Dispatch from Japan: Making Udon

Written By Andrew Rosenstock

I think it was my third or maybe fourth night while staying with Kazuko-san but she told us we'd be making udon that night. As a fan of noodles in general, I was very stoked. Starting with just flower and water we built up the base of what would become a delicious and exciting meal. It started with just Wanda (the other wwoofer here) and me listening to Kazuko-san explaining to us what the process was. A littler later Ishekawa (no idea if that's how his name is spelled or even pronounced, so apologies for that) came by. He is one of Kazuko-san's student volunteer assistants.

How to Return a Dead Fish

 Cross posted from ironicmom.com

A couple of weeks ago, I was sitting in my neighbour’s dining room performing a community service: neither she nor her husband drink red wine, so when they have some I drink it. Anyway, we were talking about pets. They’re planning to get one; we’re not.
At least, I don’t think we are.
My kids think we’re going to get a dog when they’re ten. We’ve been telling them this since they were three. It is one of my favourite parenting strategies: I tell my children something just so they shut up and then hope like hell they forget what I said.
They still remember. At least once a week, one of them says something like, “What should we name our dog?” or “How long until we’re ten?”
It’s not that I’m anti-dog. I loved my childhood mutts, Caesar and Rebel; it’s just that they were farm dogs, which meant that they didn’t step a paw in the house, we didn’t have to walk them, and we didn’t own a leash. Essentially the dogs took care of themselves and once a week I’d pet them.
Raising a dog in the suburbs is another matter. I still remember house-training my twins; I can’t cope with one more mammal who can’t use a toilet or cook.
As I babbled about all this to my neighbour, she poured me a second glass. “Have you taken the kids to the pet store?” she asked. “You know, to play with the animals.”

Sneezies! I Am Not Ashamed.

Sneezies! is awesome. It is quite possibly the greatest game that I play that was designed for toddlers. The basic premise of the game is that there are little fuzzy parachutists imprisoned in bubbles that need you to set free by distributing sneezing powder among them. I am not making that up, I swear it. You get one shot to get the sneezing powder out to them and you better hope that you set off a sneezing cascade or not enough of them will parachute to safety. You can understand the pressure that this puts on a player.

Adding to that pressure is the way the game treats you when you don't save your quota of Sneezies. Each level sets a target number for you. I think when the designers made this game, they were thinking about teaching children what it's like to work in retail with impossible sales goals - I was stuck on level 25 for over three weeks recently and felt browbeaten by the time I finished it. If you induce sneezing in more than 50% of your target but still miss it, it says "Oh, not quite, sorry." That's not too bad, but the tone in which it is spoken in my head is awfully condescending. Worse than that, though, is if you get fewer than that 50%, in which case it says "Wow, you missed by miles." When I underperform at this game, I keep waiting for it to say things like, "Seriously, lady?" or "Are you even trying? It sure doesn't seem like it."

How to Eat a Monkey

This timely and informative article is based on the ehow wiki, how to buy a monkey

Cute as monkeys are, buying one to keep as a pet  and then consume should only be done after a lot of research. Not only should you be sure you are buying from a reputable breeder, you also need to familiarize yourself with the behavior of monkeys and decide which recipe you will want to use. I also suggest considering carefully which friends to invite to your monkey feast, and which co-workers to let in on the fact that those delicious looking leftovers are monkey flesh. Follow these steps to make your monkey dinner a success.

Difficulty: Moderate to Difficult

Dispatch from Japan: Daiyo Wasabi Farm

On my last full day with Kazuko-san we got to go to Daio Wasabi Farms, Japans largest wasabi farm. I had heard of this place from my mom who sent me an email about the farm when she found out that I'd be in Matsumoto, Japan. As soon as I had read about it, i wanted to go. I was beyond ecstatic when Kazuko-san said we'd be going. I was like a kid going to a candy farm. spicy green candy :)

The Cleverest Movie of the Year

Last weekend I saw Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, starring Michael Cera and directed by Edgar Wright. The handful of friends of mine who have good taste in movies all highly recommend Wright's other films, including Hot Fuzz and Shaun of the Dead. I haven't seen these movies and to be honest, had no idea it was the same guy going into this one (no one who knows me will be surprised by this revelation). If this is a fair representation of his work, consider me an instant fan of the guy.

The movie has video game type graphics and action woven throughout but still manages a compelling storyline. I make this point lest you think that this is the same thing as a movie based on a game. Please. It might be a bit nerdy, but it isn't THAT nerdy. The way that this theme is worked into the movie, that is, without any subtlety but avoiding a certain inherent cheesiness potential is what makes it clever. If there were an Academy Award for Cleverest Movie of the Year, Scott Pilgrim would win it hands down; Inception has nothing on this movie. Plus, the acting isn't half bad.

Guest Post: A Promising "Project"

Todd Guill joins us today with a cross-post from the New River Valley Voice covering Asheville, NC band The Galen Kipar Project. You may remember Todd as the man-at-arms from A Profile in Courage: Stranded on the High Seas.

Since the halcyon days of first grade, I’d been told never to begin a story with “Once upon a time.” The universal tenet being that such a preface should be reserved for homilies and fairy tales. Not to mention that the appearance of these words typically portends banal storytelling: “Once upon a time this thing happened at this place around this time, and some stuff went down after that, and people learned lessons about the virtues of Cornhole tournaments (but not everyone because some people are just inherently evil), and that’s really all I have to say, so thanks for reading; enjoy the lobster bisque.” 

And yet for the tale of Galen Kipar and his Asheville, North Carolina-based band, The Galen Kipar Project, “Once upon a time” seems just as appropriate an introduction as any. Notwithstanding the fact that they’re about to put the finishing touches on album number four in nearly as many years, they may as well have just materialized out of thin air.

LEUNIG BECOMES THE SECOND FIDDLE

Written by Jorden Blucher
We have had our dog, Leunig*, a black lab mix for almost three years now. We picked him up from the Humane Society one sunny afternoon in November. When we got Leunig, Erin was in her second year of residency so I was spending a fair amount of time alone while she worked insanely long hours. It was great to have someone to greet me when I came home and to hang out with even if he had four legs and did not talk back to me. We took long walks through dark streets in the mornings before I went to work, when I came home we often escaped to the mountains usually to the “Snow Hut” a fort some friends and I had built in one of the canyons. On the occasion that Erin was home and not sleeping, we planed our hikes in the areas Leunig could go, avoiding the watershed canyons like the plague. We took him camping in the High Unitas where he slept in the tent with us. At times I would bring him into the office where he would spend the days laying on the floor happily snoring away as I worked. We skied less at the resorts and went snowshoeing more. Many times on winter nights I would load my skies and Leunig into the car and we would head up to Mill Creek Canyon for a quick skin, he quickly learned to stay away from my ski tips and tails, running ahead of me on the climb up and behind me on the way down. I found a light to attach to his collar because at night in the canyon he disappeared into the darkness. He even had his own backpack.

Why fatherfolk drinks our coffee black

Fatherfolk is pissed. This week a coalition of senators filibustered a bill that would allow gays to openly serve in the military. It is beyond comprehension that those soft pink sweaty fuckers in the Senate have the audacity to tell homosexual service men and women that they are not to have the same rights as their straight counterparts. Frankly these soldiers are showing themselves to be heros again by not simply laying down their arms and refusing to serve a country that doesn't value their civil rights. 

So, in honor of our senators, who bravely sit at their desks and deny the soldiers fighting in foriegn wars equal rights, a message from the original punk rocker.

RIE Parenting Tip from Janet Lansbury

Babies are self-learners. This is good news for parents because it takes the pressure off of us to “teach”.  Babies are born ready to explore and experiment through play. Yes, even your newborn infant, when you see him having a few peaceful awake moments on his back is “playing”. He’s making choices (like what to look at), wondering and figuring things out like, “Why do those shadows on the wall move when I hear that windy sound outside?” Or, “Where the heck am I?” If you want a smart baby, recognize that he is actually doing something as he lies there and respect him by not interrupting. This helps him get in the habit of paying attention for long periods of time, which will make him an excellent learner and future student. For more, please read Baby, Interrupted – 7 Ways To Build Your Child’s Focus And Attention Span.  (http://www.janetlansbury.com/2010/04/baby-interrupted-7-ways-to-build-your-childs-focus-and-attention-span/)

Cheers,

Janet

Guess What I found Inside Your Pet: Momma and Poppa Blue

Welcome to this edition of "Guess What I Found Inside Your Pet!" This story dates back a few years, from my last job. Most of my good stories come from there, because it was as dysfunctional of a place as you could hope to find.

Early one day at work, we got some transfer paperwork from the local emergency hospital, informing us that we'd be getting Blue, a doberman pinscher (guess what color!) who had eaten pantyhose three days prior to his visit to the emergency clinic. Blue's owners knew about his dietary indiscretion but for some reason ignored it. Why anyone would think that pantyhose are digestible is beyond me, but as I perused their transfer paperwork I gained a clearer image of these particular clients. The woman was a beauty pageant veteran. I'm not saying beauty queens are dumb, I'm saying this lady got by on her looks and not much else. How did I come to this conclusion based solely on one piece of paper? I'll tell you how. Where it said "Employer:______," Momma Blue wrote "Husband (tee hee!)." I rest my case.

What can making beer teach your kids?

If you've spent any time at all hanging around here you've noticed we're kind of obsessed with beer; the making of it, the consumption of it, etc. That may seem like an odd subject for a father-centric blog, but we think beer gets an unfair rap. From Al Bundy to Homer Simpson, everywhere you look beer is the poster child for the bad-dad. Instead, let's see if we can turn making beer into an educational process (let me know if anyone can make the consumption side educational).


Here we have just a few of the things that can be taught to any inquisitive kid during the beer making process. However, don't expect even the most patient to stick around for the entire time, long boil times and sanitizing 54 bottles takes a while.

A Dark Fairy Tale in Photos: Hansel and Gretel

Written by Bridget CallahanCross posted from: Bridgette Callahan is Your Best Friend

1. Hansel lived with the witch before Gretel. He had found the witch, living happily in her gingerbread house, alone with her cats, and moved in. When this all happened, Hansel was not a boy. He was in fact 33.

2. After years of living together, Hansel started staying overnight when he went into town to buy supplies. The Witch was suspicious. Hansel pointedly told her she was crazy.

3. One day, he "found" teenage Gretel wandering in the woods. "She's just a friend. Stop being such a bitch. We're just hanging out" he told the Witch.

4. The Witch loved Hansel very much. Witches are not creatures to fuck around with. They live on the edge of madness, in a darkness of words and intentions. They are fragile when they are sane. They are sincere when they are hurt.

Jessica Alba vs. Pronunciation

Machete - it's not that good. For a movie that started out SO strongly, it fizzled pretty quickly. I guess when you start with a triple beheading it's hard to sustain that level of awesome for very long, but you could try a little harder to exhaust your audience's smile muscles. After a really strong opening sequence, the movie just plods along, unable to decide whether it's a fun movie that doesn't take itself too seriously or if it really wants to deliver a social message. In the end, it does neither. There are definitely flashes of greatness, but those are less fun to talk about than the things I didn't like. So I'm going to do just that, starting with Jessica Alba.

Amazon Music Deals

Great music at a better price


I And Love And You - $5 I first saw the Avett Brothers at Floyd Fest a few years back when they closed the festival playing at what is no doubt the best stage, Hill Holler. I was first taken aback by their raw energy on stage, unable to grasp what was going on behind all the screaming and breaking of strings.  Punk with bluegrass instruments doesn't really do these guys justice, however. Sit down with their latest studio release and you shouldn't be alarmed to think you're listening to another band entirely. A stripped down title track leads into January Wedding and Head Full of Doubt, all showcase that the brothers are at the top of their craft. Kick Drum Heart starts upping the ante and culminates in the albums best; Slight Figure of Speech. If this track doesn't get your feet tapping and head bobbing at the first chord you have no soul.

Snakehead Invasion

Bad news fatherfolkers. There is an actual thing called a Snakehead fish, and it is here. Maybe even in your home.

Snakehead Fact: Snakehead fish can grow to be up to 40 motherfucking pounds. To give you something to compare that to, imagine a fish with a horrifying snakehead, weighing as much as Gary Coleman. Now imagine me crying uncontrollably.

The Snakehead (Channa Micropeltis Motherfuckis), is native of South East Asia. It first arrived in the United States in order to play half of a buddy cop duo for the film "Rush Hour 4" playing opposite Owen, or Luke Wilson. The Snakehead ate the Wilson, the one with the weird nose, not the squinty one, and escaped into a river. Scientists now say that Snakeheads are reproducing in the wild. Do you get that? Not only are these things swimming around in the lakes and rivers, they are also fucking in our water supply.

These bastards breath air. With primitive lungs. AIR. That means they could literally walk to your house at night, climb the stairs to your bedroom, and eat you. Here are several useful questions from the Haggis-on Whey book, Animals of the Ocean that will help to determine if you are in fact being eaten by a Snakehead fish or another sea creature:

1. Are any of my limbs missing?
2. Is a beak like mouth eviscerating my organs?
3. Am I lightheaded and also drinking my own blood?
4. Am I inside an animals stomach?

If you answered yes to one or more of these questions you are likely being eaten.

According to Bill Cochran of the Roanoke Times, Maryland has offered a bounty for dead Snakeheads. $10 for snakeheads under 12 inches; $25 for snakeheads 13-24 inches; $50 for snakeheads over 24 inches.

He Said, She Said: Talking to your kids about sex

JR: This subject really hits home for me considering I have a 13-year-old Drama Queen (D.Q.) at home. I’ve already made it through the Kotex talk and have taken her to purchase her first bra(s), so I’ve tackled two important steps on the way to the birds and bees.

My mom has informed me (via my daughter) that D.Q. needs to start shaving her legs. If she’s ready to shave her legs I’m not entirely sure that I want to know what else is going on with her. Being a full-time single father raising a teenage daughter can be tricky at times and it often feels like walking on a minefield.

There’s no one right way to have “The Talk” with your child—each child is different and that has to be taken into consideration as you prepare yourself. There are definitely some wrong ways to have the talk, but no one definitive “Right Way”.

How the hell does a single father talk with his sarcastic, eye-rolling, attitude strutting daughter? I could just let her watch TV. God knows there’s enough sex going on there. Maybe I could just have her to watch Zoey 101 on Nick and tell her to figure out why the show ended up so abruptly.

P.S. It was because Jamie Lynn Spears became a baby mama. She and her boyfriend were playing a game of Vatican Roulette* and lost.

Dispatches from China: In Which Andy Confronts a Giant Penis

I went out for an overnight trip to Kharkhorin with Batbold, a co-worker of Jocelyn's. Kharkhorin is about a 5-6 hours drive west of UB, and the roads are predominately paved (something you can't say for most of the countries roads.) Kharkhorin was once the capital of the country and also hosts Erdene Zuu. Erdene Zuu used to be a great temple before the communists destroyed it and religion in the country. They are rebuilding it currently, and many monks have started studying there again. Because of the communists destruction most is gone and and Erdene Zuu is a museum but in the shell of what it once was.

The crew was me, Batbold, his wife and his adorable 2 year old. His son took a little getting used to me, but soon enough was calling me "ackhar" which means something like big brother. 

LAAFF - I Went To It.

Instead of saying LAAFF like "laugh," as it is no doubt intended, I prefer "La-aaa-fa-fa." It just has a nicer flow. It's short for the Lexington Avenue Arts and Fun Festival, which is held each year in downtown Asheville on....Walnut Street. Just kidding. It's on Lexington, you gullible fool. I went to it last weekend.

I never went to many street festivals before moving here, so I can't say if it's like other street festivals around the country, but I would bet that it's at least similar. Street fairs are a place for people to dress up like weirdos, smell like patchouli, and drink beer, right? Yeah, I thought so. So LAAFF is just like any other street festival/freak show you've ever attended. Except that it's in Asheville, so it there's an extra layer of patchouli. It's like patchouli + beer + protester sweat + more patchouli. I think the basic philosophy behind LAAFF is "if you can make it out of feathers and cardboard and then wear it, please come downtown on Sunday to meet your soul mate. Dogs on RCA cable leashes welcome!"

Book Review: Book Dad Reviews I Am Not Weird

I Am Not Weird! by Haley Metzger and RayeLynn Banks

Reviewed by: Chris Singer

Cross posted from: bookdads.com

About the Authors:

Haley lives in Marietta, Georgia with her parents and sister and brother. She recently completed first grade, and is a first-time published author.

RayeLynn is Haley’s grandmother and writing guide. She is also the director of an inclusionary preschool in Atlanta.

About the Book:

Haley, a first grader, never thought of herself as different because she has cerebral palsy. When a new classmate told her she was weird because she wore braces and walked funny, Haley was upset. She did not know what to do or what to say as a response. With help from her parents and grandmother, Haley decided to write a book explaining that she was not weird – cerebral palsy is not weird. In the book, Haley tells what cerebral palsy means and tells all that she can do anything, just like everyone else. Haley brought her book to school and it was read to the class to help the children understand. Haley is proud of herself and hopes her book will help others to understand cerebral palsy.

My Take on the Book:

This is a great idea for a book to help educate children about what it’s like to live with any disability, not just cerebral palsy. This book has terrific photos which show Haley participating in lots of physical activities, and indeed shows that Haley can do anything anyone else can do. I give Haley and her parents a lot of credit for taking a really uncomfortable and disturbing bullying situation at school and turning it into such a positive experience! I love the message of determination and self-empowerment throughout the book and even though I’ve never met Haley, I can tell she must be an extremely positive and inspiring girl.

I would highly recommend this book for parents, family members and teachers who might need a resource to help education children about cerebral palsy.

Recently, Haley went through a very difficult medical procedure called Selective Dorsal Rhizotomy (SDR). Cerebral Palsy causes Haley to have a lot of spasticity (stiffness) in her trunk and leg muscles. Spasticity interferes with her range of motion and speed of movement. It can inhibit muscle growth and can cause muscle contractures and permanent orthopedic deformities. This neurosurgical procedure can reduce spasticity permanently and improve motor activities for Haley!

The Empire Strikes Back: Meh

In my ongoing effort to catch up on all the stuff I missed as a child, I watched the second of the original three Star Wars movies, The Empire Strikes Back. Everyone told me how great it was, and that it's the best of the three. Well guess what. I didn't like it. It might in fact, be the best of the three movies, but that doesn't make it good. That's like saying that getting syphilis is better than getting herpes. Sure, it might be better, but it's still not good. Furthermore, you should know better than to be going out getting STD's.

Here's what I liked about the movie: it sets up the next one and Yoda shows up and he's kind of a dick sometimes. Also, my dogs seemed to enjoy two whole hours of couch time with me; I daresay they enjoyed the movie more than I did.

Toni Morrison: The Dead of September 11

The Dead of September 11 (2001)

by Toni Morrison

Some have God's words; others have songs of comfort
for the bereaved. If I can pluck courage here, I would
like to speak directly to the dead--the September dead.
Those children of ancestors born in every continent
on the planet: Asia, Europe, Africa, the Americas...;
born of ancestors who wore kilts, obis, saris, geles,
wide straw hats, yarmulkes, goatskin, wooden shoes,
feathers and cloths to cover their hair. But I would not say
a word until I could set aside all I know or believe about
nations, wars, leaders, the governed and ungovernable;
all I suspect about armor and entrails. First I would freshen
my tongue, abandon sentences crafted to know evil---wanton 
or studied; explosive or quietly sinister; whether born of
a sated appetite or hunger; of vengeance or the simple
compulsion to stand up before falling down. I would purge
my language of hypberbole; of its eagerness to analyze
the levels of wickedness; ranking them; calculating their
higher or lower status among others of its kind.

Speaking to the broken and the dead is too difficult for
a mouth full of blood. Too holy an act for impure thoughts.
Because the dead are free, absolute; they cannot be
seduced by blitz.

To speak to you, the dead of September 11, I must not claim
false intimacy or summon an overheated heart glazed
just in time for a camera. I must be steady and I must be clear,
knowing all the time that I have nothing to say--no words
stronger than the steel that pressed you into itself; no scripture
older or more elegant than the ancient atoms you
have become.

And I have nothing to give either--except this gesture,
this thread thrown between your humanity and mine:
I want to hold you in my arms and as your soul got shot of its box of flesh to understand,

 as you have done, the wit
of eternity: its gift of unhinged release tearing through
the darkness of its knell.

Credit: First printed in Vanity Fair magazine. 

LITANY FOR THE EMPEROR

I don't want to fight your war.
         I want to make     apple sauce.
I don't want to fight your war.
         I want to make     the bed.
I don't want to fight your war.
         I want to make     cookies.
I don't want to fight your war.
         I want to make     love.
I don't want to fight your war.
         I want to make     it over to my friend's house.
I don't want to fight your war.
         I want to make     a poem.
I don't want to fight your war.
         I want to make      it to work tomorrow.
I don't want to fight your war.
         I want to make      a salad.

By David Budbill

You Decide: Scary 4 Foot Doll or Housecleaning Robot

By Adam (Dad)  @betafam cross posted from:
BetaFam


I was in Rite-Aid and I saw these on sale. Maybe I have watched too many movies, but I feel I would wake up one night and find it standing over my bed. At what age does a little girl want a 4.5 foot tall doll? Or maybe it is a robot. In that case, it’s a great deal at only $29.99…

Announcing Amazon Dad

It turns out Amazon didn't drop the ball with dads on the Amazon Mom service, they are just being more realistic:

5 Reasons I Hate Crafts

Cross Posted from ironicmom.com

I hate crafts. This is a problem given that my daughter is her own craft production factory. Thanks to her, we are first rate recyclers: paper, toilet paper rolls, and cereal boxes rotate from the craft table to the recycling bin with amazing fluidity. It might be cute if you’re a scrapbook person; if you’re not, it’s a nightmare.
Below, then, are 5 reasons I hate crafts.

Dads: Amazon doesn't want your money

Ahh dads, kicked to the curb again by the multi national corporations behind the consumer baby-buying frenzy. Amazon just released this ad campaign targeting mothers called "amazon moms".

I can just imagine the scene at Sterling Cooper now:

Don: Peggy, Kinsey, pitch me diapers.

Kinsey: How about instead I just wave my pipe around and stroke my beard like a huge douche canoe?

Peggy: What about a campaign that recognizes that it is counter productive to divide moms and dads into separate marketing groups? Why don't we run a campaign that recognizes that it's families that make decisions about products based on recommendations from their friends and social circle and that we will only piss them off if we alienate fathers?

Don: (throwing his scotch across the room just missing peggy's head) Shut up bitch! Give me a baby with bear ears and send the message that we don't want any dads shopping here!



Also check out this one below. Notice anything funny? No? Anything? Does the word "Cruisers" have a kind of sleazy "looking for sex in a park" connotation to anyone else?

Dispatch from China: Eating Scorpions

Written By Andyfatherfolk

well, quickly on in Beijing I got to complete another bucket list check box, eating scorpions. I was told there would be two kinds and one was good, the other not so much but i forgot which was which. So, naturally, i went for both types. The big black ones are really not that tasty. more of a crunch but not much flavoring. The little ones (which move very fast before being flash fried) are actually tasty, though it may just be the added salt. Where as the big ones were a crunch exoskeleton and not much meat, the little ones seemed to have more meat in them at least in a ratio per size. I know other people have eaten this item and lived, but there is something a bit scary about biting into an animal known for killing humans with one touch.

Ringworm - You Can't Eat It.

I got a call from a client one day that went something like this:

Caller: "My cat threw up a ringworm and I need to know which dewormer to get to treat it."

Me: "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

Caller, sounding irritated already: "My CAT threw up a RINGWORM, and I need to know which dewormer to get to treat it."

Me: "Okay, I doubt it was ringworm. Did it look like spaghetti or rice?" This question was my way of clarifying between two of the most common types of intestinal parasites in cats, roundworms and tapeworms.

Caller: "Neither. It was a ringworm."

Me: "Okay, but ringworm is a fungus, not actually a worm, so I really don't think your cat could have thrown up a ringworm. So, did it look more like a spaghetti noodle or a grain of rice?"

Caller: "Well, it looked like a ringworm. If I had to guess, I'd say a noodle."

Me: "Okay, that sounds like it might be a roundworm. Could you bring us a stool sample to check and we can tell you for sure and give you the right dewormer?"

Caller: "I saved the worm. After she threw it up she sat in the corner looking down at it and put her paw on it, but I was able to get it away from her and put it in a bag. I'll just bring that to you and you can see for yourself." At this point, she was still convinced I'd realize how wrong I was.

Me: "Oh wow, that would be great! We wouldn't even have to charge you to check it in that case, we can just dispense the dewormer once we see which type it is."

The client brought in her worm. It was a long dead millipede, curled into a ring and somewhat flattened by the cat having stepped on it. There is no dewormer for millipedes. Or for ringworm, for that matter, because to this day it's still classified as a fungus.

He Said, She Said: Breast Feeding

Here’s how were gonna roll with this—Aaron gave us a topic and I’m gonna start out, then e-mail what I have to Jamie. She’s gonna respond and we will see where it goes from there. I honestly see this going back and forth a whole bunch of couple times, so I will try and keep this short. My part will be noted as “JR” and hers will be “SMS” for her blog Single Mom Survives.

Special Feature: Author Ashley English Talks About the Birds and Bees of Expectant Parents

tips for expecting fathers, from their expecting partners: 

-feed us. really. we're hungrier than we've ever been in our lives. we'd love it if you whipped us up meals. nothing needs to be elaborate, but when we're low on energy, knowing someone else will be doing the cooking is an absolute godsend. snacks are especially good, too. 

-in a similar vein, we'd love help with the grocery shopping. our tastes will be highly variable and immensely fickle right now, so don't balk if we used to adore feta and olives and are now repulsed by them. the pendulum will again swing in that direction, but, for now, just see what we'd like and help us shop for that. 

-be open minded, in the event that our food preferences should experience a profound change. i picked up eating poultry during my pregnancy after a 14 year hiatus. it was what my body told me it needed and nothing satisfied me until i had it again. talk openly about our dietary changes as we experience them, but try to do so with an open mind, especially if we're craving something that you don't eat yourself. 

-if we're the ones that customarily do the laundry, wash the dishes, clean the bathroom, sweep the floors, vacuum, empty the cat's litter box, etc., we'd love a helping hand. 

-reading a pregnancy book for dads makes us feel like you're really on board. while we'll be the one's doing the actual carrying, laboring, and delivery, we want you to know what's going on inside of us, as well. 

-plan a co-ed baby shower with us. baby's aren't just for the mom, after all; they're literal family affairs. 

-when you can, come with us doctor/nurse/midwife appointments. every visit, or test, is new (especially for first time moms) and we'd love a little reassurance from a familiar face. 

-allow us to vent when we need to vent. sometimes we're just uncomfortable and need to vocalize. we're not looking for you to make things better, we're just blowing off steam. a little bit of diffusing along the way goes far towards keeping major blowouts from happening.

http://small-measure.blogspot.com/
http://designspongeonline.com/category/ashley-english
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Husband hack #279: Romantic Crossword Puzzle

Out in the daddy blogosphere there seems to be no end to the wringing of hands over the loss of sexy time that having a baby may cause. My advice is to respond by growing out your mustache, slicking back your hair, putting on your bow tie and mixing up a cocktail of one part understanding and two parts extra effort. Here's something that's both geeky and romantic. The kind of relationship advice I'd like to think Joss Weeden would give.

Make a personalized crossword puzzle!

How:

Step 1. Write down ten to fifteen of the insider information about your relationship. Things about your first date, inside jokes, places that are special to you, and pet names.

Step 2. You will need to take this and turn each one into a clue and an answer.

Step 3. Visit a site that will automatically generate a crossword puzzle like this one here:
crosswordpuzzlegames.com

Presto! You have a meaningful gift that cost you nothing. Now part two is to stop being such an insensitive ass in all other areas of your relationship and help out a little more around the house. We guarantee this will get you laid!

The Vegetable Truck: Lying to My Children

Cross Posted from ironicmom

When our twins were born, my husband and I were in year four of a five-year-stint in Thailand. As you can imagine, there were a plethora of noises in Bangkok, most of which assaulted our ears with video-game intensity. Sounds reverberated off skyscrapers the way noises echo in a canyon.
My husband and I talked about recording our own Bangkok Symphony, but we were too lazy. Had we done so, though, such a composition would have included the following:

• the insidious jingle of the ice cream truck, over and over again and again,
• the rhythmic pinging of the blind man’s reebar-cane as he hiked the streets selling lotto tickets,
• the souped-up, four-stroke motorcycle taxis that broke the speed of sound, and
• the discordant squawk of the loud speaker as the vegetable truck offered its wares.

It sounds exotic until it ceases to stop.
Once we got the 2-for-1 deal on our babies, however, our tolerance for external noise increased. We had our own indoor cacophony.
Fast forward two years.
We moved back to Canada, where the loudest sounds in our suburb were garage doors humming closed, lawn mowers sparking to life, and the occasional ice cream truck.
Whenever the ice cream truck circled our suburb, belting out “It’s a Small World After All,” our kids would ask what that sound was.
Each time, we answered the same: “It’s the vegetable truck.”
We first uttered this refrain when our twins were two.
By the time they were five, they’d say, “The vegetable truck’s coming.” Then they’d continue playing, unmoved by the thought of door-to-door turnips.

What kind of parent convinces their children this is a vegetable truck?

This brings us to a few weeks after their sixth birthday.
“Mom, the vegetable truck’s actually stopping,” Vivian said. She and William opened our back door and climbed onto the patio table, giving them a direct view over our fence. If you remember the sitcom Home Improvement, think Wilson on stilts.
“Jenna’s getting vegetables!” William announced.
I watched Jenna, our neighbour, disappear behind the truck.
A moment passed. My lie hung in the summer air.
The ice cream truck and its ditty started up the street.
Jenna walked down the sidewalk, ice cream in hand.
Vivian and William muttered to each other before screaming, “Mom!”
And the myth disappeared faster than the jingle.
Add this to the list of things our kids can tell their therapists in a decade.

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Any lies out there? ice cream stories?