Maybe it's not personal. Maybe it's not gender-related. But somehow I get the feeling that it is. I don't know. They seem more formal, more guarded, than they are with the other moms. That is, "with the moms;" not "with the other moms."
Also, I find there are conversational turns that leave me behind. At a birthday party yesterday, a pregnant mom who has been very accepting of me was sitting next to me eating birthday cake. She suddenly said, "Oh!" and put a hand to her side, then awkwardly said, "Sorry," when I smiled at her.
"The baby likes cake, huh?" I said. "Yes," she replied, then turned away from me and started a conversation with the mom next to her on the other side about breach positions and gestating babies' punches and kicks and what foods seem to inspire the most activity. It was a conversation I felt like I could have participated in, having lived with a pregnant woman whose baby was transverse breach and who shared her affinity for coffee-flavored ice cream. But body language seemed to make it clear that this was lady talk, and the door was closed. Ah, well.
This morning, I got an email that this same mom sent to the group, asking for mailing addresses of all the members interested in attending the baby shower her mother is throwing for her. Maybe I'm wrong, but I don't think I am, in thinking that traditionally baby showers are strictly for the females. I was reminded of Aerie's wedding shower. Her family surprised her with it by getting us to come to her aunt's house for I think a cousin's birthday party or something like that. When we got there, and it turned out to be a shower, my future brother-in-law earned my eternal gratitude, rescuing me from having to sit through a parade of housewares, home décor, and lingerie by taking me out to drink beer and shoot pool, a manly inoculation against such girly pursuits. So receiving an invitation to attend a baby shower at which I presumably would make the other attendees feel as awkward as I would feel myself, I quickly, and I hope politely, declined.
So, yeah, being part of a moms' group is mostly good and sometimes weird. At least they show up to play dates regularly, though.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Have the Dads All Become Moms?
I've been frustrated with my dads' group for a long time now because they're very inactive. There are 195 members, yet the message board is virtually silent, and when we drive all over town to go to the daily scheduled play dates, more often than not we're the only ones who show up. Of the 195 dads, over the past year I've probably only seen 7 or 8 dads at the playgrounds, and another 4 or 5 who come to the Dads' Night Out events at area bars and restaurants every month. On a good week, there will be 2 or 3 dads at one of the week's play dates, and none the rest of the week. That seems like a remarkably low participation rate to me.
So when the dad who regularly schedules the play dates went out of town and asked me to make the schedule for a couple of weeks, I tried to shake things up a bit to see if it would attract more dads. It wasn't a huge success.
A few weeks ago, when we were at yet another play date with no other dads, there was a moms' group there having a play date of their own. I got into a conversation with a couple of the moms about what the secret is to a successful play group, and their answer was, more or less, "I don't know. People come. Why wouldn't they? Isn't that what they joined the group for?" I could only hypothesize that maybe dads just don't care as much about cooperative action as moms, that we're genetically predisposed to going it alone.
Now, though, I have a new theory: we've all joined moms' groups.
A couple of those moms that talked play groups with me suggested I join their group. They said I'd be the only dad, but they didn't think it would be a problem. For a couple of weeks I let the idea simmer: me? in a moms' group? And then I came to the conclusion that I'm the only man on the playground most days anyway, so why not at least know the moms? Why not at least let Thumper play with kids he knows, too? So I requested membership. That was over a week ago, and they still haven't responded at all, so maybe they don't want any dads in their moms' group. Or maybe they're furiously debating the pros and cons. Or maybe they just forgot about me.
And then, talking with a mom down the street that we frequently run into when we go out front to ride the bike in the afternoon, I learned about a neighborhood play group she belongs to. She told me I should join and gave me the Yahoo! address. So I requested membership. They replied instantly, invited me to meet them at the local playground yesterday, and after that meetup, immediately approved my membership. We met with them again today. It's kind of amazing. I'm not driving 45 minutes to the far side of Austin just to be the only one who shows up to the scheduled play date. Instead, for two days in a row, I drove five minutes to be one of a handful of parents. Two of the moms today were also there yesterday. I knew their names. I knew their kids names. It was kind of cool.
Yesterday, before going to meet with the neighborhood group, I posted to Facebook: "Off to go audition for a moms' group. I hope the boy brings his A game." One of the dads in my old group commented, "haha, you could join the one I am in :)" And it suddenly dawned on me: the dads aren't inactive. They're just inactive in the dads' group because they're all too busy with their separate moms' groups. Dangit! If I'd only known sooner, I could've transformed into a mom a long time ago and saved myself a lot of frustration.
So when the dad who regularly schedules the play dates went out of town and asked me to make the schedule for a couple of weeks, I tried to shake things up a bit to see if it would attract more dads. It wasn't a huge success.
A few weeks ago, when we were at yet another play date with no other dads, there was a moms' group there having a play date of their own. I got into a conversation with a couple of the moms about what the secret is to a successful play group, and their answer was, more or less, "I don't know. People come. Why wouldn't they? Isn't that what they joined the group for?" I could only hypothesize that maybe dads just don't care as much about cooperative action as moms, that we're genetically predisposed to going it alone.
Now, though, I have a new theory: we've all joined moms' groups.
A couple of those moms that talked play groups with me suggested I join their group. They said I'd be the only dad, but they didn't think it would be a problem. For a couple of weeks I let the idea simmer: me? in a moms' group? And then I came to the conclusion that I'm the only man on the playground most days anyway, so why not at least know the moms? Why not at least let Thumper play with kids he knows, too? So I requested membership. That was over a week ago, and they still haven't responded at all, so maybe they don't want any dads in their moms' group. Or maybe they're furiously debating the pros and cons. Or maybe they just forgot about me.
And then, talking with a mom down the street that we frequently run into when we go out front to ride the bike in the afternoon, I learned about a neighborhood play group she belongs to. She told me I should join and gave me the Yahoo! address. So I requested membership. They replied instantly, invited me to meet them at the local playground yesterday, and after that meetup, immediately approved my membership. We met with them again today. It's kind of amazing. I'm not driving 45 minutes to the far side of Austin just to be the only one who shows up to the scheduled play date. Instead, for two days in a row, I drove five minutes to be one of a handful of parents. Two of the moms today were also there yesterday. I knew their names. I knew their kids names. It was kind of cool.
Yesterday, before going to meet with the neighborhood group, I posted to Facebook: "Off to go audition for a moms' group. I hope the boy brings his A game." One of the dads in my old group commented, "haha, you could join the one I am in :)" And it suddenly dawned on me: the dads aren't inactive. They're just inactive in the dads' group because they're all too busy with their separate moms' groups. Dangit! If I'd only known sooner, I could've transformed into a mom a long time ago and saved myself a lot of frustration.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
The World Wide Web is a Dirty Rotten Liar
The guy who regularly schedules the play dates for my Stay-at-Home Dads group was away from his computer for a couple of weeks, so he asked me to fill in for him. This week, I thought I'd depart from the usual round of playgrounds and seek grander adventures. I spent an hour or two on Sunday Googlin' around, checking out event calendars on the City of Austin and surrounding towns websites, and checking out other activities sites like Free in Austin and Austin Bored Kids.
MONDAY: Bilingual Storytime. OK, this one wasn't actually the Web's fault. It was exactly what, when, and where I thought it would be, but it turned out that Thumper had no more patience and attention for a bilingual storytime than he's had in the past for monolingual storytimes.
TUESDAY: Peter Pan Mini Golf. It's stunning to me that in this day and age, a business doesn't have a website. The Citysearch page didn't list operating hours. Austin360 said it "generally" opens at 9:00 a.m. I didn't call to verify the hours, because it never occurred to me it would be closed at 10:00 a.m. on a Tuesday. Guess what? It was. "Generally" opens? Stupid South Austin hippie businesses...
WEDNESDAY: Georgetown Firefighter Museum. OK, this is where the Web really starts telling some whoppers. visit.georgetown.org assured me that I would find "Betsy, a prized 1922 Seagraves fire engine in mint condition" and that "[t]he station is still used as the city’s main fire station." After the Tuesday mix-up, I decided on Wednesday morning to call and verify, and it turns out that it's no longer a working station, Betsy has been moved elsewhere, and the "museum" is essentially a bookshelf in some administrative offices. "I don't want to tell you not to come," said the nice lady who answered the phone, "but..." So we went to a tried-and-true standby, the Georgetown Creative Playscape instead, where Thumper aggravated a three-year-old boy by steadfastly refusing to take direction.
THURSDAY: Austin Zoo. The train that's supposed to run every hour on the hour and which was a big part of Thumper's excitement while he patiently sat through the long car ride there, wasn't running today. Their website says: "Concession stand is open March 1 - June 1 Monday through Friday from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. weekdays" so we didn't bring lunch, planning to eat hot dogs and Frito pies instead. It was closed. And neither of the vending machines would take my money, so when Thumper was suddenly and very emotionally hungry, there was nothing to eat. And the peacocks that Thumper found so fascinating last year were instead terrifying this year. And he tripped and fell flat on his face, busting his lip open. OK, most of that wasn't the web's fault, but still...
FRIDAY: The Cathedral of Junk. This one sounded pretty cool. Turns out, though, that it's been closed by the City of Austin. The owner, Vince, says in his answering machine message that he's fighting with the city, but until it's resolved, he can't let anyone in to see it, though you can "peek over the fence." Doesn't sound that enthralling for a two-year-old, so we'll have to think of something else to do tomorrow.
So out of 5 events, not one was the thriller I was looking for. I relied on the internet, and it let me down. The moral of the story: call ahead, and don't throw together a schedule at the last minute on Sunday night. The end.
MONDAY: Bilingual Storytime. OK, this one wasn't actually the Web's fault. It was exactly what, when, and where I thought it would be, but it turned out that Thumper had no more patience and attention for a bilingual storytime than he's had in the past for monolingual storytimes.
TUESDAY: Peter Pan Mini Golf. It's stunning to me that in this day and age, a business doesn't have a website. The Citysearch page didn't list operating hours. Austin360 said it "generally" opens at 9:00 a.m. I didn't call to verify the hours, because it never occurred to me it would be closed at 10:00 a.m. on a Tuesday. Guess what? It was. "Generally" opens? Stupid South Austin hippie businesses...
WEDNESDAY: Georgetown Firefighter Museum. OK, this is where the Web really starts telling some whoppers. visit.georgetown.org assured me that I would find "Betsy, a prized 1922 Seagraves fire engine in mint condition" and that "[t]he station is still used as the city’s main fire station." After the Tuesday mix-up, I decided on Wednesday morning to call and verify, and it turns out that it's no longer a working station, Betsy has been moved elsewhere, and the "museum" is essentially a bookshelf in some administrative offices. "I don't want to tell you not to come," said the nice lady who answered the phone, "but..." So we went to a tried-and-true standby, the Georgetown Creative Playscape instead, where Thumper aggravated a three-year-old boy by steadfastly refusing to take direction.
THURSDAY: Austin Zoo. The train that's supposed to run every hour on the hour and which was a big part of Thumper's excitement while he patiently sat through the long car ride there, wasn't running today. Their website says: "Concession stand is open March 1 - June 1 Monday through Friday from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. weekdays" so we didn't bring lunch, planning to eat hot dogs and Frito pies instead. It was closed. And neither of the vending machines would take my money, so when Thumper was suddenly and very emotionally hungry, there was nothing to eat. And the peacocks that Thumper found so fascinating last year were instead terrifying this year. And he tripped and fell flat on his face, busting his lip open. OK, most of that wasn't the web's fault, but still...
FRIDAY: The Cathedral of Junk. This one sounded pretty cool. Turns out, though, that it's been closed by the City of Austin. The owner, Vince, says in his answering machine message that he's fighting with the city, but until it's resolved, he can't let anyone in to see it, though you can "peek over the fence." Doesn't sound that enthralling for a two-year-old, so we'll have to think of something else to do tomorrow.
So out of 5 events, not one was the thriller I was looking for. I relied on the internet, and it let me down. The moral of the story: call ahead, and don't throw together a schedule at the last minute on Sunday night. The end.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
On Men in Groups
In my SAHD group, the dad who posts the playdate schedule asked for feedback. He had two questions: What would make the group better for you? What can you do to make the group better? Here was my answer:
Before I started this job, I heard mothers talk about how playgroups were essential. They shared babysitting, they kept each other sane. I thought I would feel awkward on the playground, with the mothers looking at me like I was a pedophile. I thought I'd go a little crazy with limited adult interaction. Like so many other things in life, my anticipation was way off from reality. I don't think this group offers very much, but I don't think I'm missing much either. It is what it is. If other dads show up, great. If not, oh well. Most times, the mothers are perfectly friendly. In fact, the best playdate Thumper and I ever had was at a playground with 3 moms with kids Thumper's age. No other dads showed up. We played. We talked potty training. It was great.
What would make it better? Maybe rotating group playdates where one or two dads watch a group of kids and the other dads can have some time to run errands by themselves or whatever. Make it an opt-in program, rotate whose turn it is. Maybe split it into a couple of age groups.
Vary the playdates so there are more activities than just outdoor playgrounds, especially during very cold or very hot weather.
Maybe dads parent different from moms and are just more suited to going it solo.
What could I do to make the group better? Maybe show up more, but 2 or 3 a week is about as good as it's going to get for me. I let other dads know when I'm going to be there, which would be helpful if more people did. If I knew I wasn't driving 20 miles to an empty playground, I'd be more likely to go.
I could offer in-home playdates at my house, pizza parties, cupcake decorating parties, or something similar. We've got soccer fields, baseball fields, volleyball pit, etc. at our local park. Informal soccer games where kids could run themselves into exhaustion might be good.
To be honest, the "Off topic! Enough already; take it off board!" smackdown that I got when I first joined dampened my enthusiasm for trying very hard to start my own activities. I think the group would do well to be much more careful about how it presents itself to new members.
Those are my thoughts.
Before I started this job, I heard mothers talk about how playgroups were essential. They shared babysitting, they kept each other sane. I thought I would feel awkward on the playground, with the mothers looking at me like I was a pedophile. I thought I'd go a little crazy with limited adult interaction. Like so many other things in life, my anticipation was way off from reality. I don't think this group offers very much, but I don't think I'm missing much either. It is what it is. If other dads show up, great. If not, oh well. Most times, the mothers are perfectly friendly. In fact, the best playdate Thumper and I ever had was at a playground with 3 moms with kids Thumper's age. No other dads showed up. We played. We talked potty training. It was great.
What would make it better? Maybe rotating group playdates where one or two dads watch a group of kids and the other dads can have some time to run errands by themselves or whatever. Make it an opt-in program, rotate whose turn it is. Maybe split it into a couple of age groups.
Vary the playdates so there are more activities than just outdoor playgrounds, especially during very cold or very hot weather.
Maybe dads parent different from moms and are just more suited to going it solo.
What could I do to make the group better? Maybe show up more, but 2 or 3 a week is about as good as it's going to get for me. I let other dads know when I'm going to be there, which would be helpful if more people did. If I knew I wasn't driving 20 miles to an empty playground, I'd be more likely to go.
I could offer in-home playdates at my house, pizza parties, cupcake decorating parties, or something similar. We've got soccer fields, baseball fields, volleyball pit, etc. at our local park. Informal soccer games where kids could run themselves into exhaustion might be good.
To be honest, the "Off topic! Enough already; take it off board!" smackdown that I got when I first joined dampened my enthusiasm for trying very hard to start my own activities. I think the group would do well to be much more careful about how it presents itself to new members.
Those are my thoughts.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
You Met Me At a Very Strange Time in My Life
That's a quote from Fight Club, Mom.
1. I'm not real keen on the new look. I have a suspicion that this is one ugly color scheme, but I was getting tired of the last one.
2. Happy Kissiversary, Aerie!
3. Things have been pretty strange around here, stressful and aggravating and also fun and amazing and tiring.
(a) There are serious disruptions taking place in Aerie's family, and we're hurting for them and worrying with them about what the future will hold and also hoping it all doesn't spill over too much into our little world.
(b) I also spent three straight weeks spending most of my free time working on a large copywriting project, and it couldn't be clearer to me that it's not a lot of fun and puts more stress on my family life. It does pay well, and it would be easier if I were better at managing my time.
(c) I'm struggling to stay motivated with Weight Watchers. As I've noted before, success gives me an inexplicable tendency to sabotage myself. I've kept up the exercise, though I think I've got a rotator cuff injury that's making weight lifting a bad idea. I'm still hitting the treadmill, though. In fact, I had a new personal best yesterday, burning 1070 calories in 60 minutes. I've got to say, The Crystal Method's Drive is my all-time favorite workout album. I think it was released as part of a promotion of Nike's integration with iPod, or something like that, which makes it about as corporate as you can get, but man, it's effective. I only wish it was long enough to get me all through a full hour instead of quitting at about 45 minutes. Keep your eyes on the road, your hands upon the wheel... Bad, right? Wait a minute, what was I talking about again? Oh, right. Stalling on the weight loss. Yeah.
(d) Thumper's been testing a lot of limits lately, and has developed a strong tendency to contradict everything that's said to him. We have whining, and screaming fits, and "I won't..." and "I can't...", and conversations that tend to follow these lines:
Me: "It's raining."
He: "No, it's not raining."
Me: "It's not?"
He: "No, it's raining."
So the stress and frustration from (a), (b), and (c) tend to make (d) less bearable, but every day I'm reminded by the people around me how wonderful he is. Wherever we go, people tell me how cute and big and smart he is. We had one of our best playdates ever this week, with 4 other kids on the playground all about the same age as he. The kids played together and shared toys with minimal friction, the 2 moms, a babysitter, another dad and I were all friendly and talked Halloween and potty training and developmental milestones and mothers-in-law. And they all expressed amazement at Thumper's age. The dad even said, "He can't do that yet!" when Thumper pedaled a borrowed tricycle on a circuit round and round the playground. So I'm daily reminded how lucky we are with him, but still, I'm doing a lot of yelling lately.
So, uh, yeah, all of that just to say I haven't updated much lately, and I don't like my new layout here, but I really don't have the time or motivation to change it. We're doing a National Downs Syndrome Society Buddy Walk today, which will be fun. And my beloved database project that was suspended indefinitely has been revived, so there's more work such that I may actually someday be able to signup for ushering shifts online, glory hallelujah. Facebook's responsible for my light posting, too. Curse you, you evil Bejeweled Blitz!
1. I'm not real keen on the new look. I have a suspicion that this is one ugly color scheme, but I was getting tired of the last one.
2. Happy Kissiversary, Aerie!
3. Things have been pretty strange around here, stressful and aggravating and also fun and amazing and tiring.
(a) There are serious disruptions taking place in Aerie's family, and we're hurting for them and worrying with them about what the future will hold and also hoping it all doesn't spill over too much into our little world.
(b) I also spent three straight weeks spending most of my free time working on a large copywriting project, and it couldn't be clearer to me that it's not a lot of fun and puts more stress on my family life. It does pay well, and it would be easier if I were better at managing my time.
(c) I'm struggling to stay motivated with Weight Watchers. As I've noted before, success gives me an inexplicable tendency to sabotage myself. I've kept up the exercise, though I think I've got a rotator cuff injury that's making weight lifting a bad idea. I'm still hitting the treadmill, though. In fact, I had a new personal best yesterday, burning 1070 calories in 60 minutes. I've got to say, The Crystal Method's Drive is my all-time favorite workout album. I think it was released as part of a promotion of Nike's integration with iPod, or something like that, which makes it about as corporate as you can get, but man, it's effective. I only wish it was long enough to get me all through a full hour instead of quitting at about 45 minutes. Keep your eyes on the road, your hands upon the wheel... Bad, right? Wait a minute, what was I talking about again? Oh, right. Stalling on the weight loss. Yeah.
(d) Thumper's been testing a lot of limits lately, and has developed a strong tendency to contradict everything that's said to him. We have whining, and screaming fits, and "I won't..." and "I can't...", and conversations that tend to follow these lines:
Me: "It's raining."
He: "No, it's not raining."
Me: "It's not?"
He: "No, it's raining."
So the stress and frustration from (a), (b), and (c) tend to make (d) less bearable, but every day I'm reminded by the people around me how wonderful he is. Wherever we go, people tell me how cute and big and smart he is. We had one of our best playdates ever this week, with 4 other kids on the playground all about the same age as he. The kids played together and shared toys with minimal friction, the 2 moms, a babysitter, another dad and I were all friendly and talked Halloween and potty training and developmental milestones and mothers-in-law. And they all expressed amazement at Thumper's age. The dad even said, "He can't do that yet!" when Thumper pedaled a borrowed tricycle on a circuit round and round the playground. So I'm daily reminded how lucky we are with him, but still, I'm doing a lot of yelling lately.
So, uh, yeah, all of that just to say I haven't updated much lately, and I don't like my new layout here, but I really don't have the time or motivation to change it. We're doing a National Downs Syndrome Society Buddy Walk today, which will be fun. And my beloved database project that was suspended indefinitely has been revived, so there's more work such that I may actually someday be able to signup for ushering shifts online, glory hallelujah. Facebook's responsible for my light posting, too. Curse you, you evil Bejeweled Blitz!
Friday, September 25, 2009
Thumper and the Firefighters
So Thumper and I, and another dad and an adorable little girl who's one month older than Thumper, visited a firehouse today. We walked into the station, were face-to-face with three firefighters, and Thumper turned to me and asked, "Where's the firefighters?" Guess it wasn't what he was expecting after his repeated close examinations of The Adventures of Curious George by H.A. Rey and the more recent Curious George and the Firefighters. One can sympathize; there wasn't a single handlebar mustache to be seen.
He ran up to the nearest firefighter, pointing, and asked, "What's in the mouth?" Turns out it was chocolate in the mouth, and the kind firefighter was quick to share. Fast friends were instantly made, and the tour proceeded.
He drove the truck:
He wore the headset:
He sat in the jump seat:
And he worked the hose:
Then we played at Children's Park, billed as "one of the largest community-built playscapes in the U.S.," which was indeed quite cool. Then we ate catfish and biscuits and corn on the cob and lemonade and ice cream at The Newton Gang's Getaway, which apparently used to be a bank that was robbed by the Newton Gang in 1924. It was robbed again in 1972 by Steve McQueen and Ali McGraw in The Getaway:
The walls are no longer white, though. I think they're going more for the 1924 look these days rather than the 1972 look. We sat right in front of the "vault."
All in all, a pretty great day.
He ran up to the nearest firefighter, pointing, and asked, "What's in the mouth?" Turns out it was chocolate in the mouth, and the kind firefighter was quick to share. Fast friends were instantly made, and the tour proceeded.
He drove the truck:
He wore the headset:
He sat in the jump seat:
And he worked the hose:
Then we played at Children's Park, billed as "one of the largest community-built playscapes in the U.S.," which was indeed quite cool. Then we ate catfish and biscuits and corn on the cob and lemonade and ice cream at The Newton Gang's Getaway, which apparently used to be a bank that was robbed by the Newton Gang in 1924. It was robbed again in 1972 by Steve McQueen and Ali McGraw in The Getaway:
The walls are no longer white, though. I think they're going more for the 1924 look these days rather than the 1972 look. We sat right in front of the "vault."
All in all, a pretty great day.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
At the Four-Year-Old's Birthday Party
"Did you bring me a present?"
"Yes."
"Where is it?"
"On the table."
"Where on the table?"
"Right there."
"I'm Spiderman!"
"Yes."
"Where is it?"
"On the table."
"Where on the table?"
"Right there."
"I'm Spiderman!"
Friday, August 28, 2009
Cucumber Daddy and the Boy Genius
Thumper was calling me Cucumber Daddy for a while this morning.
Oh, but wait! First, I have to tell you: one of the ladies at the child care center at the gym asked me today when I picked him up, "How old is he again? I mean, I know he's two, but when does he turn three?" When I told her, her jaw dropped. "He JUST turned two? He's so smart! He knows all his colors, and not just the easy ones! He even knows black and white! And he was counting. He said, 'One, two, three, four, five... Five million dollars!'"
"Yeah," I said, "I don't know where he got that five million dollars thing. I ask him if I can have some, and he says, 'No...'"
She was still gushing. "And he told me that the red pick-up truck on his shirt was 'Kinda like a fire truck.' He's so smart!"
Yep. That's my boy!
Oh, yeah, anyway. Cucumber Daddy. We went to the playground, and we brought his scooter. Man, he loves that thing. He's actually getting pretty good at it, too, pushing with one foot and scooting along. He has a hard time scooting and steering simultaneously, though. This is the second time we brought it to the playground. Last week, one mother, after watching him work it, said, "I thought those were for three- and four-year-olds!"
I thought the scooter might be a little advanced for him, but he's proven me wrong. There was a four-or-so-year-old there with a tiny bike with training wheels. When the kid had abandoned it, Thumper went over to investigate. The kid's mom told him, "I don't mind, but you have to ask your dad if it's OK." Thumper walked up to me, nodding, and said, "It's OK." So we experimented with the bike for awhile. After a few minutes and a seat adjustment (the mom whipped out an adjustable wrench and lowered the seat for him! How cool is that?), he was climbing onto the seat by himself, placing his feet on the pedals, and doing his best to push. As with his tricycle, he couldn't quite get the rotary motion going, but my two-year-old was riding a bike today.
Oh yeah. Cucumber Daddy. I keep going off on Boy Genius tangents. After he scooted for awhile, and before he discovered the bike, he played in the sand box. The sand box has this thing in the middle that makes it look like it used to be a water feature, like a mini-splashpad, but that they filled it with sand at some point to save money. Or something. Let me see if I can find a photo of it... Ah, here! The thing in the background of this photo.
So Thumper's climbing on the tall part in the middle. I get distracted doing some people watching on a family that gave all appearances of being prolific breeders that homeschool, with the dad sort of nagging his older kids in this cheerful, sing-songy voice. "Don't push Baby Ethan so high on the swing, Princess. You'll scare Baby Ethan. Of course you have to wear your shoes, Goofy. I know they get rocks, but they're protecting your feet." Etc. Suddenly, a mom near me jumps to her feet and gasps, covering her mouth, and I hear Thumper say, "Oh. Uh. Yeah." I look over at him, and he's done a sort of flip over the top of the sand box thing. He's doing a handstand, with his feet at the top, and he's trying to figure out how to extricate himself from the situation.
I say, "What, are you doing gymnastics now?"
"Yeah," he says.
"Do you need some help?" I ask. But he gets himself free and gracefully lands on his feet before he can answer. Grinning, he starts climbing up again.
"Wow," says the mother who leaped to her feet. "That's one cool-as-a-cucumber daddy. My heart almost stopped!"
"Yeah," I say, "he takes a tumble now and then. He's already scraped his elbow this morning with that scooter over there."
"I know," she says. "I saw." Maybe with a not-so-subtle tone of disapproval. Maybe. I think about telling her that he can be a nervous kid, so I try not to teach him that the world is a dangerous place by reacting too strongly to minor incidents. Then I figure, eh, what's the point? She probably won't bother to call CPS on me, anyway. So I keep my mouth shut and look back at Thumper.
"Cucumber Daddy!" he says. He's climbed to the top again and is leaning over so that his feet start to rise. "Do it again?"
Oh, but wait! First, I have to tell you: one of the ladies at the child care center at the gym asked me today when I picked him up, "How old is he again? I mean, I know he's two, but when does he turn three?" When I told her, her jaw dropped. "He JUST turned two? He's so smart! He knows all his colors, and not just the easy ones! He even knows black and white! And he was counting. He said, 'One, two, three, four, five... Five million dollars!'"
"Yeah," I said, "I don't know where he got that five million dollars thing. I ask him if I can have some, and he says, 'No...'"
She was still gushing. "And he told me that the red pick-up truck on his shirt was 'Kinda like a fire truck.' He's so smart!"
Yep. That's my boy!
Oh, yeah, anyway. Cucumber Daddy. We went to the playground, and we brought his scooter. Man, he loves that thing. He's actually getting pretty good at it, too, pushing with one foot and scooting along. He has a hard time scooting and steering simultaneously, though. This is the second time we brought it to the playground. Last week, one mother, after watching him work it, said, "I thought those were for three- and four-year-olds!"
I thought the scooter might be a little advanced for him, but he's proven me wrong. There was a four-or-so-year-old there with a tiny bike with training wheels. When the kid had abandoned it, Thumper went over to investigate. The kid's mom told him, "I don't mind, but you have to ask your dad if it's OK." Thumper walked up to me, nodding, and said, "It's OK." So we experimented with the bike for awhile. After a few minutes and a seat adjustment (the mom whipped out an adjustable wrench and lowered the seat for him! How cool is that?), he was climbing onto the seat by himself, placing his feet on the pedals, and doing his best to push. As with his tricycle, he couldn't quite get the rotary motion going, but my two-year-old was riding a bike today.
Oh yeah. Cucumber Daddy. I keep going off on Boy Genius tangents. After he scooted for awhile, and before he discovered the bike, he played in the sand box. The sand box has this thing in the middle that makes it look like it used to be a water feature, like a mini-splashpad, but that they filled it with sand at some point to save money. Or something. Let me see if I can find a photo of it... Ah, here! The thing in the background of this photo.
So Thumper's climbing on the tall part in the middle. I get distracted doing some people watching on a family that gave all appearances of being prolific breeders that homeschool, with the dad sort of nagging his older kids in this cheerful, sing-songy voice. "Don't push Baby Ethan so high on the swing, Princess. You'll scare Baby Ethan. Of course you have to wear your shoes, Goofy. I know they get rocks, but they're protecting your feet." Etc. Suddenly, a mom near me jumps to her feet and gasps, covering her mouth, and I hear Thumper say, "Oh. Uh. Yeah." I look over at him, and he's done a sort of flip over the top of the sand box thing. He's doing a handstand, with his feet at the top, and he's trying to figure out how to extricate himself from the situation.
I say, "What, are you doing gymnastics now?"
"Yeah," he says.
"Do you need some help?" I ask. But he gets himself free and gracefully lands on his feet before he can answer. Grinning, he starts climbing up again.
"Wow," says the mother who leaped to her feet. "That's one cool-as-a-cucumber daddy. My heart almost stopped!"
"Yeah," I say, "he takes a tumble now and then. He's already scraped his elbow this morning with that scooter over there."
"I know," she says. "I saw." Maybe with a not-so-subtle tone of disapproval. Maybe. I think about telling her that he can be a nervous kid, so I try not to teach him that the world is a dangerous place by reacting too strongly to minor incidents. Then I figure, eh, what's the point? She probably won't bother to call CPS on me, anyway. So I keep my mouth shut and look back at Thumper.
"Cucumber Daddy!" he says. He's climbed to the top again and is leaning over so that his feet start to rise. "Do it again?"
Friday, April 24, 2009
Save the Drama for Your... Daddy?
I keep thinking I should blog about my Stay-at-Home Dads group, then don't. Then things get even more ridiculous, and I think I should really blog about my Stay-at-Home Dads group, then still don't.
When I joined, the summer before Thumper was born, I thought it would be valuable in addressing two of my biggest fears about being a SAHD. First, I was scared about making enough money to supplement my wife's income, and I thought I could read through the group's archives and get ideas from the other guys about how they had addressed the same problem. Second, I was afraid that I would feel out of place on the playgrounds, that I would make the moms nervous with my presence. And with my own shyness issues, I knew I would have a hard time reaching out by myself. I thought built-in playdates would really fill a need for me.
Well, as with most things, my anticipation was miles off from the reality. I have gleaned no great ideas on part-time supplemental income from the group, and yet I've managed so far to make a few bucks here and there (thanks, Sis!). And I haven't really felt that out of place on the playgrounds or felt ostracized because of my sex. Some moms have even gone out of their way to engage me in conversation. Many tell me how great it is that I'm doing this. And the rest Thumper charms into talking to me. So being a member of the group hasn't been what I thought it would be.
There isn't much communication or participation in the group right now. Apparently, when the group was founded, in something like 2002 or 2003 I think, playdates would regularly draw 15 or 20 dads. They took pride in hitting a playground in force. A couple of the SAHD group's long-time members have told me how it used to be when they started, with individual dads and their kids getting treated like lepers. Moms parted like the Red Sea and even pulled their kids away from the kids of the dads. By showing up in large groups, the dads had their own community, and many feel like that high visibility made it possible for guys like me now to say that I've never experienced anything like that sort of exclusion myself because they increased awareness of Dads Taking Care of Kids.
For me, it's been nice meeting a few really good guys, and it's been nice having some pleasant conversations now and again, especially now that Thumper doesn't require quite as close of supervision as he used to. He used to really want to eat playground gravel, and he used to really want to fall off of things. He's become slightly more particular about what he'll put in his mouth, and he's drastically improved his climbing skills. Now I can actually stand in the circle of dads and participate in a conversation for a few minutes at a time. But most playdates draw only 2 or 3 dads, and many draw none at all. A few have had as many as 4 or 5, but I've never seen a group of 15 or 20 of us. Often, Thumper and I are the only ones at the scheduled playdate, and we manage to get along just fine.
The dad who volunteers to set the playdate schedule has asked for feedback on how to increase attendance. The old-timers chime in with how much fun the group used to be, and how we need to get out there in force and scare the moms again. But I never see them at playdates because their kids are all in school now, and I've never met a lot of them at all. The gist of the old guard's message is that it used to be a good group, it used to be fun, they used to be great friends, but all us new guys are doing it wrong. We're using the message board incorrectly and we're not behaving like a guerrilla army of dads, hitting the parks and driving off the moms. And they still moderate the message board, ostensibly to keep things "on-topic," but mostly to do their best to drive off new members with their cranky-old-fartedness. So a brand new member will send an introductory message saying, "Hi, this is me, this is my kid, this is what we like to do and where we live. Do any of you fellas like heavy metal?" And immediately a moderator will reply telling him that music discussions are off topic, and he should have known that already since he received the Rules of Engagement when he signed up for the group. And then the new member will say, "WTF? Screw you guys, I'm going home!"
Fun, right? And then there's all the usual email group b.s., like smartasses being rude and calling it humor, touchy people taking offense, sarcasm being misunderstood, political discussions popping up and making enemies, and just general bitchiness, cattiness, nastiness, and whining.
And that's what has surprised me most, though I don't know why it should have. I've participated in LISTSERVs and other email group communication, and it almost always comes down to hurt feelings and misunderstandings and fragmentation into various cliques eventually, mostly because in written communication it's very difficult to judge a humorous tone. And before Thumper, I read parenting blogs and heard about the murky and dangerous world of Playdate Groups with all of their intrigues. But those were Moms Groups. The problems usually centered around that one power-mad super-mom, and her evil machinations. Women can be very tough on each other. But dads? We're just a bunch of dudes hanging out. What could go wrong?
When I joined, the summer before Thumper was born, I thought it would be valuable in addressing two of my biggest fears about being a SAHD. First, I was scared about making enough money to supplement my wife's income, and I thought I could read through the group's archives and get ideas from the other guys about how they had addressed the same problem. Second, I was afraid that I would feel out of place on the playgrounds, that I would make the moms nervous with my presence. And with my own shyness issues, I knew I would have a hard time reaching out by myself. I thought built-in playdates would really fill a need for me.
Well, as with most things, my anticipation was miles off from the reality. I have gleaned no great ideas on part-time supplemental income from the group, and yet I've managed so far to make a few bucks here and there (thanks, Sis!). And I haven't really felt that out of place on the playgrounds or felt ostracized because of my sex. Some moms have even gone out of their way to engage me in conversation. Many tell me how great it is that I'm doing this. And the rest Thumper charms into talking to me. So being a member of the group hasn't been what I thought it would be.
There isn't much communication or participation in the group right now. Apparently, when the group was founded, in something like 2002 or 2003 I think, playdates would regularly draw 15 or 20 dads. They took pride in hitting a playground in force. A couple of the SAHD group's long-time members have told me how it used to be when they started, with individual dads and their kids getting treated like lepers. Moms parted like the Red Sea and even pulled their kids away from the kids of the dads. By showing up in large groups, the dads had their own community, and many feel like that high visibility made it possible for guys like me now to say that I've never experienced anything like that sort of exclusion myself because they increased awareness of Dads Taking Care of Kids.
For me, it's been nice meeting a few really good guys, and it's been nice having some pleasant conversations now and again, especially now that Thumper doesn't require quite as close of supervision as he used to. He used to really want to eat playground gravel, and he used to really want to fall off of things. He's become slightly more particular about what he'll put in his mouth, and he's drastically improved his climbing skills. Now I can actually stand in the circle of dads and participate in a conversation for a few minutes at a time. But most playdates draw only 2 or 3 dads, and many draw none at all. A few have had as many as 4 or 5, but I've never seen a group of 15 or 20 of us. Often, Thumper and I are the only ones at the scheduled playdate, and we manage to get along just fine.
The dad who volunteers to set the playdate schedule has asked for feedback on how to increase attendance. The old-timers chime in with how much fun the group used to be, and how we need to get out there in force and scare the moms again. But I never see them at playdates because their kids are all in school now, and I've never met a lot of them at all. The gist of the old guard's message is that it used to be a good group, it used to be fun, they used to be great friends, but all us new guys are doing it wrong. We're using the message board incorrectly and we're not behaving like a guerrilla army of dads, hitting the parks and driving off the moms. And they still moderate the message board, ostensibly to keep things "on-topic," but mostly to do their best to drive off new members with their cranky-old-fartedness. So a brand new member will send an introductory message saying, "Hi, this is me, this is my kid, this is what we like to do and where we live. Do any of you fellas like heavy metal?" And immediately a moderator will reply telling him that music discussions are off topic, and he should have known that already since he received the Rules of Engagement when he signed up for the group. And then the new member will say, "WTF? Screw you guys, I'm going home!"
Fun, right? And then there's all the usual email group b.s., like smartasses being rude and calling it humor, touchy people taking offense, sarcasm being misunderstood, political discussions popping up and making enemies, and just general bitchiness, cattiness, nastiness, and whining.
And that's what has surprised me most, though I don't know why it should have. I've participated in LISTSERVs and other email group communication, and it almost always comes down to hurt feelings and misunderstandings and fragmentation into various cliques eventually, mostly because in written communication it's very difficult to judge a humorous tone. And before Thumper, I read parenting blogs and heard about the murky and dangerous world of Playdate Groups with all of their intrigues. But those were Moms Groups. The problems usually centered around that one power-mad super-mom, and her evil machinations. Women can be very tough on each other. But dads? We're just a bunch of dudes hanging out. What could go wrong?
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
He Looks So Small
Kiddie Acres was a blast. We had a SAHD playdate there this morning. Planes, trains, automobiles, boats, ferris wheels, and carousels. And ponies! Thumper wore a serious expression through everything, but he had a wonderful time. I think he was just processing, processing. It's a whole new world, this amusement park business.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
