Spirit of the season is what you make of it

By now I thought I'd be a seething mass of rage about public eduction.

I thought I'd be one of the parents beating down the door at Kindergarten demanding to know exactly what was behind the thought process of making kids color trees realistically instead of imaginatively.

I expected to roll my eyes every time some piece of paper made its way home that asked us to buy-bring-donate something toward the mission of establishing school spirit.

I didn't expect to find it all so charming. I didn't expect to love how the teachers talk to the kids, or get their attention, or encourage their participation.

I also didn't think I'd actually want my kid to wear pajamas to school when she would rather not.

But. Here were are. Spirit day.




Now ... back to a little eye-rolling.


All hale the spirit of the season: Profits

Bah humbug.
Before the last of the Halloween spiders were summarily swept from store shelves, shopkeepers dusted their stock with the downy flake of polystyrene snow. JCPenney trademarks "Joy of Giving," and economists are wringing their hands, predicting a sad year for retailers, as shoppers vow to live within their means.

Can anyone really blame us for wanting to rain a little on the retailers’ parade?
This Saturday why not help the Nimbostratus clouds open up by attending the Buy Local Bash from 5 to 9 p.m. at The Troy Atrium, 297 River St.

The bi-annual vendor fair features 50 businesses from Albany, Schenectady, Rensselaer and Saratoga counties including food producers, potters, jewelers, clothiers, health services and more. North Country acoustic duo Eddy and Kim Lawrence will perform live music. A $10 donation is suggested.

Why not rewrap last year’s toys?

Take the kids to the Albany Institute of History and Art’s 100th Anniversary celebration of the Albany mummies, featuring a talk by Egyptogist Peter Lacovara this Sunday from 1 to 4 p.m.

In addition to new exhibits and lectures, there will be plenty of hands-on, art-making opportunities for the kids. Children are also encouraged to bring toys from home to recreate the mummification process in the museum studio.

Lacovara, senior curator at the Michael C. Carlos Museum at Emerson University, will speak at 2 p.m. He will lead a discussion about the mummy Ankenfenmut, his coffin and the connections the Capital Region has with ancient Egypt.

The event is included with paid admission, $10 for adults $8 students, seniors $6, children under 12 children younger than 6, free.

Upcoming:

Thanksgiving weekend is being heralded by AIH&A with a series of free events beginning Friday, Nov. 27 and running through Sunday, Nov. 29.

Come see the new exhibits during this admission-free weekend. There will also be special events on each of the three days.

On Friday from noon to 4 p.m. drop in to the art studio and create a 12-inch texture tile there will be storytelling from 1 to 3 p.m. by museum educators and docents and a lecture at 2 p.m. by award-winning author James Bruchac, about Native American storytelling.

At 2 p.m. on Saturday there will be a musical performance and book signing with Hudson Talbott. Students from the region will perform selections of his book "River of Dreams," an adapted story of the Hudson River that tells its history through song.

From noon to 4 p.m. Sunday, learn about fresh water fish and create "gyotaku" – an 18th century Japanese art form that combines fish and printmaking. It appears the museum will be using three-dimensional models instead of fresh fish.

Don’t miss a special performance by fifth graders at Giffen Memorial Elementary School, who will perform a hip-hop composition under the direction of teacher Jeremy Dudley. Dudley (also known as Origin) has been teaching at Giffen for nine years, and is a three-time winner of the Best Hip-Hop Artist in the annual Metroland readers’ poll. The students' piece recognizes AIH&A’s exhibition: Hudson River Panorama, 400 Years of History, Art and Culture and the 400th anniversary of the river’s exploration.

Shutting the door

It's been a week or so since I've had my main camera, having sent it off in a package to New York City so that someone in a repair shop can cut and paste in new parts.

It's been a while longer since it has worked properly. Mostly I muscled through, appologizing to people for the random clicks that just didn't sound right as every other frame the shutter stuck open.

In the past when I've been without my main camera, I've felt anxious and edgy. Missing something important in my life.

But when I sent it off this time, with it's cracked gaskets and sticking mechanisms, I felt relief. I didn't want to haul the heavy body here and there; or drag it out at the mortification of my children. I didn't want to be the official photographer of our lives or someone elses.

I thought I might even break out the film cameras, or the toy ones that once intrigued me enough to make it a moniker. But I didn't.

I took a few snaps with the old camera, and actually said "NO" a few times to my kids, who asked for me to take a picture of something or other.

Today, as I trucked over to the FedEx office to retrieve the package containing my reconditioned camera, I realized I wasn't excited to have it back.

I didn't dig it out and affix a lens.

I didn't test it to see if it was in better working order.

I just trusted it would work when I needed it to.

Then I tucked it away in the back of the trunk and shut the door.

Seriously ...

I wish my mind worked this way creatively and not just appreciatively.

How bland would life be ...

without sugar ...


and spice?

How to make a grown man (nearly) cry

BE THE TEACHER THAT TELLS HIM: "Your daughter is delightful. When she sees another student is all alone or not having a good day, she makes a point to go and play with THEM on the playground. She's a great influence on the other kids."

Sleep cycles

I remember the last time I slept through the night.

It was Thursday, last week.

It was a fluke made possible by hope and the husband.

Prior to that, the last time I recall sleeping six consecutive hours was a few weeks before The Champ was born.

Lately the sleep deprivation has been so horrible, though, I've missed the real baby baby-days when naps just seemed constant and an appropriate amount of sleep could be achieved by collecting it throughout a 24-hour cycle.

The night routine, however, goes something like this:

6 p.m. Dinner.

7 p.m. Bath. Act out a pre-apocalyptic version of Waterworld using two wooden salad bowl "boats" and three bendy straws. Brush Teeth. Dress for bed. (No one is really sure which chore is done in which order as most of the time pajamas are wet).

8 p.m. Reading.

8:30 p.m. Bed.

8:30 until ? Mom (sometimes dad) sleeps in toddler bed until sleep sets in. Could be five minutes could be an hour and five minutes. It's a crapshoot.

10 p.m. (regardless of when child fell asleep) Parent will unpretzel them self from the sleep position made famous by a sloth in the Movie Ice Age, and tiptoe downstairs to finish one of 3,000 ordinary household chores that have piled up.

10 p.m. and two seconds Itty-bitty will awake and ask for water ... or why the parent trying to sneak away down the stairs didn't stop in and say a final "good night."

10:30 p.m. Parent who may (or may not) have finished washing the dishes will tiptoe back upstairs and go to bed.

10:35 p.m. Dog will bark at the bottom of the stairs until one of two adult humans gets out of bed and shows the dog that the gate HAS, in fact, been left open.

11 p.m. Dog will finally settle down after walking around the second floor, looking for toilets to drink out of and food to eat.

11:05 p.m. Dog will bolt up for no reason and run to the other side of the room.

11:30 p.m. Dog will resettle.

Between midnight and 1 a.m. The Champ will wake up and start crying.

He will not be consoled.

1:15 a.m. The parent who tried to get him back to sleep will bring him to bed.

1:30 a.m. He will sleep.

2 a.m., 2:30 a.m., 2:45 a.m., 3 a.m., 3:15 a.m. The Champ will want to nurse.

At 4 a.m. cat will crawl into the mom's hair and lay down.

4:01 a.m. through 5:30 a.m. Mom will try to get the cat to sleep on the dad while simultaneously trying to get The Champ to fall asleep.

She will lose.

From 5:30 a.m. through 6 a.m. The boy will want to nurse.

On alternating days of the week, which might potentially line up with the tides of the moon, the dog will become incontinent and require the work of a hazmat team during the above-mentioned hours as well. (Last night was one such occasion. I'll spare you the details.)

*You are welcome.*

From 6:30 a.m. until 7 a.m. the non-sleeping boy will want to sleep.

7 a.m. The mother - who no longer understands herself when she speaks - will get up, untangle the cat from her hair and try to take a shower.

7:05 a.m. The hot shower and warm suds will make the mother feel somewhat human again. She may even sing.

7:08 a.m. The daughter -- all tousle-haired and unintending – will sneak into the bathroom and sit quietly on the commode. She will say 'Good morning, mommy' and then will flush the toilet. Singing will stop.

And thus begins another day.

Happy Birthday, Ernie, Bert, Big Bird ... You don't seem a day over 5

For those of you living under a (Fraggle) Rock: Sesame Street turns 40 today.

The Big FOUR-O!

So much has changed on the program since I was a young viewer:

The set has sloughed its gritty, inner-city edge;

Ernie and Bert have lost their furry-puppetness;

And even Cookie Monster has been compelled to eat vegetables.

Characters have come and gone; most notably with the real-life death of actor Will Lee, and the Children’s Television Workshop’s decision to allow Mr. Hooper – his character – to die on the show.

It was riveting television for children and adults. It still is.

Perhaps what makes Sesame Street so successful as a television show is that it is consistently changing while still protecting its mission to provide quality children’s programming focused on education.

It has interwoven cognitive curriculum with current events, social awareness and multiculturalism. It has taken risks and held to core values.

And though each of us – myself included – can point to at least one thing on Sesame Street that ruffles our feathers, what we can’t deny is that the educational experiment has been a rousing success for not only generations children but their parents, too.

Sesame Street didn’t let us off easy. It wasn’t just an address we could park our kids to get things done. It was a place where questions brought more questions. Sometimes tough ones to hear, and tougher to answer.

I didn’t look forward to telling my then four-year-old why her favorite character at that time – Mr. Noodle’s brother Mr. Noodle – had no new episodes. He’d died the year she was born.

But I told her about Michael Jeter's death, in much the same way Gordon told Big Bird why Mr. Hooper couldn’t come back.

I may have my petty issues with a lisping bear and a little red monster who refers to himself in the third person, but I can’t deny what each has meant to my kids.

I can only thank them for the gentle wisdoms they’ve offered throughout the years, and for being there when they really needed some monsters that weren't really that scary.

I believe, I believe, I believe

Amy Wallace writes a blunt but factually accurate piece in Wired about how parents’ unfounded fear of vaccination is putting us all at risk for epidemic, and there is a sh*tstorm of response.

No one is really surprised, although Wallace claims she wasn’t prepared for the intensity and bullying tactics of some of the vitriolic responders.

I have to admit, however, because of this piece and because of the positive response it has also gotten, I’m feeling a little less afraid to say what I’ve been thinking about the subject all along.

I am not on the fence about most vaccines. I believe in them. I believe they, above most other forms of medical advances during the last 100 years, have made the quality of our lives better. I believe they still have tremendous potential.

I know there is a lot I don’t know. I know that there is a lot scientists don’t know and there will always be established understandings that study will overturn.

But I also think that if you take what parents don’t know about science and medicine and heap it into a gigantic pile and put a match to it we could heat the planet.

It kind of makes my head spin when folks point to their fears, such as the very slight risk of getting Guillain-Barre Syndrome from a flu vaccine as reason not to vaccinate, especially since Guillain-Barre is most often the direct result of illnesses such as flu and bacterial infection and is rarely linked with vaccine.

That’s not to say that there aren’t people who SHOULD NOT BE VACCINATED for certain things. That’s not to say that there won’t be rare and serious side effects, even death.

But it makes me a little crazy when folks point to the government and call it a vast left/right/center (whatever) wing cesspit of conspiracy and throw up a wall of disbelief at study after study that concludes no link between immunizations and autism. They don't trust anyone but themselves. Yet they will put their children through a litany of unstudied and potentially dangerous procedures -- such as chelation therapy – based on speculation.

A flu shot, especially when they are scarce and when flu mutates so rapidly leaving even the immunized somewhat unprotected, seems like a small thing compared to all that.

I can understand skipping the shot.

There has also been some compelling work in epidemiology that suggests flu vaccine doesn't really work to protect the people we'd most like to protect.

We do, after all, have choice.

And while I believe in immunization, I also believe in choice. I am cautious of new products. I am wary of firms that are the sole patent holders, as is the case of the vaccine to prevent HPV and some cervical cancers. I feel fortunate to have time to see what happens with that particular vaccine before the decision is at hand.

The risk vs. reward still seems unclear, especially since regular pap screening is still the single best way to prevent cervical cancer.

But for other illness -- ones that show up without warning or ways of prevention such as polio -- I think vaccinating as much of the population as has been done for generations is really important.

I believe Wallace is right. We have a feeling of safety from these illnesses because of vaccine. Wild polio infection hasn't been seen in this country in 20 years because of widespread vaccination. Africa, Asia and other developing nations still see polio infections regularly. And when you think how global we've become as a society, my guess is the gaps in vaccination will allow these devastating illesses to come right back eventually, just as we're slowly seeing the return of whooping cough and measles.

I understand fear. I am not immune to it. But I also try to keep it in check; I try to realize those fears aren’t coming from a rational place. I also try to realize communication is one of the most difficult things we will ever do as a society. I misinterpret all the time. I also see so many misinterpretations that it makes me wonder if we even know what the people we trust are saying.

Dr. William Sears, for instance, is often referred to as being a doctor who doesn't accept the safety of vaccine. Yet from my reading of his work, I think that assessment is utterly wrong. He wants children to be vaccinated. He's a proponent of vaccination, but he realizes there is fear. He believes that if parents had better control of when and how their kids were vaccinated the medical community would see better compliance. A lot of what he talks about is intended to make parents feel safer, not that they will be safer.

I view what he touts as a kind of a “Love and Logic” for parents. Give parents choices - choices that won’t put anyone in jeopardy - and they will take the path you want them to take. Yet for some it seems to just give credence to their fears.

And those fears seem to be leading many of us to thoughtless behaviors. Our children come first. We know what’s best. Damn the torpedoes. And that saddens me no end.

It pains me to talk about "underlying conditions" as if those with underlying conditions deserved what they got … I’m safe. We feel safe because we are healthy. We think those who are unhealthy are so by choice or lifestyle. But really, we are healthy because we are lucky not because we’ve been responsible.

We have responsibility to those around us who aren’t so blessed, and we shirk it time and time again. We are willing to risk the health of those with the underlying conditions, needlessly, because of philosophical and unfounded fears.

Seriously, if I can prevent another mother from sitting by the side of a hospital bed while their child is tethered up to IV lines because of rotavirus, like I did, I am happy to do it.

'That was me'

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