Stretching: The Truth

While we waited for my 11 year old to finish his swim class, I read a book to my 6 year old at the pool last week (Julius, Baby of the World by the great Kevin Henkes) which features at one point Lily (she of Lily's Purple Plastic Purse, another classic) talking to her brother, Julius, while he was in utero. At this juncture, I told my son that I used to talk to him the same way. He was unmoved by the poignancy of that revelation.


As result I grabbed his foot and attempted to eat one of his bare toes. This often gets fond looks from other parents but I do not do it for attention at what an awesome involved dad I am. Seriously.


He resisted even in the face of my pointing out that: a) He had 9 others; and b) I was entitled since essentially I made him. At this he scoffed.


- Mummy made me!


I had to agree but insisted I contributed, after all look at his blue eyes and the block like shape of his head both of which clearly come from my side. He was skeptical.


- What did you do? I was made in Mummy's tummy.


I balked. I'm sure I noticed many other parents in the vicinity attentively NOT listening to how I was going to deal with that one.


- That is a very good question and a very long story, I answered and then resumed trying to eat his toes.


He fought me off and after a moment asked,


- How do babies get out of there anyway?


I summoned up some bravery and attempted to answer it matter-of-factly.


- They come out of their Mummy's vaginas.


His eyes widened.


- Their vaginas?


- Oh, yeah, I answered casually.


Definitely sure people are NOT listening now.


- But... how?


Deep breath.


- Their vaginas stretch to let the babies come out.


Mounting incredulity. Look says, Am I shitting him?


- Vaginas stretch?!


- Yup.


Pause.


- That's so WEIRD!


- Yes, yes, it is.


We shared a thoughtful moment of father and son reflection on the mysteries and wonders of the female anatomy. To be continued, I'm sure.

It's Been Two Months? Another Pop Culture Snapshot.

I was shocked to realize it's been two months since I last added to this blog. One of the hazards of writing a parenting blog is parenting gets in the way. And work. And laundry. And catching up on Netflix. And writing to do lists. And adding updating FB status to my to-do list. And then of course, actually updating my FB status.


So in an effort to get something down now, I thought I'd add another Snapshot of life at Pop Culture.


3 boys. All different as well illustrated by this recent dinner table exchange:


Primo (age 11): Yeah, Mr. Billingsley, the Junior Band instructor, asked me and Jon to join the Senior Band since they don't have any trumpets. Which is cool to do but it would mean I would have to get to school early for practice - so I'm not sure...


Terzo (age 6): What? You could play in the senior band? (jumps up from table and brandishes fist). GO FOR IT!


Secondo (age 8): (looking up at Terzo from under lowered lids, smirking) Don't go for it.


Laughter all around - except from Terzo who tries to punch Secondo and storms off crying because he thinks we're making fun of him.

IT DOESN'T TAKE A VILLAGE... IT TAKES THE PARENT TO RAISE A CHILD

Yesterday I met up with a good friend for a coffee. A "good friend" at this stage of the parenting game is someone you see once a year or more by choice outside of any obligations of work or because they are related to a friend of one of your children. It's a sad state of affairs that you often see the people you like best the least and spend much of your time with people you have little in common with outside of work or parenting. This is not to say I haven't made some good friends simply because their kids are friends with my kids - I have and it's been great to be exposed to a whole new group of people at a similar stage of life with shared experiences. It's really not since University that you probably have gone through such a thorough rearranging of friendships and personal networks. But still. Still. You have good friends from important stages of your life that you never see unless you work really hard at it - and the best you're often likely to achieve is a couple of times a year.

This is all to say that I get it - I understand the desire of the woman with the feral two year old child left to roam Starbucks so she could catch up with her dear dear friend from when she was young and had dreams and an exciting future. But honey, babe, sweets, you clearly did not get the memo - THERE IS NO HANGING OUT WHEN YOU HAVE SMALL KIDS. That is over. Until at least, like my friend and I, your kids are in full day school or daycare.
My friend and I, both with young children, been through the kids wars etc., would regularly pause in bewilderment and increasing outrage as we watched various Starbuck staff return said child from his peregrinations of the store and its various displays. Over and over again. I'm not sure but it looked like by the end the staff behind the counter were doing rock paper scissors over who would corral the kid this time.
It is so selfish and unfair to make other people have to put up with your kids because you cannot be bothered to do the work which is parenting. Yes. I am uptight and  rules-governed. And your point? I look after my kids so that other people do not have to. It is not their job, their responsibility and it is certainly not the obligation of minimum wage service workers - they have milk to froth. What further bothers me about these lazy-fair parents is their unbridled outrage if you need to speak to their child about their behaviour.
A couple of years ago I took my kids to a water park. We were standing in line and this snaky little kid cut in front of us, in particular in front of my kid who was younger and smaller so I called snake on it. Told him to go to the back of the line like everyone else did and wait his turn. The SHOCK on his face to be told to follow the rules. The FURTHER SHOCK when I insisted and made no bones about that he had no option. He slunk to the back and I thought it was over. My kids embarrassed again about me speaking out in public about bad behaviour (BTW I do this to adults too - it can get tense).
Imagine my disbelief when snake brings his mummy over to me later to chew me out.
"Did you speak to a little boy in line?"
"Yes. I told him to go to the back of the line because he was cutting in front of other people."
Did she get that her kid was being a shit? No. She was outraged that I would dare speak to him and then further outraged that I refused to apologize. Is it any wonder that the kid behaves as he does? Apple meet Tree. She finally swept off telling her child to stay away from "this bad man" i.e. me. Fine by me. If you don't want other people not to tell your kids that they're misbehaving then manage them yourself.
In fact think it is my duty to point out to people when they are breaking the rules of civility because otherwise we end up with an uncivil society. Sure people don't like it, they get angry, they get defensive but maybe, just maybe, if enough of us speak up they'll get that they just can't behave a certain way.
I've also been on the other end of people telling me essentially that I am doing a bad job as a parent.
( See http://popculture-superdad.blogspot.ca/2012/09/and-there-were-wolves.html)
The result: 1) Yeah, I know that. I go to bed every night knowing that and swear I'll try to do better next time and that I'll probably fail; 2) It makes you angry sometimes - how dare this person judge you?; 3) Sometimes they're right and, after you get over yourself, you try and do better; and 4) Sometimes they're wrong and, if so, you can just shrug it off and go on your way.
So back to Starbucks. This kid was too young to be spoken to - it wasn't his fault - it was his mother's. After the fourth time of her kid being returned it finally happened. CRASH!!! Behind us the kid broke one of the mugs on display. Surprise. Surprise. The mother didn't even seem apologetic. She just quickly got up, I think paid for the mug and left (with the kid).
What goes on in these people's heads? Maybe she just figured a $10 mug was cheaper that paying a babysitter.

SIBLING RIVA+LRY



My kids compete over everything: who can wash their hands first, who gets to sit at the head of the table, who makes the best Perry the Playtpus chitter. Everything. And it's maddening. I usually just tell them to stop arguing over stupid stuff like that or I'll send them to their rooms so I can get some peace and quiet.




That said, I realize what mostly bothers me is that they're competing over stupid meaningless trivia (like who has the best Pokémon card) rather than stuff that matters - see, I am actually OK with being competitive for stuff that matters.




We're following the, so far for Canada, awesome Winter Olympics and, when we heard on the radio that Canada had for the first time ever led in the medal standings, my 8 year old exclaimed, "Yes! IN YOUR FACE, NORWAY!" Words truly that I never thought to hear from anyone. Yet, I laughed really hard and was in full agreement with the sentiment.




So when they brought home their report cards and were competing over who had the best report card, (Oh, yeah! I am the best in Self-Regulation!) I know that I may be reaping some sort of hurricane down the road, but I couldn't help but being pleased.



BREAKING (DOWN) DAD

I’m partway through watching Breaking Bad (just started  Season Four, so no spoilers!) and LOVE IT. Does it have anything to do with the protagonist being a hapless, disappointed midlife white male who’s losing his hair? Or that he then turns his life around and becomes a master of his own destiny and a thorough bad-ass? No! Why would I identify with that? Sheesh. It is because of its satirical take on extreme capitalism and the death of the American Dream, of course. Actually, it probably has to do with what I think the show is really about: what it means to be a MAN.

For those of you who’ve been  living in a gimp-chest, Breaking Bad is about Walter White, an emasculated high school chemistry teacher who is diagnosed with terminal cancer. This causes a series of reactions – the primary being a boiling over of rage at his wasted life and the compromises that have brought him to the point where he is going to die, leaving his family unprovided for. He makes the fateful decision to “cook” crystal meth as a way of making vast amounts of money in a short time and, critically, he does it by harnessing his untapped brilliance and skills at chemistry. It is a perfect match - he is doing something only he can do and, by doing it, he is providing for his family. The dilemma is that it must be a secret activity since it is illegal and he doesn’t want his family to know and lose respect for him. This is what Walt craves more than anything – respect, both external and internal. And these sources of respect  are at constant war.

Walt alternates between self-hatred at what he has become and pride in his accomplishments. He also de facto gains another son in Jesse Pinkman, a failed former high school student of his, who becomes his partner in crime. The difference in his behaviour to Jesse and to his real son is striking – not just because he is so verbally abusive to Jesse but because in a weird way he is a different, real, unmediated self with Jesse. There’s no filter. He bullies an berates Jesse as he aims to instruct him in the way of being a “man”, something he rarely displays with his real son (who suffers from cerebral palsy) and whom he clearly loves but is forced to treat gently.( It’s also amazing how throughout the whole process Jesse always refers to Walt as “Mr. White”, a reflection of his past as Jesse’s teacher and currently another kind of teacher and father-figure. Damn, this show is good).

I wonder if other dads also struggle with being their “best” self with their sons and telling them all the “right” things to do and say while part of them wants to just be themselves and tell them the ugly “truth” about the way the world is and how to survive and thrive in it.  Or is that just me and Walt? For the record, I do not cook meth; I have chosen the much better paid profession of freelance writing.

It drives Walt crazy that his son (Walter White Jr.)  idolizes his DEA agent uncle and disregards Walt’s ‘coolness’. Junior loves his dad’s gentle, honest and caring ways but is clearly infatuated with the life of danger and excitement and rawness his uncle seems to have. Every father wants to be a hero to his son. Walt struggles with wanting his son to know what he has done for him with fears that his son would not understand, it would not be appropriate to tell him and that he would in fact revile Walt. Can one be a hero to your son if he knows your secret worst self or must you be someone else to your son in order for them to respect you? And if you’re not your real self what are you teaching them?

These thoughts – that Breaking Bad is essentially a meditation through a fun house mirror on what it means to be a man in a world which no longer values typical male attributes – were justified in one late season 3 conversation  Walt has with his boss, Gustavo Fring, who is trying to talk Walter into continuing with his drug career. Gus hones in on this tension within Walter – his need for respect and his need to do something he is good at competing with his need to provide for his family. Gus scoffs at Walter’s need for his son to know what he has done for the family and for his respect. Gus tells Walt that his job AS A MAN is to do what he must do for his family even though he will get no respect or thanks or recognition. That in fact is part of what is a truly manly man – one who does his duty without hope of recognition or praise because it is right. Damn, old school.

Mind you, in Walt’s case it is a truly twisted application of this creed but there is something satisfying in Walt’s pursuit of his own way of being a man. He does many things that are wrong and have unhappy consequences for those he loves. He lies, kills, and creates a drug which destroys lives (but only the finest purest product, Walt always respects the chemistry) – how is it we (or at least I) still like this guy? He begs and bargains for his life and that of his family throughout the series but, while there is clearly some self-preservation going on, he is convinced it always has to do with saving his family (which includes Jesse Pinkman). It is a clever move of Gus, as well, because, like most people, Walt’s motivations are not pure – there is still a great deal of pride in what motivates him. I can see that this pride and the increasingly dangerous game he is playing will put these two fathers within Walt into increasing conflict.

So no easy summation here – this is partly what makes BB such a great show. I am fascinated to see how Walt, like so many of us, negotiates the various pulls on him in his quest to be, if not a good man, then a good father. And what is that anyway? Man, I could write about this show forever. Futher thoughts on this follow at some later date.

CASTING FOR MY SHORT, PARENTAL ADVISORY, STARTS TOMORROW

Believe it or not I was not expecting to see this when I clicked on ACTRA's site but gives me a thrill anyway. Note the second entry:

’s Shooting?

ACTRA Toronto > Performers > What’s Shooting?

If you are working on one of the productions listed here and have questions about the working conditions or other issues covered by an ACTRA agreement, please contact that production’s Steward (email address on the far right of the table). If you have questions about AoS (Accident on Set) please email  Tania Cardwell.

Click on any heading to sort the list.

Search Entries:

Production	Phone	Start Date (mm/dd/yyyy)	End Date (mm/dd/yyyy)	Casting	BG Casting/ BG Count	Stunts	Insurer	Steward	Steward Email
MIKE THE KNIGHT AND THE JOURNEY TO DRAGON MOUNTAIN - ANIMATION	(416)479-6525	01/29/2014	01/31/2014					CINDY RAMJATTAN	cramjattan@actratoronto.com
PARENTAL ADVISORY: DISCIPLINARY MEASURES - TIP SHORT	(416)465-0004	02/22/2014	02/23/2014					CINDY RAMJATTAN	cramjattan@actratoronto.com

http://www.actratoronto.com/performers/whats-shooting/

Christmas Wish List

My six year old's Christmas Wish List.

 If Santa brings all this stuff I can expect to be mercilessly attacked with snow and candy from an invisible opponent.