earning a wage

Sometime, down the line, we'll end up talking about the possibility of Stanley getting a job. And like many things parenting, there is no one way to approach such a set of choices. Some parents, no doubt, need their kids to work a little, whereas others would rather have them focus on school or play and save the workaday routine until it's absolutely necessary. Because those silly U.S. child labor laws will prevent us from sending him to work anytime soon, this conversation is probably a long ways off for us, but still.

My parents' attitudes and ideas about labor tended toward kids-that-work, with the goals of saving for college and teaching us the value of earning. We had paper routes early on, a Dairy Queen job (they didn't care about child labor laws) and babysitting. But the real winner of the family labor was Hardee's, where my sister was hired on to the very first crew 25 years ago this year (!), and where three of us logged a collective twelve years of shifts. Mom praises them for teaching us a good work ethic, and secretly, she's grateful to Hardee's because our savings accounts reduced her part of the college tuition and fees bill!

Depending on your perspective, making biscuits on the weekend shift was a plumb job. Preparing and baking consistent batches involved just enough that it bought the biscuit-maker a little bit of space away from the rest of the madness (like transitioning from breakfast to lunch). It also had some status--it was not a job trusted to just anyone, or at least that's how I remember it. When my friend Troy began working weekend mornings at Pizza Hut down the street, I'd occasionally spend my break with him, exchanging ham, egg and cheese biscuits for Canadian bacon with mushrooms pizza. De-lish. Stan could do worse than a Hardee's job, I suppose.

On the other hand, the shift ran from 4:30-12:30. Ouch! So early (late?) your body doesn't know what to do.

Smooch

A Serious Boy

Prince Clementine in his baby Ralph Lauren seems ready to join his father at university. Already and old man....

One Week vs. 6 Weeks

Deal of the Day

Graco Comfort Sport convertible car seat from nice family. Never in an accident. Two years old. $1.

Oh, the bottle...

Aside from the initial supplementation of formula during the jaundice phase, Prince Clementine has only been fed my Mom's natural parts. Recently, we have introduced the bottle. This is a painful experience for both Mom and the prince. Sad but necessary.

Other People's Stuff

Lately, the yard sales in our area have yielded more good bargains for the adults than for Stanley. There was a five-dollar video camera (the Hi-8 kind) which works just fine; a hedge trimmer for Chuck; eighties cassette tapes for a quarter; and a backpack that holds a laptop from a Mac Geek who was a spitting image of Jeffrey Lebowski, a.k.a. The Dude.

We recently attended two sales of Other People's Stuff put together by local Catholic churches. The setup was about the same--at each, members of the congregation emptied their houses of stuff, others organized it, and a small but committed number came to collect the dough on a Saturday morning. The sales were set up in the gym/eating area, which was a little too small, contributing to a frenzied atmosphere (had to take turns looking at the goods) and making it difficult to navigate with a big stroller carrying the prince.

But the stroller also draws the loving attention of strangers who are usually women and usually mothers or grandmothers. There's a pattern to the patter--how old? so cute! your first?--but occasionally the unusual or surprising happens. Earlier, at one of the church sales in the gymnasium, I met a grandmother-of-several, who, upon winning the $25 grocery store raffle (for which I'd purchased $2 in losing tickets) promptly presented her winnings to me and told me to use it for diapers. Talk about random acts of kindness. Yesterday at a sale a mother-of-one stood up and came out from behind her table to gaze at the boy while I shuffled through some frames. After we went through the pattern of questions and answers, she said Stanley was beautiful and added, "All parents think their babies are cute, but some babies are ugly. Your baby really is cute." I knew what she meant and of course I agree he's perfect in every way, but he's not even six weeks, and he's still kind of scrunchy.

bring on the science

There's a scene in American Beauty where the character played by Mena Suvari (Angela), the oversexed high-school cheerleader, explains that she loves all the male attention she gets, even if it is from middle-aged men like Lester, the character played by Kevin Spacey. As she explains to Lester's daughter, who is bothered by her dad's ogling of young Angela, she likes it because "there's nothing worse in life than being ordinary." If you remember this scene, you'll remember that the value judgment in her statement is unmistakable--she hisses more than states this, her distaste for the mediocre complete. It's kind of creepy.

By contrast, in Stan-land average is okay, because, unlike the complicated Angelas, with their high school insecurities and vain wishes, the under-one crowd is merely trying to get on their feet--literally and figuratively. It's about eating, producing dirty diapers, sleeping, and repeating the cycle. If all goes well, growth happens.

Yes, today was the four-week visit with the pediatrician, where, much to our delight, we were given our first taste of the babystats (!!) As if to dramatize the gravity of this moment, Dr. P. called the stat session while the boy received his Hep-B shot, which the staff correctly assumed we didn't want to watch anyway. As he got the shot, we were pulled aside to his office, sat down, and afforded a view of our very first babystat chart. The excitement!

How did young Stan fare? Just fine.

Head: 50th percentile.
Weight: 80th percentile (slow start due to jaundice notwithstanding).
Height: 97th percentile.

If they could measure the softness of his skin, it would be off the charts for sure.

second media appearance

Stancam!