Strollerderby : essays

Schoolyard Angst Makes It to Book Form

Mike Adamick (Cry It Out!) — Sun, 30 Nov 2008 14:08:00 GMT

While I fully admit I'm biased in writing of this -- one of my stories is published in this anthology -- it still doesn't take away how much I love to hear these cringe-worthy stories of schoolyard social angst.

Can I Sit With YOu? is a treasure trove of web essays detailing "the stormy social seas of the schoolyard" and it's all for a good cause, raising money for a citywide special needs program in Northern California. This has got to be one of the funniest, richest fund-raising ideas I have ever come across.

Check out the new book -- volume two -- and I promise you won't be disappointed.

Here's a sneak.

[Cover art: Diva Lea]

Teenage Trend Haters and Mass Girl Hysteria

Mike Adamick (Cry It Out!) — Tue, 18 Nov 2008 22:31:00 GMT

It looks like I'm not the only one to get caught up in the Twilight/girl fad craze lately.

Sadie Stein over at Jezebel has a wonderful essay on teenage trends and their teenage trend haters:

"But I don't think it's often said that mass hysteria and anti-establishment posing are two sides of the same coin, and to a teen it can sometimes feel like there is not much of an alternative. It can be hard to enjoy something without joining in, hard to reject it without making a self-conscious statement."

Check it out -- it's well worth a look at what we can expect as our young girls grow older and, hopefully, wiser.

Dad Goes Mad on Bigotry for the Children

Mike Adamick (Cry It Out!) — Thu, 16 Oct 2008 11:44:00 GMT

There's a proposal on the California ballot that would rewrite the state Constitution to ban gay marriage, because after solving a $20 billion debt and discovering it is still another $4 billion in the red, the state apparently doesn't have more important shit to deal with. But anyway, that's where we are right now in California. In the land of the Hollywood elite and us crazy liberals with our "San Francisco values," we might yet rewrite a document that begins with the right of "pursuing and obtaining safety and happiness" to restrict that very happiness for a select few.

Why?

For the children, of course.

That's actually on the anti-gay marriage campaign -- save marriage and protect the children. I've seen a few of the anti-gay marriage commercials now, and the one that really irks me is about a girl who comes home from school to tell her mom about what she learned: "That a prince can marry a prince, and I can marry a princess!" The mom's eyes go wide, and a homely, balding guy comes on the screen to intone: "Think it can't happen? Think again!"

Well, think it doesn't happen already? Think again.

What the hell kind of lesson are we teaching our children by not teaching them about a large and valued segment of society? It's almost as if the line of thinking is that by denying someone basic rights, like marriage, they're going to go away altogether and oh sweet jesus the easter pig, thank god we don't have to talk about gay people anymore!

Please.

Look, if you're going to make this campaign about protecting children, let's at the very least protect them from ignorance. Are we afraid of talking in school about what goes on down the block? In the end, this isn't a proposition about what we teach in school -- it's a proposition that restricts rights for some people while granting them to others. But if you insist on making it about education, fat homely man, imagine what school books will look like in 30 years when your grandchildren flip to the chapter on gay rights and ask which side of history you were on?

But I digress from what I really wanted to do with this post, which was to share a great essay from my friend Danny Evans, author of Dad Gone Mad and former SD cohort. He really nailed the opposition to the "for the children" aspect of this hideous anti-gay crusade.

"An editorial I read the other day said Prop. 8 must be passed for the sake of the children – a precious, impressionable lot who will suffer immeasurably by having parents of the same gender. I scoffed at that. Where is the outrage about the children who suffer as a result of divorce, infidelity, abuse, and other “crimes” perpetrated by heterosexual couples? Are we to believe that even those kids are better off than those who would be raised by two loving parents who happen to have the same plumbing? Seriously, California. Give me a fucking break."

Indeed.

Please, go check it out. And if you live in California, please -- vote Ellen.

[Photo: slapupsidethehead.com]

Move Over Kid -- Making Room for Your Spouse

Mike Adamick (Cry It Out!) — Tue, 16 Sep 2008 18:02:00 GMT

Kristen Chase over at Motherhood Uncensored has a wonderful and touching essay up about what can happen to a marriage when one or two or more kids enter the picture:

"Truthfully, the instant my daughter arrived, she took up most of my heart. I moved her over to make room for my son. And I'm only now starting to allow my heart to grow, not just because I'm adding another little one into the mix, but because after pulling myself from the wreckage that has been a very trying past four years, I realize that my husband really does deserve some space of his very own."

The essay got me thinking about the thousand things I do for my own daughter but left me feeling a little queasy when I considered what I've done for my wife lately. It's a nice reminder, as Kristen says, to keep making room.

Parenting Post-80s ... Oh the Baggage!

Mike Adamick (Cry It Out!) — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 14:19:00 GMT

Despite her bizarre choices of writers to fill in for her during a break (this will become apparent tomorrow), I am loving CityMama's mad tribute to All Things '80s, which kicks off today with a hilarious and insightful essay on going from Club Kid to Club Parent from Jessica Ashley of Sassafrass:

"Maybe I cling to that part of me because sometimes I still rely on certain shoes or skinny pants to get me in the mood for whatever doors I will be walking through that day. It's just that, on the other side of these doors, I'm much more likely to find tricycles and aisles of organic soy butter than young boys in Z Cavs and the uh-uh-uhhhh of Frankie Goes to Hollywood sampled into New Order. The attitude's the same, though, and occasionally even the red lipstick."

And oh there's more ... so, so much more. From Girbaud to Guess to Robert Palmer, Ashley manages to perfectly mine a decade of what it's like to be the first generation growing up under the MTV culture and ask what that makes of us now, as parents. Plus it's just killer to remember the hella rad '80s, so tune in over the next two week and maybe, if you're lucky, someone will break out Max Headroom.

The Human Element of War

Brett Singer — Sat, 14 Jun 2008 18:00:00 GMT

No matter what you think of the Iraq War (or any war for that matter) I think it's important to remember the human side of things. The soldiers aren't only fighters, they're people.

Some of them are even parents. In her terrific Personal Essay titled "Return to the Home Front", Korinthia Klein tells us what it was like when her husband Ian came home from "over there." It's all worth reading, but here are a couple of highlights:

"By the time I got my arms around Ian, all I could do was sob."

"Ian marveled at the quiet as we went to sleep, because he'd lived so long with mortar fire and the constant whine of generators and military jets. I kept forgetting that he didn't know where things belonged and that he still had to be introduced to some of the people and places the kids and I know best."

"The children adjusted remarkably well. It's hard to believe Quinn's daddy was a stranger to him only a few weeks ago."

Look – support the war, don't support the war. But no matter what, always support the troops.

Dooce Meet-Up Tonight And Dad Book Signing

Mike Adamick (Cry It Out!) — Wed, 07 May 2008 17:28:00 GMT

I've read a few essays from "Things I Learned About My Dad (in Therapy)" -- all from bloggers and compiled by Heather Dooce Armstrong -- and I have to say I'm impressed. And why not? She asked for fatherhood essays from some of the web's best parenting bloggers, and lohd ahmighty, did she get them.

So I'm a little saddened to see this meet-up and book signing is on the wrong side of the country. (When you coming to San Francisco, huh? huh!) But still, if you happen to have a free hour tonight and live nearby, head on over to the Soda Bar in Brooklyn to meet some really cool people and to hear about what has, so far, been a really great book.

More details here.

Mommy Myth Thang Raises Usual Ire

Kelly Mills — Thu, 20 Dec 2007 23:30:00 GMT

Okay, now I thought the whole mom-bloggin' empire was built on the idea that motherhood isn't all soft-lit tender moments and rosy outlook, but I guess this continues to be a newsflash. Winifred Robinson wrote an essay basically saying, "Hey, sometimes I don't like being a mom cuz it sucks at times" she included the usual "I wouldn't trade it for anything" but yes, she was clear that it can be brutal hard work too. And she also said something I think gets neglected: For some of us, motherhood is a bucket of cold water in the face because we were used to feeling capable and good at life, and that feeling often gets sucked right out of you with the first nursing, and doesn't come back for a loooong time.

But of course her post drew some criticism, along with the gratitude of other moms. There's the whole crowd that says, "If you hate being a mom so much, why have babies?" Lemme tell you, if complaining about something being hard meant you shouldn't do it, I basically would not be able to function in the world. And then there's this whackadoo group that criticizes people for having children at all. They often appear on blogs devoted to parenting and slam the folks there for having children as accessories, blah blah blah. Now, I don't think anyone should feel obligated to spawn, and I appreciate the environmental impact and so on. But going onto parenting essays and blogs and such and critiqueing people for making babies feels so weirdly righteous and, let's face it, if you want to sway people, telling parents not to procreate is catching the whole thing a little late.

Strollerderby Playdate: Sometimes You Feel Like a Blog, Sometimes You Don’t

Madeline Holler — Mon, 15 Oct 2007 11:02:00 GMT

Don’t get me wrong, I love blogging for Strollerderby. Instead of reacting to the day's news with long-winded diatribes delivered to my confused 2-year-old, I get to post them for grown-ups who might actually give a rip. And something about blogging makes me want to read even more blogs than I had before, which is just a fun, fun thing to get to do “for work.” You know?

But I’m an essay writer at heart. Though I love the snappy, instant reactions of bloggers, there’s nothing more satisfying than sinking my web browser into a carefully shaped piece with characters and dialogue and a beginning, middle and end. So while I’m keeping up with my regulars in blogland, I also make sure to stop in for the daily, monthly and quarterly updates on my favorite essay sites.

Of course, Babble sets the bar for fine essays on parenting, and I mean that even if the editors had never seen fit to publish a single piece of mine. I don’t care if the new essay is about allergies, or Maisy or a woman who’s way into her OB (eww!), I read anything over there in the columns and features sections from start to finish and it’s always a good read (if not a little creepy).

Moving on ... here you can usually find good writing, especially from the regular columnists. There’s the single mom who moved in too quickly with a new boyfriend and she writes alllllllll about it. There's also a scholar who hauled her husband and three kids to Africa for a year (husband didn’t like it so much).

This site has been on a racism jag lately and boy does it make me squirm -- a good thing. The writing isn’t always in essay form and isn't always so serious, but it’s always bold, frank and thoughtful.

While this site’s layout confuses me every time I visit, there are essays buried in it somewhere. Just click around until you find what you want.

I also make stops here, though they pull frequently from the archive, and here, where they feature writing by Babble's "motherhoodlum" star Emily Wagner.

Finally, this one will eat up your afternoons at work, so be careful. While the writing isn’t usually parent focused, who cares. I’m not always parent focused either.

Moms Make the Best Cheerleaders

Mike Adamick (Cry It Out!) — Mon, 30 Jul 2007 18:56:00 GMT

In a fantastic essay in the San Francisco Chronicle this weekend, writer Meganne Fabrega recounts the time when her young daughter first asked if she was "heavy."

As I turn to look at her my heart feels as though it's been ripped out of my chest. I knew that this moment would arrive.

It's not surprise that the moment arrives for many people, given our cultural obsession with perfect bodies and a storybook version of what girls -- and eventually women - -should look like. So how do parents cope? How do they give their children self-esteem before sending them out on their own?

All I can do is drill over and over into her still-open mind: What really counts is how you feel about yourself.

It's worth a read.

Date Night Is for Losers

Mike Adamick (Cry It Out!) — Mon, 16 Jul 2007 12:29:00 GMT

During a date night dinner last fall, Dana pushed aside a candle, leaned over the clean, white table cloth and confessed that, earlier in the day, she had thought of three things to talk to about.

"Just so, you know ..."

And I did. I did know.

"I thought of a few things, too," I whispered back. And we laughed, shared a toast of wine and conversed about the things we had practiced conversing about until, inevitably, we slipped back into what has become a familiar pattern: talking about our daughter.

***

Emmeline goes to sleep at an ungodly early hour every night, leaving Dana and me free for the rest of the evening to do whatever we pleased.

"What do you want to order?" I'll ask Dana.

"Oh I don't know -- you pick."

Sometimes we'll make dinner together, slapping each other on the asses with kitchen utensils and occasionally tossing food at each other -- Dana threw of a soft tomato at my shoulder the other night because she said it looked ripe and plump and she had never actually thrown a tomato at anyone -- but most of the time we settle on the couch together with take-out to watch a Giants game -- and then anything else that comes on afterward. Sometimes we'll sew together. Sometimes one of us will grab a book. We may chat for a little bit, but usually the evening ends with Dana on one end of the couch and me on the other, rubbing her feet and scratching her legs.

"What do you want to do tomorrow?" I'll ask.

"Oh, I don't know. This is kind of nice."

We'll share the silence for a moment, before slipping back again.

"Say, do you know what Emmeline did today?"

***

Emme read the same book 14 times the other day. Or, more precisely, she ordered me to sit on the ground, handed me her favorite book and climbed into my lap so that we could flip through the pages together. If I didn't open it fast enough, she gave me a look and pointed.

"OK, fine, just one more time," I told her.

Then she scoured the pages, pointing out birds and goats and miniature blue robots and trying her best to form words for them all.

Fourteen times. I've read "The Grapes of Wrath" three times and "East of Eden" twice. I know for a fact I've read "Of Mice and Men" 11 times. But this is all since fourth grade. I've long since given up the ability to find joy in repetition, and yet it amazes me to see my daughter revel in it, to find perfect joy in the everyday.

***

Routines. All the baby books we read said to get Emme into a routine -- and to stick to it. So for the past 15 months we've been doing pretty much the same thing -- day in and day out. Wake up. Eat. Take a nap. Eat some more. Take another nap. Eat. Go to sleep. Sure, there's playtime in there and trips to the park or the store or the occasional diaper change.

None of the books we read said Emme's routine would soon become our own. They must have assumed we'd figure it out -- that one humdrum day would drone into the next. Over and over again. But it's still a shock to realize one day that everything is the same all the time.

***

Last week we made reservations at a fancy restaurant Dana has been dying to visit. We arrived early and had a drink. Crowds burbled around us. People laughed. Someone spilled a drink and there was more laughter.

"We've seriously got to do this more often," Dana said, sipping a sidecar -- her favorite. She leaned back and inhaled the room. She closed her eyes for a long, long time.

"You OK?"

"I'm just tired."

We watched as a middle-aged man dined with his teenage daughter and we looked at each other, sharing a moment that wasn't ours. We turned our attention to a mural of Don Quixote. We commented on our food and laughed together when the cornmeal-crusted blueberry tart turned out instead to be blackberries and tasted dead-on like Campbell's Corn Chowder.

"That's hands-down the most disgusting dessert I've ever had," I said, making a face.

"We've still got some time," she said, "What are we going to do?"

We slipped out of the restaurant and stared at the lit buildings before us. A thin fog tilted against the skyscrapers and whispered past, disappearing into the cold night.

"We could go to the movie?" Dana suggested.

She wanted to see a movie about animated rats that cook, but I refused because it was playing at the Metreon. The last time I went there at night, a homeless man passed out in the row in front of me, and two teenage girls held a non-stop conversation throughout the movie -- on their phones.

"How about we go dancing?"

Dana just stared at me. We laughed some more. The whole city before us. More time than we knew what to do with. We stood on the restaurant stoop.

"We could just go home?"

Finally we walked to a competing movie theater in a nearby mega-mall to see if anything was playing at that hour, to see if there was anything better. There wasn't. So we walked to a bookstore and strolled the aisles together, poking around for something interesting to occupy our time. We loaded up on books and took a taxi home, relieving the babysitter at around 9:30.

Like we do every night, we stole into Emme's room and watched her sleep for a few minutes before settling on the couch -- each of us with a good book. Dana stretched her legs out and sighed, lounging contentedly as my hands went to work. We read next to each other for a long time, feeling the routine slip in again.

"Next time," Dana purred, "We should have a better plan."

I felt her legs relax and watched as she closed her eyes and smiled. I grabbed her hand and closed my own eyes. We fell asleep on the couch, and I remember thinking, right before I drifted off, that this was kind of nice -- that we should do this every day.

Babble Talk: Pax Thien Jolie's Road Ahead

Stefania Pomponi Butler (CityMama) — Fri, 06 Apr 2007 21:27:00 GMT

Babble essayist Melissa Eva Miller writes poignantly about the comparisions between her own adoption experience and Angelina Jolie's. Both mothers adopted from Asia. Both mothers adopted older children, not babies. Both mothers will surely have to deal with the effects of culture shock on their children.

But while the Jolie-Pitts will be able to whisk their children back to their birth countries at anytime, Miller's family will have to scrimp and save to be able to afford another China trip. In the meantime, they've learned to bring culture to their child rather than the other way around. Except it doesn't always work out as planned. Check out: Culture Shock.