Somehow I don't think DHS would endorse this particular method of child-rearing...
...even though it looks like the kid is having a ball.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Friday, April 15, 2011
Somethin' for Dinner
One day back when I was about 10 or 11 years old, my Uncle Jack was babysitting, and he pulled out the blender to make himself a protein shake. We asked what he was making, but he didn't have a name for it (and he always liked messing with our heads), so he said "Somethin'".
After whipping himself up a batch of Somethin', he made some for us. To help the taste, he put Hershey's Chocolate Syrup in it, and called it Chocolate Somethin'. To this day, every time I make a dish with no real goal or list of ingredients, I call it Somethin', and remember Uncle Jack's protein shake. I hear his voice in my head every time I do it.
The wife-unit and I have been rather unmotivated lately in the grocery shopping department, so we've been getting really light on the vittles in stock. Last night, after looking in the fridge, the freezer, and the pantry for about the fourth time, I just started pulling stuff out at random.
I figured I might as well get used to doing some improvisational cooking, because apparently kids expect to be fed on a daily basis. Who knew?
One serving's worth of Hot & Sour Soup mix... check
A cup or so of whole wheat noodles... check
Pound of hamburger... check
Unopened jar of Ragu spaghetti sauce... check
I had the pans out and on the stove when the wife-unit piped up: "What are you making?"
"Somethin'"
I imagined a group of kids working on their homework at the dining room table, or arguing, or talking on the phone, and saying "dad, what's for dinner?"
And in my head, Uncle Jack said, "Somethin'"
Then there was my brother's version... "A great big plate of Eat What Yo Papa Fix!"
The noodles and soup mix went into one pan, the burger into another, and 15 minutes later it was all drained and tossed together. I don't know if it was a good dish, but it didn't taste horrible, and with a little salt was fine by me.
Which of course means my wife won't touch it and our kids might need some chocolate syrup to help it go down. But for me and the dogs, it's better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.
Except the dogs aren't getting any.
After whipping himself up a batch of Somethin', he made some for us. To help the taste, he put Hershey's Chocolate Syrup in it, and called it Chocolate Somethin'. To this day, every time I make a dish with no real goal or list of ingredients, I call it Somethin', and remember Uncle Jack's protein shake. I hear his voice in my head every time I do it.
The wife-unit and I have been rather unmotivated lately in the grocery shopping department, so we've been getting really light on the vittles in stock. Last night, after looking in the fridge, the freezer, and the pantry for about the fourth time, I just started pulling stuff out at random.
I figured I might as well get used to doing some improvisational cooking, because apparently kids expect to be fed on a daily basis. Who knew?
One serving's worth of Hot & Sour Soup mix... check
A cup or so of whole wheat noodles... check
Pound of hamburger... check
Unopened jar of Ragu spaghetti sauce... check
I had the pans out and on the stove when the wife-unit piped up: "What are you making?"
"Somethin'"
I imagined a group of kids working on their homework at the dining room table, or arguing, or talking on the phone, and saying "dad, what's for dinner?"
And in my head, Uncle Jack said, "Somethin'"
Then there was my brother's version... "A great big plate of Eat What Yo Papa Fix!"
The noodles and soup mix went into one pan, the burger into another, and 15 minutes later it was all drained and tossed together. I don't know if it was a good dish, but it didn't taste horrible, and with a little salt was fine by me.
Which of course means my wife won't touch it and our kids might need some chocolate syrup to help it go down. But for me and the dogs, it's better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.
Except the dogs aren't getting any.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Prints
We went for the fingerprinting today. They used the electronic version this time... last time I was fingerprinted it was with old-fashioned ink and got screwed up along the way so it had to be redone. This time the computer complained if it wasn't clear enough, prompting the officer to clear the print and start over.
$40 and 20 minutes later, we're ready to be booked into prison or become adoptive parents. Take your pick.
$40 and 20 minutes later, we're ready to be booked into prison or become adoptive parents. Take your pick.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Thursday, March 31, 2011
In the pipe, five by five
The pre-homestudy walkthrough went fine. We gave her a quick tour of the house, went through yet another questionnaire that repeated a lot of questions from the initial application we sent in a month or so ago, and had a short discussion about the process going forward.
We covered one question I was dreading…
"Are there any weapons in the house?"
"Why, what do you need?"
OK, I didn't say that, but I wanted to. She sounded reasonably certain that our various precautions were sufficient in that regard.
Shopping list:
Fire extinguishers
Smoke detectors
Child-resistant cabinet door latches
About a billion (give or take) of those little plastic dealies that you put in electrical outlets
The last one gave me pause. We're probably looking at first grade and up as far as age goes, and I kept trying to remember how old my brother was when he stuck mom's keys into the electrical outlet in our bedroom. Whatever, we'll buy the stupid things and just not use them if the kids we get are old enough.
Oh yeah, and the dogs are all going for booster shots. That'll be fun.
At this point we've got about a week or two while the latest questionnaire goes through channels, after which we'll be contacted by a contractor to do the actual home study, and we'll be given contact info about how to set up our parenting classes.
The whole thing still makes me grit my teeth, but I'm maintaining my calm.
We covered one question I was dreading…
"Are there any weapons in the house?"
"Why, what do you need?"
OK, I didn't say that, but I wanted to. She sounded reasonably certain that our various precautions were sufficient in that regard.
Shopping list:
Fire extinguishers
Smoke detectors
Child-resistant cabinet door latches
About a billion (give or take) of those little plastic dealies that you put in electrical outlets
The last one gave me pause. We're probably looking at first grade and up as far as age goes, and I kept trying to remember how old my brother was when he stuck mom's keys into the electrical outlet in our bedroom. Whatever, we'll buy the stupid things and just not use them if the kids we get are old enough.
Oh yeah, and the dogs are all going for booster shots. That'll be fun.
At this point we've got about a week or two while the latest questionnaire goes through channels, after which we'll be contacted by a contractor to do the actual home study, and we'll be given contact info about how to set up our parenting classes.
The whole thing still makes me grit my teeth, but I'm maintaining my calm.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Today's the Day
Our pre-homestudy walkthrough happens today. It'll be our first real contact with our caseworker. We spent a few minutes this morning fussing over the making of the bed, fretting over whether this or that was clean enough, wondering what to do with the dogs, fretting over things out of place or looking cluttered, and so forth.
We're a little wound up.
And of course the laughable nature of the situation came back into conversation with my coworkers this morning. If you've got fully functioning reproductive organs, you can pop out as many kids as you desire, and as long as nothing gains the attention of the authorities, you never have to say or do anything. But if you're going to adopt or foster someone else's kids, you have to invite the government into your home, seek its approval, get background checked and fingerprinted, take classes on parenting, and jump through any number of other hoops I haven't discovered yet, all for the crime of being infertile.
I can already hear the protests: "but it's for the children!" If that were so, all of this would be required before you could have kids naturally. Line forms to the left.
We're a little wound up.
And of course the laughable nature of the situation came back into conversation with my coworkers this morning. If you've got fully functioning reproductive organs, you can pop out as many kids as you desire, and as long as nothing gains the attention of the authorities, you never have to say or do anything. But if you're going to adopt or foster someone else's kids, you have to invite the government into your home, seek its approval, get background checked and fingerprinted, take classes on parenting, and jump through any number of other hoops I haven't discovered yet, all for the crime of being infertile.
I can already hear the protests: "but it's for the children!" If that were so, all of this would be required before you could have kids naturally. Line forms to the left.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Grandma's Revenge
The story of kid karma is pretty well-known. You drive your parents nuts being X kind of child, and you get X kind of child when you become a parent. As one comedian put it, the goal of parenthood is to live long enough to see your grandchildren get revenge on your kids.
My brother's firstborn is stubborn as a mule, much like his dad. Our dad loves to tell the anecdote of how my brother, at around 6 or 7 years old, refused to eat his dinner and sat at the table and made himself sick rather than eat a couple of bites of something he'd probably eaten before and has probably eaten since. This is the kid who later declared he wanted to slurp a raw egg, and mom went along with it just to see if he'd actually do it, so it's not about food grossing him out. He just wasn't going to eat his dinner, and nobody was darn well going to tell him otherwise.
The nephew is now exacting Grandma's Revenge on him, and thus all is well with the universe as I understand it.
I recently started thinking of what I was like as a kid. Of course, I only have my perspective to go on, but I remember being pretty closed off, content to lose myself in a book rather than engage with anyone (including or perhaps especially family). I also preferred to learn things "the hard way". I remember distinctly being told about this or that, and why you do something this way and not the other way. I also remember thinking in each of those circumstances, "maybe someone just hasn't really given the other way a fair shot". And then I'd go off and do it "the hard way", just to find out if what I'd been told was correct.
Most of the time, it was. But I was rewarded in my endeavors often enough that I kept up the pattern of behavior well into adulthood.
I don't know if my parents ever realized that I was doing things this way consciously and deliberately, but that's the way I learn. I have a visceral need to experience the failure of "the wrong way" first-hand. For me, learning is an iterative process, and that's probably why I love what I do for a living. Granted, my wife's patience doesn't allow for as much iteration as I'd prefer, especially when it comes to doing stuff around the house.
("Why can't we just leave it like that for a while? I'll eventually get tired of looking at the crooked board and figure out how to fix it.")
But I still learn best when I have time to discover and contemplate my mistakes rather than having someone point them out to me, or worse, try to anticipate my mistakes beforehand.
We're adopting, so maybe none of this applies at all, but I can't help thinking that more than likely I'll wind up with a kid who needs to learn experientially, who doesn't process criticism (even the constructive kind) gracefully, and who would rather be left alone with a book or computer than dragged to a family function, even something as entertaining as the Christmas get-together. I could also end up with a kid who's a little too smart and a little too anti-social for his own good. I think I'm up to the challenge, but only time will tell.
I know my parents are waiting to be entertained.
My brother's firstborn is stubborn as a mule, much like his dad. Our dad loves to tell the anecdote of how my brother, at around 6 or 7 years old, refused to eat his dinner and sat at the table and made himself sick rather than eat a couple of bites of something he'd probably eaten before and has probably eaten since. This is the kid who later declared he wanted to slurp a raw egg, and mom went along with it just to see if he'd actually do it, so it's not about food grossing him out. He just wasn't going to eat his dinner, and nobody was darn well going to tell him otherwise.
The nephew is now exacting Grandma's Revenge on him, and thus all is well with the universe as I understand it.
I recently started thinking of what I was like as a kid. Of course, I only have my perspective to go on, but I remember being pretty closed off, content to lose myself in a book rather than engage with anyone (including or perhaps especially family). I also preferred to learn things "the hard way". I remember distinctly being told about this or that, and why you do something this way and not the other way. I also remember thinking in each of those circumstances, "maybe someone just hasn't really given the other way a fair shot". And then I'd go off and do it "the hard way", just to find out if what I'd been told was correct.
Most of the time, it was. But I was rewarded in my endeavors often enough that I kept up the pattern of behavior well into adulthood.
I don't know if my parents ever realized that I was doing things this way consciously and deliberately, but that's the way I learn. I have a visceral need to experience the failure of "the wrong way" first-hand. For me, learning is an iterative process, and that's probably why I love what I do for a living. Granted, my wife's patience doesn't allow for as much iteration as I'd prefer, especially when it comes to doing stuff around the house.
("Why can't we just leave it like that for a while? I'll eventually get tired of looking at the crooked board and figure out how to fix it.")
But I still learn best when I have time to discover and contemplate my mistakes rather than having someone point them out to me, or worse, try to anticipate my mistakes beforehand.
We're adopting, so maybe none of this applies at all, but I can't help thinking that more than likely I'll wind up with a kid who needs to learn experientially, who doesn't process criticism (even the constructive kind) gracefully, and who would rather be left alone with a book or computer than dragged to a family function, even something as entertaining as the Christmas get-together. I could also end up with a kid who's a little too smart and a little too anti-social for his own good. I think I'm up to the challenge, but only time will tell.
I know my parents are waiting to be entertained.
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