Guest Blogs

The news of certain harsh school tardiness prevention methods in Loudoun County last week hit a nerve. Hundreds responded to The Post’s stories about the school system’s use of the court system to deal with parents who are chronically late dropping off their kids.

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Beta Dad takes the next step in the war against children

From elsewhere in The Post: At what age is a student too young to face suspension?

“Some researchers and critics question whether children in the early grades should ever be suspended. The goal should be teaching appropriate behavior, they say, not sending students home,” writes Post staff writer Donna St. George in an article on the frequency and merits of suspending children.

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Wow, and I guess at some point you have to recognize the reality that, as businesses parenting blogs have more in common with hair salons than Facebook. And that for every Vidal Sassoon [Dooce] and Supercuts [Babble] there will be a million and ten Krazy Kuts and That'll 'Dos.

On the bright side, if you're having trouble coming up with a punny name for your new parentblog, you can pick through the 1,199 unused names generated by the Huffington Post's 450 savviest commenters in their Rename Motherlode Parentlode So The Times'll Stop Suing Us! Contest.

Also, they went with Parentry. Like falconry, I guess?

Bye Bye, "Parentlode"! Announcing My To-Be-Named-By-You Blog Contest [huffpo via the awl]

greg

So, Neomom took off yesterday. Five days in Dauphin for some training course thingy.
But she left us a little gift on the way out: a lovely head cold . . . for all of us to share. 
So far, I'm the only one enjoying the free-flowing phlegm, plugged ears, desire to sleep for 10 years and dead taste buds. And I'm hoping it stays that way. Not the disease, the fact that I'm the only one with it.
Last night I fed the boys leftover spaghetti, made with my hydroponic basil and oregano!! I wanted to make myself a nice cucumber, tomato, red onion salad with more of my basil. But I would have had to empty the dishwasher, and cut stuff up, and pour stuff in. Too much work for something I wouldn't taste anyway. Maybe today if all goes well. 
I do love this salad. I throw in a little olive oil and rice wine vinegar, salt, pepper . . . good to go. Delicious! When you can taste it.
Anyhoo, not motivated much this morning. To write, or to do much beyond fall on the couch. So I'm gonna keep it short. Must stock up on hot dogs and Kraft Dinner. Boys won't eat much beyond that anyway. Maybe some bananas and apples, for the vitamins. And maybe some chicken wings. The boys don't like them, but when you've got a head cold, there's nothing like hot sauce to clear things up.
Have a great Monday. 

I try, but sometimes, some things really can't wait until the DT Friday Freakout.

Like this study showing that acetaminophen causes asthma.

And that kids with asthma or at risk for it are recommended not to take it. It's apparently such a big deal, it already has its own association.

Carry on!

Evidence mounts linking acetaminophen and asthma [nyt]
The Association of Acetaminophen and Asthma Prevalence and Severity [aappublications.org]

greg

The terrible revelations that have been spilling out of a Charlottesville courtroom about the troubled and violent relationship between two University of Virginia undergrads is a wretched backdrop to what’s been deemed Teen Dating Violence Prevention and Awareness Month.

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For my notebook today, I decided to make a video. I did this for many reasons, not the least of which was time, but also because I wanted you to hear my thanks for all that you do, dear reader, directly from me.

It’s both remarkable and inspiring what you guys do, even the trolls. Writing a comment doesn’t just happen. Sharing our stuff on Facebook isn’t by accident. So, please… know that it keeps us going to hear from you when we’ve had 30 hours of sleep between the two of us for over a week.

Feeling like someone is listening is one of the most profound feelings a writer/artist/creative can have.

OUR LINKS – PICK YOUR POISON
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I don’t want this to come off like a humblebrag, but inevitably someone will accuse us of it. We’re busy. We’re more alive than we’ve ever been and probably tireder than ever before (with the exception of the birth of our respective sons).

So, all this is meant to say that we’re working hard to try new things and bring you more fun stuff to interact with…

But we want to hear what you think and where you’d like to see this train go. Write a comment below and tell us. We mean it.

Happy Pig Day! by Mo Willems

Review by Chris Singer

About the author (from Amazon.com):

A three-time Caldecott Honor winner for Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus!, Knuffle Bunny: A Cautionary Tale, and Knuffle Bunny Too: A Case of Mistaken Identity, Mo Willems has also won two Geisel Medals for There is a Bird on Your Head! and Are You Ready to Play Outside? and his books are perennial New York Times bestsellers. Before he turned to children’s books, Mo was a writer and animator on Sesame Street, where he won six Emmy Awards. Mo lives with his family in Massachusetts.

About the book (from Amazon.com):

Gerald is careful. Piggie is not.
Piggie cannot help smiling. Gerald can.
Gerald worries so that Piggie does not have to.Gerald and Piggie are best friends. In Happy Pig Day! Piggie celebrates her favorite day of the year! But will Gerald the Elephant be included in the festivities?

My take on the book:

For my daughter and I, every time we read a Gerald and Piggie book, it’s like celebrating Happy Pig Day! As usual the inside book cover also had my daughter howling, “Look, the Pigeon!”

This latest Gerald and Piggie book is another instant classic that has had my daughter walking around and exclaiming “Happy Pig Day!”

It’s not only a fun story, but it also is a nice little lesson about friendship and being included in others’ holiday celebrations. While it doesn’t provide the laughs like some of Mo’s others, the added touch of the friendship lesson is nice and gives an extra dimension to this story.

Here’s some other reviews of Mo Willems’ books. Enjoy!…

* iPad Kids App Review: Don’t Let the Pigeon Run This App!

* Book Review: Should I Share My Ice Cream

* Book Review: I Broke My Trunk

* Book Review: The Pigeon Wants A Puppy

* Book Review: We Are In A Book!

* Book Review: Leonardo the Terrible Monster

 

OH MAN, AM I GOING ABOUT THIS ALL WRONG?

I mean, Friday morning, literally within minutes of finding a great-looking 2006 Scion xB, practically unused-- a parking garage find, if you will--DT reader and senior wagon correspondent jjdaddy-o sends me this craigslist ad from Menlo Park.

I rubbed my eyes in disbelief. I checked the Greek MOPAR chorus at bringatrailer.com to see if it was real. But it hadn't even turned up there yet.

I tried to figure out how I might go about changing my life, and my family's life, in order to be worthy of this car.

And then finally, it did show up on BaT, and it was not just me. 98 comments of such universal awesomeness and praise, I've never seen such a response.

A 1964 Chrysler New Yorker wagon, 109,000 documented miles, being sold by the original owner, who has kept it in utterly amazing original condition, from the unibody construction as solid as a battleship, to the carpets clean enough to eat off of. [OK, that might be a little gross, but still.] Pillarless window, third row seat, icy A/C, that headliner! That roofrack! Just incredible from stem to stern. And asking only $25,000. Those nameplates alone are worth that much.

I have decided that the absence of seat belts is going to be my feeble rationale for not buying it. What your excuse is, I really have no idea.

One owner 1964 Chrysler Wagon, $25,000 [sfbay.craigslist.org via dt wagon tormentor in chief, jjdaddy-o]
1-owner survivor: 1964 Chrysler New Yorker wagon [bringatrailer.com]

greg

You know, the older I get, the less amused I am by the whole celebrity thing. Especially at times like this.
Whitney Houston died. Hmm. Speculation as to why runs rampant . . . well, not really. Everything I've read seems to indicate that everyone writing about it has already seen an autopsy report. Pretty sure they haven't.
You know, I don't wanna piss on her grave. Why would I? I didn't know her. No idea who she really was. I liked a couple of her songs in the 80s. Enjoyed the movie The Bodyguard. Beyond that, she means nothing to me. I won't miss her, I'm not feeling any personal loss here.
But as I read around the blogosphere, I am amazed at how many people seem to think Houston was their best friend. Tributes to her amazing voice and talent and how a light has gone out, a candle has been extinguished. Blah, blah, blah.
Yeah, she had a nice voice, as do thousands, probably millions of unknown people in North America and around the world. But she had something they didn't. Celebrity. And, I'm sorry, in this day and age, celebrity does not necessarily mean that you've got more talent than the other thousand that didn't get the publicity.
Celebrity means you look good, or can be made to look good. Celebrity means you've got a PR machine working full time for you, to keep you in the public eye, to trumpet your success, your brilliance, your white teeth, your spectacular (and well paid for) fashion sense. Celebrity means, at its peak, the PR machine works to bury any negative, to retouch the photos, to burn the arrest report - unless of course the arrest report can work in your favour.
But celebrity is a cruel bitch. When your star starts to fade a little, the same mechanism that had you walking on water will do it's best to drown you in the same pool. The photos may still be retouched, but now they show you without makeup, at the bar a little bleary-eyed, wearing a few extra (normal) pounds and wearing an off-the-rack sweatsuit. (Gasp!)
And this crap is about as real as the original complimentary crap. Believe it or not, it's the same person.
But it's all headed downhill now. And, try as you might to stay with the in crowd, it just ain't happening. You just end up looking pathetic on Celebrity Apprentice with the other C-listers, desperately trying to hold on to an ounce of notability. 
The smarter ones, it seems, go underground for a while. Get out of the public eye. Head to rehab (the one without cameras).
And then, when you're all but forgotten, you go for the comeback. Maybe you can land a spot as a judge on one of those star-maker television shows. And here, you can help find the innocent, starry-eyed folks who are talented enough and, more importantly, good looking enough, to warrant a ride on the celebrity train. You can feed the grist mill that chewed you up and spit you out. You can get them started on their over-inflated egos, train them to believe the press releases and get them into the best restaurants and clubs. Cause that's where all the quality people are!
The circle of celebrity life.
Well, look at me. I'm doing the same thing as those other bloggers. Blathering on about something that I, honestly, know nothing about. I've never been a celebrity, never been anywhere near Hollywood. (New Orleans is about as close as I've been). And no one has EVER asked ME who I'm wearing.
But I guess I've watched the news, watched the movies, listened to the music and hey, as a stay-at-home Dad, I've read the headlines and seen the pictures at the grocery store check-out. In my more than 40 years on the planet, I've seen many come and go. Most fade away, and a few die by misadventure. The misadventure, it seems, gets the big headlines, warranted or not.
Whitney Houston is dead. Life goes on. And, give it a minute or two, a fresh new face will be on the scene with a voice like an angel, perfect teeth, perfect clothes, a perfect life. And then, give it a minute or two . . . 

And the winner of the Best Belching Scene EVER in an Animated Children's Movie is . . . envelope please . . . Jimmy Neutron, Boy Genius. ( APPLAUSE  APPLAUSE ).
Watched this little gem last night with the boys on Netflix. Sonwun, the elder, loved it from end to end. Sontoo, the younger, found it briefly "boyring" (still having a little trouble with the Rs) in the middle but found new interest toward the ending. 
If you've got kids in the 4-6 age group, I recommend this one. Without being a spoiler, it's about boy genius Jimmy Neutron, who sends a message into space. Evil aliens get said message, kidnap all the parents and it's up to Neutron and his friends to track them down, all while discovering and conquering their insecurities and relationship issues. But it's cute and the message is well disguised.
And the tacked-on belching scene, at the end, when Jimmy's parents accidentally consume his burp-guaranteed soda invention, had my minions in stitches.
So, Happy Weekend. Seems like a pretty good Saturday already.
Went to make Neomom's lunch this morning. Grabbed my home-made bread and went for my Henckel bread knife. You know where it was?? Middle slot, on the left, in the top block. EXACTLY where it was supposed to be. You know it's gonna be a good day when . . .
Discovered something strange though. Didn't know this about myself. But I'm pretty sure I've been making sandwiches the same way for about 40 years. 
See, after I laid out the bread, butt-end to butt-end, as is my way, I buttered the piece on the right side. But it occurred to me that I was making a ham sandwich and the mayo was supposed to go on the right. Butter on the left. No problem, said I, I'll just do it backwards. Honestly, my hands got confused. They were just not accustomed to doing it this way and they, all by themselves, started rotating the cutting board in an attempt to make things right in the universe once again.
But I wouldn't let them. I was becoming aware of the situation and I wanted to make the sandwich backwards. No, I don't know why. I just did. 
This really isn't going anywhere, I just found it weird. In the end I made the sandwich backwards, just to prove I could. I must remember to ask Neomom if it tasted any different.
Anyhoo, I have a lot of plans for this day and should really get started. The boys are getting pancakes for breakfast. As I type this, Sonwun is standing beside me reading along. He just realized he's getting pancakes for breakfast and he's pretty excited about it. So I'd better get started.
Have a great day!

The boy and I visit Lucasfilm Headquarters, and make some Star Wars magic.

It's not enough to win. You gotta hammer it home with a little trash talk.
So sayeth Sontoo.
Had a lot of work to do Thursday; shopping, bread making, room painting. And Neomom had some painting of her own to do. And, after Sonwun's departure for school, that left Sontoo to fend for himself. To his credit, he spent some time with conventional toys in the morning, before succumbing to Mario's beckoning from the Wii.
The game du jour is MarioParty 8 - a recent acquisition. I like it. It's simple enough that Sontoo can play, it's interesting enough to keep Sonwun entertained and you can play one through four players at a time. Nice.
But as with everything in an almost-four-year-old's life, he offers a running commentary as he plays. If no one is in the room, he'll find you to report on his progress. Or he'll just yell loud enough that everyone in the house can hear.
"Daaaadaaa . . . It's mini game time!"
"Daaaadaaa . . . that plant is bad, because that plant ate me!"
"Daaaadaaa, I'm mad at Peach, cause she won this battle!"
"I'm zappin' Peach. (Maniacal laughter) That was funny!"
"Daaadaa . . . Boo and Yoshi are getting chased away by Big King Boo!"
I guess you have to have played some of the Mario games to appreciate the names.
In any case, Sontoo, who uses the Luigi character whenever he plays, seems to have decided that Boo is his nemesis on this particular day. He is upset when Boo wins and overjoyed when he defeats him.
"Too bad Boo-Boo Head!"
Yeah, the trash talk needs a little work.

Jenna Gabert's story about losing their baby just shy of 24 weeks into her first pregnancy is pretty straightforward and really well done. Also, very sad.

One of those things no one talks about [thehairpin]

greg

I don't know about you, but for me, this week's roundup of headlines from the worlds of science, health, and parenting is a Super Double Big Gulp of freakout. I'd drown my freakout in Diet Coke, but, well:

• Diet sodas cause heart attacks. [livescience]


• Spoonfeeding your kid causes obesity. [npr.org]


• America's plague of half-day kindergarten will hasten Idiocracy. [childrensdefense.org via thrive by five/workingdad]


• Officially, it IS babysitting when dad takes care of the kid. [census.gov (pdf) via nyt, thnx dt senior sitter jjdaddy-o]


• 31,000 Bumbleride strollers have been recalled for cracking front wheels. [cpsc]


• Get your jimmy hats, because there were like a million birth control pills recalled last week for having the packs out of sequence. Akrimax? Lo/Ovral-28? Not our department, but just ask her to check. Otherwise, welcome to the blog for new dads. [fda.gov]


• "Charlie Bit My Finger" is on the front page of the NYTimes right now, which, after 417 million YouTube views, is entirely beside any point. [nyt]


• "Their dentist recently revealed that an acquaintance had named his son Charlie, as an homage."

greg

From elsewhere in The Post: A 12-year-old girl has taken a relaxed approach to showering. It’s not a daily activity for her, and she’s also not a fan of taking care of her hair. She hardly washes it and winces when someone else brushes it. Her stepparent turns to advice columnist Marguerite Kelly for help.

Read full article >>

The art of French parenting has taken on a new and unexpected twist, or tryst.

Pamela Druckerman, the writer who set off parenting debates this week with her essay in the Wall Street Journal, “Why French Parents Are Superior,” (which was an excerpt of her newly published, “Bringing Up Bébé: One American Mother Discovers the Wisdom of French Parenting,” Penguin) has just involuntarily launched another discussion.

Read full article >>

Valentine’s Day can be tough to pull off for any couple. But when you have kids? Yikesberries. So, let us help you put the spice back in your romance with 3 easy tips. We call it SPICEMANCE.

Ladies, this one’s for you, because frankly, you are in the driver’s seat. Guys, share with it your gals or just laugh until you hurt something.

Could I look any more like a weird sex guru person? Nope.

We originally titled this video “Foreplay for Moms” but then hastily realized we get might get a very different crowd to our site. HA! Who are we kidding?! We’re not above that. Bring ‘em on.

This is our first official video, and there are plans for almost 100 more over the next year.

But we need your help. Please post this to your Facebooks and Tweetsausages. Subscribe to our channel. Like the video. We’ll only be able to keep this going if we get the impression you guys want it around.

So, welcome to HowToBeADad.com, Version 2.0.

Have a romantic weekend of semi-epic proportions.

Much love,

Charlie

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