Best Birthday Ever?

No, not mine, my oldest son, David, turned 12 yesterday.  Things like that make me feel old much more so than the fact that I’ll soon be 40.  November 2, 1999 was the only election day (Cuyahoga County municipal for me in that particular case) that I didn’t vote.  Given that Kim’s labor was 36 hours, I was actually going to slip out for 15 minutes and do so, but at that point it was finally time to push.  Anyway, thanks to a friend with season tickets, I was able to take David to a Duke basketball game on his birthday.  Just an exhibition against, Shaw, but the timing (and the mid-court seats) couldn’t have been better.   Given that it followed a birthday meal at David’s favorite restaurant by far– Cici’s pizza– just maybe the best birthday ever.

Parenthood in one handy chart

Regular readers know my love for being a parent (and I’d have to be insane to have four kids if I didn’t love it).  Came across this great chart via FB that pretty much sums up parenting as I see it:

Children

That one percent makes all the difference.

 

The Diet Post

You know what’s really annoying?  Skinny people bragging about losing weight.  Sorry, but I’m pretty proud of myself for losing 18 pounds– about 10% of my body weight.  In fact, before the diet, I was technically overweight according to the BMI (185 pounds and 6 feet tall).  Actually, I would often point to myself being categorized as overweight as implicitly demonstrating the flaws in the BMI.  That said, there was a little more around the middle than I like and I was starting to get in danger of crossing the line I’m determined never to cross– waist size larger than inseam (34 x 34 feeling tight when I started; I’m now wearing 32 inch waist shorts).  So, inspired by what I’d been reading in diet studies and the very strong recommendation of a fellow social scientist, I started Weight Watchers 12 weeks ago.

Wow, do I love Weight Watchers!!  It was not exactly easy, but so much less hard than I expected.  Basically, Weight Watchers has taken everything I’ve read about in nutrition science and everything I’ve read about with the psychology of eating and incorporated it into their plan.  You get a certain number of “points plus” to eat per day, plus a bonus 49 to use over the week as you see fit.  Follow that, and you will lose weight.  In my case, tracking the points of every single thing I ate was hugely enlightening.  I realized I had been totally doing myself in my mindless snacking (mostly cereal, nuts, and the various partially eaten snack portions of chips, etc., the kids always leave sitting around).   I also loved that there was nothing this diet made you give up.  By tracking points, it simply meant that an indulgence one place meant more self discipline somewhere else.  Thus, I still lost all this weight while having pizza for lunch 3-4 times per week over the whole time.

Another awesome feature– most fruits and vegetables are worth 0 points.  I have truly never been healthier in my life.  There was a time in my life when I hardly had any fruits or vegetables in my diet (in college I believe I literally would have had scurvy if not for vitamin supplements).   Now, in a typical day I snack on two apples, a handful of carrot sticks, have a salad before dinner, and fresh pineapple for desert.

The traditional weight watchers model involves meetings with other people on the diet for support.  I did the weight watchers on-line version and relied on Kim (who decided to start two days after me and is also doing well on the diet) for support.  It’s about $18/month for the on-line version.   Best money I’ve spent this year.

So, mostly, this post is just to say that Weight Watchers is really a terrific diet plan.  If you’ve got any weight to lose, I whole-heartedly endorse it.

Get a grip

Haven’t checked in on Free Range Kids in a while.  In addition to a 12-year old boy being escorted home because he was walking in downtown Toronto in broad daylight (I’ve been to Toronto– not a scary proposition), this was perhaps the most compelling case of paranoid parents:

Hi Readers — This just in! A creepy old guy was seen taking pix of some young boy in Idaho. The cops were called! The media alerted! Hearts pounded, rage burbled, all because…

Um, a grandpa was photographing his grandson.

He left when some crazy lady started yelling at him. Here’s the story.  – L

Now, I’m no expert on pedophilia, but I’m pretty sure most pedophiles don’t exactly draw attention to themselves by photographing kids in a public park.  If you see an adult taking pictures of kid, chances are pretty good it’s  a relative.  Hoofbeats = horses, not zebras.

Church nurseries and irrational fears

Every now and then I like to check in on the Free Range Kids blog to check out the irrational fears of parents.  This post about church nursery rules (a place I work one Sunday every couple of months) was quite disturbing.  Make sure you read the response from the blog author, it’s awesome:

Dear Free-Range Kids: With your recent posts about risk adversity, I wanted to tell you about a horrendous trend that is starting to appear in churches: husbands and wives are no longer allowed to work together in children’s ministry.

One would think that a husband/wife team would be exactly what a church would want in helping to nourish youth.  But it seems that insurance companies and risk-adversity have gotten the better of people’s common sense.  Basically, the idea is that since spouses can’t testify against each other, we need someone else in the room.

This happened to a church I used to go to.  It was medium-sized — small enough that we were fairly short on nursery and children’s volunteer staff.  In one of the nurseries, a retired couple had been watching the children for a long time, and everyone was happy with them, and they enjoyed the chance to be together with children.  But under the new policy, they couldn’t be together unless there was a *third* person to watch them.  So, they were told they couldn’t watch the nursery together anymore.  And so they just stopped working there.

Here’s a link to a “Safe Haven” policy that is not from the church I mention, but is an example of the anti-family, pro-paranoia policies that are creeping in everywhere. Here’s the really bad part of the policy:

All workers in nursery through three years old shall not be from the same family.

Teenage boys will not be permitted to work in the nursery or toddler areas.

Only adult women shall change diapers and help toddlers in the restroom. When taking children to the restroom, the door shall be partially open.

Thought you might be interested. – Jon

Jon, I am. I am interested to know that teenage boys are, as a group, not allowed to work with young kids. I guess thousands of years of older siblings looking after younger siblings matters not when “Worst First” thinking creeps in. The “worst” being: He’s male, he’s young, why would he want to have anything to do with a child unless, of course, he’s a pervert? Get him away!

Then there’s the idea of only women changing diapers. Sometimes it feels like the easiest way to roll back feminism is to insist, “We DO believe in equality. But think of the children!”

Actually, the last time I worked the nursery we had an all-dad crew for Mother’s day.  Except one of the mom’s insisted on staying.  I told her that three of us dads were more than enough to handle to handle the 10 or so toddlers and added, joking, “or don’t you trust us?”  She took just a beat too long to answer that.  And she stayed around the whole time.

Why being a college professor is such a great job

Just finished grading for the semester.  Whoo-hoo!  I really love my job– except for the grading.  And meetings.  Oh man do I hate meetings!  (It’s really tough when you are consistently the smartest person in a room surrounded by idiots who just love to hear themselves talk– I jest.  Sort of).  Anyway, like I was saying, I really, really love my job.  I think this really cool talk on what motivates us (hint: it’s not money) helps explain why this job is so great.  It’s quite an entertaining 10 minute video, but since you probably won’t watch, here’s what it boils down to:

People are motivated largely based on three things: autonomy, mastery, and a sense of purpose.  My job has this in spades.  Autonomy?  Heck, most of this blog gets written in the office.  Other than time in class and those dreaded meetings, I have amazing amounts of autonomy over what I do and when I do it.  Mastery?  Perhaps not quite as much, but I’ve become a much better researcher over the years and a better teacher and that’s certainly very rewarding.  As for sense of purpose?  Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll get hugs and handshakes, meet parents, and take a few photos with new graduates who are about to head off into the world more prepared than when they first came to NCSU and in some of these cases, I actually contributed a decent amount to that.  That is definitely awesome.  Here’s a graduation photo from last year– I definitely helped make the diploma in the photo happen.

Where all my free time has gone lately

Ipad version:

Breast cancer isn’t sexy!

Dahlia Lithwick yesterday linked to this news on facebook:

Breast cancer fundraising bracelets that proclaim “I (heart) boobies!” are not lewd or vulgar and can’t be banned by public school officials who find them offensive, a federal judge in Pennsylvania said Tuesday in a preliminary ruling.

We can search your lockers whenever we want, but we can’t regulate what it says on your wrist.  Anyway, I hate campaigns of this nature, so I wrote in response:

As a proud feminist, I object to the “I heart boobies” and the “save the ta-tas” campaign we had here in NC because it seems to me that the subtext of using these terms is “save the breast as a sexual object.” The subtext should simply be “let’s save women’s lives.”

Eight comment “likes” from total strangers– that made me feel good.  Anyway, one linked to this excellent piece in the Times that makes the same point as me, only much better.

That rubber bracelet is part of a newer, though related, trend: the sexualization of breast cancer. Hot breast cancer. Saucy breast cancer. Titillating breast cancer! The pain of “First You Cry” has been replaced by the celebration of “Crazy Sexy Cancer,” the title of a documentary about a woman “looking for a cure and finding her life.”

Sassy retail campaigns have sprung up everywhere, purporting to “support the cause.” There is Save the Ta-Tas (a line that includes T-shirts and a liquid soap called Boob Lube), Save Second Base, Project Boobies (the slogan on its T-shirts promoting self-exam reads, “I grab a feel so cancer can’t steal,” though the placement of its hot-pink handprints makes it virtually impossible for them to belong to the shirt’s wearer). There is the coy Save the Girls campaign, whose T-shirt I saw in the window of my local Y.M.C.A. And there is “I ❤ Boobies” itself, manufactured by an organization called Keep a Breast (get it?)…

By contrast, today’s fetishizing of breasts comes at the expense of the bodies, hearts and minds attached to them. Forget Save the Ta-Tas: how about save the woman? How about “I ❤ My 72-Year-Old One-Boobied Granny?” After all, statistically, that’s whose “second base” is truly at risk.

Rather than being playful, which is what these campaigns are after, sexy cancer suppresses discussion of real cancer, rendering its sufferers — the ones whom all this is supposed to be for — invisible. It also reinforces the idea that breasts are the fundamental, defining aspect of femininity. My friend’s daughter may have been uncertain about what her bracelet “for breast cancer” meant, but I am betting she got that femininity equation loud and clear.

I hate to be a buzz kill, but breast cancer is just not sexy. It’s not ennobling. It’s not a feminine rite of passage. And, though it pains me to say it, it’s also not very much fun. I get that the irreverence is meant to combat crisis fatigue, the complacency brought on by the annual onslaught of pink, yet it similarly risks turning people cynical. By making consumers feel good without actually doing anything meaningful, it discourages understanding, undermining the search for better detection, safer treatments, causes and cures for a disease that still afflicts 250,000 women annually (and speaking of figures, the number who die has remained unchanged — hovering around 40,000 — for more than a decade).

Great stuff.  Turns out, the author is also the author of Cinderalla ate my daughter, a book I’ve very much looking forward to reading.

Pink for boys

Facebook friend posted a link to this fascinating Smithsonian article about the evolution of our conceptions of fashion and gender identity in young children.  A few tidbits:

Little Franklin Delano Roosevelt sits primly on a stool, his white skirt spread smoothly over his lap, his hands clasping a hat trimmed with a marabou feather. Shoulder-length hair and patent leather party shoes complete the ensemble.

We find the look unsettling today, yet social convention of 1884, when FDR was photographed at age 2 1/2, dictated that boys wore dresses until age 6 or 7, also the time of their first haircut. Franklin’s outfit was considered gender-neutral…

For example, a Ladies’ Home Journal article in June 1918 said, “The generally accepted rule is pink for the boys, and blue for the girls. The reason is that pink, being a more decided and stronger color, is more suitable for the boy, while blue, which is more delicate and dainty, is prettier for the girl.” Other sources said blue was flattering for blonds, pink for brunettes; or blue was for blue-eyed babies, pink for brown-eyed babies, according to Paoletti.

In 1927, Time magazine printed a chart showing sex-appropriate colors for girls and boys according to leading U.S. stores. In Boston, Filene’s told parents to dress boys in pink. So did Best & Co. in New York City, Halle’s in Cleveland and Marshall Field in Chicago.

Not that it wasn’t already fairly obvious with the boys, but now that we have a daughter, it really is amazing to see the degree to which society forces gender stereotypes onto children at the very earliest age.  Kim bought Sarah some teethers this week, and one was in the shape of a little pink purse.  So many people have asked me what it’s like having a daughter now.  Please!  As if there’s any difference when they are 4 months old.  My answer: pretty much the same, but more pink.  And for other parents, I sometimes add that I’ve had to learn to wipe front to back.  Anyway, I’m more one to be annoyed by society’s norms than to actually buck them, so pink for Sarah it is, but I don’t have to like it.

Really dumb quote of the day

I really don’t want to leave Sarah facing the back in her car seat for two whole years, because in my experience, babies are much happier when they get to face forward and see what’s going on.  As a result, most parents look forward to turning their child around at about the age of 1, as has been recommended.  Alas, the latest safety recommendations say we should probably wait until the age of two.

Toddlers are usually switched from rear-facing to forward-facing car seats right after their first birthday — an event many parents may celebrate as a kind of milestone.

But in a new policy statement, the nation’s leading pediatricians’ group says that is a year too soon.

The advice from the American Academy of Pediatrics, issued Monday, is based primarily on a 2007University of Virginia study finding that children under 2 are 75 percent less likely to suffer severe or fatal injuries in a crash if they are facing the rear.

Okay, so, that’s pretty clear.  I guess we’ll see what Kim thinks on the matter in another 8 months.  One thing is for sure, though, anybody dumb enough to make the following statement most definitely should not be a go-to person for quotes on this issue:

The academy’s previous policy, from 2002, said it was safest for infants and toddlers to ride facing the rear, and cited 12 months and 20 pounds as the minimum requirements for turning the car seat forward. But Ms. Baer, a certified child passenger safety technician, said parents tended to take that as a hard and fast rule.

“A lot of parents consider turning the car seat around as another developmental milestone that shows how brilliant and advanced their child is,” she said, “and they don’t realize that it’s making their child less safe.”

Seriously?! Really, this has to be one of the dumbest things about parents I’ve ever read.  The child-less Kevin Drum even flagged this.  Oh, I know, parents can be really stupid about their kids, but turning them around is a car seat based on their age and weight as an indicator of brilliance??!  Let’s find somebody a little smarter to comment on car seat safety issues.

How to live longer

Really interesting couple of stories last week about the latest conclusions from a longitudinal study of 1500 people going back to 1921.  The results strongly dispel some conventional wisdom about what leads to a long life.  Both Slate and the Atlantic have really interesting takes.  I liked Emily Yoffe’s a bit better.  Some interesting tidbits:

One of the most striking findings of The Longevity Project is that conscientiousness is a predictor of long life. People who blow their deadlines and forget their appointments tend to find themselves making an early appointment with the grim reaper. Sorting through eight decades of data shows that the reliable, more-mature-than-their years little boys and girls identified in the 1920s became the dependable adults who were most likely to have made it into a new century. “[T]he best childhood personality predictor of longevity was conscientiousness—the qualities of a prudent, persistent, well-organized person …—somewhat obsessive and not at all carefree.”

Interestingly, I used to always think of myself as conscientious and mature beyond my years until I was well into my 20′s.  I seem to have got frozen in there somewhere :-) .  Though, despite the looks of my office (or home, for that matter), I do think I’m prudent, persistent, and at least semi-well organized.  Now this next bit does sound like me:

The benefits of a conscientious personality are obvious: These people are less likely to smoke and drink, or drive dangerously. Throughout life, conscientious people are less impulsive, and less depressed. The researchers found that the prudent died less from all causes, not just those related to dangerous habits.

On the other hand, I always thought that I’m definitely a happy person was a key point in my favor.  Turns out, not so much:

Among the most counterintuitive of the findings is that cheerfulness can kill. The authors write: “[C]heerful and optimistic children were less likely to live to an old age than their more staid and sober counterparts!” They found that cheerfulness was as big a risk factor for premature death as elevated blood pressure and high cholesterol. There seemed to be several reasons. The highly social went to more parties where they smoked and drank, craving the buzz. They died from accidents. But Friedman and Martin say their research showed something deeper. Despite the belief that optimists enjoy better health than pessimists, this research found a dark underside to optimism. When everything is going great, the optimist soars. But when facing life’s difficulties, the optimist can feel defeated by the magnitude of the struggle that’s required.

Then again, since I’m not much of a smoker, drinker, or general party animal, maybe I’ll do okay here.  So long as I’m not defeated by any of life’s huge challenges.  Though, I’d like to think I’ve responded well to having a child with a rare genetic disease.  It was tough for a long time, but we’re all good on that score now.

The final point I think is really intersting is about marriage, as it suggests that many people make the wrong causal assumptions:

A long, satisfying marriage is good for both partners’ health and longevity. But the researchers found that it is not the institution of marriage itself that conveys some kind of life-extending elixir. The participants who made long, happy marriages tended to be the people who were more stable as children and young people. The participants who ended unhappy marriages were less happy even before they chose a spouse.

All in all, I think the data looks pretty good for me.  Knock on wood.

(Almost) Favorite game ever

So, I went to the ACC tournament this past weekend with my oldest son David.  Sooo much fun.  For only the 2nd time ever, I got to see Duke play Carolina in person.  Last time was in February of my junior year, 1993, when Duke beat Carolina (something they would not do again for a few years).  I only went to that one game because Kim and I got in by waiting all day and camping out was/is definitely not my thing.  Anyway, so awesome to be able to see Duke play Carolina for the ACC title.

My favorite part– other than Duke playing fabulously and winning– was the incredible atmosphere.  To have Duke play Carolina just an hour down the road in Greensboro is just about perfect.  I’d estimate that thanks to a very efficient secondary market, over 90% of the fans in there were either Duke or Carolina fans– probably about 65% Carolina.  As a lover of college basketball, it was awesome to be in an arena packed full of fans completely passionate about the game.  Normally, in something like this, i.e., a final 4, you are looking at more than half the fans who have no strong rooting interest in any particular game.  So, this was pretty much a perfect college basketball environment.  Didn’t really mind being outnumbered by Carolina fans as there were still plenty of vociferous Duke fans.  And, as a parent, few things are better than sharing the things you love with a child who loves them, too.

So, I was about to title this my favorite game ever, but, despite all those things I just wrote, I also had the amazing good fortune to attend the 1991 Final 4 in Indianapolis my freshman year.  I got to see Duke defeat UNLV in the national semifinal and this was a UNLV that had beaten Duke by a NCAA championship record 30 points in 1990 and had not lost a game since the 1990 season– the biggest juggernaut since the UCLA glory days.  Anyway, I realized that would have to take the singular “favorite” title.

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