Still not a photoblog, Week Three, without further preamble.
There are a few bits going around the mommywebs right now that suggest parenting is hard, and then it’s easy, and then it’s over, and that we should enjoy it while it lasts because our kids grow up and then we’re not doing as much parenting and then we’ll look back on these days fondly and then we’ll die. Or something like that.
Needless to say, I feel the need to weigh in on this.
Carpe Diem, they say. OK, just carpe the moment. No, wait, it’s OK to just carpe the good moments. It’s ok that it’s hard, they say. We all know you’re not really enjoying every second of every day, and that doesn’t make you a bad person.
All of that is true.
What I will add is that as a parent, you’re breaking new ground. We like to think that we know a great deal about raising kids – there are whole industries built around telling people how to do it, how not to do it, and how not to lose your freaking mind in the process. None of that information is completely accurate. We’ve gotten pretty good with the parts you learned in your high school biology class, sure, and we know more about diseases and how to treat and prevent them, but “raising” a child? This is completely new. No one has ever done this before.
There are no studies to guide you that will show the effects of this or that parenting technique on kids being raised in an era of instant communication, immediate gratification, and no borders. Not only is every child different, but every day is new. My early environment taught me that in order to listen to the song I wanted to hear whenever I wanted to hear it, I had to save some money and ask my parents to drive me to a store and buy the record and bring it home and play it. (Record, vinyl, yes, I’m that old.) My kids ask for a dollar and download a single song, play it 30 seconds later, and then tell 17 friends across counties, countries, and continents what they’re listening to and what they think of it. They move FAST because the tools are in place to let them, and they’ve never known a time when those tools weren’t there.
We, on the other hand, watched these tools being developed. We’re used to them now, and we use them – but we’re not natives, not most of us. So of course parenting is hard. We’re digital immigrants with self-induced ADD, trying to get through days that are filled with sensory overload. Even without kids, we live in a media barrage of consumer-targeted advertising based on fear, making sure you have enough to worry about. That way, you can spend money to mitigate those worries. Do you realize that no one worries about burglary any more? We get to worry about home invasion now. What happened to all the burglars?
We’re told that we can spend our way to safety, security, and serenity. I’m going to set up a button on this site that will let you send me a dollar, in exchange for which I will send you a personalized note telling you that everything’s OK, you’re going to be fine, and you’re doing a good job. But I digress.
With kids, who are crazy enough without external help, we suddenly have a new source of sensory input. New parents aren’t used to sensory input devices that don’t come with an off switch. They are suddenly faced with complete life-and-death responsibility, no operating instructions, and a society that will judge them at every turn, after the fact. No one says, “I wouldn’t do that.” They say, “I wouldn’t have done that.” Yes, parenting is hard – as a species, we had to throw away the guidebooks for raising kids after the industrial revolution, because by the time the next generation rolled along, the books were obsolete. Not only is every child different, but every day is new. (Remember that this did not use to be the case.) This not only hasn’t stopped, it’s gotten faster. Fully half of what we consider “good parenting techniques” are still based in the 18th century. We have digital kids. We need to become digital parents, fast, and it’s hard. Of course we worry ourselves sick – not only do we have television telling us to worry about everything, now we have life-and-death decisions to make for someone else, and the world watching. You want me to enjoy this?
So, do I enjoy my kids? Yes. Douglas Adams once wrote that the hours were OK, but the minutes really dragged. I enjoy all of my life, even the parts that really drag – I’m generally just wired that way. (Also, being in a good mood really pisses people off, which is an added bonus some days.) Of course being a dad is hard. No one said it wouldn’t be, any more than they said life would be fair. But if you don’t smile and try to enjoy it, you wind up wallowing in self pity – and then the fear-mongers step in.
The best thing we can do for our kids is make sure they see us enjoying them. They’re taking in data on all frequencies and monitoring all channels, because their environment is training them to do so, and they notice everything about how we carry ourselves through the days, hours, and minutes. Smiling – just forcing those muscles in your face to go up – actually tends to elevate your mood, to say nothing of making people wonder what you’re thinking. Let them see you smile. They’ll remember it. After all, soon they’ll grow up and then it’s over and then we’ll look back on these days fondly and then we’ll die.
In the meantime, everything’s OK. You’re going to be fine. You’re doing a good job.
Every child is different. Every day is new. Don’t worry about it.
Here it is already Friday – last week is over. Put it behind you. Breathe in, now out. Repeat. You’ve got a weekend to plan! Fridays around noon, assuming this server and I ever agree on what timezone we’re working with, you can catch up with your own personal astro-illogical future for the weekend and next week.
Aries (The Ram): Next week, the levee will break. You will have no place to stay. You will be taught to weep and moan. Crying will not help you, and praying will not do you any good. You will have to move. I suggest considering a move to Chicago, or possibly Aberdeen, MD.
Taurus (The Bull): Good job sorting your clothes last week. This week, maybe you can tackle the dishes? Your kitchen is a mess, and your lucky number is zero. Hop to it!
Gemini (The Twins): You will be offered a hamburger on Wednesday. Hit it like the fist of an angry god, then pay for it Thursday.
Cancer (The Crab): She likes you. She doesn’t want to sleep with you. Some people just aren’t going to want to do that, and you need to respect that. I know, you haven’t meet anyone yet who has wanted to do that, but they’re out there… Somewhere…
Leo (The Lion): You’re having a bad hair week. It’s going to get worse before it gets better; don’t worry about it. This is a good week to warm up the bike – helmet hair isn’t an issue today.
Virgo (The Virgin): Like a can of compressed gas, you’re waiting for something to blow. This week all hell will blow up, and you will wait no longer. Sunday, deals await you if you shop. Skip Thursday, it’s loaded with an extra helping of whoop-ass with your name all over it.
Libra (The Scale): You’ve called your congressman twice this year; once more and the FBI will be knocking. You’re going to go downtown this week; don’t make it be the hard way.
Scorpio (The Scorpion): Your suspicious nature causes you to be distrustful, but amidst all your evil character traits, you have grit and backbone. The Wisdom of the Serpent lies concealed within you, along with a lot of pizza and those cookies your roommates didn’t eat fast enough so you ate them yourself. Hey, they didn’t want them, did they? Your lucky numbers are the 18th through the 27th numbers in the Fibonacci sequence.
Sagittarius (The Archer): You are an idealistic flame, waiting to light the fires of those around you. You’re mutable, you’re eclectic, and you’re going to bust a heel this week. Keep a spare pair of shoes in your desk Monday.
Capricorn (The Sea-Goat): That Italian cruise ship sank because of you. Chuck Norris weeps when he thinks about what you could have been. How do you sleep at night? Oh, and your mom will call on Sunday; don’t pick up the phone. You don’t want to know.
Aquarius (The Water Bearer): Just as literature is news that stays news, you are as old now as you have ever been. By Wednesday, you’ll be even older. By this time next week, everything you know will have turned on its head and you’ll wonder why you ever wore your underpants on the inside. Roll with it. Your lucky number is nothing at all.
Pisces (The Fish): You glory and delight in getting others to adore you, and why should you not? You are the Shogun of your office, the Karmic guide of your bus stop. You’re still going to have to clean the bird shit off the window on Tuesday.
I was going to post something pithy about the dangers of the SOPA and PIPA bills and why I set this website dark yesterday in solidarity with the EFF and all like that, but this jumped to mind instead:
Vada a bordo, cazzo!
This is still not a photoblog, and I don’t want it to become one. I’m aggregating a picture a day, mostly of cats and food, on Sunday evenings. It’s only been two weeks and already I have the sense that I should get out more. Last week’s pictures weren’t too huge, and the format was OK if not great, so I’m keeping with that for now. Let me know what you think. Ready for Week Two?
