Where The Children Are

Ann Althouse wonders where the kids are. Makes me think about the book Where The Wild Things Are. Our neighborhood is full of kids, yet good luck finding evidence of them. Where are they?

Swimming--in public pools or in pools in the back yard. Summer camp. There are camps for everything and since playing stick ball with make-shift bases isn't part of the modern world, a child goes to a camp organized by adults, supervised by teenagers and it kills a couple birds with one stone. Children and teenagers, occupied! Wii--We bought one two weeks ago and I've been beaten in baseball, bowling, boxing, and my Mii has been beaten severely in tennis, though I have yet to play. My children have created a Wii community filled with mutant beings. It's great fun to make your dad bald, short, fat, with strange facial hair, a unibrow, pink cheeks, disco shades and eye shadow. Don't forget the moles. Cartoons. Come on! They are a summer staple. Yes, your children sit like mindless blobs of protoplasm absorbing what little mental nutrition can be extracted from these worthless shows. On the plus side, mom blogs in peace! Trampolines--Nothing says summer like working up a sweat engaging in repetititve bouncing activities. It's therapeutic. Down side--intracranial injuries. Eh, our generation rode bikes without helmets and skateboards without elbow pads, they'll be fine.

Kids are doing lots of stuff, just not the stuff that puts them in the public square or their own backyards much. Have you watched the news? No, most bloggers don't watch the news. Do blog readers watch the news? Well, if you watched Greta VanSusteren, last night, you saw children, young women, young men and families who were bludgeoned to death by a rampaging psycho. Oh, and then there were the three or four young women who were raped and killed 1) by relatives 2) while jogging 3) while taking a bath. My husband and I were talking about implanting a GPS device in my daughter. I kid you not. Evidently, we're not the only ones with this train of thought. For now, it looks we'd have to settle for cell phones.

The point is that parents don't feel free to let their kids roam like we did when we were kids. At five or six, we'd walk a couple streets over to play (walking through yards). At eight or nine, we'd be outside for hours until dinner time. I think my mom locked us out. Not now. Parents must observe children non-stop. What if something happened?

It might not be rational. In fact, upon researching it, it looks like it's not rational:

Research has shown that between 40 and 150 incidents of child abduction murder occur each year, which is less than one half of one percent of the murders committed nationally.

[Katherine M. Brown, Robert D. Keppel, Joseph G. Weis, and Marvin E. Skeen. CASE MANAGEMENT for Missing Children Homicide Investigation. Olympia, Washington: Office of the Attorney General, State of Washington, and U.S. Department of Justice's Office of Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Prevention, May 2006, page 1.]

This is small comfort for the parents of those children, but the threat is not as great as the amplified news makes it seem. Yet, it happens. And parents think, how could I live with myself if something happened? Here's more:
The U.S. Department of Justice reports:

797,500 children (younger than 18) were reported missing in a one-year period of time studied resulting in an average of 2,185 children being reported missing each day.
203,900 children were the victims of family abductions.
58,200 children were the victims of non-family abductions.
115 children were the victims of “stereotypical” kidnapping. (These crimes involve someone the child does not know or someone of slight acquaintance, who holds the child overnight, transports the child 50 miles or more, kills the child, demands ransom, or intends to keep the child permanently.
[Andrea J. Sedlak, David Finkelhor, Heather Hammer, and Dana J. Schultz. U.S. Department of Justice. "National Estimates of Missing Children: An Overview" in National Incidence Studies of Missing, Abducted, Runaway, and Thrownaway Children. Washington, DC: Office of Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Prevention, Office of Justice Programs, U.S. Department of Justice, October 2002, page 5.]

Still, most people don't read statistics. They watch the news. And the news freaks parents out. Yes, I think we're in that Twilight Zone episode. A nuclear blast didn't decimate the world. A news blast did.

Cross-posted at Right Wing News

Family Of Austrian Freak Recovers

The daughter who had been put in a coma and was the reason why the secret family was discovered in the first place, emerged from her coma this week. The family adjusts to their new reality which includes gazing at clouds through protective sunglasses--as their eyes and minds become accommodated to the wide world.

Feeling Better, But I Still Hate Ballet

Well, I hope I'm feeling better because the first thing I've eaten after trying to starve the bug for a couple days was half a Fuddrucker's burger and I can tell you here and now that those things aren't for the faint of gut. So, we'll see. There continue to be rumblings down thar like the aftershocks that keep hitting China. So, I'm not completely out of the woods yet.

The kid's performance went well. I'm in a position many parents find themselves in: my kid is good at something I completely sucked at and had no interest in when I was her age. The interest hasn't grown and developed as an adult, I assure you. Other mothers, former ballerinas, living the dream with their kids, sew ribbons, and do all the other motherly things. I mostly watch in amazement and pay people to sew ribbons. Well, actually, I beg pathetically. It's worked every time so far. My kid is almost old enough to do it herself. That will be a load of guilt off.

My mom forced me to take ballet one year because that's what girls do. I wish I could find the picture right now, I'd scan it and show you. But picture this: a circa 10 year old girl taking the first year of ballet which is for little kids with the little kids on the day of her recital where she was shoved into a neon orange leotard with sequins and a short, orange tutu. The look on my face in the picture is pure self-loathing and hatred for the forces of darkness who did this to me.

I hated ballet.

Imagine. Now I have this girly girl who prances around in tutus for fun and loves to dance! loves to dress up! loves to be on stage! And, she's good. Well, at least she looks good to me. Since I have no skillz, I just watch her and marvel--she remembers the steps, she's having fun and she seems extraordinarily coordinated for the girls her age, but I know shit about this. She could actually suck and I wouldn't really know.

Parenting is soooo not about the parents. I know, that's stating the obvious, but dang if the message doesn't come home again and again when the parent is enduring what looks like frolicking, albeit, rather skilled frolicking, set to music. I don't know if my daughter has a future in dance. She might. And she'll probably be given a daughter who wants to play tackle football. That will be about fair.

In the meantime, if anyone asks, I love ballet! Actually, I love my daughter and since she loves ballet, so do I.

A Pox On My House

I don't know what this bug is, but it isn't friendly. I'll be back at this later. Right now, I have to tend to a screaming, feverish, miserable toddler between shivering and running to the bathroom myself.

Yeah, I know, I look back on these times and laugh some day.

We're Being Overrun By Old People

It was bound to happen. The Boomers got old. Please note. I didn't say that they grew up. Now that, I don't think will ever happen. The Boomers got old and they're taking over some places. For example, when I visited Upstate New York this last December, we visited friends who live near Elmira and something strange struck me: there were no young people. Even in the new neighborhoods, only one or two homes had children. The rest of the homes were filled with retirees.

And here's what's happening: Business is dying. Well, it makes sense. The younger population is moving out and moving South for jobs. They're multiplying like field mice on testosterone around here, so don't fret too much. Still, the old people phenomena has disturbing implications for the Northern states. Consider this:

Hospitals are closing obstetrics wards and converting them to acute care. Local governments and other social service providers are adjusting to the emergence of entire neighborhoods where the average age is soaring, and private foundations are awarding scholarships to retain students and attract new ones.

In Pittsburgh, public school enrollment plummeted from about 70,000 two decades ago to about 30,000 and continues shrinking by about 1,000 a year.

More people are dying than being born.

Who will care for the old people? There aren't robots yet. Who will pay taxes? More money will be needed to care for people who can't care for themselves just as business moves out and young people seek work where there are jobs--in tax friendly states like Texas.

I postulated a couple years ago that there's an obvious solution: death with dignity. That's code for assisted suicide. It will be called End of Life Services. I have a great company name already thought up: Death Wishes. Nice ring to it. But seriously, the biggest generation will be relying on the smallest generation in their elder years. Social security won't last.

Eugenics doesn't appeal for moral reasons. The old people will need care, there will be a shortage of workers, pay would normally increase, but old people can't afford the expense and the government will keep wages low. It won't be very appealing to do the work for not much pay.

Any solutions?

Cross-posted at Right Wing News.

Gays Unions, Polygamy, and Marriage, Oh My!--UPDATED

I don't want to do it. I just don't. But I feel compelled, based on Rachel Lucas' provoking prose to do it. Blast that woman and her infernal commitment to casting a spot light on popular culture. So, last week the dumbasses that rule California decided against the people and for the few, the out, the proud and the inclined to marry. It's a clear case of judicial activism, but it's California. No one should be surprised.

Of course, this finding begs the question: Why shouldn't gay people marry? Why can't anyone marry anyone?

First, let's discuss definitions. Semantics--Marriage is, by definition, a union between one man and one woman. Anything else is not marriage. Call it something else, just don't define away marriage.

Second, this discussion is about social sanction not legal remedy. There are legal remedies for people who want to give, share, commit to, or in some way, shape or form, entwine their life with someone else's life. For example, an acquaintance who hated his wife (who hated him) but didn't believe in divorce, gave his true love the Power of Attorney at the end of his life. Well, you don't want someone who hates you deciding when to pull the plug, right? Any person can will anything to anyone for any reason. There are no stoppers there. If you want to mingle your life's possessions with someone else, you are legally free to do it. It's called a contract.

Third, marriage is an ideal. All the clap-trap about same sex partners who love each other being better parents than a father and mother who hate each other is a stupid argument. And a loving father and mother is a better situation for children than loving gay parents--in ideal terms. A child needs both positive male and female role model in their daily lives. And before you start hating on me, there is plenty o' evidence for this. Look at the inner cities where father-involvement and two parent families are scarce. Kids with divorced parents want their parents married. Kids with same sex parents want a "mom" or a "dad"--whichever one they're missing. There are consequences for mucking around with a social arrangement that has worked for thousands of years.

Fourth, polygamy is stupid. By it's very nature, women (and I don't want to hear abut societies where women marry multiple men, let's be real here) are denigrated in polygamous marriage. Go back to the old bible story about Jacob and Leah and Rachel. There will be an alpha female. There just will. The rest of the women are relegated to lesser status. But it's their choice, goes the argument. No it's not. In America, we are all viewed as created equal, therefore we are not going to encourage social relationships built on fundamental inequality. It is wrong. And forget the consenting moronic women who enter these relationships. Kids come from these relationships and they suffer. They don't get a choice about their freak parents. A polygamous relationship is unstable for the kids, it is socially isolating, it is weird. Oh, and lets not even get into the younger, horny guys who can't get a woman because all the old dudes scoop 'em up.

Fifth, marriage the sacrament should be taken out of the government realm. This is where I part ways with many conservatives. What is between a couple and God is between them. A religious ceremony is just that. I think it's a great thing. I'm all for it. I believe that when people marry, they are uniting themselves in ways that are physical, material and spiritual and that no amount of God-avoidance changes that. And that's exactly why many gays want to get married--they want the religious sanction. Their problem is with God and they need to take it up with Him. Find a church that believes the part of the Bible that speaks out against sexual sin is bunk and get unioned there. The same goes for heteros. Marriage as a sacrament is acknowledging God in your marriage. That belongs in a church.

Sixth, marriage is about the children. As a social construct, marriage is meant to protect kids and keep them supported. A man and woman who have sex chance having a child from their union. Birth control does not work 100% of the time. Abortions are the lazy man's answer to unthinking sex. The best environment for a child to be born into is one where there is a committed man and woman. You see, shit happens. Sometimes children have health problems that require one parents 100% devotion. Sometimes one parent gets sick or is otherwise incapacitated. Sometimes a parent loses his or her mind. Sometimes one person loses her job. A two-parent family is a family with back-up. A gay union, in contrast cannot, without going outside the union, create a child. Gay unions are not for the express purpose of having children. They are for the express purpose of displaying commitment to each other. There is a difference. Now, there are childless couples who choose to not have kids. Fine. Marriage is an ideal and not defined by the exceptions.

Seventh, anyone who wants a marriage-like relationship with all the implied benefits should write up a contract. Some (smart) rich people have prenups. Everyone should have them. Explicitly state what your expectations are and put them in writing. Yes, it would be more trouble on the front end, but it would be less on the back end. Too many people head into the biggest decision of their lives without thinking a rational thought. A contract would slow people down. Most people who would never dream of entering a business agreement without a contract, get married without one. The whole, "love, honor, cherish" is rather vague. What does that mean? Because people in committed marriages having children is such a good thing for society, society should encourage these relationships (as it already does, to an extent). Tax breaks, generous whatever the state wants to encourage. Bottom line, make marriage challenging to get into and a sweet deal once it's entered. Societally, we want committed, dedicated, loving, rational people to get married and procreate. That is, we want this if we value the continuation of our species, our society and our culture.

Western Civilization is built on the family, equal rights, and freedom. People are free to enter contracts (not children or animals) with whomever they'd like. People are free to go to the church of their choice and take part of the sacrament of their choice. People are free to get married if they meet the requirements of being a man and a woman of legal age. The problem with Gay "marriage" or polygamous relationships is that neither are a "right", no matter how much the California Supremes want it to be. The will of the people determines what is best for the people. And the people decided against gay marriage. They have thousands of years of evidence and wisdom to back them up--the wisdom that the Constitution itself was written from.

By what authority do the California Supreme Court Justices claim their ruling beyond their own?

Aside: Jeff Goldstein has some of the best views on this topic that have been expressed.

Cross-posted at Right Wing News.

UPDATE: Ann Althouse wonders about Obama: Is he a modern segregationist and support "separate but equal"?

Mother's Day Rocks....and Rolls!

My mom birthed me, therefore I am. Thanks mom!

Wait is it 10:41 CST? Why, yes it is. I rolled my old bones out of bed an hour ago, secure in the knowledge that I got to sleep in today. Sleeping is just better when you know someone else is responsible for the urchins. A breakfast spread (not in bed--that mode of eating is overrated--crumbs, spilled stuff, it's better in theory) sat on the table. My little cherubs were there. The youngest one sans clothes. He's happier that way these days.

I got a present. Try to not be jealous. It's going to be hard because they're so freakin' cool!



The earphones, made by Etymotic Research specially for my iPhone, cancel noise, so I'm not blasting my eardrums now turning the music up so dang loud to cancel external noise. They fit into my wee ear canal comfortably. My Apple earphones hurt my ear and were falling apart after daily use since December. I endured the pain because 1) I'm cheap and 2) my options sucked for so long. The benefits of the old Apple earphones still outweighed the other two choices. With the Apple earphones, you could use the phone and I really, really like the feature of uninterrupted music. That is, I could receive a phone call or make one, and the song I was listening to would fade out and then back in right where it was. The other headphones were either headphones or wireless blue tooth phone, but not both phone and headphones.

Not now. The Etymotic HF2's do everything the old Apple earphones do, they just do it oh so much better. The sound is astonishingly good. Rich and full, nice bass, mid-tones good, treble decent. Sounds a bit tinny right now but I'm listening to an old Roy Orbison recording of You Got It so it might be that. Now, I'm listening to Prince's I Would Die For You. Sounds the same. It's the earphones. But I'm quibbling. They are fantastic.

I accepted one phone call and experimented with going outside. A complaint about the Apple headphones was that the microphone picked up every little sound. Thus, a breezy day negated talking on the phone outdoors with the headphones on a walk say, requiring me to pull them out, hold the headphones in one hand (no clip--the new ones have a clip) and gab on the phone. I know. I suffer. We'll see if it's the same deal with the new ones. I don't know. During my one test run, the caller could hear the birds chirping in the background, so we'll see.

If I was a good mother, I'd be waxing elephant about the inherent joys of motherhood first before telling you yahoos about the rocking headphones. But I never claimed to be a good mother. No award winning, heroic deeds of self-sacrifice (this morning yet, anyway) to distinguish me from any other mother who does her loving duty day in and day out. I just love my kids.

My Little Toot ran up to me, naked of course, jumped into my arms and exclaimed, "I love you Mama!!" Well take my heart out and crush it in your little palm, son. Oof, I just can't even describe the feeling that comes from hearing those words, that way, from that sweet little face. The headphones are choice, but there is no comparison to those pink cheeks, blue marble eyes, and squeaky voice. We moms are complete suckers. It's that skin, the sweetness, the purity that helps us when, five minutes later, he is head butting me because I won't give him his third bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios.

Motherhood is complex, mundane, routine, surprising, demanding, relentless, and really not for the faint of heart. Until a woman is a mother herself, she can't really comprehend her own mother's dedication and love. There aren't words for it really. It begins with the sacrifice of the body. I remember being astonished how consumed I was by being pregnant even when I was too busy to think about it. This little dot of a kid completely changed my biochemistry. My body responded to this alien invasion on autopilot, but my life was no longer just mine. It became this other being's too. And the pregnancy was just the beginning of life giving.

As time goes on, that commitment and choice becomes even more apparent. You don't know what kind of kid you'll get. I expected that I'd have no problems. Of course, when I got pregnant, the notion of a deformed child or some birth defect subtly terrorized me--hung out there as a looming possibility, but I didn't really believe that would happen. And I thought the pregnancy would be fine. But I couldn't know.

Motherhood disabused me of the notion that I had control of my destiny. It was an illusion anyway. I thought I could make life conform to my whims. And to a certain extent, I could, but mostly I possessed the hubris that all young people have. That life will go on forever and that all mistakes can be corrected with work and time. I was wrong.

My body betrayed me. It birthed the babies early and wanted to do the same with each successive pregnancy. We only know a little about why. There is always a why, but there's not always a way to find the why. And then one of my sons died. And the other lived and suffered. And I was helpless to stop it or change anything.

Motherhood revealed the truth: I am limited and am a conduit for life force but do not possess the power of life. That knowledge is self-evident and of course, I knew it intellectually before, but I didn't know it in the way I knew it after the birth of my sons.

I don't want to get all maudlin here, that's not really my point. But I do think that a certain humility and self-awareness comes with parenthood. Suddenly, life gets re-prioritized. And all my fancy ideas and selfishness and self-will and ideas about life got shot through the blender of reality and what's really important. And imagine my surprise! What was really important wasn't me, well not every single second anyway.

Motherhood doesn't automatically make a person a selfless, loving paragon of virtue. It didn't me, that's for sure. It did expand my world beyond my own confined constraints. My heart expanded and I was made vulnerable. A hug from a naked gnome reveals my weakness and newfound strength too. My life is more focused and more full. I am chained and freed at the same time.

The world needs more mothers and fathers. People making choices for the benefit of others over themselves. Japan and Europe die today because their citizens live like today is the last day. And they create a self-fulfilling prophecy. Why care about society lasting beyond this generation? What is worth saving about it?

If you're a mother (or a father), the answer to that question is self-evident.

Oh, and one more thing! I had the earphones in the wrong ears. I switched them. The sound is even better!

Cross-posted at Right Wing News.

Japan Has No Kids

The economy in Japan is imploding. No one is having kids. Remember the other day when I was talking about robots to take care of old people? Well, they are working on that right now.

What occurs to me though, is that you'll still need people to fix the computers. America will at least have a model to follow as the population implosion continues around the globe.

I'm thinking about China, too. They have had their one-child policy in place for a while which is producing extra boys but fewer children in general. So if there are two old people for every child, there aren't as many women, so men are taking care of their aging parents sans wife and thus not producing offspring....... This whole scenario sounds ominous to me both economically and socially. Women are the traditional care takers both of children and parents. What will happen when there are a bunch of sexually frustrated men with no woman and enormous financial burdens?

I've said it before, that the natural solution is war--it solves many purposes. War stimulates the economy (in the short term, long term it's a net loss of resources), it kills young men, it balances out the male-female ratio, it controls a restless population.

On the upside, there won't be evil people around to pollute the planet.

P.U.: I Know, You Want My Life

I smelled it. I just couldn't find it.

Yeah, I know. Nice. So, I look downstairs, room by room. Nothing. The dogs are potty trained, but they are finicky. They don't like rain. And for the last 24 hours non-stop it's been raining. And so they've been limping around the house with legs crossed. I pushed them out the door once or twice and they just looked at me, forlorn, from the porch which just pissed me off. I knew they had to go, and bad, and they refused.

But I couldn't blame them out of hand for the smell, because I have a kid who has decided that "I WANT TO GO POTTY!" Well, we're at the stage where he announces the desire to go to the bathroom and what do you know, he already has. I'm guessing he'll turn around the order by the time he goes to college. After the first couple kids, I just stopped obsessing.

However, he does have episodes. He doesn't like poopy diapers anymore and if he can't find me or just generally gets impatient, surprise! So, was the offending smell a product of the toddler? The thought sent an electric jolt through my limbs. I got a little crazy. This is where hidden cameras would be so embarrassing. Check that. They'd be embarrassing all the time. Quite freaked out, I ran through the house screaming for the kid. Found him. Clothed and clean. Phew. But still P.U.

Screw it.

I had stuff to do and had to leave the house and the nasty stench. But I also had to come back home. It hit me like a frigging shit wall. Gah! I looked around again, but was too damn lazy to make the long walk up the stairs. Eventually, I'd have to go up there. In a fit of denial, I actually thought that the smell was the trash. I took it out. I turned on fans. And I thought to myself, It smells better. That must be it.

Have I mentioned how much I hate bodily excretions? It is a sign of my motherly love that the kids ever get clean pants. Puking, pooping, peeing. Oh my! But that is nothing when compared to my dog excretion aversion. Just do your business outside like every other civilized being, but no, they search for and find hidden corners and leave deposits. And this is when I start hating animal rights people. Animals are so not people. Animals do not deserve special treatment.

Eventually, I found them. Two dogs. Two piles. One big. One small.

You know, the other day, when the angry men from other blogs stopped by, one guy asked what the point of having kids was. Are you freaking kidding me? I'll answer your question with a a question: What is redeeming about owning an animal? You feed, water, house the beasts and then they shit in your house? They don't get a job. They don't do the laundry. They don't take out the trash. Hell, they grab the trash, shred it and spread it around. Insurance doesn't cover them. They eat chocolate, make themselves sick and then you spend thousands trying to fix them. It costs more to get the dog's fucking hair cut (which also happened today) than it does to get mine cut. That just. Ain't. Right.

So, on this boiling backdrop, I find the shit and I want to murder them with my bare hands. Caninicide. The only thing that stopped me is that Wachel Lukis would report me to the animal C.O.P.S. They actually have that show here in Houston. So the dogs live. They sleep at my feet right now, but the love hasn't returned. Oh no. It will, eventually. Maybe tomorrow, the little one will hump the big one's face (don't tell mys sister) and that'll make me laugh. Redemption. Conditional redemption. I'm a fickle god.

Dog shit. Kid shit. A stanky house. It's all glam glam and bon bons here alright. I'm living the glamorous life. I just thought you should know. You're jealous. Admit it.

Do Parents Even Like Their Kids?

According to this childless married man and writer at Reason, Ronald Bailey, the answer is no:

"Economists have modeled the impact of many variables on people's overall happiness and have consistently found that children have only a small impact. A small negative impact," reports Harvard psychologist and happiness researcher Daniel Gilbert. In addition, the more children a person has the less happy they are. According to Gilbert, researchers have found that people derive more satisfaction from eating, exercising, shopping, napping, or watching television than taking care of their kids. "Indeed, looking after the kids appears to be only slightly more pleasant than doing housework," asserts Gilbert in his bestselling, Stumbling on Happiness (2006).

Huh.

How about this theory? When society was agrarian and people needed kids as workers and companions, there was more enjoyment inherent in having children. Now, have a big family doesn't facilitate work, it can inhibit it. So, for parents who are high achievers, having a big family conflicts with the goal of self-actualization. In a sense, parents are forced to serve two masters.

Working takes a parent away from children and that causes guilt. The parents associate guilt with their children which they don't like. They try to devote their free time to their kids. They live polarized lives. But to not work, to stay home and exclusively raise children, can be isolating and unfullfilling especially when a woman has educated herself and imagined a career.

And yet, people have kids. Why? And they claim to love them. And when I look around at the park, I see demonstrations of devotion and happiness and love. One of the best things about having kids is reliving childhood. Getting on the floor and playing with them. Teaching them and watching the light-bulb moments as they learn. Having one climb into your lap and hug you and say, "Kiss, Mama. Kiss!" (That actually happened to me today.)

Children help their parents grow up. Children encourage parents to plan for the future. Parents become more optimistic because they see growth and they desire the future to be better and work to make it so.

Parenting is self-sacrificial, if done even remotely right. And yet, while blissful happiness might not be the result, there does come a satisfaction with serving someone and being a part of something greater than this moment. And as proud as we are at our own accomplishments, nothing, absolutely nothing is more satisfying than seeing our kids succeed.

I'll grant that having children is not all sunshine and daisies. Parents know fear and loss and anxiety like they never experienced as childless people. Parents feel the pull of self-fulfillment verses serving their child's needs. Parents trade some of what life has to offer to give time, money and resources to their children.

This whole discussion seems like a justification for childless couples to explain away their life choices. No one should have kids if they don't want them. But why does it seem necessary to find data to support childlessness or having fewer children? This seems to be straining, given the data used.

H/T Maggie's Farm

Depraved Is The New Normal: Part II--UPDATE

Does anything look strange about this picture? Oh, there's something strange alright. But who are you to judge?

See Part 1 here.

UPDATE: Who are you to trample on the rights of the incestuous?

Stressed Parents Make Kids Sick

We have seen anecdotal evidence of this in our practice. The most unstable parents seem to have the sickest kids. The young son of a divorced friend of mine with a certifiable ex-wife, would come back from his weekends with mother dearest with headaches, stomaches and colds. He would recover over the next week and a half and get sick after being with his mom. It was an obvious cycle everyone was helpless to interrupt.

Now, there is scientific evidence that the phenomena of stressed parents creating sick kids is, in fact, real:

A University of Rochester study, reported by New Scientist, found sickness levels were higher in children of anxious or depressed parents.

It also found links between stress and immune system activity in the children.

A core principle in the some of the alternative therapies that I use is that in infants you treat the mother not the child. And certainly, when the children are getting sick because the parents are nervous wrecks, the solution is to go to the root of the problem--helping the parents learn coping skills.

Unfortunately, many parents are not interested in resolving their own issues when it comes to stress management. They teach their kids by their example in two ways: by externalizing their discomfort and by somatisizing their discomfort, that is by failing to adequately communicate their issues and so have their issues reside in their tissues. This isn't hocus pocus. Children are very good at reflecting and absorbing their surrounding environment. Their most influential environment is the home their parents create.

How To Be A Good Restaurant Patron

A former waitress, now blogger, Cassy Fiano, gives some worthwhile advice about dealing with restaurant service. We've all had atrocious service at a restaurant. I've found that my personal frame of mind matters quite a bit in how I feel about the service. Having kids, we just don't go out much. Our youngest is about a year away from having the patience and attention span to enjoy waiting for food in a nice restaurant. Even still, after a long day, getting ready and going out to eat doesn't appeal much. However, picking up food from take-out always appeals. So, when I do go out with my husband or friends (a rather rare occurrence) there is more pressure to have a nice experience. It's an "experience", it's not just food. Ditto for movies. Nothing irritates me more than a junk movie that I just wasted good time and money seeing.

I don't get out much. I want it to be good when I do get out.

My whole point is that the meal out isn't often just a meal. It has meaning for the people involved. For Cassy, who goes out with her best friends every Monday, the restaurant is the host of a treasured tradition. For another person, who is traveling alone on business, maybe dinner is his only non-pressured, receiving human interaction all day. For the single mother with two kids, this meal might have been saved up for and means no dishes after an exhausting day.

What happens when a patron's tradition or event or interaction or break is met with a tired, upset, miserable, distracted, dull-witted, or apathetic server? Well, these are the times that reveal character. We all know someone who is absolutely embarrassing to take to the restaurant. Never satisfied, they use the opportunity to be an asshole to someone they deem below them. Does something happen when some men hit middle age? A sense of entitlement and general disregard for people translates into harassment at the restaurant. These people are lamentable and deserve copious amounts of saliva in their food.

But there are times when service is bad, and the question is how to deal with it. Cassy discusses some etiquette. Here's a couple rules:

• Be Patient.
• Be Honest.
• Control Your Kids.
• If you're really angry, take it to the manager.

She tells this story about a family with kids:

In one particular instance, a kid saw a server coming towards him while carrying a tray loaded with food. The kid purposely stuck out his ankle and tripped the server. She went sprawling all over the carpet, the food was obviously ruined for some other guest, and broken dishes were everywhere. The parents saw the entire thing, and laughed affectionately: "Oh, he's such a little troublemaker!"

These parents, like the never-satisfied abusive asshole, are expressing their own hostility through their children. I would be happy if a manager booted these people out. However, what they know and the patron knows, is that this "wronged" person will go tell nine people about his bad experience. Oh well, the nine people friends with the jerk, will probably consider the source or are similar to the miscreant and hopefully won't show up either.

Go read the whole thing. She explains the workings of a restaurant. And I would encourage her to do a post on being a good server. Most service I receive is average. Every once in a while, I'm blown away by a sincerely kind, attentive, and helpful server. That person gets a big tip.

Ahhh......

The balmy breeze and the sounds of Jimmy Buffet further calm my margarita soothed nerves. You know the nerves. The ones demyelinated by hot, impatient crowds at a theme park. Yeah, those ones. Took the kiddos swimming where my Little Toot is determined to drown because I. Can. Swim! No. He. Can't, but don't tell him. He actually enjoys swallowing half the pool in a gulp. No fear whatsoever. My older two, nervous nellies both, make up for his verve.

We rode one roller coaster today. I would have liked to take them all in, but I would have been riding alone and that's not much fun for me, or for the people waiting in the baking sun. It was one of those water coasters where you get soaked. It was tall. Dang, going up is scarier than going down. We could see for miles at the top, and then they turn you around backwards to go down a little dip at about 20 miles per hour backwards (this turned out to be the most anxiety-producing part) and then it turns you around to face your impending doom. My daughter and I got seated with another mom and daughter on the front row. What the hell? Four burly dudes sat behind us. It just didn't seem right. She clung to me up the thing, look like a frightened bulge-eyed monkey during the backwards part and screamed full throttle going down. I laughed all the way down the four or five story, maybe more, drop. It's exhilarating. What is it about them? Gets the juices flowing and you just feel more alive. Well, it feels like you just cheated death, albeit in a very controlled way. Still, it's fun and endorphin boosting. Would have liked to do them all, but my pint-sized adventurer had had enough. Next time.

Shamu was doing well, by the way, and told me to tell you all hello. What is Shamu, like 50? The killer whales were big to state the self-evident. They seem like huge St. Bernards. The big tongue and lazy attitude that comes from being the biggest mammal in the room. You know how huge basketball players or football players just seem more relaxed? And why not? They can smash everyone. That knowledge tends to make a dude be laid back. Shamu has the same je ne se quois.

We fed dolphins. They strike me as more like Labrador retrievers. Loyal, sweet, and generally fun to be around. The one we fed, talked to us, because we were a bit slow. Amazing animals. When I get rich and weird (weirder) like Michael Jackson, forget pet monkeys or a herd of llamas, I want a huge pond full of dolphins. They're cool.

Budweiser could have been free flowing all day, but you know, it's just not that appealing when you're already dehydrated to guzzle a brewsky. That, or I'm just getting old. It could be both. It could be neither. Fifty bucks for four little pizzas, a frozen lemonade and four waters. What a rip-off theme park food is. I know, I'm no fun. Do the kids get memorabilia, you ask? No, they do not. No stuffed Shamu. No dolphin clock. No T-shirt. Nothing. They don't even ask. I'm not a big fan of memorabilia. The big cups that won't fit on any shelves. The enormously large Super Grover that I saw someone stuck with after winning it at some game. No, thank you. What are you going to do with that shit two days from now? I generally operate under the belief that kids these days, hell, we adults, have too much shit. No need to buy more of it at astronomical prices.

An aside: If you want to boost your self-esteem, go to a theme park. People are disturbingly overweight. Lots of people. Far too many people. If I believed in government intrusion, I'd suggest a public service that included not renting these people little carts. They need to walk. Society is enabling people by renting them carts. Actual sign in the Shark House: People mobility challenged may not want to enter as the floor is sloped and uneven. Mobility challenged? Is this a new category of people I haven't known about til now? Evidently. And there were many mobility-challenged people. Sigh.

An aside to this aside: I remember 15 years ago, when the scores of handicap parking spots at a grocery store were open. It was just plain irritating to walk (in this case, in the slush, because it was NY or Michigan) from twenty spots back into the store. Now, those spots are all full. Even handicapped people have to circle the lot. Are the Baby Boomers aging that far that fast? Or is everyone disabled? Used to be, people would pridefully avoid the handicapped spots. Not today. Oh no. Today, people scam the system and carry the tags around so they can snag a close spot. So lame.

Speaking of lame, I've been following Obama's Pastor Wright dealido. What a mess. I knew it was going to be. Dick Morris was so wrong when he said that Obama just needed to focus on something else. Um, no, this is a big deal, Dick. When your life-long bud spews black supremist garbage, people will take note. And, say it isn't so, Oprah. She has listened to this guy's bilge for years, too. What is wrong with people? Maybe, it's just nice to get a break from the man after fighting him all week and hearing how bad you've had it and to fight on, soldier. Whatever. It makes me think less of all of them.

Now, the Anchoress makes an interesting point--she says the pastor is not the community. She says that she has stayed through some interesting preachers and she acknowledges that it could be different in Protestant denominations. I would say that it is different, to an extent. Down here, I've had Catholic friends change Catholic churches because the priest in one was too liberal or too whatever. (Speaking of, by the way, the bagpipes are going on the River Walk, it is St. Patty's day weekend after all, and the river is dyed a nice shade of kelly green. Fun!) So, I do think that it is fair to judge a person by the company they keep preacher-wise. When we protestants choose a church, we do choose a community but the community, especially in Congregational Churches (which is like a representative democracy, in a sense, unlike the Catholic church which is more of a benevolent dictatorship) is represented by the preacher. At least, that's my opinion. I have quit churches because the pastor has been a flaming asshole and wouldn't stay no matter how great the community was. The main reason I go to church is to be spiritually fed. That's the sermon. That's the music. That's the doctrinal focus. So, maybe it is different for us, than Catholics.

Here's another thing. While Obama can denounce Dr. Wright and has, there is just something so powerful about the words "God DAMN America". Words have power. They mean something. And while I'll agree that America is sin-sick place, I would rather beg God's infinite mercy than call down damnation. And yes, preachers use hyperbole, but words matter. And those are some terrifying words.

I'm too mellow to be too worried about Reverend Wright right now. Just thought I'd add my two cents.

Remember the Alamo

Just because. Well, because I'm in San Antonio edumacating my home schooled children about hubris whose name is Santa Ana. It's beautiful here. Hot and sunny enough to thoroughly roast ourselves at SeaWorld. Why not? It's spring break and spring break isn't complete without the requisite sunburn. Just remember the Alamo. Never mind.

I'm irritated at the moment because the public access WiFi sucks and I refuse to pay $20 to have DSL. When you pay for a hotel room, internet access should be included. Period. So sayeth Melissa. So let it be written. Because I'm a cheap-ass and I am married to a cheaper ass, I'm sitting on the porch rotating in my chair pointing my computer toward what seems like a better signal. It keeps blanking out on me. Just plain frustrating.

There has been more talk about how home schooled children are weird and dumb. That presupposes that public school educated children are normal and intelligent. I went to public school my whole life and if you did, too, you know darn well that that is hardly the truth. Right now, public school kids are getting  zippo done because it's the last day before spring break. So whatever. There's pros and cons to both. Can't we all just get along?

Wow, some lady is braving the out door pool. What is it about going on vacation that makes a person think that a seventy degree pool here is warmer than a seventy degree pool at home? Interesting phenomena, that. Now some old dude is getting in with no squeal of discontent. Hmmm... maybe it's warmer than I think. He seems comfortable and he has no body fat. Shall we mess up the quiet happy people's day and bring our urchins down? I think we shall. Snort. What is it with people? Were they never children? Did they magically explode into tight-assed adulthood?

Going through the lobby, I received bemused looks as I had the three in tow. There is talk that the world is this child-centric kid love-fest, but I don't see evidence of it. I do see evidence of mirthless scorn. 

Anyway, off to be with the family. Watching the lovebirds in the pool and generally enjoying NOT being at home. Someone is going to make my bed tomorrow!  

Aw, Too Cute YouTube of the Day

My friend's son has learned to walk. He's easin' on down the road. Check it out:

Happiness is Genetic

Yesterday, I texted my friend [Aside: I am uber cool since I got my iPhone--two things now happen: 1) I actually answer my phone where my other phone was such a nuisance and I hated it, I left it everywhere and never answered it and 2) I actually text now because I have a couple friends who text all day--they have thumbs like Ninjas]. Anyyyyyway, I texted a friend, who is, on a bad day, a ray of sunshine. I said this:

"You know, I wonder about you fill-in-the-blank name. Are you capable of depression? Even in your sadness, you're irrepressible! I marvel. There are days when I feel defeated."

You see, my friend is enduring a shit storm of monsoon proportions. The morning can be different than the afternoon, the afternoon different from dinner time, dinner time different than bed time. Sure, she has her moments, but on the whole, she's smiley in her outlook and always has been even when enduring other shit storms of monsoon proportions. She's had her share and I've seen most of them. And I'm always amazed.

Now, one could say that she's in denial. And that could be part of it now. But I've known this woman a long time and she's just cheerful. Later yesterday, she sent me a link to this article and said:

I saw this news article on Yahoo! Health and thought that you might be interested.

Maybe I got the happy gene? :)

I didn't say she wasn't a rotten brat. Just a happy rotten brat who likes to rub it in. New research indicates that maybe her outlook is genetic--that she was born with a happy spirit:

A study of nearly 1,000 pairs of identical and non-identical twins found genes control half the personality traits that make people happy while factors such as relationships, health and careers are responsible for the rest of our well-being.

"We found that around half the differences in happiness were genetic," said Tim Bates, a researcher at the University of Edinburgh who led the study. "It is really quite surprising."

We all know Eeyores and most of them seemed like sad little creatures right from birth. And there are Winnie-the-Poohs, too, who bound through life, no matter the troubles and just can't seem to stay too upset for too long. And then there are whole families who grump through life or smile through it. It makes sense that part of the emotional approach is genetic.

I'm kinda pissed off at my DNA. I come from good, Midwestern farm stock. We might not be shiny, happy people all the time, but we do know how to endure. I'd just like to endure a bit happier.

Thoughts On Marriage

I have nothing insightful to say and this post goes along with my moratorium, since the blog's inception, on the topic generally.

Kim Du Toit, a manly man I've enjoyed linking to over the years (he of gun-loving fame) offers a man's perspective on marriage.

Rachel Lucas offers a woman's perspective on women staying single and loving it.

Marriage is a mystery. All the books, all the advice, all the wisdom of the sages matters little ultimately. All marriages, good and bad, are mysterious entities--truly a new unit unto itself.

As for staying single, there are numerous benefits, if my sister's life is any indication. But if you value companionship, safe sex and comfort, well, sometimes the single life can fall short. But then, so can married life.

H/T Instapundit

Religion in Custody

When the mother was presumed the best place for children, divorce was simpler. It might not have been better. Children often lost the influence of their fathers which created daily tragedies. But it was simpler.

In today's multiculti world, who's to say there's a better way to raise a child? No one. And so, sensing polarized atmosphere, someone who is relatively religiously bland or a secular humanist can paint a spouse as a fanatic cultist to get custody or conversely, the religious parent can push whacked views and expect a judge to be flummoxed about, ironically, passing judgment.

A father can teach his prepubescent daughter about, say, polygamy and who's to condemn him?

Mr. Shepp petitioned for better-defined custody rights for his daughter, but Ms. Roberts objected because he had exposed the child to polygamist Mormon communities. The court upheld Mr. Shepp’s right to teach his daughter about polygamy, saying it could not find evidence that such teaching harmed her physical or mental health.

And why not? Would the judge condemn homosexuality? How about bestiality? How about incest? How about a sado-masochistic lifestyle between consenting adults? How about female circumcision? Especially if any of the above lifestyles wrapped into a religious belief, why would any rational, secular judge prohibit the teaching of it to children?

Conversely, anyone who diligently sticks to religious tenets these days is branded a fundamentalist, an extremist. A conservative Christian is painted with the same brush as a radical Islamist in Rosie O'Donnell's America. So a judge inclined to view all religion as suspect will favor the more secular parent.

In the case cited in the New York Time's article, a fundamentalist family had primary custody taken from them on the basis of their religion. The child in question prefers the strict religious dogma. Her father and maternal grandparents don't. Both sides are at war over the child. The child testified against her father at the last custody hearing.

Barbaric. That's what I call this game playing. Eventually, this girl will grow up. She may still cling to her religious dogma, but she will doubt it, too. Will she feel used as a pawn between two selfish parents, because that is surely what she is. And her religious parent's posturing and insistence on making the other parent into a villain is anything but Christian.

Expect more custody messes over religion. As American society turns into the tossed salad the Leftists love so much, and morals degrade, there are few agreed upon norms. And while individuals flex their muscle, they actually empower the state via family court--a place that is already pregnant with unchecked power.

Who are the winners in this game? Lawyers and the government.

The Right Amount of Inbreeding

New research from Iceland's deCode project reported in the Economist shows that the most children born come from people who are third and fourth cousins. Not too closely related, not too unrelated. So somewhere between birth defects and frigid feminism there's a balance:

The strong relationship between kinship and fertility was so unexpected that the researchers have not yet calculated exactly how much it contributes to the demographic transition. But even from the figures they present, it is clearly an important factor, and one that is likely to apply in other parts of the world where the records needed to prove it are not so good. Even in poor countries, birth rates are now falling fast. An important part of the explanation may simply be the additional choice of mates that development and urbanisation bring with them.

Hmmm..... Kissing cousins is okay, I guess. Just don't kiss too close.