Ella got 2 pets last week: Todd and Chellsey (her spelling). Hermit crabs. Yup, the first pet buy. We caved. The pet store has a 2 week guarantee on these little creatures' lives, but I'm hoping we'll outlast it. Ella's been entrusted with feeding, dechlorinating the water and spraying these little creatures to keep them alive. Five days, and so far so good.
Wish us luck.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Swimsuit Issue
 |
| Irina Shayk on the offending SI cover. |
Got my Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue last week. Of course, on the cover was a buxom brunette giving a look that would stop traffic. Not really what I'd consider appropriate material for my nearly-5-year-old, but she got to it first. She thought it was Tanya's (all you women's rights activists out there, please notice how many "women's" magazines have women in bikinis on the cover, just like my magazine which some consider soft porn) and insisted on looking at it. It became a lesson for both of us: me figuring out how much shelter I can give my impressionable young daughter when it comes to sexism and the issue of exploitation of women, and her learning about the unrealistic expectations for women in society today.
In any case, it prompted my Wee Wisdom column, which I'll post below. Got some interesting responses from women who thought my parenting skills leave something to be desired when it comes to teaching my daughters.
Everyone's an expert.
Model behavior is sometimes unrealistic
Sophia and I picked up the mail Tuesday and my Sports Illustrated had arrived. The annual swimsuit edition.
"Look, Dad," my 4-year-old said, "Mom's magazine is here."
"No, that's mine," I said, already starting to feel anxious.
Sophia laughed. "Then why does it have a girl on the front?"
Uh-oh.
My curious child insisted on looking at my magazine before I could. She flipped through the entire issue silently, apparently unaffected by anything she saw. I was prepared to answer all possible questions. Why, then, did I feel so guilty? Should I have brazenly stolen the magazine back from my child's hands so she wouldn't be corrupted?
I wouldn't choose to have my children peruse pictures of unrealistically built women wearing unreasonably scant swimsuits on a regular basis. Some of the featured bathing suits are little more than leftover fabric, and I'm still searching for the connection with sports. But Sophia got to it first, and I wasn't about to rip it from her hands just because I could. Remember, this magazine sits clearly visible on newsstands everywhere. Too late for shelter.
I waited for Sophia to ask something about the suggestive poses or the size (or lack thereof) of some of the bathing suits. Instead, she got excited about an advertisement for DirecTV, where two women in bikinis were holding remote controls.
"Dad," she said. "Look at this. That girl has the same remote as us."
I breathed a little easier, but my tension remained.
Sensationalistic and fear-based media have helped create a reactionary society, especially in matters concerning sexuality and body image. But as a parent, I've learned that being impetuous does not contribute to problem-solving. So I planned on turning this into a learning experience.
Once Ella got home from school, my wife, Tanya, and I made a point to explain to our daughters that the models in the magazine were people first and should not be judged on their appearance but their personalities. Their job was to sell bathing suits because they were pretty, but they had the same problems as everyone else. I patted myself on the back, but I still couldn't completely shake the discomfort.
I didn't know if my emotional state was born out of my own tendency toward guilt or genuine concern for my child's emotional health. On one hand, I was confident that 10 minutes of looking at photos of bikini-clad women on a beach would not affect my child more negatively than the typical beer commercial. On the other, I don't want my kids to become desensitized to our culture's penchant for over-sexualization. It's a tough call, for sure.
Later that night, I asked Sophia to point out her favorite picture. With a laugh, she turned to the back cover, another ad: a round chocolate candy wearing high heels and dangling a green M&M bathing suit in her hand.
My anxiety had finally disappeared.
"Look, Dad," my 4-year-old said, "Mom's magazine is here."
"No, that's mine," I said, already starting to feel anxious.
Sophia laughed. "Then why does it have a girl on the front?"
Uh-oh.
My curious child insisted on looking at my magazine before I could. She flipped through the entire issue silently, apparently unaffected by anything she saw. I was prepared to answer all possible questions. Why, then, did I feel so guilty? Should I have brazenly stolen the magazine back from my child's hands so she wouldn't be corrupted?
I wouldn't choose to have my children peruse pictures of unrealistically built women wearing unreasonably scant swimsuits on a regular basis. Some of the featured bathing suits are little more than leftover fabric, and I'm still searching for the connection with sports. But Sophia got to it first, and I wasn't about to rip it from her hands just because I could. Remember, this magazine sits clearly visible on newsstands everywhere. Too late for shelter.
I waited for Sophia to ask something about the suggestive poses or the size (or lack thereof) of some of the bathing suits. Instead, she got excited about an advertisement for DirecTV, where two women in bikinis were holding remote controls.
"Dad," she said. "Look at this. That girl has the same remote as us."
I breathed a little easier, but my tension remained.
Sensationalistic and fear-based media have helped create a reactionary society, especially in matters concerning sexuality and body image. But as a parent, I've learned that being impetuous does not contribute to problem-solving. So I planned on turning this into a learning experience.
Once Ella got home from school, my wife, Tanya, and I made a point to explain to our daughters that the models in the magazine were people first and should not be judged on their appearance but their personalities. Their job was to sell bathing suits because they were pretty, but they had the same problems as everyone else. I patted myself on the back, but I still couldn't completely shake the discomfort.
I didn't know if my emotional state was born out of my own tendency toward guilt or genuine concern for my child's emotional health. On one hand, I was confident that 10 minutes of looking at photos of bikini-clad women on a beach would not affect my child more negatively than the typical beer commercial. On the other, I don't want my kids to become desensitized to our culture's penchant for over-sexualization. It's a tough call, for sure.
Later that night, I asked Sophia to point out her favorite picture. With a laugh, she turned to the back cover, another ad: a round chocolate candy wearing high heels and dangling a green M&M bathing suit in her hand.
My anxiety had finally disappeared.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Childhood Obesity
If a child is obese, it's the parent's fault. Period.
Parents are responsible for what their young children eat most of the time. Breakfast, dinner, sack lunches, snacks, vacations...like it or not, we are in charge.
I found a great website that informs and educates on nutrition and general health. (Full disclosure: my sister is a contributor. But it's still great). www.donediet.org. Check it out.
Here's this week's column.
Poor Nutrition is Scary Stuff, Even for Kids
Parents are responsible for what their young children eat most of the time. Breakfast, dinner, sack lunches, snacks, vacations...like it or not, we are in charge.
I found a great website that informs and educates on nutrition and general health. (Full disclosure: my sister is a contributor. But it's still great). www.donediet.org. Check it out.
Here's this week's column.
Poor Nutrition is Scary Stuff, Even for Kids
Ella, my second-grader, has been learning about nutrition at school. She likes to make her own meals so we’ve been reading ingredients and nutrition facts on food labels. Anything high in sugar and fat, we’ve concluded, should generally be avoided.
Last week over breakfast, Sophia, my 4-year-old, said, “Some people eat sugar all the time for all their meals.”
“Do you know what happens to them?” I asked.
Ella responded, “They die.”
It’s no mystery that if one maintains unhealthy dietary habits, they will most likely die sooner than someone who makes healthier choices. We often use fear as a tactic to dissuade our children from trying drugs. But is it alarmist to compare cocaine and Coke, meth with M&M’s?
Food is a unique beast. We need it on a regular basis to sustain us, and our choices are endless. The variety of options in our prosperous nation leaves the uneducated and the unmotivated at a disadvantage.
According to the CDC, obesity in kids ages 6-11 in 2008 was nearly 20 percent, up from 6.5 percent from 1980. For adolescents (12-19 years old) it increased from 5 to 18 percent. In a population-based sample of 5- to 17-year-olds, 70 percent of obese youth had at least one risk factor for cardiovascular disease. Something must be done.
Since the best way to cure a disease is to prevent it, education is key. Part of that is understanding what happens to your body if you choose to eat junk food and watch TV all day.
Obesity greatly increases the risk of developing type II diabetes, heart disease, hypertension and some forms of cancer. Add to that a high rate of depression, lethargy and joint pains and suddenly preventing this condition warrants more than suggestions.
According to the website www.donediet.org, the most important things our kids can do are: never skip breakfast, limit sodas and juices and partake in regular physical activity. Its advice on junk food? As little as possible.
A little junk food every now and then won’t kill us, and it probably won’t upend our metabolism. But consistent overeating and inactivity can have gradual but serious health effects that often are ignored. It’s an addiction like any other. Addictions by definition are difficult to conquer.
The fear of obesity should be real for children. They need to know their choices now will impact their health in the future. Junk food is not heroin or painkillers, and its effects may not be as shocking. Over the long run, though, it can kill. We’d be doing our children a disservice if we didn’t educate them on this fact.
While the margin for error is greater with food than with drugs, the parallel is there. Fear may not always be the best motivation for children, but when it comes to their health, a small scare won’t kill them.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Not Excuse Me
Originally published in the Coloradoan on September 27, 2009
"No more candy," I said. In the gym locker room after a swim, Sophia pursed her lips and glared at her evil Daddy. Then with uncanny comic timing she, uh, passed gas. With her eyes barely visible under the shadow of furrowed eyebrows, she said in her best angry voice: "NOT excuse me!"
"You're not, not excused," I responded and got dressed.
I was proud. Sophia had articulated an honest refrain in a world rife with euphemisms.
In the name of shameless self-preservation, we adults consistently display unsavory behaviors like passive-aggression ("I'm fine") or unreasonable retorts ("It's all your fault anyway"). I often have trouble conveying genuine emotions, even to people I love and trust, for fear of feeling guilty.
While adults are jaded by experience and often depend on others to boost their self-esteem, 3-year-olds have egos the size of swimming pools and don't care about what others think. All people and events revolve around them, and as such, they make their feelings quite clear. Nothing is more important than what they feel now.
Says Dr. Angele Fauchier, a child psychologist at the University of New Hampshire, "Three-year-olds can't manipulate emotions because they don't understand what others do and do not know, and therefore can't adjust their statements to deceive others."
If only grown-ups were so transparent.
I tried to retract my developing smile quickly enough that Sophia wouldn't see my reaction. But the laughter that had been waiting inside my belly, compressed by a fatherly instinct to not embarrass my child, escaped. I looked around the locker room. No one else had witnessed my daughter's moment of honest indignation. I was forced to savor the moment alone.
Her chin lifted slightly as she too allowed herself to enjoy the levity, until she realized that she needed to feign anger just a little longer. "I'm see-wee-us," she said.
"You were so mad at me, you farted," I said in mock surprise and pinched my nose. "Pee-yew!"
She laughed and I had my window. "No sweets before dinner. That's our rule," I said.
Sophia was angry at my decision. And after I made light of a common bodily function, she forgot her frustration and heeded the rules. Our duel was over, never to be spoken of again.
Ask any parent and they'll tell you that petulance is not a favorite emotion, but is at least rooted in honesty. When Ella, my 6-year-old, or Sophia tell me I'm not their friend, I know where I stand. The tantrums and ear-shattering screams are, of not pleasant, genuine. I can deal with the noise because it's always short lived. I don't worry about my daughters holding a grudge or telling my peers to ignore me or...
As you can see, I already fear pre-adolescence.
I learned a lesson from my preschooler, who goes about her life with a clarity I envy. The next time I'm tempted to take shelter behind my pride and manipulate others with emotional trickery, I'll first consider not excusing myself.
"No more candy," I said. In the gym locker room after a swim, Sophia pursed her lips and glared at her evil Daddy. Then with uncanny comic timing she, uh, passed gas. With her eyes barely visible under the shadow of furrowed eyebrows, she said in her best angry voice: "NOT excuse me!"
"You're not, not excused," I responded and got dressed.
I was proud. Sophia had articulated an honest refrain in a world rife with euphemisms.
In the name of shameless self-preservation, we adults consistently display unsavory behaviors like passive-aggression ("I'm fine") or unreasonable retorts ("It's all your fault anyway"). I often have trouble conveying genuine emotions, even to people I love and trust, for fear of feeling guilty.
While adults are jaded by experience and often depend on others to boost their self-esteem, 3-year-olds have egos the size of swimming pools and don't care about what others think. All people and events revolve around them, and as such, they make their feelings quite clear. Nothing is more important than what they feel now.
Says Dr. Angele Fauchier, a child psychologist at the University of New Hampshire, "Three-year-olds can't manipulate emotions because they don't understand what others do and do not know, and therefore can't adjust their statements to deceive others."
If only grown-ups were so transparent.
I tried to retract my developing smile quickly enough that Sophia wouldn't see my reaction. But the laughter that had been waiting inside my belly, compressed by a fatherly instinct to not embarrass my child, escaped. I looked around the locker room. No one else had witnessed my daughter's moment of honest indignation. I was forced to savor the moment alone.
Her chin lifted slightly as she too allowed herself to enjoy the levity, until she realized that she needed to feign anger just a little longer. "I'm see-wee-us," she said.
"You were so mad at me, you farted," I said in mock surprise and pinched my nose. "Pee-yew!"
She laughed and I had my window. "No sweets before dinner. That's our rule," I said.
Sophia was angry at my decision. And after I made light of a common bodily function, she forgot her frustration and heeded the rules. Our duel was over, never to be spoken of again.
Ask any parent and they'll tell you that petulance is not a favorite emotion, but is at least rooted in honesty. When Ella, my 6-year-old, or Sophia tell me I'm not their friend, I know where I stand. The tantrums and ear-shattering screams are, of not pleasant, genuine. I can deal with the noise because it's always short lived. I don't worry about my daughters holding a grudge or telling my peers to ignore me or...
As you can see, I already fear pre-adolescence.
I learned a lesson from my preschooler, who goes about her life with a clarity I envy. The next time I'm tempted to take shelter behind my pride and manipulate others with emotional trickery, I'll first consider not excusing myself.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Guys Flight Out
Don't take your kids to Vegas. I'm begging you.
On monday two buddies and I took our second annual 24-hour trip to the World Capital of Waste and Excess. We gambled and drank and basically insulted each other for about a day, came back to our pedestrian lives with lighter pockets and hilarious memories. No one ended up in jail, or stuck on the roof of Caesar's or with a balance of less than $100 in a retirement account. In other words, we're Sin City lightweights.
As with any tourist destination, crowds are inevitable. Thousands of people, all shapes and sizes and colors populate the streets and casinos, restaurants and bars. Good for the economy, I get it. But I was aghast at how many children I saw walking up and down Las Vegas Boulevard and around hotel lobbies. This is America, you say, and you have a right to take your kids anywhere you want, right?
I totally agree, if you don't mind your 4-year-old (or worse: pre-teens) exposed to driving billboards with pictures of 90% naked women advertising "Hot Babes Direct to You." Or those annoying street guys snapping cards with pictures and phone numbers of escorts who are just dying to meet you. Or people sauntering up and down the sidewalks uttering the F-word every 5 seconds. (Oh wait a minute, that might have been us. My bad.)
The only way it would be at all appropriate to take your kids to Vegas would be to immediately get a cab from the airport to a hotel off the strip and stay there without ever leaving the room, unless its to go the pool, and even that's not a good idea. In Vegas a woman's bathing suit is likely to contain less material than a hair tie. (Free advice: stay far, far away from the Hard Rock Hotel. Trust me.) Get a 3-bedroom suite at the Westin. Eat only via room service. Have them wear their iPods non-stop. Go on a Monday and Tuesday in November. No shows, no gambling, no restaurants, no walking outdoors, no TV, no reading pamphlets.
Or save for a year, leave the kids at home, and relive the good old days.
On monday two buddies and I took our second annual 24-hour trip to the World Capital of Waste and Excess. We gambled and drank and basically insulted each other for about a day, came back to our pedestrian lives with lighter pockets and hilarious memories. No one ended up in jail, or stuck on the roof of Caesar's or with a balance of less than $100 in a retirement account. In other words, we're Sin City lightweights.
As with any tourist destination, crowds are inevitable. Thousands of people, all shapes and sizes and colors populate the streets and casinos, restaurants and bars. Good for the economy, I get it. But I was aghast at how many children I saw walking up and down Las Vegas Boulevard and around hotel lobbies. This is America, you say, and you have a right to take your kids anywhere you want, right?
I totally agree, if you don't mind your 4-year-old (or worse: pre-teens) exposed to driving billboards with pictures of 90% naked women advertising "Hot Babes Direct to You." Or those annoying street guys snapping cards with pictures and phone numbers of escorts who are just dying to meet you. Or people sauntering up and down the sidewalks uttering the F-word every 5 seconds. (Oh wait a minute, that might have been us. My bad.)
The only way it would be at all appropriate to take your kids to Vegas would be to immediately get a cab from the airport to a hotel off the strip and stay there without ever leaving the room, unless its to go the pool, and even that's not a good idea. In Vegas a woman's bathing suit is likely to contain less material than a hair tie. (Free advice: stay far, far away from the Hard Rock Hotel. Trust me.) Get a 3-bedroom suite at the Westin. Eat only via room service. Have them wear their iPods non-stop. Go on a Monday and Tuesday in November. No shows, no gambling, no restaurants, no walking outdoors, no TV, no reading pamphlets.
Or save for a year, leave the kids at home, and relive the good old days.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Privacy
Published January 23, 2011 in the Coloradoan. Got some hate mail for this one.
Ella got a Taylor Swift CD for Christmas. Tanya immediately made a copy in preparation for the usual property destruction that occurs with our kids. Last week, after I inserted the copy into the car CD player, Ella asked where I got it.
“Mom must have burned it from your original.” I thought my answer was innocuous.
“You mean mom took my CD without asking me?”
“Yeeeaaaah,” I said, drawing out my answer long enough to think of a way to cover for my well-intentioned wife. “I guess she figured you wouldn’t mind.”
Parents of young children are responsible for ensuring kids’ safety and supervising their choices. As such, we need freedom to see things like what websites they’re visiting and what (or whom) is hiding in their room. But every human, regardless of age, should have the same rights as everyone else. Where, then, do we draw the line between parental authority and respecting the privacy of minors?
It’s illegal and unethical to open someone else’s mail, enter someone’s house without an invitation, or search someone’s hard drive without consent. However, if I suspected my 7-year-old, or for that matter, my 4-year-old, was involved with guns or drugs or other unsafe endeavors, I would not hesitate to invade their privacy. It’s my parental responsibility. Right?
Maybe not. I’ll bet you didn’t know that according to article 16 in the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child, “no child shall be subjected to arbitrary or unlawful interference with his or her privacy, family, home or correspondence.”
Brigham Young University law professor Richard Wilkins warns that Article 16 “has the potential to place the basic ability to discipline and monitor children...into serious doubt.” Indeed, most of us would agree to circumvent this provision if our child was in danger. I dug deeper and, thankfully, found that Article 5 of the same document recognizes the “protection and care as necessary for (a child’s) well-being, taking into account the rights and duties of his or her parents.” At least as far as the UN is concerned, parents can still be parents. But the nuances of the UN document make clear the parent’s conundrum when it comes to privacy for minors. The line between respect and cluelessness can be dangerously thin.
Tanya and I may be legally allowed to enter Ella’s room for the vague purposes of protecting her and promoting her well-being, but borrowing her things doesn’t fit into that category. Though it might sound like a minor issue now, adolescence is around the corner, and teenagers are notorious for clandestine activity. We want her to trust us when the stakes are higher.
Ella wasn’t too upset but she did clarify her stance. “It’s okay that mom borrowed my CD. But she should have asked.”
Agreed. Rules apply not only to those who are required to follow them, but to those who make them as well.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
The Sticker Board
Since the first few days of instituting the Sticker Board, Ella and Sophia have responded resoundingly to colored, star-shaped stickers and the promise of prizes. They pick their colors at the outset, and as you can see, they don't get stickers every day; only when they behave consistently well. That includes doing what they are asked to do (without a dozen reminders or whining about it), volunteering for chores, and being thoughtful and considerate of others, to name a few. Once they receive 10 stickers, they get to pick their own prize. At 20, they get to pick an even bigger one, a prize that cements my theory that females are born with one unassailable trait: a need to shop.
They get to pick out a pair of new shoes.
Tanya did a lot of research on the subject of positive reinforcement and found that having children pick their own punishments and rewards leads to better compliance. And the girls have really responded so I'm on board.
I might ask Tanya if I, too, can get prizes for good behavior. And I get to pick my own prize.
I assure you, it won't involve shopping.
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