My son loves pink, a rant

Warning: extended, only remotely related to Banned Books Week rant below. Please find a more indicative sample of our regularly scheduled light-hearted silliness here.

Dear World,

Yes, my son loves pink. He loves his glittery “do you believe in fairies?” shirt and his Hello Kitty water bottle and most of all his hot pink prairie skirt that twirls and that is, along with some boxer briefs, really the perfect summer play outfit.

Yes, I know he is wearing a skirt. And I know it is pink. No need to keep pointing that out, stating the facts as though you aren’t making a judgment in your head. Stop laughing; stop shaking your head. Stop congratulating yourself on your open-mindedness by saying, “That’s so great you let him wear it,” as though maybe I shouldn’t. In fact, please stop bringing it up in front of him at all because every time you do, you teach him that as much as he loves it, there’s something wrong or at least remarkable about that. And who wants to hear that it might not be okay to love something you love? Over and over, at the mall, on the street, at school, at your own family’s house?

While we’re at it, stop “reassuring” me that “it doesn’t mean anything.” What does that even mean?! Are you trying to say that his love for pink at age 3 doesn’t prove my son is gay? Thanks for the insight. Here’s a clue: the idea of him being gay doesn’t worry me. Here’s what worries me: it’s 2010 and my pink-loving son still has to defend his right to like a freaking COLOR. It’s 2010 and there are still people out there so incredibly homophobic that they CANNOT STAND the sight of a three-year-old boy in a SKIRT. It’s 2010 and my son wore his pink shirt to school the first day and there was MASS GENDER CONFUSION on the playground because some kids already, by age 3, are so gender-indoctrinated that they REFUSED TO BELIEVE he was a boy.

It is 2010 and every single time he wears his favorite color, my son’s feelings get hurt. Every single day, he gets told it’s not okay to be who is he is. I’m not worried about him liking pink or what it “means.” I’m worried that someday people are going to make him feel so bad about himself that he wants to jump off the GW bridge.

It’s 2010. It’s time to stop hurting people’s feelings with closed, terrified minds. It’s time to stop trying to prescribe other people’s lifestyles and families and reading material. It’s time to admit that reality is complicated and surprising and full of questions to which you don’t have answers. And it’s time to let my kids – and everyone's kids -- fully participate in that deliciously diverse reality without having to worry about the whispers.

It’s 2010, World. My son loves pink. Get over it.

Love,

Jacqui

P.S. Thanks for the chocolate donuts, though, World. Those things are awesome.

Who can help me find these things?

Attention Jacqui's Room reader(s):

I need your help finding something: July.

Like the whole month. I lost mine, apparently, because it's almost over and I can't remember what I did with it.

I mean, from the looks of this blog, you'd think I hadn't posted in two week, when in fact, I have been posting brilliant and hilarious items TWICE DAILY.*

I looked in my bag of marbles and it turns out most of them are lost too.

It's a household wide problem. Yesterday, I listened to Tink and Destructo have an extended argument entitled "Uno: are we or are we not playing with a full deck?"

In other news, I heard an all too familiar thumping and scratching sound in my attic this weekend.** Is it possible a new generation of flightless pigeons is out to get me?! Did they not read this blog last spring? Or do I now, in addition to everything else, literally have bats in my belfry? I will keep you updated.

* In my head.
** No joke. All three of these things actually happened this week. This is my life.
*** Photo from 826michigan's Liberty Street Robot Supply and Repair Store website. You can buy loose screws there, if you don't have enough already.

Snap back to reality

I went on a real bona fide kid-free vacation last week. Yup, four nights in which I got to sleep the whole night through, eat dinner slowly, and not have to do dishes. It was lovely, but the fact is, it could've been the HoJos around the corner and I would've been satisfied with the sleep part.

Three questions:

1. Do you come home from vacation all full of "things are gonna be different around here, yessiree we are gonna make some changes" ideas? I do.

2. And then do your kids do their best to ruin any relaxation or motivation you've brought home?

3. Can you guess which of the following my children did NOT fight about today?

a. Whether or not the sugary pixie stick Tink got at her end of year party is magical,
b. Whether or not said pixie stick gives Tink the power to turn Destructo into a giant pile of poop, should he choose to blow another raspberry at her,
c. Whether or not blowing a raspberry at someone, in the absence of flying spittle, still constitutes a violation of the "No Spitting" rule
d. What specific sound a giant pile of poop makes,
e. Whether or not the previous question refers to poop in the toilet or on the floor,
f. Who gets Dada to do his/her bedtime (and, therefore, who gets stuck with me), or
g. Who gets to give Mama her next backrub.

Working is in progress

I cannot mail your check today.

I cannot have a date to play.

I cannot go where Grandma lives,

Or wash your SpongeBob SquarePants skivs.

I will not read your manuscript

Or listen to your hissy fit.

I'm leaving stale milk in the car.

I have to turn off NPR.

I cannot change the kitty litter,

Or waste the day away on Twitter,

Write that months-late thank you note,

Or figure out which way to vote.

Dishes pile up in the sink.

Honestly, my kids both stink.

Birds are nesting in my hair.

I know it seems like I don't care,

But I do. I promise. It's just, you see,

I have a book inside of me.

And though my heart is full of doubt,

I have to let the book come out.

When my head is full of words,

The other stuff is for the birds.

So I can't find your other clog.

I can't walk the neighbor's dog.

I can't lift and I can't jog,

And sadly, sadly,

I can't blog.

How to tempt karma and frustrate your muse

1. Take two weeks off writing due to situations beyond your control.

2. On your first "work" day back, be unable to remember how to string words together. Spend the whole time "getting the house back in order" so you can "really get down to it" tomorrow.

3. As you brush teeth that night, have great idea for new picture book. Fall asleep smiling with the thrill of inspiration and the relief that there will be no karmic repercussions for having blown off a writing day.

4. Hear screaming. Lots of screaming. All night long. Take three year old's temperature. Shriek.

5. Call day care.

6. Pound head on desk.

No Thursday inspiration this week due to aforementioned evil Destructo virus. But, while trolling for odd news, I did find this: Apparently, a naked man stole a bunch of children's books from the Ypsilanti library. It's horrifying and there's nothing funny about it. But what the article doesn't say and I am dying to know is this: WHICH BOOKS?

An open letter

Dear Person Who Drove Into the Electrical Transformer and Knocked Out Power to the Whole Area That Includes My Son's Day Care Meaning Even Though I Have Waited For What Seems Like Months For Today (My Only Work Day This Week) I Will Most Likely Get a Call Any Second Demanding That I Pick My Son Up Immediately,

I really wish you hadn't done that.

Sincerely,
Jacqui

p.s. I still hope you lived.

You're only seven once

In which I explain why Tinkerbell has not read Harry Potter even though she is a super-genius.

As if I needed more of a reason than Percy Jackson to love Rick Riordan, he has echoed my thoughts EXACTLY on making sure kids have age-appropriate books to read, not just in terms of reading ability, but also in terms of content. Go read and come back. I'll wait.

Like Riordan, it never impresses me when parents brag about the big, fat, way too old books their super-genius first grader can read. I always wonder what their kid's been missing out on; was he too busy reading all seven books of Harry Potter to read Monkey and Me and taste playdough in preschool? Because that is just sad for him. "Wasn't he scared of, um, he who must not be named?" I ask, shivering. And when they say no, I wonder, "Why not? How much horror has this kid seen to already at 6 be immune to the scariness of an undead, shape-shifting force of pure evil who kills people's parents?!"

I remember Linda Sue Park (I think) talking somewhere about bad books, and how reading bad books takes time -- time that could have been spent reading high quality books. I guess I feel the same way about reading books before you're ready for them -- why do it when there are way too many fabulous books at your own level to ever read them all?

As my mother used to say, you only get one chance to be seven; don't go trying to be eight before your time.

Steve, The Munchie, and Me

My boyfriend Steve from AT&T has been cheating on me. I called him last night and his new girlfriend answered the phone. She said her name was Munchie.* I asked for Steve.

I hope I won't sound too catty when I say, Steve's new girlfriend? Not so smart.

I told her my AT&T U-Verse service wasn't working.

JACQUI: I'm getting a strange blue screen that says AT&T U-Verse.

MUNCHIE: Is it plugged in?

JACQUI: Yes.

MUNCHIE: Can you please check?

JACQUI: If it weren't plugged in, how would I get the blue screen?

MUNCHIE: What?

JACQUI: Is Steve there?

MUNCHIE: What?

JACQUI: Nothing. I promise. It's plugged in.

MUNCHIE: Do you have your AT&T remote control?

JACQUI: Yup.

MUNCHIE: Can I ask you to please replace the batteries?

JACQUI: What?

MUNCHIE: When was the last time you replaced the batteries?

JACQUI: Maybe I wasn't clear. It's not that I can't change the channel. It's that I have no service.

MUNCHIE: Yes, I see. But we have to trouble check everything.

JACQUI: Why?

MUNCHIE: What?

JACQUI: Why do we have to check things if there's no way that's the problem?

MUNCHIE:

JACQUI: Okay. (lies) I changed the batteries.

MUNCHIE: Now can you please press the 'AT&T' button?

JACQUI: Okay.

MUNCHIE: What do you see?

JACQUI: Same screen.

MUNCHIE: And now please press 'OK.'

JACQUI: Same screen.

MUNCHIE: And now please press 'channel up.'

JACQUI: Same screen.

MUNCHIE: And now please press 'guide.'

JACQUI: Same screen.

MUNCHIE: Okay, and now please --

JACQUI: I'm sorry, but what are we trying to do?

MUNCHIE: We're trying to find out what's wrong with your TV.

JACQUI: Yes, but what do you THINK is wrong with the TV that pressing all these buttons can help?

MUNCHIE:

JACQUI:

MUNCHIE: Okay, and can you please press 'input'?

JACQUI: (explodes)

Oh, Steve. We could have had it all. Don't worry about me. I opened another box of the treasure trove from my mother's house. ** I don't need you, Steve. I have all my old Norma Klein books and I'm gonna curl up all weekend with this:




And this:


And this:


Life is so good. See you Monday.











* That's what it sounded like, I swear. I think Munchie was very far away.
** I know. You were hoping for more evidence of my dorkiness. Don't worry; I'm sure it's in there somewhere.

Liar, Liar

In which I rant.

"Hello!" said the dental assistant this morning when Tink and I walked in. "Are you ready to come back and play with me?"

Tink looked at me, one eyebrow raised. It's been a year since her last visit to the dentist and I'd prepped her on what might happen. Playing wasn't part of it.

"C'mon," the dental assistant called as she walked down the hall. "This is going to be so much fun."

"No, it's not," I thought. "It's a trip to the dentist. It's going to be dull at best, painful and terrifying at worst."

Tink grabbed my hand when we got into the room. "What is all that stuff?" she whispered.

"That's the equipment the dentist will use to check your teeth," I said, pulling up a chair so I could sit right next to her.

"This is weird," Tink said to the dental assistant.

"You're doing great, honey," the dental assistant said. "See? Being at the dentist is fun."

I am proud to report that neither Tink nor I strangled anyone at the dentist's this morning. Now, I know the dental assistant was trying to allay Tink's fears. I don't blame her; I know there are kids for whom the super positive attitude helps.

But Tink is not one of them. And I don't believe in lying to kids. Particularly not in the face of something that might be painful. How many of you believe it when you hear "This won't hurt a bit" from a doctor?

Which brings us to today's writing rant: lying.

When I was little, "liar" was a bad word in our house. I remember someone explaining to me that lying to a friend showed a lack of respect for her, as if she didn't deserve the truth, or couldn't handle it.* and **

Children are people. And as such they are deserving of our respect and honesty. And if you think they can't handle the truth of what you're writing, you shouldn't be writing it for them.

Jacqui's Four Most Despised Ways Books Lie to Kids

1. Portraying making friends as easy. If you smile wide enough, you'll meet someone the first day. Making friends is NOT easy. For anyone, child or adult. The playground in second grade can be a brutal place and it's totally reasonable to be anxious about it. Stop writing stories where everybody loves everybody by the end.

2. Non-scientific explanations for scientific and natural phenomena. I'm not talking about folktales that explain how zebras got their stripes, which I think kids recognize as folktales. I'm talking about outright not being able to explain the science clearly and fudging it or going with a "thunder is caused by God moving his furniture" theory. There's enough scientific misinformation out there, and kids will remember the science in your story as fact. So make sure it's true and clear.

3. Unresearched historical fiction or unresearched settings. I know some people will disagree with me on this. I feel that if you're going to use a setting, historical or otherwise, that you are inherently telling people that you know something about that setting. Kids learn from stories. If you set your book in 1347 in a rural village in China, I'm going to assume that in reading it, I will learn something true about life in a rural village in China. Make sure what I learn is true.

4. Life is 100% sunny. This is a big one. Picture books in particular are guilty of it. Adults forget entirely how scary, confusing, and big the world seems when you're young. Or, like the dental assistant, they think if they ignore the bad feelings, they'll go away. They won't go away, any more than a trip to the dentist will be fun just because you say it is. And in ignoring them, we're just sending kids the message that either we have no idea what's going on with them or we think it's unimportant or unacceptable.


"Okay! You're all done! Great job!" the dental assistant said when Tink was finished.

"I'm going to be tardy," Tink announced.

"But when you walk in, everyone is going to notice how white and shiny your teeth are."

Tink looked at me. I shrugged. We made her next appointment and walked out. I congratulated her on having no cavities and on being a big girl during the appointment.

"That was not fun," Tink said.

"No, I'd imagine not," I said.

"I hate the dentist," she said.

"Most people do," I said.

I'd like to say that Tink said something hilarious and yet poignant here. But that would be a lie...

* Go ahead, say it, Jack Nicholson fans. You know you want to.
** This, by the way, relates to politics, which I usually don't touch here. When politicians lie (or dumb-down the truth or skirt the question), I think it represents the same thing: a lack of respect for me as a voter, or distrust of my ability to understand the truth. And if he/she doesn't respect me, how can I trust him/her to lead with my best interests in mind?