"Where's my Ombama (sic) sticker?"

Abby and I tend to be fairly reserved when it comes to politics. More specifically, we're not inclined to engage in public displays of our political leanings. This doesn't mean that we're not willing to argue about politics with various people (e.g., my in-laws, my co-workers, etc.) in private settings, but we don't tend to post signs or engage in politics in overt ways. Among other factors, the politically reserved nature of our families (at least mine) have contributed to that behavior.

In the current election, this has changed somewhat. Unlike the Philly relatives (Rachel appears to have been able to overcome our family's ingrained aversion to public politicking), we're not to the point where we've posted an Obama sign in our front yard. (Actually, as urban elites, we don't have a front yard, but that's immaterial. Still, as evidence of how out of touch we are, Margaret stood slack-jawed while gaping at Uncle Joe as he maneuvered some odd device around their yard during our last visit. Turns out it was a lawnmower, something she'd never seen before.) But Abby donated money to Obama in the primary. And so did I, although I was really motivated by a desire to avoid another Clinton White House following the debacle that was the Ohio/Texas Democratic primaries.

(By the way, it's a bit creepy how you can track down donors on the web. When I was in Chicago a few weeks ago, I was sitting at a friend's house and stunned him by punching his donations up online. Actually, I intended to stay under the FEC's limits that would require such disclosure, and I berated Abby when she didn't do so with her donation. But the Obama website gave an error message on my first donation, so I hit the back button and resubmitted my donation. I ended up giving twice. Which ironically also put me over the FEC's limit and, as a result, made my donation records publicly available online. Abby was much more equanimous about my donation error than I was about hers.)

In any event, today we went into McCain territory. Specifically, we drove "outside the Beltway" to attend the Occaquan arts and crafts show. As I anticipated, the show involved more kitchy arts and crafts than actual art. But that's just me being an elitist. Even more elitist was my impression of many of the people wandering the streets of Occaquan. As I told Abby afterwards, the mean waist size of the men was somewhere over 40 inches, and the women tended to give the men a run for their money. Reminded me of Pittsburgh. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but waist size was also highly correlated with the political stickers that people wore. Those chunky guys and their portly wives tended to wear "Nobama" t-shirts and McCain stickers. I saw a number of beefy guys wearing t-shirts that said "Damn right I'm clinging to my guns and religion because I'm bitter (and I'll keep the rest of the constitution too)." I'm not sure what that last point meant (except perhaps the 2nd Amendment part, although the statement on the t-shirts seemed, to me, much broader), but I wasn't about to argue with them over it. And after spending way too much time north of the Potomac where almost ever sign and sticker is Obama, it was refreshing to see women wearing pink t-shirts saying "Sarah's Team."

When we first reached the outskirts of the festival, there was a booth handing out blue balloons for some Democratic Congressional candidate. As someone not represented in Congress (a Constitutionally correct position, I believe, although I do like to give the rest of the country the finger with our "Taxation Without Representation" license plate), I didn't really care about the balloon, although Margaret was pretty happy to get one. But getting a balloon for a kid isn't really a meaningful political statement, as she would've taken a ballon from Idi Amin. So Abby went to the booth and grabbed a couple of Obama stickers, putting one on Margaret and the other on her own shirt. Feeling a bit uncomfortable about such an overt political statement in Nobama territory, I pulled the sticker off Abby's shirt and put it on the stroller (and got admonished by Abby for doing so.) Margaret, on the other hand, was very pleased with her sticker. Although she complained about many, many things during our visit to Occaquan, one recurrent theme of discussion was the location of her "Ombama" sticker. (Maggie also got a free little basket from a black woman selling African crafts who, when Abby protested and tried to pay for the basket, quietly said, "I like your sticker." Actually, my suspicion is that her gift says more about the mark-ups on her wares than it does about her politics.)

Naturally, Margaret doesn't really know who Obama is. However, since his ads are so omnipresent on the web, I have pointed him out to her a few times when we're surfing the web together, so she can now spot him and say "Ombama." Unfortunately, she doesn't appear to be very discriminating as she has yelled Ombama at various other people (with specific racial characteristics) that we pass on the street. Of course, this happens much more often in DC than it did in Occaquan, so we didn't risk any embarrassment there.

In the end, Margaret's Obama sticker ended up making it's way to the back of her shirt. Since she spent most of her time in Occaquan in her stroller, we didn't get many comments. (Although I heard a group of older women wearing McCain-Palin stickers muttering about Obama. Almost certainly not directed at us, but I was feeling paranoid.) We then went to the Workhouse Arts Center in Lorton, VA which is an old prison that has recently been converted to an arts center like the Torpedo Factory in Alexandria. Very cool, especially for NoVa (damn, I'm being an elitist again!). I suspect that Margaret's Ombama sticker would have been better received there, but she spent most of the visit snoozing the stroller. We then went to the multicultural melting pot extraordinaire where Margaret enthusiastically ran around with her Ombama sticker on her back, and I'm sure that most of the patrons were at least moderately inclined to favor her candidate. That multicultural melting pot extraordinaire? IKEA.

Walk tall

Discover Cannonball Adderley!

Dear god, the boy can walk. At least, he's starting to walk. This will not end well....



Note also how Margaret refers to Mama as "Abby." Margaret has been referring to her Mama in this way for some time. Abby doesn't like it, but we haven't been able to stop it.

Also, as the video suggests, Margaret loves her books. Especially her Skippyjon Jones books, which are really strange books that involve a Siamese cat who encounters all sorts of odd adventures when he morphs into a Chihuahua. As the reader of many kids books, I've started to learn what works and what doesn't. For example, Margaret and I love the Madeline books, and I can recite the text to my coworkers on demand.

"In an old house in Paris that was covered with vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines. In two straight lines they broke their bread. Brushed their teeth and went to bed..."

But it's almost impossible to describe the Skippyjon Jones books. You just have to read them to see how bizarre they really are. By the way, Maggie's cousin Andrew introduced us to Skippyjon Jones, which is very fitting.

This past weekend, we met some of my college friends at a park in suburban Maryland. There we found a carousel and a train. Margaret wasn't too sure about the carousel as she kept grabbing onto me. But both of the kids loved the train. As for our friends, they both work for Bank of America, so we spent some time discussing the turmoil in financial markets. "What the hell is going on?," they asked. "I dunno," I shrugged as we watched our kids running around the playground. (That's not really true, but what could I tell them?)

The boy's comparative advantage

Teddy is disadvantaged for a number of reasons. First, he's the second kid. As my last post suggests, this implies that he doesn't get the same credit for his tricks that his sister did. Second, his sister is, and I have to be humble here, exceptional. She's speaking in complete sentences, using pronouns in the appropriate way, almost reading books - she's just a really, really smart little girl. (To be honest, she's probably not that exceptional, but I have only one data point and she's my kid, so I'll conclude that she is.)

But one area in which Teddy beats out his sister, even now despite their age difference, is his coordination with balls. In particular, when you toss a ball to Teddy, he can actually grab it. And can then toss it back to you. In contrast, Margaret consistently gets bonked on the head during such an exercise despite her participation in Power Tots at school - she'll come home and wave her legs around to display the tricks that she's learned in class, but she still can't catch a ball. Teddy, however, can. In fact, it was a bit amazing when we first started rolling balls in his direction. We expected him to flail futilely, trying to grab the ball, but he'd end up missing. Yet, he was able to corral the ball, gather it, and then send it back in the direction that it came. This leads me to think that we may have a future sports star on our hands.

While this isn't the best video, it at least indicates his skill with the ball.

Changes in childraising strategies and philosophy

As a comment on my last post suggested, your view of children, and your approach to raising them, changes drastically with the arrival of the second child. The first child experiences doting parents who jump at every cry and monitor and chronicle every development. The second child doesn't get the same level of attention. Instead, you know that they aren't really suffering when they cry (at least, they're not suffering that much.) And that they won't kill themselves if you aren't constantly monitoring them, given that you've taken certain base precautions - like blocking the stairs - to keep them out of trouble. (When talking to a soon-to-be dad at the dog park, I searched my mind for any piece of wisdom that I could give, and I came up with: "They're pretty resilient little things. They seem so fragile, but they're really pretty tough. So you're unlikely to hurt them when you change their diapers, even if they cry a lot.")

Every achievement of the second kid also isn't documented as assiduously. The boy can pull himself up on stuff? Well, he'll fall back down to the ground pretty soon, so at long as nothing sharp is around, that's ok. The boy can walk a few steps? Same attitude that accompanied pulling up. The boy is babbling? Is he interacting when doing so? If so, that's pretty fun (Teddy likes to go "Uhh" to which I respond "Uhh." We'll then go back and forth grunting at one another, which is a blast. I don't recall Margaret doing this, but maybe grunting is a boy thing.) If not, let me get back to cooking dinner.

A friend of mine with four (yikes!) boys (double yikes!) noted how few photos were focused on his fourth kid, especially compared to the first. Instead, the fourth kid mainly shows up by chance in various pictures.

Now, this isn't a very insightful post because a decrease in attentiveness has to arise with later kids as does a decline in the novelty of the tricks that they display. But I got a chuckle out of the difference when archiving photos and videos tonight. For example, observe the care with which Margaret is fed in the first part of the following video. And the clear wonder that accompanies her ability to put food in her mouth. Contrast that to the clutter on the boy's tray and the absence of any concern about whether he's actually eating much of his food or is just making a mess. (Turns out that until very recently, he has generally missed his mouth with a good portion of the food that he has tried to eat manually. Maddie loves that.)

Margaret isn't so difficult after all

Read this

More dead fish

Well, our fish managed to hang on for a couple of days before succumbing to some unknown malady. Which, I suppose, is better than two hours for the last batch. Margaret and I checked them out on Tuesday morning, and we saw one of them scooting around, but the other was AWOL. Given that they were pretty good at hiding, we peered around for a while until I spotted one motionless at the back of the fishtank. The next day, we initially couldn't spot the remaining one, but we eventually found it hiding in a plant. I was optimistic that that one might hang on, but the next day it was "sleeping," to quote Margaret. Luckily, her sense of mortality is very limited so she hasn't been troubled by the repeated deaths in our tank. As for the boy, he just wants to eat (and is getting better with "finger foods") and get in trouble, so the fish don't even register with him.

At this point, I'm thinking about buying a test kit to see what, if anything, is wrong with our water. But when I note that we only spent $1.98 on the last pair of fish, we may just try again.

An update

Because I've been slack about posting lately, we have lots to report. Let's start with the most interesting news about the kids: They're starting to fight. Or, to be more accurate, Margaret is starting to fight with Teddy while he happily and cluelessly goes about his business. Unfortunately, his happy-go-lucky attitude sometimes brings him into conflict with his sister. For example, watch what happens when Margaret repeatedly decides to put a Lego box on her head...



Papa could just sit and laugh while snapping photos. At other times, however, it's not all fun and games. Today, for instance, Margaret decided to push Teddy a few times. While Teddy suffered a bit by hitting the ground, he didn't seem too fazed by it. On the other hand, the rest of us suffered greatly when Margaret screamed, lay on the floor and kicked her feet during the "time out" that her mother made her take.

In other news, I went to Chicago to watch a Cubs series the weekend before Labor Day. Going back to Chicago and sitting the section 514 with my friends always makes me feel like I'm 28 again because I had season tickets in that section when I lived there. At the same time, however, staying up until 3:00 AM CST to watch the men's Olympic basketball final with my friends without kids makes me feel old when I want to go to bed.

While I was gone, Abby's entire family came to her assistance. I pointed out to Abby that no one comes to relieve me when she's out of town. "Do you want my family to come into town when I leave?," she responded. Touche. While I was gone, they had all sorts of fun, including a trip to a farm owned by one of Abby's relatives in Maryland. I don't think, however, that they had as much fun as I had at Wrigley Field. (Especially because the Cubs won all the games I saw. "Boy, the Cubs look great this year," I thought. Until I realized that they were playing my hometown team, the Nationals, so it wasn't like the Cubs were playing a major league team. More like a AAA or AA minor league team, I think.)

Over Labor Day weekend, we took our annual trip to Philadelphia to visit the cousins. As usual given the dedication that my sister's family has to kid friendly events, we had a great time doing all sorts of kid oriented activities. On Saturday, we went to a concert by the Jimmies, a kids band who plays music that also appeals to parents. This is a huge (and probably fairly lucrative) genre as bands like the Jimmies play music that gets the kids up and dancing while the parents drink beer (not us, although we noted it) and tap their feet at 11:30 AM on a Saturday morning.

Then on Sunday, we went to a farm where we rode a tractor into the fields (such fun!), picked fantastic peaches (our kids now love peaches) and other produce, and ran around a big playground. My reaction was: "I'm glad I'm not a migrant worker" as I got all scratchy while picking eggplant. Followed by "the owners of this farm are geniuses to get us to pay to pick their produce for them."

We came back early today and went to the zoo. We seem to have found a key spot to view the pandas from a lunch spot that is above, and technically behind, the main panda venue. It's generally nice because it isn't too crowded, but we've also had good luck spotting pandas from that spot. The last time the Philly cousins were in town, we watched the pandas jump around in the trees about 15 feet away from us. Which was amazing because, in most of our visits, the pandas have typically been either hidden or sitting still. During that visit, I kept saying, about the cousins, "They have no idea how lucky they are to see this" as the pandas bounded through the trees. The pandas didn't do much this time, but at least we got to look down on one as it did the standard, neurotic pacing that zoo animals tend to do.

But most exciting: We bought two new fish at the PetCo near the zoo. And even more exciting: They've survived the evening. We've let our fish tank sit since the death of the previous batch, so most of the nasty chemicals should have dissipated and some good bacteria should have developed. The guy at the PetCo was astonishingly talkative, but also pretty helpful. "Don't put too many fish in at once. Buy a few and wait a couple weeks to see if they survive." And "You don't want to put tetras in a new tank" but "cherry barbs (the two that we got) are really great for establishing a new tank because they handle the ammonia spikes better." Now, I have no idea if this guy is telling me the truth, but at least I only spent two bucks for the two fish that we got, rather than five for the fish that I thought about buying. As I said, those two fish were alive as of 8:30 PM when Margaret went to bed, so it's better than last time. And, when I turn on the light, they appear to rush to the red plastic plant in the corner. At first, I was worried that they were stuck, but I've decided that they're just smart to hide in a plant that's similar in color to them. Of course, tomorrow I may post that they're dead as well, but I'm holding out hope.