chicagodads

I found out why I can’t stay awake long enough to do a blog post anymore (well, without falling asleep several times, or pumping my body full of sugar and/or caffeine). But I’ll let my Facebook status updates tell the story.

JD Status: Going to the doctor’s soon for bloodwork results. Hopefully, she’ll tell me I have an unusually high midi-chlorian count.

RR: higher than Master Yoda’s? If so, you might be a sith

JD: Awesome!

RR:

JD: i mean, “Oh no, that’ll never happen!”

mu-haha-ha!

JD Status : Bloddwork results: Thyroid levels are off the chart. Simply, body’s constantly tired and sending signals to brain to pump stimulants. Even simpler: I am _biologically_ lazy.

MF: So what did your doc tell you to do about it?

JD:  she said i need friends and fam round-the-clock to feed me breakfast in bed.

no, she gave me a prescription at this point for about 1/2 dose. hopefully, i can get some more exercise if i don’t feel as weighed down in the mornings.

JD Status: Bloodwork results: Thyroid levels are off the chart. Simply, body’s constantly tired and sending signals to brain to pump stimulants. Even simpler: I am _biologically_ lazy.

JD: Saying “Bloddwork” makes me feel like a vampire, like Count Chocula or Edward or something…
Blaeh!

NWS: Hope they get you some good meds for that! If not, I vote for the count chocula persona.

JD: Not the Twilight guy?
got a prescription. just what i’ve always wanted, legal steroids. now i can get an even bigger head…

NWS: I have to admit I was thinking of your wife when I suggested count chocula - I mean who wouldn’t want to be married to a sweet guy who makes a living as a cereal box model? While Edward is dangerous and sexy, I’m not sure the situation is ideal. Glad you got some meds!!!

JD: she might try to eat me…

NWS: so long as you don’t try to eat her.

JD: I may vant to suck her blood.
Bleah!

CJK: Not diabetic, then? I’m glad you got results & meds. Hope it helps! (Maybe that’s what’s wrong with me!)

JD: common symptoms to watch for, CJ:
fatigue, muscle spasms (which i don’t have. guess i don’t have the muscles anymore…), constipation (also don’t have), dry skin, weight gain, slow heart rate, sensitivity to cold (that may just be the looong winter getting on my nerves though), or dry brittle hair that tends to fall out easily (not yet).

i wouldn’t be too surprised if i did come up w/ diabetes. but thank God not yet.

So, that’s about it. Thyroid problems. I try to go to bed at 10 now, and yet I still have problems getting up at 6:30 (meaning I don’t get out of bed til a bit later. This morning I slept until 7:10).

And now? I’m going to bed.

…In comparison to children-less couples. That is, according to at least this study-backed essay published in the British Psychologist Society’s The Psychologist. (h/t the Motherlode)

This may or may not be a shock. After all, we parents love our children. And we like to think that they bring us much joy. My daughter’s name means “Joyous.” But there is so much stress, worry and sadness associated with having children that the net result of happiness from having children (even in the long-run) is, at best, zero.

Yet, we continue to have children. And we continue to be overswept with joy for friends who announce their pregnancies. We have baby showers and lavish expectant parents with well-wishes and can’t wait to see (and maybe hold) the “little bundle of joy.”

As a further measure of paradox, we tend to wait til our “summer” seasons (our 30’s) - when we’ve passed our physical peaks - to have most of our children. We do this because we feel that our houses are not in order yet, that at the tender age of 20, 24, 28 we have not yet had our fill of the world, or certainly not filled into the world - our die has not yet been cast. And we wait until we are important people. Important and worldly enough to be able to hire nannies so that we can continue to work at our high-paying jobs so that we can continue to afford to buy the most lavish, happiness-providing toys that wealth can provide.

And I wonder if we’re not missing the point. I wonder if we think that we’re supposed to be pursuing happiness because that’s what’s in the DNA of our country, but not always the DNA of our DNA.

Does my daughter give me much happiness? Yes. Absolutely. I often grin from ear-to-ear just thinking about her, watching her hand reach out to stroke trees or laugh gleefully when I or Jennie somewhat surprise her in a riled-up game of peekaboo. Does she also cause stress, consternation, dread, worry, ear- and head-aches? I can barely hear out of my right ear now because she did a Spinal Tap-esque 11 in it yesterday for the simple reason that her playgroup was over.  The costs. The pangs of childbirth. The extra pounds. The extra time it takes to do simple tasks. Finding childcare. Destruction of property.

So why, besides self-destructive tendencies, have children?

It may not be about happiness in the first place. Rather, I believe that something deep within us calls us to spread, calls us to sacrifice, to give of ourselves, to expand our horizons and embrace that which could very well hurt us. It was love that caused my wife and I to look each other in the eye and say, I want to share life and meaning with you. It was love that caused us to say, let’s have a child together who will be a constant reminder of each other and our love for each other. I can’t help but be reminded of my love for my wife everytime I look into Jocelyn’s big eyes, or her thin curls, even her furrowed brow.

It’s love that calls us to be parents. And it’s love that gives us the strength to continue in this direction.

Say it isn’t so…

A new skate park to be opened shortly near our house was noted for vandalism by some concerned local citizens.

With no disrespect, tagging happens. At least it’s not a gang issue. Nor is it private or even business property being hit up by graffitti artists.

Here’s some history of graffitti art in Chicago.

“Just Don’t ” by garryknight via Flickr

I read this comment from a neighborhood . listserv this morning and it really got my head spinning:

Like the male (adult) black who lives at [omitted] and tells the 8 year old kid, “Shut the [omitted] up, mother [omitted]”

Now, of course, part of the reason my head is spinning is because the guy used it as an excuse to take a cheap shot at affordable housing and anyone connected with affordable housing (ie, low-income families and those who would fight for them - which the poster after him took to even further extremes). Another reson my head was (is) spinning is because I’m coming down with something. But, it did cause me to pause and ask, “When is it okay for neighbors to directly interfere with a parent-child relationship?” (Assuming that the child is his in one aspect or another.)

And no one can tell me that that type of language isn’t abuse (although people have told me that, I know better because I’ve seen the psychological ramifications years down the line). Yet I know that there is no way I would be able to just come by and tell this punk to not treat his girl in that manner. Not without knowing him. But even still, somebody should say and do something, right? Are our communities so broken down that we do not have a say in each other’s lives, that we cannot speak out for the protection of children? Or is this just a line of busy-bodiness (which it was with the writer of the post)? After all, aren’t there worse things to worry about than words said to a kid?

Such as this story where a (to quote the title from the blog “What About Our Daughters”), “1 Year-Old Liliana Goodman Beaten to Death by Mama’s “Boyfriend” for Being “Disrespectful” While Others Watch.” She was beaten for four hours! And there were others in the house! It wasn’t until late on in the beating that the mother stepped in.

Later I want to ask when is it right or necessary for the state to step in and do a parent’s job (or deem a parent’s job?). But for now, I do want to ask, when do neighbors step in? Upon threat of violence? When a parent spanks a child? When a parent smacks a child (even behind closed doors)? When there are whispers of violence? What are the guidelines, the boundaries, and whose boundaries do we abide by? (For instance, I have a lot of friends who lightly spank. As do we on ocassion - though I hate to admit it; I’d rather we didn’t. But then others say that a tap or a spank is always wrong.)

What do you think?

Chicago has been gearing up to host the Olympics for a bit now. Early next month, we are expected to be on our best behavior as the International Olympic Committee is staking out our city to see how prepared we are to smoothly take in all of these visitors and games.

So it begins.

Somehow, we’re expected to believe that the Olympics will bring in tons of revenue but not cost us anything in the long or short-run. The new Olympic Village being built out of the ashes of Reese Hospital will eventually be bought out by developers and sold as condos and taxpayers will get all of their credited money back (Of course, that was a ridiculous idea even before the housing bust, which has changed the way we plan for and pay for housing for the indefinite future).

And now monies are being diverted (as one would expect) to pay for repaving the area around Jefferson Park (the primary location of the projected games) while schools and hospitals are shutting down , there’s a long-standing (or, rather, not-standing) sinkhole (a bit unrelated, because it’s in Des Plaines, but sink holes are dangerous for our finest and our infrastructure) and the list goes on and on.

Yeah, it’s a big sinkhole. Here’s to hoping we never get the go-ahead from the IOC.

My wife’s parents picked up the babe on Thursday and were to drop her off on Sunday morning. The wife was to leave for a church leadership retreat on Friday evening and return late Saturday afternoon. I had to work a brief stint on Saturday morning. And Saturday was my birthday. So, you know what all of that led to, right? That’s right, a slew of unhealthy eating (not that I don’t eat unhealthily enough, but now all the gloves were off, so to say).

Jennie took me out on Thursday, officially beginning the weekend. I had wanted to go to nearby Hot Doug’s for a long time, but alas, they are closed by 4pm every day. However, since I had a clamoring for some American food (but not so-called comfort food like meat loaf & mac & cheese) for the last week, I opted to go to the delicious - and unfortunately unpopulated - Honey1 BBQ . Honey1 has been widely critically praised as being among the best barbeque in the city , certainly in the North Side. That night, we tried the pulled-pork. The sauce was - true to form - sweet and tangy and the meat was good. But not quite as delicious or delicate as the usual ribtips. My regret is that they may be underappreciated in a majority White and Latino neighborhood (with prices a hike up from similar, and busier, spots I’ve been to in the West Side).

On Friday, I decided to leave my work-study area and make the trek to Hot Doug’s . Since it was 2 o’clock by the time I got to the spot, I figured I missed the lunch rush. I may have, but the line was still out the door and around the block. Fridays and Saturdays, it turns out, the popular duck-fat french fries draws the rabid masses. And I could see why, after my hour + of waiting in line, the stuff was like coronary-lining crack. Oh, and the snappy taste of a Chicago-style hot dog. Oh, just one and my week-long thirst for the unmistakable yet unidentifiable was quenched. I saved most of the fries and the other dog for my wife (I foolishly thought I’d need more. I would, but not there) but I was so tempted to finish them off at home.

The wife wasn’t so thrilled with the idea of the place, though. But I did make at least one blogger-friend jealous.

Saturday evening was a retreat at home, away from people. Not a bad move for introverts.

Sunday evening was Dye family mainstay Borinquen. According to legend, the jibarito sandwich was birthed here after the proprietor read an article about a restaurant in Puerto Rico where they served sandwiches with smashed plaintains instead of bread. Smother the plaintains in butter and garlic, and slather lettuce, tomato, and cheese (basic American sliced, usually) over your meat of choice (my favorite has been the steak, but since that’s not been living up to expectation, the much juicier lechon - soft, roasted pork rolling off the sandwich - has been the go-to lately) and you’ve got yourself a sandwich ! Another critical favorite, this time shared with a small selection of fam and friends.

And, that was about it… The next day Jen & I shared ice cream cake with some friends from our church. I’m about a year now closer to a heart attack. And that’s the Chicago way to celebrate birthdays!

I cannot tell you how enthused I am, how filled with joy am I to hear my 20 month old speak. Yesterday, we got a package from Amazon including three Dr. Seuss board books (I will continue to hold out hope that these books will last through her toddlerhood). She took one of the colorful pocketeers and sat up on the couch next to her mother, rifled through the pages and began reading to herself. It was such a delight.

Later that evening, she was sitting on my lap as we were both on the floor (a soothing and bonding time I find very useful near her bedtime especially) and I was reading Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You? – and she did! And she was also able to mimic “Hoo - Hoo”, “Owl” (ok, truthfully, it was more like ‘ow-e’, but a father’s ear is never wrong). and eventually “Cow”. She said that last word as I was holding her on the steps trying to awaken my legs and crack open the door.

It’s a wonder to watch her gather her vocabulary now. There are no sentences just yet. And friends who hear our testimonies must wonder about our sanity as they never hear her testimony. But, to be honest, it just makes my writer’s heart beat so proudly to hear her play with words right now.

That’s how I recalled standing in for an in-school suspension room when I substitute taught at a school on the North Side of Chicago. A school not far from where my wife lived for a few years before she left the country. A school near where a teenager was fatally shot the other day - the 26th Chicago Public School student shot in this school year.

That’s as many students as were shot all of last school year, when citywide violence against young people was all the newspapers could talk about. The Chicago Sun-Times reports, “At this time in 2008, 19 students had been killed. In 2007, 18 were dead by March 11… The Sun-Times reported this week that 508 students had been shot from Sept. 2007 through Dec. 2008.”

This right after a student in a West Side school stabs his bully with a pair of scissors during a conflict resolution meeting.

I must admit I was wrong. The school didn’t measure up to what I’d seen as being a “bad” school. The neighborhood, compared to Humboldt Park or much of Logan Square, didn’t seem to be in dire need of a social overhaul or a bunch of Hugs for Troubled Thugs-type programs. But everybody hurts, and violence can happen anywhere: small towns in Alabama or a high school in Germany.

This is a systemic problem. It needs systemic solutions. Not just a hero, tons of them. Neighborhoods full of fathers and mothers and churches and mosques and synagogues and non-profits and teachers and administrators and counselors and cafeteria workers and accountants and line cooks and law clerks and construction workers and carpenters and butchers and candlestick makers and community activists and police all joining up to be good neighbors. We all need to be heroes. We owe it to this next generation to not abandon them in their hour of need.

Affordable housing’s become all the rage in Chicago recently. As in, some people get angry about it. They feel that since they put a lot of money down for their property under the auspices that it is an “upcoming” neighborhood, that setting aside new buildings for low-income families means that the undeserving get to steal a piece of the retail pie. Meanwhile, those who just invested a lot of money into the fledgling area are losing their investment, or so some would have them believe.

First off, just a wee bit of education: Affordable housing is not giving away space to lazy, worthless, freeloading individuals or families. Everybody who applies for affordable housing needs to have steady income. They are already contributing members of society. Second, just because they do not make as much money as some others does not mean that they should be pushed and shoved at the whim of greedy people who can afford to buy and sell houses as if they were dealing in bread.

But then the opponent of affordable housing must further be asked: What of the people who have put down family and history and community and business in this area and have invested in it for decades? What if they worked their tails off day-after-day to just be able to get by, just to pay rent or mortgage and have barely enough money left over for essentials? What happens when they are forced out of their living arrangements because the area around them is moving in such a rate that they (or their landlords) cannot afford to keep up with, say, the new taxes on their property. So, owners are forced to sell their properties or up their rents and all of a sudden, a whole slew of people are looking for housing that they can afford and that has the type of infrastructure that is needed for their families.

So, what these hard-working families are left with are a volatile cocktail of any of the following options:

• Live even closer to the edge of financial ruin by pulling money out of a safety-net (retirement savings, college savings, insurance, car, etc.)
• Pull oldest children out of school so that they can earn extra money for family.
• Move to an area where it is difficult or impossible to get to present, living-wage jobs.
• Move to an area without social, societal, and scholastic infrastructure.
• Declare bankruptcy and default on loans.
• Become homeless. Which also may happen as a result of the items listed above over time.

I’ve had the responsibility and shared in the burden of seeing many of my students, friends and their families wrestle with these realities. What’s more, any of the above puts more burden on the community and society. A homeless family is primarily concerned about getting basic needs met now, for instance. Contributing to society is not a practical option by the way, Time magazine just ran an article on how 1 out of 50 children is now homeless . That includes a more than 20% jump of Chicago Public Schools students in the last three years that are deemed homeless - with total numbers well above the national average). Bankruptcy and financial ruin means less money. Kids being pulled out of college, high school and sometimes grade school may be necessary in the short-run, but is economically disastrous in the long-haul. Also, when families are cast out of their neighborhoods to other areas, existing school buildings lose students. As they lose students, they lose finances and function (this is happening at an incredible rate here in Logan Square). Soon, the schools have to close down. In the meantime, the new neighborhoods that the families are thrown into do not have the resources to school all of the new children. So, while the one school is being torn down, new schools - and social networks - are going to have to be built in entirely different areas. Not only does this not make financial sense, it doesn’t make ecological sense.

Save the planet, support affordable housing.

And, if you live in or around Logan Square neighborhood in Chicago, come Wednesday at 6pm to Funston Elementary School (one of those schools affected, by the way) on Armitage to voice your support for affordable housing, specifically for the Zapata Apartments. See previous post for more information on this one.

I love being so hands-on in raising my child. But I can’t help but notice on trips through the neighborhood, to the grocery store or Target, or the health clinic that I, being a male, am in the minority in childraising. An immense minority.

I found this article at the NYTimes (you may need to register) to be a bit fascinating. It’s about how the number dads who are at home rather than at work (and the glut that is happening now because of the economic downturn) is primed to make a cultural shift in how we view stay-at-home dads.

The consensus is that although stay-at-home fathers are now rising because of the massive lay-offs, downsizing, and ‘right-sizing’ of the economy, it really will, at best, lead the way for another generation where SAHF’s are commonly accepted. The comparison is to Rosie the Riveteer, who went to work in the shops, warehouses and steel mills during WWII only to go back to the domestic life for the next twenty years.

However, the argument goes, it was because women were seen doing the traditional “man’s” job - even if for just a brief, emergency period - that some years later, they were able to find a way back into the “man’s world.” The idea is that there will be a short but pronounced spike in daddies staying home only to return to the workforce as soon as the market is ‘corrected’ (whatever that may mean), but that a generation from now, definitions and lifestyles may change.

What do you think? So much crackpipe? Are laid-off men staying home to watch their kids or just regrouping and working on their resumes in the meantime? Should these gender roles stay fixed?

* “Rosie Redux 0” by Malenkov in Exile via Flickr.

[Editor’s note: Even though I’m taking semi-holidays, through this week at least I’ll be alternating posts here and at my home blog, Left Cheek. So please read there every day you don’t find anything new here.]

The good news is that we could conceivably be done with the common cold. As well as dramatically reduce the onset of asthma attacks. Earlier this month, scientists found that they had “decoded the genomes of the ninety-nine common strains of the common cold,” according to The New York Times (you’ll probably need to register for this article).

The bad news is, it’s a practical impossibility at this stage for anybody to become financially interested in such a prospect.  It now costs 700 million dollars to finance the development of a brand new drug. And since the cold is only looked at as largely just a ‘nuisance’, there’s close to no-chance that anybody would put up the type of dough it would take to buy a bottle, much less a mass rush to the pharmaceuticals to buy the products at $100 a pop. Do you think insurance companies would dole out for that?*

Just a nuisance? You tell that to teachers and parents of young children! Why do you think they have so many combined sick-days? That’s gotta be $700 million in lost productivity per year right there! Oy.

*Which is why, in my opinion, we need to clear out the insurance and re-prioritize the pharmaceuticals if we are going to have any real positive health care reform.

[Editor’s note: Even though I’m taking semi-holidays, through this week at least I’ll be alternating posts here and at my home blog, Left Cheek. So please read there every day you don’t find anything new here.]

I was trying to find the best way to recap what I’ve been thinking about in terms of schooling, but I think that - in essence and in brevity - laurel said it best already: Every school is different. Pretty much everything that I wanted to say in the posts was said in the comments in one way or another, so I didn’t want to rehash that so much. (I did forget to add this story from the Tribune, which mentioned that researchers found there was no difference in test scores between charter and neighborhood high schools even though charter schools had half the amount of impoverished kids and significantly fewer special needs and English as a Second Language students.)

I need to take a semi-break from blogging for a bit. At least on this site. The funny part is, the number of visitors to this site have once again gone up, just as they were starting to the last time I had a blogging slow-down (which, ironically, was because my computer was in the shop).

For now, I’ve got four long-form works that I want to concentrate on for the next two weeks at least. I’ll intersperse with short posts as I find interesting stuff (and there’s a couple in the pipes already). And hopefully I’ll find more time to visit your posts as time allows. A lot of interesting stuff going on with many of the writers here at Today (which I find refreshing, to be honest).

Energy, health care, education. There’s a lot to be said as a parent about any of these main points of the president’s speech last night. But, since we’re on the topic of education right now and since I wanted to hit this point anyway, I noticed that under Obama’s talk of education reform, he hinted at “expand(ing) our commitment to charter schools.” I was not aware that the federal government has a commitment to charter schools in the first place, but with former Chicago Public Schools chief Arne Duncan now in charge of the Department of Education (and a $100 million bonus), I guess that shouldn’t surprise me.

This is an observation I have from talking to many parents and interested parties in Chicago: the assumption is that a charter school is necessarily a good or bad thing. Now, for proponents of public education, because of the way that charter schools are set up, they may be a bit dangerous, and certainly a threat to funding. But, if the districts and the nation were as dedicated to quality education for all as they like us to think that they are, it shouldn’t be a problem. For the time-being though, I’m going to concentrate on shorter-term issues rather than meta- and structural issues.

A charter school is primarily a different way of governing school. A group will come to a school district and say that they want to run a school (or a few). This group may anywhere down the line from a for-profit company interested in education to a rag-tag group of dissatisfied educators (I know of one such in a south-side neighborhood). Often this group has a driving philosophy and several ideas of how to practice schooling that are different than how they see the district performs and views schooling. The views could be anywhere as distinct as a sense of maintaining ethnic pride (much how the Catholic schools started in the 19th C.), to a return to a strict adherence to ‘classic’ education, to specialized mini-schools based on professional options, to running a 4-12 grade college-prep school (under the notion that a 9-12 grade prep school leaves too much time to gap in certain schooling areas). The district allows these associations to run a school  (usually a “failing” school or vacant campus) with public money under that group’s charter (including budget, philosophy, rules, etc.) of how they will run the school.

Now, because of the way budgets are set up in most school districts - especially Chicago’s - each school gets a certain amount of funding related to how many students they bring in on a typical day. So if another school opens up across the way from yours and then you are forced to compete with that other school, but your hands are tied behind your back as to how you may compete (as most brand-new schools now secure grants to get them brand-new equipment and as charter schools pay their teachers less so that they can spend more on equipment), well, guess who may win in the short-run?

That is the essence of what a charter school is. And, as you can probably guess, the concept of charter schools is only as good as each local charter school is. A charter school for a charter’s school sake is not necessarily a good thing, and in fact, can be dangerous. At the very least, with our child(ren), we will take the issue of whether to send her/them to a charter or non-charter school on a case-by-case basis.

I was raised in the city. I wish I could say that I always felt home here, but that isn’t true. I wanted to live in the ‘burbs during my teen years. I wish I could say that it was always easy living in the city, but that wouldn’t be true either. I also wish that I could tell you and certainly my daughter that I have always felt safe here, but I’d be lying through my locks.

My brothers and I grew up and habituated in some dangerous neighborhoods (understood of in terms of plenty of poverty, gangs, drug-dealing, homelessness, etc.), but I’ve been fortunate enough to not really have to face much personal violence. Been the victim of a string of burglaries during my teens, never really had to deal with gangs (perhaps it was the whole geekery and/or the church-boy thingy, but they just left me alone), got mugged once (considering the places I’ve been and the hours I’ve been down them, it seems to me that the odds are better getting struck by lightning), a couple attempted and bungled pick-pockets (though I did become the victim of poaching once, it wasn’t in Chicago).

All to say, I turned out all right. But, I understand that not everybody feels as nonchalant about being near such circumstances, especially when it’s your kids on the line.

But I also know a little about the— shall we call it, seedy underbelly of growing up in gated communities. The drugs might be sold, for example, in the inner city, but that isn’t necessarily their end destination. Then there’s the suicide rate, and this general (but perhaps unquantifiable) feeling of angst, meaninglessness, and boredom that young ones feel - which is why so many of them move to the Big City at first chance, only to return to the ‘burbs (or extend the suburbs into exurbia) once they have children.

Which finally brings us to our point (I so don’t like to beat around the bush…): one of the primary decisions on where a child attends school literally centers on the location of the household. Many of those who can afford to relocate so that their children can attend the best schools do so. Even those that I know that could not afford to pack up and move packed up and sent their child to a relative who lived in a preferable district or neighborhood.

“Let’s Go To Work Boys” by Senor Codo via Flickr.

The reasons for moving are myriad: the cost of raising a family in the city is prohibitive for some (as I imagine it would be in New York, or if one was looking to own in Chicago, especially in a nicer neighborhood); others have carefully gauged all factors (I know a father that got out a very intricate spreadsheet and mathematically mapped it all out); some are worried about their children not fitting in a particular location (where there are few others like them, or too many like them); perceived or real notions of superiority of education based on empirical, intangible or imagined factors (I have some friends that I love dearly leave the city under the notion that any public school in any suburban zone is preferable to any public school in Chicago. I tried to convince them of the foolishness of that decision, and that was before I became a teacher/advocate. I am even more convinced now that they were wrong); cultural issues (for us, this is a paramount reason to stay in the city. We want our daughter to be able to understand that the world is filled with people who do not necessarily look or act like us, and that that is both a good thing to know and a good tool to have); and, finally, to be honest, safety issues.

But I’d like to know what you think: Have you chosen a route, did you regret it, will you choose, have you given it much thought, etc, etc.?

1) New Wave Cafe. It’s big for a brand new coffeeshop, first off. My wife and I were comparing it to two other coffee institutions (well, at least in this ChicagoDad’s world) Letizia’s Natural Bakery and Cafe (one of the first in Ukranian Village and my normal home away from home when I lived, worked and worshiped there) and Starbucks (previous to this opening, one of the only spots open for coffee - if you include Dunkin’ Donuts - in Logan Square). When I say that it’s big , I mean compared to, say Letizia’s which literally started as a take-out spot and then gradually upped itself until it used two spaces plus the outdoor cafe (in the spring to late fall) to accomodate its patrons there for the deelish natural baked yummies (fresh muffins were to die for! and totally worth the 2 bucks). Later, it morphed into a wine eatery, but, oh well. They still served Intelligentsia Coffee (some of our finest roast here in Chicago) and wonderful paninis, pizza blocks and cranberry cookies. But I think the difference in this regard is that Logan Square has long been ready for a cafe to act as a sort of cultural center. Add the new wave (read: 80s) kitsch , the not-too-loud music, the nice staff, the fine Metropolis roast (so much of a relief after Starbuck’s bitter roast. I’ve had two cups so far of their coffee and not once had the urge to spit it out), and the fact that there’s plenty of open space to chit-chat or work/study, I think this may be my new spot. Did I mention I had a blondie with bacon in it? WOW! Nice, huh? [Edit: So, apparently, some friends and readers informed me that 1) bacon is interspersed in various baked goods at New Wave and the menu changes constantly and 2) bacon in baked goods is become quite the vogue fashion - and therefore unfashionable - throughout Culinary World.]

The downside is that although it’s fairly close, it’s not that close.  It’s about a mile away, though if I need to, the bus and train are both kiddy-corner and a direct stop in front of my place.

2) The other spot we’ve been to recently (for a kind of neighborhood association mixer) is a nueva Mexicana BYOB called La Estrella Negra . As you can probably tell from its name (the Black Star ), it’s got kind of a quirky, dark theme - actually a Dia de la Muerte theme all over the place. The decor (including paintings displayed prominently not just on the walls but also the tabletops) is whimsically self-decorated by the multi-talented owner (who also plays in a band that sometimes performs there, apparently) and friends.

I thought the food was a bit pricey and the service a bit slow, but the La 25 tacos de pollo we ended up leaving with (we could only stay shortly as it was cutting into the baby’s sleep time) were quite delicious and featured - of course - bacon strips. Not sure that paying 10 bucks for three tacos is desirable (especially if you wait almost an hour for them), but I think the place has some promise as an ocassional spot. Especially if they find intriguing things to do with bacon.

Hey all. Sorry I haven’t been blogging recently. I like to think that we actually got some momentum going and then…  POOF! up I go.

But the truth is I got sick, the baby got sick, and my computer is down again. So regular blogging became less of a responsibility and sleep became more of a responsibility. I like sleep (and I think I need more and more of it), so I’m not going to disagree.

For the near future, I would love to do a series on schooling. In Chicago especially, we are inundated with questions - almost daily it seems - of whether we should send our kids to a local public school, magnet school, charter school, private school, or go out to the suburbs or home school. I see why one would prefer one option over another, but I sometimes wonder if we don’t closely investigate if one general option (say, suburban schools) is always better than an alternative option (say, city schools) when research and experience tells me that a) is never always better than b). And there’s a bunch of other questions that I’m just starting to wrestle with as a young parent. But that’s for a later time. I would love some feedback on that.

Shortly, however, I want to talk about a couple new spots I’ve had the opportunity to visit this last week in my own little neighborhood, and where bacon was a feature (at least in my experience).

Until then, I got some cleanin’ and daddyin’ to do.

When I was a teacher, I fell victim to all forms of minor viruses all the time. It may begin to manifest itself in the middle of the day, at the end of the school day, just as the week was ending or even beginning. If there was school to be taught, I would try to see my way through the day, but it isn’t healthy for myself or my students to continue to spread virus - especially since I’m really good at forgetting where I left that kleenex and my students were really good at using all my antibacterial soap for their desks. But when I got home, I would climb into bed and become the biggest baby. The next morning, I would kick-test the old body to check if all the systems are go; if not, I’d call in sick for that day.

The Lord bless my wife. She’d mother over me and allow me to sleep the next day away even though she may have disagreed. I don’t think she ever understood even up to this day why it is that men turn into the biggest cowards when we confront the smallest colds.

But here’s my question: what happens when the male domestic becomes sick? Who then takes care of him? Especially if his wife is depending on him to clean up the home and the baby needs him to attend her.

Time to clean the house and make my own soup. (Is this how Midwest mothers learn their Martyr tone of voice?)

7:40 am:

The little mama has been blocked up for almost two days now. Since she’s not eating bread  her fiber intake has reduced significantly. But because she has been insistent on at least one banana a day, well, like I said, she’s blocked up.

I gave her an orange this morning (rather than just juice, which has no pulp and therefore no fiber), and I’ll make some pancakes (not a lot of fiber. Maybe I can sneak some in somehow).

Makes me wish I had some wheat germ…

8:46

Finished breakfast. Still no sign of poo. Off to Jewels.

10:55

Just got back from Jewels (several miles, had to take public transportation). From what I could tell, no luck yet. The running consensus in the comments section is, I believe, to use dynamite. That may be an option. Time to strip the little mama.

11:20

Nada. Zip. Zero. On the plus side,  we’re eating cucumber. On the negative side, cucumbers are harder to peel than bananas.

12:26

I wish I had thought of prune juice. For lunch, we shared some oatmeal - but I don’t think I wanna wait three days for those oats to take their course. Although, come to think of it, it is called “Instant”…

2:16 pm

She hasn’t gone to sleep yet. She’s too busy making growling noises. If it weren’t so aggravating, it’d be really cute.

Too bad it’s so aggravating.

4:19

Still aggravated.

5:43

Rescued her about an hour ago. For not having a nap, she’s in a decent mood. But we’re kind of taking precautions.

I heard someone talking about how doctors don’t really know what a sickness is nor what caused it, but can only take educated guesses based on looking at the symptoms, patient history (past occurrences, related occurrences, events surrounding the malaise…) and then reactions to various treatments.

Gonna run and go get some prune juice soon (as well as bacon…).

8:44 pm

Jennie put the baby down earlier. We’ve had company over for the last two hours, so I haven’t asked nor observed that Joss went number 2, but I doubt it. Poor girl :(. We’ll see how it goes tomorrow.

February 15th

8:50 pm

Meant to update earlier, but was - umm… - held back. (Should I have put a caveat at the beginning of this post? Of the whole blog, actually?) She woke up from a relatively short but late nap before three and was walking really, really funny at first. By four, she was done making her first - and stinky - diaper. Really, like a normal day’s stool. Expected more. Got more a couple hours later.

She was really sensitive for a while there. (By the way, no prune juice. Just didn’t get around to finding any. But I’ve managed to get the fiber count back up, and will try to keep it coming.) I’m certainly more relieved. I know she is.

Shortly after I woke up yesterday my wife told me about an opportunity to meet up with a few of the other mothers and from our church and their little ones at the zoo.* The feisty weather reached a peak somewhere in the 60’s I believe. It was pretty windy, but miraculously, Jocelyn’s hair was pretty relaxed throughout. Wish mine was that cool and forgiving. I mean, after all, she uses my conditioner.

I like Lincoln Park Zoo. It’s been a while since I’ve gone, so everything seems so much smaller. Not that I’ve gotten taller - I don’t think - but it may have been a dozen years and a hundred pounds ago. There is much to remember and enjoy about our innumerable trips to the bayside and free zoo. It’s no San Diego Zoo nor even Brookfield Zoo, but it has its little cozy glories, such as the rental paddleboats. And, did I mention that it’s free. As in, absolutely free. And the fact that it’s fairly accessible by public transit. Personally, Joss and I got there in just a few minutes by taking the Armitage Avenue bus east for a few miles. This bus doesn’t run all night (although I believe and am happy to report that it seems that they’re finally extending the hours. It used to shut down at very unpredictable times around 6 or 7pm), but then again, neither does the zoo.

.

I was very glad that we got to go and meet up with the other families. Kind of bummed that I didn’t think earlier to take more pictures. Amused (and a bit worn-out from the chasing) that she was way more into the tons of other kids than into any silly cockatoo or wild African dogs, oftentimes leaving her own pack to hang and run around with other strangers.

*This was actually the first of our two very impromptu trips yesterday. Both times it almost came as a shock that my job is primarily taking care of Jocelyn now. Not that they should apologize, but maybe they should read this blog . Also, there was another article I read yesterday that ties into that. We should get into it tomorrow.

The other day, one of my friends asked what I do with the child all day. And the truth is:

Well, we usually just go hanging out behind the 7/11. Smoke. Those little candy puffer things. Get some slurpees. Act cool, act bad. Tell kids to stay in school because they don’t want to end up like us, washed up, nothing to look forward to. It’s a hard life. And we do hard time.

Some of my happiest memories when I was a child were when my father would wrestle with us. This was in the then-monthly window of time best described now as between having one drink and one drink too many. After a while, he would shut down and then shut us down, but while we boys were all wrestling, it was fun, knocks, flops, rolls, handcarts, tucks, dips, bruises, pins, crawls. Fun. Hanging out. That’s what we were doing during those early evening hours.

Just hanging out.

I was reading a parenting book a couple months. It said that when my child was upset and started making displeasing sounds (y’know, screaming, growling, howling, shrieking. All the fun stuff) I should mimic her. Not in volume or intensity but in tone. Let her know that I understand where she’s coming from. That I respect her.

Normally, I’m pretty darn good at mimicking. I’d be on SNL if I didn’t have such a wimpy, nasally voice. And I know that I generally get some kind of reaction when I playback people’s words and voices back to them (it slowed down my students, often causing them to laugh or question what’s going on. When I do it now for a special somebody, though, she just doesn’t find it to be so amusing). And Joss may have slowed down and been initially curious, but it didn’t keep her from screaming nor help me to find the real issue bugging her at the time.

But an almost incidental statement I came across in the book did make sense - to make eye contact at her level. When she screams, I’ve found it rarely does good to bring her up to my level, and it does no good to keep static. What I’ve started doing is sinking myself down to her level. Hanging out with her where she’s at. And she’s happy again. And she’ll play, or get a book and sit on my lap so we can read together. And/or grab a plush doll and sit on my lap. Or open up my shirt to play with my fat belly. You know what we do?

We just hang out. On her level. And it’s awesome.