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Monday Procrastination Blogging

It's time to introduce myself. whiskey girl is who I am when the children are asleep, especially when I can get a sitter and play with my band, Whiskey Ina. I feel like I need a more appropriate nym for a parenting blog. So I'm changing it to ina. I had hoped to start my Monday series today, but I am still putting it together. So my official debut will have to wait until next Monday.

Speaking of procrastinating, I just started taking photos today for our family holiday card and searching for a quote. This is what I've got so far...

Peace begins with a smile*

This is our family. Meet the 7yo and the 5yo, two of the greatest people who have ever walked the earth. And as long as I bring snacks and toys, and don't swear too much, they let me walk along with them.

The 7yo made up this song last summer..

Happy New Year!

*according to these here intertubes, the quote is by Mother Teresa

On Visiting

We are home.

Thank fucking christ.

It's something to realize that the glory of your company, the charm of your adorable children, even the gifts you bring, are not enough to offset the noise and mess and annoyance you bring to a place. Even for their grandparents.

We're not unsympathetic, of course. Were it possible for me to send my children home to other parents who would feed bathe and communicate with them for a period of hours, I'd do it in a heartbeat. That's why jeebus invented day care. They're trained to entertain children; I'm trained to teach college. They don't need to grade sentence fragments and thesis statements; I don't need to make homemade play-dough. And when we're on vacation?

Well.... I love my kids.

And I see what people forced to host us do. The children of Liberal Mountain are exuberant, articulate, active and energetic. When they're "on," they're talking pretty much nonstop, and in motion most of that time, leaving a trail of goldfish crumbs, Pokemon cards, and pen on the wall in their wake. (Perhaps, Hansel & Gretel-like, they're thinking ahead.) They're exhausting. Funny, smart, opinionated, agile, confident... but exhausting. In our own house on the mountain, we have various methods by which they can be safely engaged for periods of time sometimes reaching 30 minutes. We've also grown accustomed to a certain level of mess and chaos, and make promises to each other about when we can replace the furniture or paint the walls.

But it does make up more likely to stay home, I admit that.

Ralphing

Today, the boy got his first serious flu. He made it three years without one, so I suppose he was long overdue. He was throwing up continually, not understanding why, upset and it broke my heart. He vomited on top of several blankets, five sets of pajamas, and was screaming his lungs out in between bouts of short naps.

Both grandmothers were consulted with differing advice.One suggested Gatorade and jello, the other Pedialyte and saltine crackers. The boy had an opinion of his own that he wasn't going to eat or drink anything, because it might come back up. He had gone eight hours without drinking anything so we got a fourth opinion.

Mrs. Trifecta's friend's mom is a pediatric nurse. She suggested trying a popsicle first. It did the trick. It was like getting a treat for being a sick, which was very cool. He then decided to drink some gatorade, and pedialyte, and ate crackers and three cups of jello. All our bases were covered.

We have health insurance for him, and were going to take him to the ER if he refused or couldn't hold fluids for twelve hours. It did make me think about the parents without coverage for their kids who are terrified of out of pocket hospital bills for something that might clear up by itself. It is to our nation's shame that we make people choose between health care for their family, and financial ruin.

The boy is now in the tub with extra bubbles and making a ginormous mess. I can breathe again.

Allow myself to introduce ... myself

Hello, I'm Troy McClure. You may know me from such films as ...

Oh, wait, sorry. Wrong introduction.

[shuffles papers]

Hello. I'm Sinfonian. You may know me from such blogs as Blast Off!, Pax Americana, and the Florida Progressive Coalition Blog. I'm here as the token divorced father with a different perspective on parenting. See, NYMary and Thers have the 137 kids and 137 snowsuits (imagine getting that family out the door in the morning!), trifecta has the happy home and precious baby and toddler, whiskey girl gives you the mommy side of things, and QL provides the sage wisdom of having been there and done that.

So, basically, I'm the biggest loser in this bunch. And I'll wear that mantle proudly.

My kids, known in the blogosphere as Jr., age 8, and Jrette., age 2, are amazing and gorgeous and brilliant and fortunately get all of that from Mommy's side of the family. They are thriving and very comfortable with the arrangements, which means going to Daddy's house every other weekend. Mommy and Daddy live about two hours apart on the east coast of Florida, and we get along very well. If there's one thing I've learned from this experience, it's that you have to behave in a way that is best for the kids at all times. Visitation, child care decisions, getting along with each other, all the things that go into parenting can still be handled and handled well by divorced parents.

But it's not all bluebirds and flowers. There are many frustrations about being a divorced father, too. For example, we have to applaud and praise Jrette. ceaselessly for going potty "like a big girl." When I go potty, sometimes I even go potty "like a big girl" and no one congratulates me. Where is the fairness in that? Incidentally, she throws like a girl, too, but that's for a different post ...

Anyway, I'm only here for the snacks, so you'll find me in the break room ... I'm genuinely pleased to be part of this blog. Enjoy.

Christmas Babyblogging

A tea party amidst the chaos.





Happy holiday, folks!

On Gifts

Christmas is often one of the flashpoints of liberal parenting. We don't want our kids to think in mercenary terms about gifts and family, but we want them to be properly impressed and distracted so we can sneak upstairs and have "quality time." It's a tough balance to strike.

I don't generally set dollar amounts, but I do try to get each kid one main present and whatever accoutrement it needs to be entertaining, at least for a while. So the boy has a Nintendo DS, which came from eBay with a game and two movies, and we purchased the one other game we knew he really, really wanted. Some family board games and DVD's, and a "Family Time Capsule" I found at Sal's Boutique (but unused and still in the box) complete his gift. Thers bought some sports stuff and art supplies as stocking stuffers, as he always does, but really, that's it.

The teen is mostly DVDs and videogames, but her big present is an incubator, a hangover from last year's unfortunate duck adventure. She wants ducks, and I want chickens, so by next summer we should be poultry farmers.

Rosie's gift is a baby doll with clothes, a bed, bottles, and a tea set (unrelated). She talks about baby dolls nonstop, so we know this will be a winner. SP, who's really too young to be acquisitive, is getting some balls and Fisher Price people and little cars. But I feel guilty, a bit, because these are all small things. It's like I'm punishing him for being good-tempered and sweet.

Thers conveniently told me exactly what he wants: mostly DVDs, so it's easy, and they're really family presents. But I know I bum him out, because he often has no idea what to get me. (See Judd Apatow and Leslie Mann have the same fight here.)

Amd I so hard to buy for? I dunno. I don't think I can be, really, because he usually ends up with something spectacular at the last moment: an ipod one year, a really beautiful desk organizer another, a coffee table I was coveting another still. So he does know me, but he never really gets around to shopping until, well, today, and that bothers me. My guess is that he will leave me at my family Christmas and wander out to find something wonderful, but I'll be cranky because he left me with my crazy family.

My brothers and I had a family meeting yesterday at which we agreed that this was going to be the last present-exchanging Christmas. I was suprised at how sad it left me, not because I want the stuff, but because the gift exchange is the one time of year when we look at each other, talk to our sibling's spouses, and say "who ARE you?" which, after all, is what the whole "what do you want for Christmas?" question is really about. Now, with my family party transitioning to a purely social event, we won't ever ask that question. And that bums me out.

So this is a dilemma, no? At what level is the whole secular Christmas gift thing symbolic of something else? But if I see the exchange as one of the last links holding my family together, how am I supposed to communicate to my kids that the "stuff" doesn't matter?

A Festivus Miracle

The 8 month old decided today that scootching back on his head, and rolling around the living room carpet was not the most ideal mode of locomotion. He has made half hearted efforts to crawl before, today he is a baby of independence. I am both proud and freaked naturally. It was easier to contain the toddler when he was our only child. We just gated him after making sure the area was baby-proofed.

Four dogs and a three year old who considers a baby gate an affront to his manhood will make this a bit more difficult. Hot wheels cars with tiny tires that break off often are choking hazards that we need to manage with eagle eyes.

We likely are not having more children, so this is also a passing of a moment we will not experience again other than as grandparents. Watching the baby chase his brother down the hallway was absolutely delightful, until he misjudged the turn and banged his head into the wall.

But still, it is quite the Festivus miracle.

The Sound Of Silence

The soothing lack of noise from my angels as they sleep peacefully is something I aspire to each night. There is an evil doppleganger to those tranquil bouts of silence. During the day, I fear it when there is no noise. This when stuffing the toilets with paper, scribbling on the walls, and letting the dogs eat breakfast occurs.

I doubt it's documented in developmentary psychology books like the sucking and grasping reflex, but silence during bouts of naughtiness seem ingrained. Worse is when they silently close the door. This is how I discovered my toddler yesterday jumping up and down in the baby's crib, holding my poor aged cat who was holding on for dear life.

Other than putting a bell around your kid's neck, what methods do you use to catch the sneaker in the act before a plumber needs to become involved?

On Lying

Deck the Halls with boughs of holly. Tis the season to lie, hide, obfuscate and tap dance in front of the children like you're Dana Perino discussing waterboarding with the Helen Thomas.

Yes, I'm talking about Santa.

Here on Liberal Mountain, we have kids of all ages, from the teen who insists on helping *be* Santa (17), to the baby who doesn't notice (SP, 21 months), to the true believer (Rosie, at 3), to the boy, 8, who informed me very seriously that he's taking Pascal's wager to the North Pole: "Some of my friends say there's no Santa, but I believe in him, because if I didn't, who would bring me presents?" Sensible chap, that.

But it raises the question: I always try to tell my kids the truth (they find out anyway), yet this is a lie I willingly ask them to believe. Why? Don't I want credit for being the coolest, most thoughtful mom? (The boy's big gift this year: a Nintendo DS.) Don't I want them to understand that when finances are constrained, we need to be careful? Well, sure. But I find myself buying into the lie, invested in it in ways I would not have thought possible.

What about you? How does Santa fare at your place?

A Pledge

My child will not say the "Pledge of Allegiance" until he knows what the words pledge, allegiance, flag, united states of america, republic, liberty, nation, under god, indivisible, liberty and justice mean. If he decides that he favors a parliamentary system over small r republicanism, he may want to refrain from saying it.

Socialist Minister Francis Bellamy might be amazed at how his plea for national reconciliation in 1892 has been turned into an indoctrination experiment by the more reactionary forces in our society. When you become a citizen, or join the military, you are required to take a pledge... once and you are an adult. If a child shows up to school almost every day for twelve years, they will have had two thousand "opportunities" to recite a loyalty oath. Overkill?

Forget the "Under God" controversy and intellectually picture what it means to have six year olds declaring that they don't believe in the rights of states to divide from the union; the nation is indivisible after all.

History and civics lessons are often jingoistic. Thankfully, most of these lessons are taught but once. Perhaps insisting that your child be taught what words means before they are told to give a loyalty oath would be a move in a progressive direction.

Why We Write

At the risk of sounding like Matlock's grandpa Andy Rooney, did you ever wonder why conservatives seem to have the corner on parenting advice? If it's not James Dobson telling you to whip your meat out and spank your kid with it, it's Britney Spears's mother bragging on her good Christian err, fertile, pro-life girls. Why do these people have a corner on parenting advice? They're clearly repressed and psychotic and raising a generation of immoral, wingnut children.

Liberals have children, too. And we try to raise them with good sense, intelligence, tolerance, kindness, and humor. We don't beat our kids, and we don't think threats of hell are particularly helpful. We're not always perfect, but we love our kids and try to raise them to be solid, responsible citizens.

When our kids come to us with questions about sex, we answer them. When they come to us with questions about politics, we answer them. We encourage them to think critically about media and marketing, and don't really think that Just say No is much of a strategy in any area of life. Our goal is raising thinking adults, not automatons.

Let's see how we do.

Erasing The Past

Yesterday, "the boy" was jealous of the attention his baby brother was receiving. He grabbed a crayon, and marked a few concentric circles on 17 different or bright purple crayon across the walls. After the initial burst of anger, I was a bit proud of the effort, determination, and thoroughness that he employed.

NY Mary claims her offspring have topped 17 walls, so my pride was somewhat shaken, and it was time to clean off the walls.

Magic Eraser (I own no stock in the company) works like a charm. You soak it in a bit of water, wring it out, and each of the crayon marks came up in about 5 seconds with little effort. Parenting isn't that simple.


My goal in parenting liberally is to focus on the now and not the past. The boy was punished for his transgression. Once the punishment was over, the event was "erased" and we enjoyed the rest of the evening together. We worked a puzzle, watched a movie, and read a book.


Fairness and compassion are best taught by example rather than dictum. Being a tired and cranky parent of young children can test the best of intentions. Our kids aren't perfect, and neither are we. Making the effort is really half the battle. As we forgive our children for being less than perfect, in the end they will do the same.

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