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Ooh! Latte art.


This is what our yard is looking like these days. Since Poltergeist scarred me for life, I check every so often to make sure no one has uncovered an ancient Indian burial ground.






Wednesday, December 21, 2005

I read a lot of blogs. A lot. Do you have a blog? I'm reading yours right now. In fact, I'm standing outside your bedroom window, wiping at the long, tremulous strand of saliva that hangs from my lower lip. See how it shines in the moonlight? Preeeeeetty.

Anyway! Have you noticed that it's becoming almost impossible to post something on the internet that's not considered controversial? It seems like whatever people are choosing to talk about, there are other people that disagree.

"I have two cats."
"Well! I certainly hope you are using biodegradable cat litter, because it may just be my personal feeling but I am sure you are going to hell otherwise."

I never thought I would have anything remotely contentious to say on my own website - here be the avoidance of religion and politics, yarr - but then I went and spawned forth a child. Here is something I have learned about being a parent thus far, it gives you the opportunity to sing some fabulous songs. For instance:

Did you poop, poop, poop, poop your pants?
Did you poop, poop, poop, poop your pants?
If you're feeling warm and mushy then it's time to check your tushie
'Cause you poop, poop, poop, pooped your pants.

Oh, and also your every decision is open to criticism. Yeah, the songs thing is way more cool.

That sounds overly dramatic, I guess, but I see it over and over again, people lashing out at others over parenting choices. There's a plethora of uncertain subjects at hand, after all; being a parent of a young child means having to make decisions (which may or may not go the way you wanted) about childbirth, breastfeeding, immunizations, daycare, diapers, sleeping arrangements, exposure to television, the list goes on and on. And I can only imagine how much more complicated things get as Riley becomes older - education, nutrition, entertainment. All personal choices, all grey areas.

I think everyone can agree it's generally not a good idea to set children on fire, but just about everything else is up for debate. (Although maybe there's an Immolation Society somewhere that advocates slow-roasting as a discipline method, who knows.) There's diaperless parenting and battery-free parenting and attachment parenting; there's Baby Einstein Fucking Sucks vs. Baby Einstein Fucking Rules. There's no one single 'right' way to raise a child, and that's been kind of a hard road for me to step onto.

I'm not used to making decisions for anyone's life but my own, and I'm realizing how valuable it is to talk about this stuff, how I can broaden my thinking by hearing other people's perspective - and how white-hot furious I get when someone uses their own belief system to pass judgement. Disagree, fine, explain your point of view or your experience, but this "you're wrong for doing X and here's a snotty, cruel comment that says so" shit, I don't understand it at all.

I'm experiencing what feels like a fairly monumental shift in how I interact with the world. I'm viewing things through a different filter, I'm thinking of things as they impact Riley, as he is now and in the future. I am investing more of myself. I have to make choices, I have to be willing to make mistakes. I don't want to be skittish of talking about the issues I'm dealing with, you know?

So damn the controversy. Let's all just be civil, and I'll openly admit I allow my impressionable young baby to watch Deadwood with us. Hey, he's got to learn the word "cocksucker" sometime.


Hydrangea in Coos Bay...


...and blanket fuzz.


Finally, I give you: the wriggly, squirming boy. He's got on jeans! And shoes! Wasn't he a fetus, like, ten seconds ago? SUNRIIISE, SUNSEEET....


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