Love ruining your day with tits!

I laughed. I tapped my foot. I may have had the unbridled urge to whip my tits out (but I politely kept them to myself -- sorry, y'all).

And I blame this song.


Thanks, Sparrow-Folk!

A discussion on creationism versus evolution and its impact on the world of science (and on young questioners)

My husband the scientist is the perfect balance to my... well, not-science. He’s articulate and intelligent, can debate the merits of space travel, and holds fervent views on the study of science in public schools (while planning to teach Tycho why the sky is really blue before the poor babe has the chance to understand). His background, career, and views on life are all thanks to the impact science has had on him.

And, despite my scientific knowledge being but a fraction of his, both of us are concerned with how young people are being taught science nowadays.

We’re not talking just about safety in classrooms, class time limitations, or even how standardized testing is pushing science out the door in favor of math and English, though those are all valid issues and concerns surrounding science in public schools. What we’re more concerned with are the dealings of controversial topics, and one is at the forefront of our minds, especially since we won’t be raising Tycho to hold any esteem in it.

I’m talking about creationism.


A Gallup poll on evolution in mid-2012 noted: 46% of respondents are creationists (“God created human beings pretty much in their present form at one time within the last ten thousand years or so”), 32% believe in “theistic evolution” (“Human beings have developed over millions of years from less advanced forms of life, but God guided this process”), and only 15% said humans evolved with God playing no part in the process.

It’s true that Americans are rather infamous for being ignorant on so many things, but we’re still here, we’re still managing. So why does it matter that almost half the country rejects the overwhelming evidence of evolution, corralling instead for evidence out of a not-comparatively-ancient text?

Because the belief in creationism expresses an inability to think critically. Creationists assert that teaching “both sides” of a scientific controversy (an imaginary one, at that) would benefit students by training them in critical thinking. What I see, though, is heavy-handed reliance on a book written by men with no scientific background and on preachers with degrees not in scientific fields but in religion, and assertions that “it’s in the Bible” as if that was a definitive, not debatable, statement of truth.

Pseudoscience at its best (worst...?).

The debate between Nye and Ham above (viewable for, I imagine, a limited time) highlights this. As Bill Nye said in the video above, “I challenge the young people here to investigate [the question of consciousness from matter or origins before the Big Bang Theory]”, noting that some things in the world are mysteries and that there is so much yet to discover about the universe, the world, and us.

Ken Ham, on the other hand, spouts that “I just want to say that there is a book out there that does document [where consciousness came from or where matter came from]”. His assertion, based on pseudoscience of Biblical proportions (see what I did there?), is that God created everything, that God is the answer to everything, and you would know all this if you read the damn book.

Well, can I just say... bullshit.

Absolute bullshit.

There is no critical thinking at all behind the assertion that the answers can be found in a book, especially one written by infallible humans with no scientific backgrounds to speak of. There is no wondering whether it could be wrong, no investigation into the truth of that, no trials or experiments or even questions about how to test the “theories” in the Bible.

WHAT...?!

If you couldn’t tell already, I’m a diehard anti-creationist, and it angers me that there is a push to have the senseless, inane “theory” of creationism taught in our schools, that there is a large group of supposedly educated individuals (including college graduates!) who believe in such crap. I agree with Nye when he states that the Bible should be doomed to the dustbin of history in favor of the modern religion of reason, science, and “discovery”.

For if we continue along this path? A path which eschews reason in the name of religion and “faith”?

Then I fear for the future of science, of ingenuity, of progress. I fear that there will be no scientists of our future, no questioning of the world around us and how it works, no discovery of those things that are truly a mystery and that can possibly be explained not by a religious conviction, but sound scientific method.

It may be true that you can’t convince someone with a closed mind to examine other options or listen to reason. But while my son’s mind, and the minds of several thousand students, is malleable and in the hands of those who dedicate their lives to educate, I’ll be damned if I ever allow such garbage as creationism be taught as “fact”.

And I’ll encourage him to always, without fail, question everything around him.

Yes, even us at times. Even if I live to regret it. ;)

I Chose to Go Back

I learned how to do laundry when I was pretty young. I wasn’t too interested in that or other chores at the time; instead, I was much more intent on playing Doctor, researching diseases thoroughly beforehand and turning a playdate into an episode of House. I mean, what other six-year-old regularly diagnoses her friends with brain cancer or polio or arrhythmia (and forces them to have the symptoms of those diseases). But I still did my laundry, albeit begrudgingly, thinking all the while that I was destined for better.

My mom was a SAHM, and a damn good one, I might add. I saw firsthand how hard she worked: My sister and I are 11 months apart, and when we were able to give her hell (read: When we were born), we made it our life mission to do just that. She cooked, cleaned, kept us kids in line, added a third baby to the mix seven years after my sister, and was sure to greet my dad when he came in from a day of work.

But I never saw myself doing the same.

Instead, I was the mom who counted down the days until her maternity leave was over, who checked her work emails on her iPhone while putting her baby down for a nap. I was raised by a SAHM, and after I got a taste of it during leave, I knew it was a job for which I was not cut out.

I was told that it would be hard. Perhaps one of the hardest things in my entire life. But despite knowing that I wasn’t made to be a SAHM, I still didn’t anticipate just how difficult going back to work would really be. When I went to drop him off at daycare for the first time, maternity leave suddenly felt like forever that passed in the blink of an eye.

Did I miss being at home? Absolutely! There’s a small part of me that nags almost daily about how I should be at home, raising my son and keeping house while my husband goes off to work (hello, 1950s mindset, where did you come from?). We’ve even discussed the possibility of me staying home after Tycho and a possible second baby went off to elementary school and we didn’t need to pay for daycare, a conversation that went like this:

Matt: *looks with disdain around the house* “I’m starting to see the merits of a stay-at-home wife.”

Me: *snorts* “Yeah, if I didn’t have any kids to wrangle.”

(I saw my mom’s life. That shit was HARD, yo, keeping house while two tyrants chased after you, destroying any progress you might have made.)

But for now, I’m completely content being a working mama, and I know that my son is well cared for, too, which certainly helps. Like every other aspect of parenting, there’s no right way to approach the question of whether a mom should stay home or head back to work; me working just happens to be best for our family (and my sanity – to enjoy that one cup of coffee on my own, no distractions? Heaven!). Ultimately, it makes me a better mom.

We all make sacrifices regardless of the path we choose, and sometimes it’s about the sacrifices we’re willing (or need) to make. I’m fortunate that I have the ability to return to work, both financially and emotionally, and I’m equally as fortunate to know that, if I ever wanted to become a SAHM, we could make that happen, too.

Are or were you a SAHM? WOHM? What sacrifices did you make to make that happen?

Life Beyond Mama

Over six months ago, I gave up my baby boy during the day to a daycare just around the corner from work, so I could return to my life as a career woman. Career mama, now. How strange.

While Tycho had no anxiety over what was going on, I was wracked with fear: Fear of the unknown, of these caretakers who were going to enjoy my son for the day, that he would do nothing but cry all day.

In the end, I was the one doing the crying, right outside his door after I gave him a final kiss goodbye. I was sure not to be in front of the door’s window so Tycho would be shielded from my tears, but just about everyone else knew I was dropping off for the first time. They knew those tears, they had once lived those tears.

When I got to work, awesome attorney-boss asked how I was managing. I honestly said that I missed him, but it felt good to be back (seriously, it did). But I left out the part when I cried in the car, and on the phone with my husband, and maybe a couple times in the bathroom while at work. I figured he was there twice already, so he knew and expected that drill. I didn’t need to rehash it.

Daycare made his first day a breeze. I received texts and photos throughout the day, little updates that assured me that he was fine. Happy, even. It helped the almost uncontrollable need to bolt out the door and run in to daycare.

It sucked, but it got better. A lot better.

I thought about Tycho all day, then as the weeks went by, I found myself more and more engrossed in my work and checking the cameras less and less. While many were happy to see me get my independence back and learn to separate myself from my son, which we both needed (after all, I see the merits of getting him socialized and used to other trustworthy adults), I was more surprised with myself for refusing to give in to that need to be with him.

Eventually, I came to the point where I was happy to drop him off, eager to see his face break out into a huge smile as his favorite daycare provider, Ms. Heidi, takes him from my arms and playfully asks, “You wanna go play, Twouble?” He’d squeal a bit, start gabbing away, and as he was put down, start to explore his surroundings and play with toys that have become familiar over the months. I’m proud to say that he’s eager to go, too.

But today starts the process all over again. Complete with tears brimming over my eyelashes.

This morning, as I went to take off my shoes before walking into the Infant 1 room, I noticed that his cubbyhole was already taken over with some other baby’s diapers, wipes, and food for the day. His name? Replaced. His picture? Sat on the counter across the room. Ms. Heidi broke the news as soon as I walked in: “He’s not even on my roster anymore!”

Today, Tycho graduates to the Infant 2 room.

I know the ladies in that room. They’re right next door, and at the end of the day when the kids start to disperse with their parents, they often come to Infant 1 with the remaining kids and hang out until they’ve all left. They’re wonderful providers, and I know he’ll be just as cared for and loved as he was in Infant 1.

So why do I keep asking these questions...
Will they know his eating patterns?
Will he sleep okay?
How will he get along with the other kids?
What if he misses Ms. Heidi?
What if he misses me? All over again?

But I know. I just know. His smile won’t disappear, his sense of adventure will not abate. He’ll army-crawl with confidence around his new space and will blossom among kids who are months older than him. Shit, maybe he’ll even start walking soon with all that encouragement! I just had to build that same confidence, as I go through yet another hurdle and realize yet again that he’s not only happy, he’s thriving.

Self-reflection has been a big theme since becoming a mother, more so than I could ever have imagined. I often ask myself why this and other parts are so difficult, what I could have done to make it better. And he’s not even ten months old yet! There are still so many years ahead of me where I can ask myself, “How can I make this the best situation for him... and myself?” Just the thought that this is the beginning is a bit daunting.

I’ve realized that this is not only about Tycho’s personal growth, but about how I respond to it and turn each of these experiences into a learning one. While there are millions of ways to raise a child, there are just as many millions of ways to raise a mother, and as I teach him more about independence, respect, kindness, confidence, intelligence, and other facts of life, I know I must learn the same.

What a challenge to ask of us as parents! No matter how old our children are when they go to daycare or to school, we’re asked to go beyond ourselves so they may learn to find themselves. They have to learn about their own independence and sense of self, which can only be when we learn to let go.

As Tycho enters Infant 2 today, I’m finding it hard to realize that my little boy is growing up, moving on, and thriving all the time.

He’ll be fine. Great, even.

And so will I.

First haircut!

I know, I know. I was just waxing poetic the other day about how my beautiful son has the most gorgeous locks of soft, wavy brown hair and dreading the day when he hit a year old and we'd have to cut it. Like, literally wanting to sob just by thinking about it!

Then we went to lunch yesterday, and I spent about a third of it cutting and corralling his food together, another third distracting him while Matt ate the rest of his lunch, and the last third... brushing his long locks out of his eyes.

SIGH.

Okay, okay. So I may have let it go on too long. But could you blame me?! I absolutely loved to tousle his hair while playing on the floor, loved how much the suds caught in each strand as I worked in his shampoo, loved how his hair could tuck behind his ear as I swept it off his face as he nursed. LOVED it all.

But even I admitted that day: It was getting too long. It had to come off.

Perhaps fatefully, right next door was a Snip-Its, a kids salon with its very own First Haircut package. I told Matt before we walked in, I don't care how much they charge, we're getting it!

Matt asked the front desk if they ever had a 9-month-old with that much hair, and she said never. EVER. In her entire time there, and she had been there for a while. So... yeah, maybe we slacked a bit. But could you blame me?

Tycho did a fantastic job sitting in that chair, though. I might have shed a tear, but he didn't spare a single one, just sat back and let the stylist do her work. And I must say, he looks dashing! Such a big boy. <3

We got a picture, lock of hair, and certificate for getting through his first haircut. We have enough locks of hair for ourselves and each of the grandparents... plus a ton left over, ha! THAT is how much hair that child had.

LOL, this shirt.

A baby by any other name... (or, how not to name your kid)

It took me and Matt almost six long, difficult months to find the perfect name for our soon-to-be baby boy. We decided to go with our interests: I was busy looking up the names of famous musicians and writers (and a few Greek and Roman gods), and Matt was hard at work looking up scientists and astronomers. Several almost made the cut, including Orion and Triton, but we finally settled on the one name that felt right:

Tycho David.

The name was inspired by Tycho Brahe (born Tyge Ottesen Brahe), a Danish nobleman and one of the last major naked-eye astronomer from the early 16th century, who combined the Copernican and Ptolemaic systems to develop what he referred to as the Tychonic system. While it was ultimately wrong, it did prove a very influential planetary movement system in the late 16th and 17th centuries, falling out of use in the early 18th century when it was discovered that Earth in fact did move around the Sun. Tycho worked incredibly closely with Johannes Kepler, who later used Tycho's astronomical data to develop his three laws of planetary motion.

Oh. The guy also lost part of his nose in a sword duel and replaced it with a mold made of silver and gold or one of copper or brass, owned one percent of the entire wealth of Denmark at one point, never got married but had eight children (six of whom lived into adulthood), had a pet elk, and died of a burst bladder from the inability to pee after holding in his urine too long at a banquet in Prague. Seriously.

All in all, a pretty cool (if quirky) dude, and we're stoked to have such an influential person as Tycho's namesake.

Sure, it's a rather unusual name for an American kid, but at least it's a common one in its home country of Denmark. And in that country, you only have a short list of names to choose from! No kidding, the list is actually maintained by the Names Investigation Department and the Ministry of Ecclesiastical Affairs. They're not screwing around.

We ultimately chose a name with an interesting history and out of both Matt's and my love for all things space-related, and we've been fortunate that most people who hear his name absolutely love it. If anything, it's easily shortened to "Ty", so it's not like we left him without options.

Too bad there's no NID&MEA here, though, because some of the names that American couples are coming up with are just... ridiculous. Intentional misspellings, needless apostrophes, and double- or even triple-vowel names are more popular than ever, leading to a baby-naming crisis that's taking the country by storm. So here it is...

How NOT to Name Your Kid

Don't create a new spelling for an otherwise normal name. Let's face it, people are already shitty spellers, so it's likely that some of these names are a result of ignorance than willful disregard for their children. But for the most part, parents deliberately mutilate an otherwise normal name because their precious snowflake is... ahem, Younique compared to her peers. You know who ends up taking the fall for that one? Your kids! They're the ones who ultimately have to spend their lives correcting people who insist that Elizabeth is not, in fact, Elizzabeath.

Oh, and no nonsensical punctuation in a name, either ("It's not Scott, it's Scot't! GOD. Everyone misses that apostrophe!").

Don't come up with creative ways to pronounce an otherwise normal name. This is just as stupid as the first "don't", with the added bonus of no one ever being able to pronounce your kid's name. Ever. It hearkens back to a story about Le-ah (remember what I just said about punctuation?!), whose name wasn't pronounced "Leah" or even "Lee", but "Le dash ah." Because, you know... that dash is there for a reason.

Don't come up with "creative" names at all! What the hell is up with names like Abcde (pronounced "Absidee", DUH) or other names that are created out of thin air? It's like these people pour out a can of alphabet soup, vigorously stir the letters around, and choose a name based on what's left over after they eat half the bowl.

Think real hard about whether that "cool" name you thought up really is cool. When I was a kid, I really wanted twin girls, and since I was into music, I thought it'd be cool to name them Melody and Harmony. Okay, so the first name might fly, but to my almost-30-year-old self, doing such a thing really does seem dickish and, honestly, not all that cool anymore. Those names were chosen more for novelty than anything else, and I would now hate to saddle any future children with anything even remotely close to that.

You want to name your kid something like Tycho? You'd better have a good story behind it. This is why we ended up choosing Tycho, because we had an interesting story and a rather kooky dude to back it up. But if you're naming your kid Cecylothy* because you had grandparents named Cecylia and Dorothy? Sure, that's sweet and all, but I'm not sure if that would pass muster for a "good" story. Or a good name.

*Full disclosure: My grandparents really are Cecylia (paternal g-ma) and Dorothy (maternal g-ma). ;)

Watch the weird letters. And double letters. This applies to letters like x, z, and k, goes for the superfluous use of the letter y, too. Between names like Jaxxon and Brynlee, I'm pretty sure I'm fighting a losing battle here, but it really should stop before we get to triple letters (Quteee, anyone?).

Finally, no matter what you name your kid, remember that you make the call, but your child has to live with it. Anything you do will be his burden to bear, so seriously consider whether you would want your name to be whatever you're thinking. Put yourself in your kid's shoes.

And at the very least, give the kid a "normal" middle name or a nickname to fall back on. ;)

"Pretty Boy"

At least once a week, some well-meaning stranger smiles, coos at my sweet baby boy, and says, "So cute! How old is she?"

...

Okay, I get it. He has these big brown eyes and long lashes that love to bat in any admirer's direction. I haven't cut his flowing wavy ringlets that extend inches beyond his head. He has these incredibly defined lips that widen into the most adorable smile you've ever seen. Facebook wants to tag him with my name, so he clearly takes after me in the looks department (thank you, thank you). All things considered, regardless of what he's wearing, he looks kinda girly.

I usually try to respond to these kindhearted gaffes with a little hint that he is, in fact, a boy: "Oh, thank you! He's nine months. Aren't ya, little bud?" Most of the time, that tends to get the point across, and the stranger either doesn't mention his sex again, corrects herself, or apologetically exclaims, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize he was a boy!" Then follows it up with how handsome he is.

Personally, I have no problem when someone mistakenly calls Tycho a girl. The social convention (which is not always right but does tend to apply) is that the prettier a baby looks, the higher the chances are that it must be a girl. And let's face it, Tycho is a "pretty" boy.

But Matt does sometimes get offended by it, and it led me to think, would he be as upset if we had a little girl and someone mistakened her for a boy? (Answer: Yes, but pretend not for a bit.)

There was a lot of controversy a while ago about the "genderless baby", Storm Stocker, born to a Canadian couple on New Year's Day. Comments on the Internet read things like, "one more messed up kid in the world" and "this is so wrong in many ways", as well as some not-so-nice ones (yes, those were the nice comments).

While it raised a number of hackles, it certainly wasn't the first time a child has been in the spotlight for not conforming to gender norms: Take the mother who allowed her son to dress as a princess for Halloween, or the father who is okay with his son wearing makeup and heels. It seems that, while we're so intent on finding equality for women -- and yes, speaking as a woman who deals with gender inequality on a daily basis, this is still a very pervasive problem -- we're just as apt to make little boys into men.

Even if it means being their first bully to do just that.

While it's certainly something we haven't had to deal with yet, as all of his toys are gender neutral and he doesn't really have a sense of "boy" or "girl" toys, I'm sure there will come a day when Tycho shows interest in a frilly dress, a Barbie doll, or some sparkly nail polish. Being the pretty boy that he is, if he goes through with expressing his interest in something more "girly", he may be labeled a girl even more often.

Would allowing our son to have an interest in these kinds of things ruin him as a boy? Or should we try to extinguish this kind of curiosity and genuine interest in something pink and fluffy in exchange for something blue and grimy?

Our neighbors have two girls, aged 8 and 5, who are girly in almost every sense of the word. They love pink (or purple, as the 5-year-old's case may be), they cradle their baby dolls, and they perform manicures on each other, sometimes with the help of their mom. But surprisingly (that is, if you don't know their parents!), they also have distinct interests in Marvel and DC comics, and can easily tell you what superhero belongs to which superseries. Their knowledge isn't limited to Wonder Woman or Catwoman, either; ask their 8-year-old what superhero is her favorite, and she'll proudly tell you BATMAN. In fact, she dressed as him -- in a boy's costume, not in the girly version -- last year for Halloween.

Sure, nowadays it's a little more acceptable for a little girl to have interest in comics, superheroes, video games, and other activities that were once firmly lumped into the "boy" category. But it doesn't seem like the same applies to our little boys.

I would never want to squash my son's interests strictly because they were seen as more "girly" than I or society would like. If Tycho ever wanted to play with a doll, dress as a princess, or don ten fingers carefully painted hot pink, I would more than willingly allow him to express himself that way. Doing so doesn't mean he'll turn out gay or transgender -- I firmly believe that being either (or both!) of those is set from birth and not a result of exposure to gender-specific clothing or play. But denying him his desires to try out more "girly" things may cause him to lack confidence in himself and his interests, something I absolutely do not wish on him.

While gay and transgender kids do exist, I like to think there's another point of view: That, similar to the Kinsey Scale, there exists a line between "most masculine" and "most feminine", and that kids and adults just happen to fall on any point on the line, regardless of their sexual or gender identities. And that's okay. It doesn't mean they need redirection or therapy or anything else in order to make them "right", for wherever they fall on that line, and any movement they have on that line, is exactly where they're supposed to be.

I imagine that's not how everyone feels, and I understand this is a lot of introspection strictly as a result of some strangers calling our son a little girl. But I believe it's crucial for people to understand that, while you may cut their hair or dress them a certain way or deny them the desire to play with a toy that "belongs" to another gender, the only people they're hurting are their children.

And this holds especially true for our boys, who often lack a similar gender non-conforming place that girls tend to have. It's my sincere hope that our culture allows the same potential growth for our boys and our men as we have allowed for our girls and our women.

Even if there's not, in our house? We'll allow for whatever growth Tycho and any other children we have in the future desire.