Friday, May 11, 2018

People Get Ready

"You Gotta Tell Your Story Boy, Because It's Time To Go"

I was exchanging a few text messages with a good friend of mine the other week, as he and his wife are expecting their first child any day now.  I asked him if he felt ready, and his response was "more or less".  Coincidentally, it was the same answer he gave when I asked him if he was ready for the half marathon was planning to run this last weekend.  I suggested that he should pace himself, both with the half marathon and impending transition to fatherhood, as long distance running and parenting tend to draw a lot of parallels.

After that brief message exchange, I realized, disappointingly, that was the first time I had really inquired with him about the life changing moment he would be experiencing in the next few weeks.  A good friend, someone who I had traveled foreign countries with, someone I would trust my own kid's well being without hesitation.  And me, someone who likes to think they are typically more attuned to the social-emotional state of affairs.  Yet, despite knowing for seven months that he and his wife were expecting, I had neglected to ask him how he felt.  And when I finally did, it was via a three bubble text message correspondence.

I felt like a pretty horrendous friend after that realization.  What kind of friend finally gets around to check-in on someone a few weeks before his world is about to be completely altered (mostly for the good) to ask them how they are feeling.  I have no doubt in my mind that my buddy and his wife, who I would also consider a very good friend, will be absolutely phenomenal parents.  He's going to crush fatherhood, just like he crushed the half marathon he ran.  But that certainly doesn't mean that he isn't feeling a whole range of emotions, including some that might be a little more unsettling.  Talking through some of those feelings, however challenging that might be, can often provide a recognition that those feelings and emotions are normal for expectant parents.  Especially when you can have those conversation with an expert parent like myself (please note the sarcasm). 

In my view, there are two primary reasons, neither excusable, for the lack of support I felt I've provided to my friend.  One is the obvious culprit of time, and lack there of.  The other is the all too familiar gender stereotype that doesn't encourage guys to talk about their feelings, and often puts the father in a supporting role in the sci-fi, rom-com, comedic-horror, drama that is pregnancy and parenting.

We're all busy.  When people ask me, "How we have been?", my response is typically, "Busy, although we never seem to do anything."  When you have young kids, or older kids too I presume, it's easy to get into the minutia of the day to day - school, homework, activities, recommended daily hygiene, etc.  It's hard to deviate from the path without anticipating some serious challenging parental opportunities^.  Because of this, we have a tendency to get into our own little world, and lack the energy to have awareness of others and the things they might be going through.  We ask, "How are things going?" as formalities, somewhat hoping the respondent doesn't dive into a five minute monologue about what has really been consuming their life since the last time we asked them that question.  Ain't nobody got time for that, we're already running late to pick the kids up from school.

It's little surprise that a recent survey of Americans conducted by the large health insurance provider Cigna showed that nearly 54% of respondents would be considered lonely, with 40% indicating that they "lack companionship" and "meaningful relationships", and feel "isolated from others".  The report also pointed out that feelings of loneliness are much more prevalent in the younger generations.  This is quite the juxtaposition, given today's technological advances where we can be hyper-connected to so much and so many, but still lack that deep sense of connection to others.  We can have 1,000 Facebook friends, but struggle to identify a non-familial person we'd feel comfortable putting down as an emergency contact on our child's school medical forms.

And if we don't feel like we have time to really get to know others and do the work to establish those meaningful relationships, then we guys, who would do pretty much anything besides discuss our feelings, are certainly not going to take the time.  Naturally, men and women approach the entire aspect of pregnancy and child-rearing in typically different fashion.  Lacking the ability to actually get pregnant, guys do not get to (have to) experience the physical changes that go along with expecting a child and ultimately doing the physical work to deliver that child*.  But this is certainly not to say that an expectant father's emotions and feelings about the pregnancy and his transition into fatherhood doesn't deserve airing as well.

Throughout the pregnancy and delivery of the baby, the vast majority of attention is focused to the mother, and rightfully so, as she is doing the brunt of the heavy lifting.  But this also tends to color our perspective of those events as women-centered, and can often leave an expectant father wonder where his place is or should be.  Expectant mothers get thrown baby showers and get to go shopping for a whole new wardrobe - yes, I get that pregnant women probably wish they didn't have to wear maternity clothes.  They get to "nest" and have late-night cravings for ice cream - again, I get that those cravings come at the expense of morning sickness and overall uncomfortableness and exhaustion.  Expectant dads, if they're lucky, have friends that will take him out for one last night on the town before baby comes.  Something we tried and failed to do with our friend because we were all too busy.

I don't want it to seem like I'm bitter for not being thrown my own baby shower - I actually got a tool belt full of baby related products as a gift from my old coworkers - or getting to wear jeans with an elastic waistband.  I'm just saying that our view of what pregnancy and childbirth, and subsequently most child rearing activities entail are seen through the mother's lens, and I think this can make it harder for dads to feel connected to the process.  Even the child birth class we took before our first focused primarily on the comfort of the mother during labor and delivery (again, rightfully so).  When the expectant fathers were consulted on what they hoped for throughout the process, most everyone indicated, wisely, for their wives/partners/baby mommas to be comfortable.  Having never experienced a pregnancy first hand and lacking the ability to physically carry offspring inside my body for nine months and personally push that offspring out of an undersized opening, I felt my job was to defer to whatever my wife felt was the best course of action.  "Get her any/all of the drugs she wants, Doc!  Here's my Amex, just keep the tab open."   

Even past the pregnancy, labor and delivery, and into the stages when a father can be more actively involved in the child rearing (minus the breast feeding of course), we still have a tendency to view our marker as a parent through the standard set by the mom.  I feel like I get referred to as a slightly-above average-dad (in the aggregate) because I did/do a number of things that are commonly associated with the mother.  I happily changed diapers, gave bottles, took the kids out in public, and continue to do a vast majority of things that women tend to do around the house, whether they are working or not.  Don't get me wrong, there are certainly some terrible moms out there.  And of course households without a motherly presence; whether tragically or intentionally.  But on the whole, and is true in our house, the societal parental standard is set by the mom, and for good reason. 

But maybe this is part of the reason it can be challenging to get fathers to engage in parenthood, because we are expecting them to act more like moms.  That can be challenging to do when a father's experience through the pregnancy is very different.  We might lack some of that connective feeling to our kids because we didn't carry them for nine months.  We might not appreciate the challenge of parenting through frustrating times because we didn't experience the mental, emotional and physical exhaustion of labor and delivery.  We can do our best to try and understand what it was like, but we only know what we know.  And when we live in a society that questions if all moms are #momenough, how can we expect dads to even compete.           

 A few nights ago, my wife and I were discussing how fortunate we are to both be home on most nights and able to put our kids to bed.  If you have multiple kids, you're probably aware that the divide and conquer strategy is typically the optimal approach.  But I think it is important, and at times refreshing, to parent solo.  While you are forced to deal with every kid crisis yourself, it also helps you to develop your unique style of parenting, without necessarily having to worry about what your co-parent might be thinking.  Don't get me wrong, single parenting has to be infinitely more challenging, but those moments when it's just you and no Super Mom to swoop in and save the day can lead to some profound resourcefulness.

Shortly after our oldest turned one, my wife took a girls long weekend to Chicago with some of her friends.  I'm sure she was apprehensive to leave her baby, and worried about how I would fare, but it was a necessary rite of passage for me.  In my own baby book, I remember finding a piece of paper where my Dad had documented a play-by-play synopsis of a day he spent with just my sister and me when we were little, and my Mom was enjoying some much needed time away from her motherly duties.  Having those occasional times as an only parent has helped boost my confidence in my parental abilities, and it is something I would suggest that new fathers do once it is logistically feasible.  We certainly all make mistakes as parents, and sometimes you learn better from recognizing your own mistakes, as opposed to being informed of your mistakes by someone else.  It's also nice to not feel guilty about leaving the dishes piled in the sink after dinner for a few days.

As important as having those opportunities to test your parenting mettle while flying solo, I don't think anything is as vital in helping you improve your parenting game as just having that time with your kids, especially when they are brand new.  I've commented before on the generous parental leave policy that my previous employer had.  Like dealing with a hangover and running long distances, kids just take time.  A lot of it.  And the more interrupted time you can spend with them, especially during the first days/weeks/months of their life, the more comfortable you'll become with your parental abilities, and hopefully the more likely you'll want to use those abilities in the future.  This time won't ease all of your concerns, and it might just create new ones for you to worry about: Am I reading the appropriate books?  Is this the most ergonomically correct baby carrier to use?  Can newborns comprehend swear words at 4 months?  I heard their mind is like a sponge.

There isn't much of a training plan for parenthood, like there might be for a half marathon.  Unless I suppose if you work in a daycare or have a large family with significantly younger siblings.  They always say it's different when they're your own.  And It is.  It's easier and it's harder at the same time, and for very different reasons.  You can certainly practice with other people's kids, and we will gladly offer up ours at a discounted price.  But regardless, being an expectant parent, especially for the first time, will bring on a whole host of emotions and feelings, both for the expectant mom and the expectant dad.  While we are reassuring expectant mothers that those feelings are completely normal, and sometimes just hormonal, we should also remember that those expectant fathers might also be feeling similar emotions, and much less likely to wear them on their sleeves.

This is not to downplay the often insurmountable task that is motherhood, or advocate that us Dads of the World should unite to protest this weekend's next Hallmark Holiday.  Moms deserve all the kudos they get, and much, much more.  The Dad-joke that everyday should be Mother's Day is by all means true.  But as Dads, our experience as parents is going to be different than that of a mother's.  We have our own dreams, hopes, and fears when it comes to having and raising our kids.  We might not want to talk about them, but that doesn't mean it isn't worth getting us to try.  There is a good chance that if you get us to tell our story, we'll better know the reason why.


The below photo progression illustrates the increase of comfort in holding a newborn with each subsequent child.  This corresponds directly with a decrease in head hair coverage.


Child #1:
Pretty Awkward Newborn Holding

Child #2:
Slightly Less Awkward Newborn Holding

Child #3:
Seamlessly managing my fantasy football roster while holding newborn

My buddy Ben got his awkward newborn
holding photo out of the way with our first.


^Commonly referred to as meltdowns

*I've commented before that the book The Sh!t No One Tells You was a good read to help me better understand the toll pregnancy and delivery took on my wife.  Still, reading and experiencing firsthand are obviously two very different things.

       

Sunday, April 22, 2018

Guilty As Charged

I Get Knocked Down, But I Get Up Again

We're almost a month removed from the Lenten season, which means, if you're like me, you have consumed an equal amount of chocolate that you gave up during those forty days.  I gave up a host of things for Lent, chocolate/sweets being one of them.  I don't do it because I'm overtly religious, but I tend to take some small pleasure in mild masochism.  You could make an argument that all parents are masochists in some way.  The whole point of giving up something for a period of time is that it's supposed to be a challenge and involve a bit of suffering.  Sounds a lot like parenting.

Along with chocolate, alcohol tends to be a common indulgence that people up for Lent.  In fact, in 2016, based on a unscientific analysis of Twitter, alcohol was the most common thing that people gave up for lent.  I remember going out with a group of people one night in my 20s, encountering someone who had given up drinking for lent, and having a hard time wrapping my head around the prospect.  The religion that I was raised in didn't push giving up things for lent, and somewhat ironically, as I've become less religious, I've tended to adopt more practices that have a religious historical context.

This year I did give up alcohol for lent, but it was a very knee-jerk, reactionary decision.  I've commented before that as I've aged, and hit my mid-30 about a month ago, I've gotten better at recognizing my limits when it comes to imbibing.  Every once and a while though I forget that I have limits, and one of the weekends leading into Lent, I took over-advantage of being 24 hours kid-free.  When the dust had settled, I found myself in a state I hadn't been in a good 5-7 years (and hopefully won't be again for another 10-15).  My decision to part ways with intoxicating beverages for a few weeks were eerily reminiscent of those particularly bad (and thankful rare) occasions of my younger years where I woke up a following morning (or afternoon) and swore I'd never drink again.  Only to have usually recovered by that evening and completely forgotten the oath I made to myself or God or whoever else I thought might get me through my hangover.  As your years increase, your recovery time tends to as well, and it took me until Wednesday morning to finally feel recovered from my Saturday night antics.

As a parent, you have a whole host of things to feel guilty about.  There are certainly no shortage of books and blogs and excessively long Facebook posts addressing parenting guilt.  For me, the guilt doesn't get laden much thicker than missing out on time with your kids because you're nursing a hangover.  Fortunately it hasn't happened that often, but the times when it has (mysteriously?) come about, I've felt like a pretty piece-of-shit parent.  Being under the weather and unable to attend to your kids brings on it's own level of guilt, which is amplified at least 295^ times when that under-the-weatherness is completely self induced.  Influenza S* as I referred to it following my most recent debacle.  To add to the guilt, if your kids are young and clueless enough, they will show such sincere concern for you.  As I spent the better part of a Sunday laying in bed wondering if I could convince my wife to take a sick day the next day, our kids would occasionally peek their heads in the door and ask if they could bring me anything to help me feel better.  This only made me feel that much worse.

So once I fully, or mostly recovered, I decided to give up drinking for a while.  Or at least until we celebrated the resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and hunted for some Easter eggs.  I don't consume that much or that often, and I knew it likely wouldn't be the last time in my life I forgot those tenets, but it seemed like an appropriate decision given the timing of the incident and how long it took me to feel like a fully functional parent again.  I can't say that I made it all the way through Lent without having any, but if you adhere to the allowance of a cheat day each week, I did pretty well.  Definitely better than the chocolate.

I've never been a huge believer in guilt as a sustainable motivational tool to improve your life.  I certainly think it has its merits, as it did in my case a few months ago, but I see changes, especially lifestyle ones, motivated primarily by guilt as ones that don't last.  I believe wanting to do something because you feel better after you do it is more likely to create lasting habits than doing something because you feel guilty if you don't.  Exercise and going to church are perfect personal examples.  I don't exercise or go to church because I feel guilty if I don't.  I exercise and go to church (most of the time) because I feel better if I do.  Sure I may be motivated a little by guilt if I skip a workout or a Sunday, but by and large my impetus for engaging in those activities is because I know I will feel better after I do them.

I think the same can be said for parenting.  It's easy to feel guilty as a parent.  About everything.  Guilty about not spending enough time with your kids, guilty about not putting them in the right/enough/too many activities, guilty about letting them wear the same clothes two days in a row, guilty about feeding them mac and cheese multiple times a week.  But if we let that guilt be the prime motivator to try and be better parents, we allow it to consume us.  We shouldn't try to be more patient and loving parents because we feel guilty when we loose our cool and yell at our kids.  We should strive to be more patient and loving because it feels better to parent that way, and it's usually more effective (in the long run at least).  We've all been guilt tripped into doing things, and we've probably all guilt tripped our kids into doing things (or at least tried).  But we recognize how that behavior is temporary, until the next time that situation arises and we're dealt or are attempting to deal the guilty card.

This is not to say that a guilty conscience doesn't have place in parenting, or in life in general.  If parenting could truly be "guilt-free", my kids would subsist on flour tortillas and Dinosaur Train.  Yes, I feel guilty when I've turned on the TV for them so I could get some personal time.  But that guilt isn't the only reason I try to avoid the electronic babysitter as much as possible.  I'd rather play outside with them, or read books, or do something creative with them that I can post on Instagram and make other parents feel guilty.  I may lack the motivation to do those things at the time, like I usually lack motivation before a run, and it's really enticing to let them watch one more episode, especially when that's all they want to do.  I know though that spending that time with my kids, engaging them and interacting with them, even if they are melting down the entire time, will make me feel more fulfilled as a parent.  And possibly provide some good blog material.  I also know that if my kids watch too much TV, they turn into complete assholes.

So maybe it's not really "guilt-free" parenting that we're after.  Maybe it's "guilty enough".  Guilty enough to want to do better, but ultimately deciding to do better because you feel better from doing better.  That makes sense, right?  We're going to screw up a lot as parents, and we're going to feel guilty about it.  It's a natural emotion.  If all we feel is guilt for making those mistakes, we will continually make the same ones because we'll be consumed by that guilt.  Real world parenting will always have a plentiful amount of guilt that can be felt.  But just like masochism and intoxicating beverages, everything in moderation.       

I clean up their throw up after they get sick,
so why shouldn't they reciprocate?
         

^For some odd reason this is our 7 y/o's favorite number.  Whenever she complains about something taking a long time, it is always 295 seconds or hours or years.

*Should stand for Stupid, but since we don't use that word in our house, it stood for Should Have Made Better Life Choices



     

Thursday, March 8, 2018

Don't Take Your Guns to Town, Son

Wish That We Might, and Wish That We May

We're three weeks past the shooting that killed 17 people at the Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida.  By now, most of us have likely moved that incident from our "working memory".  We may have already forgotten that just over three weeks prior to the Parkland shooting, a student killed two students and injured seventeen others when he opened fire at a high school in Benton, Kentucky.  If our collective attention span of a current event is measured by how often we search for it via our favorite medium, some have suggested that it takes us about a week to get over a mass shooting^ like the ones in Florida or Kentucky, or the one in Texas last November, or the one in Las Vegas six weeks before that one.

If you've read some of my earlier stuff, you may be aware that I a self-labeled pacifist.  I've never owned a gun (besides a BB gun) or even fired a gun, and have absolutely zero intention of doing either in the near or distant future.  Ever.  Thus, I was naturally somewhat surprised when I received a mailing from the National Rifle Association (NRA) a month or so ago encouraging me to become a member.  My membership would instantly enter me into a sweepstakes where the grand prize was a cache of a dozen different guns, ranging from AR-15s to Glock pistols to some that looked like they were used in the Revolutionary War.  The grand prize also presumably included enough ammunition to shoot (at least) one round from each gun for a month straight for an entire calendar year.  I'm guessing that my friends who exercise their Second Amendment Rights with much more frequency than I do may have been behind my receiving of the membership invitation.  

Like a number of things that manifest from our developmental socialization, I was not raised in a gun-owning household.  My Dad probably had a gun somewhere, we lived on a farm multiple miles from our nearest neighbors.  But he never showed it to me and I never saw him use it.  He didn't hunt, and neither have I.  This is not to say that I never played Cowboys and Indians or Cops and Robbers as a young kid.  I had my fair share of toy guns, and even that BB gun, which I don't think I every really used to shoot anything besides the side of a grain bin.  But real guns where never apart of my childhood, and subsequently they have not been apart of my adulthood in way. 

Because of this, there is no part of me that would feel any safer owning a gun or having one in my house as a means of protecting my family.  Especially considering that having a gun in your home significantly increases the risk of that gun killing one of your own family members, accidentally or intentionally.  It also increases the likelihood of someone in your house committing suicide.  Not to mention the empirically studied "weapons effect", that shows that the mere presence of a gun makes people more aggressive.  For these reasons, I've made if very apparent to our young kids that our's is a household that does not celebrate guns or violence.  On more than one occasion, I've redirected my three year old from using something in a gun like fashion.  Any "squirt guns" have been reclassified as the more PBS-friendly "water squirters".             

This past December marked the five year anniversary of the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary in Newtown, Connecticut.  I vividly remember the increased unease I had when hearing about this tragedy in comparison to other similar events.  Sure, I was alive, and even in high school when Columbine happened, but as a high school freshmen, it was hard to imagine that anyone would ever walk into my school and start shooting people.  Newtown was different though, as I now had a kid, and one more on the way in a matter of weeks.  In a few short years, my kids would go to an elementary school, which, until that horrific December day, seemed like an unfathomable target for a mass shooting.

Following the shooting in Parkland, which had been the 239th instance of a shooting at a school since Newtown, a number of politicians, including the President, pointed out the mental state of the assailant and decried America's "mental health crisis".  Critics suggested this was done to shift the focus away from the unique gun culture that exists in the United States, which is the only developed nation where these mass shootings happen with alarming regularity.  I will agree that there a certainly issues related to mental health that need to be addressed to help prevent future tragedies, and those who want to place the blame squarely on mental health have done much to exacerbate* the crisis.

But even if we could "solve the mental health crisis" (I'm not even sure what that would look like), or ban all of the violent video games and media, another scapegoat of the those opposing any, seemingly common sense, gun control measures, we'd still have guns, and the primary function of a gun is to induce harm, most often fatally, on something or someone.  Nevermind the fact that rates of mental illness diagnosis are relatively consistent across the developed countries, and the US has a mental illness rate comparable with the Netherlands, which has a gun death rate nearly 10 times less than the US.  I'm guessing they also play their fair share of violent video games in Holland, including the popular Killzone series games, which were developed there.  Like the US, they probably haven't yet found a way to block all of the violence portrayed in Dutch movies and television (or those salacious American imports).  I do wonder what gun sales would look like if we managed to get rid of all of the violent video games, television shows and movies, a concept I've become much more receptive to in my crotchety old age.                   

I recognize that getting rid of all the guns will not end tragic events like the shooting in Parkland. Having taking middle school and high school civics, I am well aware that the Second Amendment provides all law abiding citizens with the right to bear arms.  I am also aware, having taken constitutional law classes in college, that no rights are absolute.  Even the late (and very conservative) Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia commented in regards to his opinion of a 2008 Supreme Court Case dealing with Second Amendment Rights, that there are "undoubtedly" certain "limitations on the right to bear arms".  As the only developed country that continues to deal with these types of mass shootings on a too regular basis, it's baffling, disturbing and shameful that we can't figure out how to reduce the gun violence in our country.  Our obsession with guns is not the only problem, but it is certainly part of the problem, and in my view, a big part of the problem. 

After the shooting in Parkland, there was discussion about the need to "harden" schools, and the Florida Legislature earlier this week, passed a bill that would allow certain school staff to be armed.  Some experts have suggested (more than once) that this is the exact opposite of what needs to be done to prevent another school shooting.  I don't agree with our President often, but I did agree when he "tweeted" that "No child, teacher, or anyone else should ever feel unsafe in an American school."  But honestly, I can't imagine arming teachers or adding (more) metal detectors outside of school entrances doing the trick.  Yes, schools should be a safe haven for kids, but shouldn't every place else; the park, the mall, the movie theater?  Why stop with just the schools?  Don't all of us have a right to feel safe in a nation that was created to "form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity." 

When our kids were in daycare, we used to get the occasional note home about a "biting incident".  As sad as it sounds, I was always a little relieved when the note indicated our child was the one bitten, as opposed to the one doing the biting.  I never wish ill will on my children, but realizing that bite marks and bruises heal in time always seemed easier to process than behavioral issues that would need to be continually addressed over time.  It's a drastic, and somewhat (okay, very) sadistic comparison, but if, Heaven forbid, one of my children were ever involved in a mass shooting, I'd have to say that I'd rather have them be a victim than the shooter.  The sad reality is that we can't ensure that our kids never fall victim to a horrendous act of violence.  Shootings like the one in Florida three weeks ago will undoubtedly happen again.  But we can, and must, do absolutely everything that we can to ensure that our kids are never the ones to commit those horrendous acts.  If we all did that, then we could probably worry less about them being the victims.


Yes, I carried this toy gun when I dressed up as a cowboy for Halloween one year in college. 
I even took it to the bar and vaguely remember, in my drunken stupidity, pointing it at people in attempt to be humorous.
Despite my antics, I was very fortunately not shot that night. 
Although I probably should have been.
  
^The definition of mass shooting is obviously widely debated, but we usually know one when we see (or hear about) one, which we do a lot.

*If you are unfamiliar with The Onion, please note it is a satirical news publication, and Paul Ryan did not actually write this article.  But if you want to get an actual sense of how serious conservatives are about fixing the "mental health crisis" you can look here.  Or here, among other places.     

Thursday, December 14, 2017

You Ain't Gotta Go To Work, Work, Work, Work

But You Gotta Do the Work, Work, Work, Work

I've been at this stay at home parenting thing (and subsequently a world renowned blogger*) for over three years now.  My current supervisors don't have a formal annual performance appraisal process in place, but they tend to be very good about giving my ongoing feedback.  As they say, you should never be surprised about anything you learn at an annual performance review, as any areas of improvement should be pointed out on a continual basis, with suggestions for action items to help you improve on those areas.  Believe me, I get plenty of these.

On multiple occasions, when I've told people that I am a stay-at-home parent, some have commented on how it is great that I have the opportunity to raise my own kids.  I never really thought much about this idea, as we thought our kids were in a great daycare while we were both working, and part of my own hesitation for staying home with them was taking them out of that environment and subsequently learning all of my bad habits.  As I've perfected this parenting thing (please note that was laden heavy with sarcasm), I've realized that there is certainly some truth to that statement.  What I have appreciated has been my opportunity to raise our kids in the environment that my wife and I have created, which I'll, somewhat unfortunately admit, seems markedly different than today's norm.  

It seems like the new normal for a family with dependent kids is a frenzied, stressful environment of rushing between home, school, work, and various activities.  While we certainly have our fair share of stress in our house and do our fair share of frenzied rushing to various things, I've said before, and recently reiterated a number of times to various people, that me being home with our kids has reduced the collective stress level in our house.  Just as kids pick up on the stress level of their environments, I think our kids have in turn become some pretty easy going children, at least when mom and dad are not around.  Whether this is attributable to the vast amount of reggae music we listen to on a daily basis, I cannot make a definitive judgement.     

Of course I've suggested before that being a stay-at-home parent is not for everybody, and focusing primarily on the children and domicile duties comes with its fair share of stress in other areas.  This is also not to say that working outside the home has little merit beyond the monetary compensation that one receives to support his/her family.  It does seem though like we'd (all) be better served with a little more balance, as hard as that can be to attain.  Before I left my job, a colleague recalled a remark he made to his wife when their kids were young.  He thought they should both work 20 hours per week, as opposed to him working 40 (or often more) and her not working at all.  I agreed with him very much at the time, and still do.  It is also a comment that my wife has often made, wishing for one or two days off per week, so that she could spend more time with the kids, while also being able to work and provide the Bruns Family Foundation with an operating budget.    

Work is good, and it is certainly a defining part of our life in a lot of respects.  Most of us (hopefully) feel a calling to do our work beyond just the paycheck (if we earn a paycheck for the work that we do), and find fulfillment in using our talents and being challenged.  I've said before that as much as I don't like comparing "stay-at-home parenting" to a job, it draws a lot of similarities.  I have good days, and bad days, just like I'm guessing those of you do who work outside the home do.  Often though, we can really let our work define us and consume our lives, even when we wish it wouldn't, or we know we should try to find some better balance.  I had the opportunity to go out for happy hour with some former work colleagues a few weeks ago.  It was great to see them all, but as expected, once we covered the formalities of how our various families were doing, and what hilarious escapades my kids had been up to, the conversation naturally turned to work related topics.  It was great to not have to worry about their work issues (that's what happy hour is for right, to complain about work), but I felt a little left out that I couldn't gripe along too. 

Of course when us stay-at-home parents gather for our "playdates", a bulk of our discussion centers around kid related topics - school, child development, sleep schedules, the latest Odd Squad episode, etc.  It's good to commiserate, but because we all parent in different ways and raise different kids, it can be hard to feel that connection at times to something larger.  One of the challenges I've found with being a stay-at-home parent, and focusing primarily on child rearing and domicile duties, is the goals of your day to day can seem relatively abstract.  Yes, you have concrete things that need to get done; kids dressed/fed/kept alive, house somewhat clean/not on fire, etc.  But beyond that, and how you get to those various points, can be open to some pretty liberal interpretation.  Fortunately, for me as a stay-at-home dad, and unfortunately (and unfairly) for the stay-at-home moms, the societal interpretation is probably even more liberal than it should be.

I found this past summer to be both my easiest and hardest summer as a stay at home parent.  As our kids have grown, they've gotten pretty good at entertaining themselves, and most days this summer, they would be happy to go in the backyard and play with the neighbor kids.  I was happy to let them, because I think that free play is vitally important, and it gave me a break from the unrelenting requests and questions that lacked easy answers.  It was great that they would do this, but after a while, I would start to wonder what I was supposed to do.  Sure I could do all sorts of things - read a book, fix a drink, write a blog, but inevitably I'd tend to gravitate toward things that seemed like they needed to be checked off my list, or added to the list so they could be checked off, providing me a measurable sense of accomplishment.  This usually meant doing more laundry or spending more time in the kitchen prepping a meal that would cause my kids to recoil when I put it in front of them.  My wife probably wishes it meant more time cleaning the house, but if there is any goal that is the most abstract when you have young kids, it's attempting to keep your house clean.   

While we all seem to pine for a vacation, or even just a little free time from our regular live demands to do what we really want, when we find ourselves with that time, we don't always know what to do.  This may be one of the reasons Americans failed to use half of their vacation days last year.  We want to escape the grind, but seem to secretly need the structure that the grind provides us.  With our technological advances, even a day out of the office can easily turn into answering emails and taking care of work related things.  I recently read a couple of books that discussed the paradox of how our burgeoning societal affluence has created a wealth of other problems for us - a perceived lack of free time and more work, the obesity epidemic, general dissatisfaction with our current situation, higher stress levels, etc.  What was striking was how James Wallman pointed out in his book, Stuffocation, that we hit a point following the Industrial Revolution, where our society could have chosen a culture of contentment, which may have led to economic theorist John Maynard Keynes' prediction that we'd eventually be working 15 hour work weeks.

Obviously, we've instead embraced a conspicuous consumption culture, in which our own economic livelihood is dependent on us using things, discarding them, and buying new ones.  It's not nearly enough to have a phone (or, should I say, mobile device) that makes calls, can take pictures, and surf the web, but we need the newest version to replace our most recent version, whose product life was likely designed to only last about a year.  But of course, the cyclical nature of this arrangement is what allows for jobs to exist in the various sectors of manufacturing, sales, support, management, product development, human resources, etc, so we can earn money to purchase those products.  I don't want to discredit the merits of these products, and the relative usefulness they can have in our lives.  As Gregg Easterbrook points out in his book, The Progress Paradox, technological advances have attributed to a lot of time saved (and lives saved) doing various day to day tasks.  But I have wondered more than once, given the vastness of our technological advances, especially in the last 20-30 years, why 40 hour work weeks are still the norm.  I've also found the concept of working 40 (or more) hours per week for 40 (or more) years to subsequently retire and not work anymore a bit bizarre.  While some studies have examined a possible correlation between retiring earlier and dying sooner, I would hypothesize that any such link is likely due to the prominent role that work plays in our live, which might not be all good. 

Maybe we could all be working 20 hours a week, or 15 hours, like Keynes suggests.  This would obviously take a drastic change in our attitude toward our cultural norm of what work is, and what role it plays in our society.  I would venture a guess that most working parents wished that they could work less and ultimately spend more time with their kids and family.  We make decisions though on what we are going to prioritize, especially based on our most limited, and arguably valuable, resource, our time.  When we typically spend a third of our day working and another third sleeping (or at least we should), that leaves just 8 hours (the remaining third for you fellow non-math majors) for us to spend time with our families, make meals, exercise, volunteer, engage in our hobbies that bring us additional fulfillment.  Obviously, a vast majority of people work more than 8 hours a day, especially when you factor in commute times.  Also obvious is that a vast majority of people do not sleep 8 hours a day, in detriment to our own health and well being, usually to try and cram more "productivity" into their day.  I'll certainly acknowledge the fact, and if you've ever worked a "white collar job" I'm guessing you'd agree, that a fair amount of 40 hour work weeks don't always entail 40 hours worth of actual work.

Unfortunately, considering the tax code re-write recently passed by Congress, we've seemed to double-down (or however many down) on economic growth being best marker of the "good life".  It certainly is the easiest to measure.  Even if, as the President contends, the legislation can produce continuous growth of 4% and create millions of new jobs, claims that have been highly contested by many, will it make us any better off on the whole?  It might raise wages, another concept many experts doubt, or create a new employment opportunity for someone who was previously without work, which probably won't make it any easier for all of those fast food places and gas stations who all seem to be hiring.  But I can't imagine 4% GDP growth doing much to curb our rising spending on high care or increasing rates of depression.  I'd certainly welcome a few extra dollars in my (wife's) paycheck.  Maybe we could buy an iRobot, and decrease the amount of time I spend on vacuuming the house. Likely though, this would just give me more time to stress about other things, or stress about the fact that I don't have an imminent task to complete, causing me to question my purpose as a stay-at-home parent^.

This time of year, which tends to be considerably more stressful than the rest of year, if not also more joyous, seems to illuminate the type of environment that we've created.  We will consume a lot over the next few weeks - both culinary and stuff made in China.  To do so, it requires that we have the means to do such consumption, or the wherewithal to grow all of our own food and manufacture all of our gifts (homemade Christmas sweater anyone?).  To achieve those means, or any means, it usually requires work, and typically that of the paid variety.  The more we work, the more we can consume, but the more we consume the more we have to work.  It's up to us to decide if this is the environment we want to be a part of.  It can be hard to break the cycle, but as Tim Ferris, the author of The 4-Hour Work Week suggests, "to do the impossible, you need to ignore the popular."  Decide what type of environment you want your family to live in.  If it's different than start making some changes.  It will take some work to put those changes in motion, but you might even get a promotion and you can do it from home, home, home.

    
"Well, the kids seem to be entertaining themselves.
Guess I'll just tear some siding off the garage for the hell of it."


*I've seen the Blogger audience stats, people have read this thing overseas.  At least one person did.  Once.

^Considering the infrequency with which I actually vacuum our house, any time savings realized from having a iRobot would be very negligible.

Liberal sampling taken from Fifth Harmony in the titles and final paragraph.   

Thursday, November 16, 2017

Sugar, No Thanks

Candy Makes You Not So Dandy

We're more than two weeks past Halloween, which, if you have little kids and took them Trick or Treating, you likely find yourself along the candy consumption spectrum somewhere between "completely consumed (with some parental assistance)" or "hardly consumed and essentially forgotten about."  Our household is probably somewhere in the middle, trending a little closer to the "essentially forgotten about", or so I like to tell myself until my kids remind me that they still have a bunch of Halloween treats yet to be consumed.

We've had a busy fall, and I found myself having a hard time getting into the Halloween Spirit, which is unfortunate because my wife has become widely renowned for her ability to put together family themed costumes.  I actually thought there was a chance we would get out of taking our kids Trick-or-Treating, as Halloween fell on a Tuesday night, the same night our girls have dance class.  Apparently though, the prospect of getting free candy trumps the importance of having kids honor their prior commitments, or the ones us parents have signed them up for.  I'll refrain from my customary rant on what seems to be the arbitrariness of why we send our kids to collect candy on Halloween.  Likely from at least a few strangers, something we've repeated told them not to do, and in disguise no less.  October 31st does sound eerily reminiscent of another approaching holiday that has religious roots, but has, in my opinion, gone full blown secular.

Off to solve the mystery of how my kids
ended up with so much candy this year.

I don't want to necessarily come across as a huge Halloween Humbug.  I have very fond memories of my own Trick-or-Treating adventures growing up - of course the Halloween blizzard of 1991, which is referenced at least a dozen times each year.  But again, when you become a parent, you look at most things through your parental lens.  I probably wouldn't be so hesitant to allow my kids to collect excessive amounts of candy on the last day of October if it didn't seem, at least to me, that Halloween could exist nearly every single day for a kid.  The USDA estimates that the average child under the age of 12 will eat about 49 pounds of sugar each year, which more than half what the average 12 year old weighs

While the exact effects of sugar consumption are certainly debatable, it's widely accepted that too much is bad and we (the Royal We) eat too much.  I think you'd be hard pressed to find a parent who could tell you with a straight face that they don't think their kid eats too much sugar.  Even those health-nut parents who feed their kids nothing but kale and quinoa.  The problem is that we live in a world that is essentially coated in sugar, and kids are sugar magnets.  Whether it is the grocery store^, the bank, or even the post office (the post office!), I can hardly take my kids anywhere without them being accosted by "well-intentioned" adults (likely with their own kids) offering them free suckers or cookies.  Even when I try to teach my kids a little altruism, by bringing food to our local food shelf or delivering meals to homebound elderly, they usually leave with fistfuls of sugary treats.  And if a 90 year old grandma offers your kids some candy, no matter how far it is past its expiration date, it can be tough to say no.

Of course I've been complicit in my own pouring of some sugar on my kids, and not necessarily in the name of love.  I've resorted to using candy and treats as bribes to my kids for a variety of reasons, the most counter-intuitive likely being giving them suckers to keep them occupied while I take them for a run in the stroller.  On more than one occasion I've pulled out the ice cream or the candy bucket in attempt to stave off an oncoming nap too late in the afternoon.  Mornings though, tend to be my most vulnerable.  When your primary goal is getting everyone out the door with as few tears as possible, allowing your kid to consume sugar-laden cereals or toast with 4 servings of jelly per piece* seems like a battle not worth fighting.  This morning, I actually allowed my kids to have a Reese's peanut butter cup as part of their breakfast - my compromise to discourage them from eating it last night at 7pm when it was given to them by (someone else's) grandpa.  I figured it's essentially peanut butter toast with chocolate taking the place of the toasted bread.

Yes, that was a bowl of chocolate.
Yes, it was eaten at breakfast.

We all probably want our kids to eat healthier, and some of us (probably most of you, not so much me) do a great job of feeding our kids healthy, well balanced meals and snacks.  I'm guessing you've also seen the aftermath of when our kids have overindulged on too much sugar (or too much screen time).  It's not pretty, and can be eerily reminiscent of the belligerent drunk.  But rewarding (or bribing) your kid with candy (or screen time) can be such an easy out, and unfortunately, we parents don't make it any easier on ourselves.  Once your kid sees my kid consuming a lollipop the size of his head, they are obviously going to want one too, and will probably throw themselves on the floor kicking and screaming until you eventually give in.  Well, you might not give in, but I would - hence the reason my kid would have the massive lollipop in the first place.  Not surprising then that cases of juvenile Type 2 diabetes (the preventable kind) have risen at almost a 5% yearly increase since 2000.  Or that the number of cavities in kids age 2-5 increased by 17% from the late 1980s to the early 2000s.

This doesn't mean that we don't try to exterminate the sugar bugs, or at least keep them at bay.  We convinced our kids to take a bulk of their excess Halloween candy to a "candy buy back", where kids could get a dollar per pound of candy they brought in.  Providing some incentive for your kids to part with some of their sugary booty for some actually coins seems good in theory.  But as I watched the bed of a full size pick-up truck being filled with taffy, Bit o' Honeys, and every other type of candy kids don't like, I couldn't help but think that maybe such events wouldn't be necessary if we just didn't give so much to the kids to begin with.  I'm not so sure most of the kids even understood the main premise behind the "buy back", as our 4 year old wondered aloud why they were only giving out free toothbrushes and not treats.  Of course I did my own candy promulgation when I used the collection of candy my kids received from various Halloween celebrations earlier in the week to hand out to the Trick-or-Treaters who came to our door on Halloween.  I made absolutely zero attempt to hide the fact from my own kids that I was doing this, just as I've made it no secret that any remaining candy will be going in our daughter's birthday pinata this weekend.   

Deep down we'd probably all like to be that parent, and wish every other parent would be that parent too, that doesn't bring in birthday cupcakes for class snack time or can host a family friendly bonfire that doesn't require the making of S'More's (or just the straight consumption of chocolate and marshmallows like my kids do).  A few days before Halloween, I heard a radio ad from Trader Joe's suggesting that people hand out their all natural, anti-plaque toothpaste.  The ad made the unsubstantiated claim that four out of five parents prefer toothpaste to candy, but I would hypothesize if you actually conducted some scientific research, that percentage might be higher.  Despite this, it can be really hard to bring ourselves to actually do it, even if we know that other parents would likely be appreciative (and hopefully want to follow suit).  Not surprisingly, my suggestion last year to dress oranges up as Jack-o-Laterns for Halloween treats for our girls' dance classes was met with considerable eye-rolling.

I thought it was a clever idea.....

In attempt to make myself feel somewhat better about my choices, I've certainly been duped by the marketing and gone for treats that sound healthy, or could be construed as healthy.  This year I noticed that the packaging of a Ring Pop lets you know that it is both nut and gluten free, as though it is some sort of healthier alternative to other products that contain either or both of those things.  Spoiler alert though, organic fruit snacks have the exact same nutritional value as those classic dinos and sharks (or the Scoody Doo fruit snacks we gave out this year).  You can also always opt for a non-food item, like those plastic spider rings, temporary tattoos or anything else from the Oriental Trading post that has a 110% chance of ending up in the garbage.  At a certain point I find myself having zero qualms even throwing away any candy that remains in our house due to either our kid's bad behavior or them just seeming to have forgotten about it.

Wait, this thing is nut free and gluten free?
Let me have a taste.

Obviously if you can keep the candy out of your house, you decrease their ability to consume it, at least when they are in your presence of course.  But like most acceptable behavior we want our kids to engage in, if we don't model that behavior ourselves, we can't expect much from them.  A few years ago, someone told me that they do "no treats" November to combat the prevalence of sugar-filled holidays this time of year.  It seemed like a wise, if not masochistic, undertaking, so this year my wife and I are giving it a whirl.  I tell you this not to try and impress you, but so that if we happen to find ourselves in each other's company, and I'm housing a bag of family size Peanut Butter M&Ms, you'll call me on my shit.  While public shaming might not always work, I could certainly see it being warranted in my case.

Personally, cutting back my own sugar consumption has become a necessary evil as I've aged and my #dadbod has become more prolific.  I have a pretty serious sweet tooth, as exhibited by the abundance of a particular precious metal in my mouth.  Eating sugar laden things becomes a slippery slope for me, and I've found that it is easier for me to abstain completely, then to try to limit myself, which ultimately turns into consuming the entire row of Oreos.  I can't pretend that I'll be able to, or want to, cut out all of the sugar from my diet, or that using natural sweeteners like honey or maple syrup instead are inherently any better for my health.  And while we can have a complex, and somewhat unnecessary, conversation about the merits of agricultural price supports, as doctor and author James Hamblin points out in his book, If Our Bodies Could Talk, he's never heard of anyone using US ag policy as a basis for a diet.

Hopefully, beyond any potential health benefits that I might (conceivably) gain from trying to limit my own sugar intake, my kids might pick up on some healthier eating habits too.  It's unrealistic to assume that we'll become a sugar free household, and I'll still do my fair share of giving them sugar to keep them awake when I should have been more forceful about making them nap earlier in the day.  But hopefully, when they offer me a bite of their ice cream, and I routinely tell them I can't, it will resonate after a while.  Or I suppose they'll just stop trying to be generous.  If anything, trying not to eat sweets myself while limit the number of times I suggest to the kids that we head to the bakery for donuts, or go to the Dairy Queen to make use of the free ice cream cone certificates they got from the local police for wearing their bike helmets.  It may also mean that if you come over to our house for dinner, we might not be serving a customary dessert.  I'll completely understand if you want to decline any future invitations. 

I'm all for encouraging kids to wear their helmet while riding their bike,
but do they have to get free ice cream when they get "caught" doing it?
You'd think keeping your head intact would be reward enough.

                                         
^Aldi being the exception of course, which is another reason why I f#@&ing love that place.

*I recently started purchasing the "low sugar" jelly to attempt to combat this.

Thursday, October 26, 2017

Me Too

Of Course, Me Too

If you don't spend a lot of time on Facebook or Twitter, then you may not have been aware of the recent prominence of the hashtag #metoo.  In light of the flood of allegations of sexual assault and harassment by Harvey Weinstein, actress Alyssa Milano encouraged sexual harassment and assault victims to use on social media to come forward with their own stories.  The goal of the campaign, which was actually started before hashtags even existed, was to raise awareness of the sheer number of people, especially women, who have been victims of sexual harassment and assault.  Sadly, the odds are high you probably know someone who used the hashtag, or even worse, used it yourself.  On the day of Milano's tweet, the hashtag was used more than 100,000 times.   

While sexual harassment and assault can happen between any dynamic of people, we most commonly think of it as women being sexually harassed and assaulted by men.  Yes, men can be sexually harassed and assaulted by women, as well as other men.  Women can also be sexually harassed and assaulted by other women.  Transgender and those who do not eschew to the gender binary can be sexually harassed and assaulted by men, women or other trans individuals.  They can also obviously be the ones doing the harassing.  But given the precedence of high profile men or groups of men committing the disturbing acts, our stereotypical view of sexual harassment and assault is understandable.  The sheer number of victims sharing stories and using the hashtag tends doesn't do much to challenge that view.

I did not Tweet or use the hashtag #metoo, although I likely could have in its suggested context.  Even if you are a straight guy like me, odds are you have been sexually harassed or assaulted at some point in your life - likely by your male peers in a locker room or as part of some hazing ritual.  Or, as has happened to me before, by someone whose sexual orientation is different than your own.  That certainly happens, and it should not be tolerated any more than the widespread sexual harassment and assault that women endure on a daily basis.  If I thought long enough, I could probably also recall a time when I was sexually harassed, and maybe even assaulted, by a woman.  Even despite my #dadbod, I've been "cat-called" or had my ass grabbed without my consent.  Likely when I was mistaken for someone considerably more attractive.

When I first read about the #metoo campaign, I wondered if a potentially more powerful and probably more insightful use of the hashtag would be having those of us, especially us men, acknowledge the times that we've been the perpetrators of sexual harassment and sexual assault.  If that was the case, then I have to admit that I would be using the hashtag.  My guess is that if you are a guy, and you thought long and hard and really considered what sexual harassment and sexual assault can consist of, you probably would have to use it too.  Apparently I was not the only one who has had a similar thought.  Not long after the #MeToo campaign came out, a #HowIWillChange campaign encouraged men to take some onus on stopping sexual assault and harassment.  As with seemingly everything today, it was also immediately met with its own criticism

While the #MeToo campaign has certainly raised more awareness of the issue, it's tough to predict what impact, if any, it will have decreasing sexual harassment and sexual assault, especially in the stereotypical view of which we think of it - men as the perpetrators and women as the victims.  Especially considering that a number of anti-sexual assault/harassment PR campaigns have existed since the 1970s.  Some people, especially men, have commented on the personal nature of the #MeToo campaign.  We hear about the high profile cases that become public, but #MeToo has given all victims (another) platform for sharing their stories - which can easily include our own family, friends, neighbors and coworkers.  The fact that we should be surprised that someone we personally know has been a victim of sexual harassment or assault shows our complete obliviousness to the magnitude of the problem, given the staggering statistics that 1 out of 6 women in America will be the victim of rape or an attempted rape.  Non-scientific, conservative guesstimates put the percentage of women who will be sexually harassed at least once in their life at 105% (margin of error 3%). 

I became aware of my own predatory behavior a few years ago while reading Michael Kimmel's book, GuylandA prominent voice on men, masculinity and the prevalence of sexual assault and harassment, especially on college campuses, Kimmel's book made me see that my own behavior at times could easily classify as sexual harassment or even sexual assault.  Granted most of those incidents happened under the influence of mind-altering chemicals, but just as consent can never be given while intoxicated, at least in some states, intoxication cannot be used as a justification for committing sexual harassment or assault.  Even before my days of imbibing, which I'm somewhat ashamed to admit started much earlier than they should have, my raging pubescent hormones and desire to prove myself to my peers, and myself by way of my peers judgment, led me to misogynistic behavior that probably should have landed me a short stay in a juvenile detention center.  Herd mentality being about as legitimate an excuse as drunken stupidity.

Since becoming a parent, I tend to look at social issues, especially the unsavory ones, through the lens of its impact on my kids.  I do not want my kids, especially my daughters, to be victims of sexual harassment or sexual assault.  But at this point, the statistics don't look very promising.  The fact that their mother is incredibly attractive does little to ease my concerns.  Equally though, I do not want my kids, especially my son, to be perpetrators of sexual harassment or sexual assault.  I can't guarantee that they won't, but I can reinforce my belief that that kind of behavior will not be tolerated.  If I want to effectively do that, I have to acknowledge the fact that I've been, as Michael Ellsberg puts it, "That Guy".  It's shameful, embarrassing and uncomfortable to admit, but it pales in comparison to the pain that those who have been victimized experience.  And while my actions have been no where near those of Mr. Weinstein, or Mr. O'Reilly, or Mr. Cosby, or the countless other male celebrities, sports stars, current and past politicians; any sexual harassment or assault, no matter how small or "innocent" it can seem to the one doing it, is too much. 

If we really want to change the culture of sexual harassment and assault in our society, we have to change our perception of who it effects.  As Angelina Chapin points out, "sexual harassment and assault are always framed as a women's issue."  But in reality, more often than not it is an issue created for women by the predatory behavior of men.  A campaign like #MeToo, and the countless other campaigns before it, bring the attention to the victims but also tend to make it their problem to solve.  The problem won't be solved, or even probably get much better, until those of us who have been perpetrators acknowledge our role in perpetuating the culture, either implicitly or complicity.  It draws similarities to author/activist Tim Wise's reasoning to why he, a white man, works so hard to end racism.  He sees racial discrimination as a problem created for people of color by white people, and subsequently a problem that needs to be fixed by white people.

As a married, father of three who is no longer searching for a reproductive mate, it may seem easy to fess up to my own transgressions and, as some have critiqued, give myself a self-congratulatory pat on the back for how I have changed and don't do that anymore.  But my job as a parent is to help my kids avoid the same mistakes I made.  I can't go back and undo the things that I've done.  Maybe had I been more considerate of the the fact that one day I would likely be a father, and would not want those things done to my daughters, or done by my son, it might have deterred some of my own  offensive behavior.  Through my experiences though, I can show my kids how even someone who purports to have a lot of respect for women can be easily advance the all too familiar misogynistic narrative.  Considering the myriad of ways in which we objectify and sexualize others, especially women, in some of our most prominent institutions, it is something that seems to need continual addressing. 

When asked about the Weinstein allegations, President Trump, who said he "has known Harvey Weinstein for a long time", admitted that he "wasn't surprised".  With the President himself having been accused of sexual assault and harassment by over a dozen women, it seems to be something he may be familiar with.  During the 2016 Presidential campaign, when the infamous Access Hollywood tapes surfaced, then candidate Trump classified it as "locker room talk", something he did again when asked to compare his remarks in 2005 with the Weinstein allegations.  In my view, Trump's denial of actually doing what he says he did in the video is more disturbing than him merely claiming he did, or could do it.  If he did it, it's sexual assault.  If he didn't do it, he felt the need to say that he did and can (which is still sexual assault).  Thus suggesting that he thinks it is okay and others, like the impressionable Billy Bush, should do the same.  Given the President's track record in respectful behavior toward women, I doubt he'd be leading the charge of tweets, despite his fondness for the platform, in any #MeToo campaign that focused on the perpetrators.

Sadly, I don't think the issue of sexual harassment and sexual assault, especially against women, will be going anyway anytime soon.  I would like to think that this time around, the #MeToo campaign will really have some positive effect, and I think that any campaign raising awareness of an issue so prevalent in our society has plenty of merit.  We've certainly come a long way from the time of when "Mr. Weinstein came of age", but we've definitely still got a long ways to go, and we tend to be reminded of this weekly, as the next big sexual harassment or assault story comes to light.  That certainly doesn't mean that we shouldn't try though.  If we want to make this world a place where our daughters, and our sons, aren't viewed as sexual conquests based on the way they dress or express their sexuality, then we need to shut down the behavior of the perpetrators that leads to that.  If we don't want to find out that our sons, or our daughters, have been the perpetrators of sexual harassment or assault, we have to demonstrate why that behavior has no place in our society. 

While I want a place like that to exist for my kids, it would be hypocritical to not want it to exist for everyone else's kids, which is everybody.  Continuing the push to get to that place, which women have been advocating for far too long, requires men and especially us fathers to acknowledge how we've contributed to the culture of sexual harassment and assault that exists today, either through our own actions or lack of action.  We need to realize that we have just as much, if not more, responsibility to bring it to an end.  And not just by tweeting about it.



This was a pretty heavy topic, and obviously not one that lends itself well to humor for good reason.  Before recognizing that I myself had been a perpetrator of sexual assault and harassment, I was like most guys and didn't really even understand what constituted sexual assault and sexual harassment.  You can obviously read the legal jargon and try to make sense of its ambiguity, which likely perpetuates the problem.   I thought this popular meme of Comedian Peter White seems to sum it up pretty succinctly though.
      
                                   

Thursday, October 19, 2017

Mom Was Right About Football

#boycottnfl


It's been Fall (officially) for a month, which means it is football season here in the US.  If you've followed the President's Twitter feed in the past few weeks, you may be aware that our highest elected official has taken some issue with the NFL recently.  More specifically, the President has voiced his displeasure with certain athletes who have chosen not to stand for the National Anthem, which proceeds each gridiron match, as a matter of protest for a variety of perceived injustices.  He's also admonished the various coaches, general managers and owners who have allowed this, in the President's view, unpatriotic behavior.  In one of his official tweets, the President suggested that fans stop going to NFL games until the players stop disrespecting the flag and the country, and in another "re-tweeted" something that included the hashtag "#boycottnfl".  The feud seemed to hit a precipice two weeks ago, when Vice President Mike Pence walked out of a game, apparently as directed to by his boss, between the Indianapolis Colts and the San Francisco 49ers, the team with which the National Anthem protest began during the 2016-17 season.

While the President and I have some pretty profound philosophical differences on a number of issues (okay, most every issue), this is actually one of his suggestions that I can support, albeit for very different reasons.  In fact, I've been on my own personal boycott of most all football consumption, the NFL in particular, for the past three years.  Admittedly, I've been considerably less public about my abstention and have significantly fewer Twitter followers* than @realDonaldTrump.  I have alluded before via this blog about my disdain for the sport, and this overdue post seems like an appropriate time to divulge more on why I would be completely fine with football (in its current form) ceasing to exist.

Growing up, my Mom was adamant that I not participate in organized football.  “It’s too dangerous and you will get hurt,” was her argument.  While her opinion toward the sport was not the sole reason I did not play football growing up, as I certainly engaged in a number of other things she explicitly told me not to, it did likely play a factor in my decision.  In retrospect (of course), I am extremely grateful that she voiced her opinion as strongly as she did.  Had I really wanted to play, undoubtedly she would have supported me with as much enthusiasm as she has done, and continues to do, with all of my other pursuits.  Fortunately, for her sake, and mine, I was as much of a "pussy" (in stereotypical terms) in my adolescence as I am now^, and never got around to putting on the pads.  Just those maxi-pads (since I was a pussy, get it?).

I know what you are thinking; "liberal, stay at home dad is a anti-football, big shocker."  The reality is that I haven't always been such a football antagonist.  Growing up I spent countless hours watching football and playing informal games (mostly one-on-one against myself) in my backyard.  As a youngster, I was convinced that I would one day play football for the Fightin' Irish.  When those dreams were dashed, I still found myself at a college with a storied football program of which I was a fervent, if not often intoxicated fan.  For a number of years I managed a chronically under-performing fantasy football team, and to this day, one of my favorite games on the Super Nintendo gaming platform is Tecmo Super Bowl.  While those memories all hold a certain level of fondness for me, they don't overshadow my belief that the sport of football perpetuates an unnecessary culture of violence that is just as dangerous off the field as it is on.   

You can certainly be critical about any professional sport, and as someone who likes to pretend to be a sport sociologist, I've become considerably less fanatic of virtually every professional spectator sport.  But in my view, football takes the cake.  Whether it is your on-field issues of excessive injuries, especially concussions and brain injuries, or the locker room culture of misogyny and homophobia with not so subtle notes of racism sprinkled in that, in my view, promote a general degradation of human value.  This is amplified by the fact that without a doubt, football is the most popular sport in America, and every time we (the Royal We) spend an exorbitant amount of time on Friday nights, Saturdays, Sundays, Monday nights, and now even Thursday nights cheering on such an environment, it becomes more ingrained in our ethos and accepted in our society.

The most obvious knock on football is the violent nature of the sport, and the increased risk for injury, especially a head or brain injury.  Football proponents often like to cite a, somewhat foggy, statistic that you are more likely to sustain a concussion playing soccer than you are playing football.  This may be true statistically, and it may not also be particularly relevant, as other studies have begun to look at the effects of other types of brain injury, like CTE, which may be just as bad as a concussion, if not worse.  To me, though, the difference lies in how these injuries are sustained.  Football by its very nature is violent.  Injuries, especially ones involving the head and brain, are almost always the result of two players engaging in action that anywhere besides the football field (or boxing ring or ice rink) would likely be considered assault and battery. 

For this reason, some scientists have started to examine possible correlations between potential brain damage and aggressive behavior among current and former NFL players, citing the league's disproportionately high arrest rate for domestic violence in comparison to other sports.  It's a pretty well established fact, as psychologist Adrian Raine points out, that a damaged prefrontal cortex, a likely outcome of repeated blows to the head, can raise the odds of impulsive and aggressive behavior.  By no means does this condone the off field behavior of players like Ray Rice, Adrian Peterson or Greg Hardy, but given the beating they take on the field, can we really be that surprised when they act in a violent manner during a tense moment?  Of course we would hope that athletes could differentiate between what behavior is only acceptable on the field, but when they are paid millions of dollars to do physical damage to others, or to have it be done to them, I can see where some confusion might exist.     

Beyond the potential for a compromised prefontal cortex, anyone who has played football or watched a football coach engage with the players, knows that football players are taught to be aggressive.  This is especially true in the NFL, where the difference between winning or losing, or even making a roster can be millions of dollars, but it can permeate to all levels of the game.  Recall the New Orleans Saints "Bountygate" which came to light following the 2011 season?  In 2012, the year Head Coach Sean Payton had to "sit-out" for his role in the scandal, he managed to stay busy by helping coach the Liberty Christian (emphasis mine) 6th Grade Team.  Don't worry, he was back to the NFL after that, signing a new five year contract that made him the highest paid coach in NFL history.

The sport creates and perpetuates this culture of violence and aggression by the collective roar of approval the fans give any time someone gets "lit up" on the field.  It encourages players to find success on the field by, as Pro Bowl Defensive Back Richard Sherman aptly put it, "going to a dark place...where there is a lot of animosity and frustration."  How else can we expect grown men to get hyped up to play a game that is, “meant to kill each other” as Dutch speed-skating coach Jillert Anema candidly described it.  I think it also perpetuates this culture when it fosters an environment of misogyny and homophobia by actively pushing out those, like Chris Kluwe, Jonathan Martin, and Michael Sam, who don't fit the desired mold of the "tough macho man", a stereotype that even found its way into this past week's episode of "This Is Us".  Personally, I never fit that mold (as if that wasn't glaringly apparent), and I see little benefit in promoting that mold as the preferred one for impressionable young boys or anyone else.        

Unfortunately, the culture created by football is one that our society seems willing to accept for the sport to be what it is.  A culture we essentially celebrate, given the amount of public and private resources that are dedicated to it.  Even my own state of Minnesota, which I've always viewed as relatively progressive, found a half billion dollars of public money to help build a new professional football stadium, while subsequently being unable to pony up half as much for a universal preschool program.  And while viewership of NFL games might be declining (and certainly not because of my or probably the President's call to boycott), an estimated 203 million (about 62%) of the US population tuned in at some point to watch an NFL game during the 2016 season.  The Super Bowl is still perennially the most watched event on TV each year, providing more than ample justification of the exorbitant fees charged for advertisement slots. 

Combine that with the number of college football games, where Division I is essentially a minor league NFL (with comparable on and off field problems), high school football games, and youth leagues, and football has a very prominent place in our society, especially this time of year.  Of course you also can't overlook the billion dollar industry of fantasy football and sports betting, and all of the time that is required to support that industry.  If there is potential correlation between playing the sport of football and being more prone to aggressive behavior, I would hypothesize that the sheer act of consuming large amounts of football would make one more prone to aggressive behavior.  If you have the financial resources and/or academic know-how to conduct such a study, let me know, I'd be happy to consult on it.

Of course there are a number of incredible things you can learn from the sport of football; teamwork, hard work, perseverance, dedication, time management, etc.  The world is certainly filled with passionate football players and fans who are incredible and kind people.  By leveling my objections about the sport, I don't mean to imply that playing the sport or being a fan makes you a horrible person prone to violence and uncontrollable aggression.  Football certainly has a lot of great qualities, but you have to take the bad with the good.  I believe that any of those benefits you can get from playing football can also be attained through other sports, or various other activities, that are considerably less violent and dangerous.     

I would also argue that the reason football is so popular, especially here in the US, is because of the violent and aggressive nature of the game, which encourages those who play it to do so in a manner that can be seriously injurious to both themselves and others - potentially both on and off the field.  It is, as author Gregg Easterbrook observes, "quintessentially American - too violent, too loud, too commercialized."  The game could no doubt be made considerably safer, but who would watch it? Would people really tune in to watch professional flag football?  Even the one most passionately, and often incoherently, calling for a boycott of the sport believes it is "going soft" due to excessive regulations+  to protect player safety.

There is a sports bar that I often drive past (en route to our girl's dance studio of all places) whose marquee last fall claimed it as "Football Heaven."  Presumably this was because of the bar patrons' ability to watch any football game they would want on any or all of the establishment's very large televisions.  As I repeatedly drove past this sign, I thought about what a "Football Heaven" might actually look like.  I wondered if that is where guys like Junior Seau and Dave Duerson end up.  Or maybe the 92 high school football players who died between 2005 and 2014.  Maybe Odin Lloyd is there (probably not Aaron Hernandez).  Maybe in football heaven everyone just plays two hand touch, or maybe there isn't any football at all.  All I know is that, thanks in large part to my Mom's wisdom, I'll probably never find out.  Before we had a son, I used to joke that I was glad we had only had girls, so I (presumably) wouldn't have to discourage them from playing football.  And while I know that my son looks like a "future linebacker" (he actually has more of an O-line build at this point), I'm going to be just as adamant, if not more, that he not play that position, or any other position on the football field.  Ever.  Not even punter.

Think again dude.


*Seeing as I lack a Twitter handle, my exact number of Twitter followers is zero.

^I actually like to say "pacifist".

+Pretty certain he actually said "rules", but given how often he talks about "excessive regulation", the term seemed to fit


Whether you are a football protagonist or antagonist like me, I'd highly recommend the following reads on the sport.  They have provided me with some valuable insight into the role football plays in our society.  I think they objectively examine the both the good and the bad of the sport.

"Against Football" - Steve Almond

"The King of Sports"  and "The Game's Not Over" - Gregg Easterbrook