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Hammer of Los wrote:..
It is difficult to impossible to keep your children protected from the baleful effects of our societies' confusion, ignorance, and its elevation of selfishness, vanity and materialism.
It is up to the parents to provide the necessary counterbalance. Self assurance, the fluidity of roles, the necessity of selfless service, the importance of equality and the imperative of discovering the meaning of their lives.
BALANCE is the KEY.
Well, one of them.
I have a whole bunch of them jangling around in my pockets.
..
My Mother Wears Combat Boots -- kick-ass punk-parenting book
[The best pre-natal advice I ever got was, "Pick one book, any book, and only one book." They all get you there, but they take different, and often mutually exclusive paths. I cheated -- I read several -- and of the lot, the best was My Mother Wears Combat Boots: A Parenting Guide for the Rest of Us by Jessica Mills (horn player in several punk bands such as Less Than Jake, and columnist for MAXIMUMROCKNROLL). Mills, a touring punk musician, silversmith, anarchist and pacifist, wrote the book based on her experiences as a punk parent, trying to raise a baby without "gender-coding," punishment, or authoritarianism, in a world that is hardly cooperative to such goals.
Mills is a great writer -- of all the baby-books I've read, only COMBAT BOOTS deserves the adjective "compelling" -- and while I don't agree with 100 percent (or even 85 percent!) of her parenting ideas, I found them provocative, well-informed, and, above all, humane. Mills has high ideals, but she freely acknowledges that her parenting often falls short of her objectives -- her kid ends up watching Disney cartoons, pitching tantrums, and wanting to wear frilly pink dresses. It's this human fallibility that really makes the book -- Mills's insistence that we're all human and parents can, will and should make mistakes. Mills's book is as much about how to cope with your own challenges as it is about coping with your kids'.
I was especially taken by Mills's descriptions of her boyfriend's struggles to co-parent without either smothering or allowing the easy gendered roles to take over. There's a great guest-written chapter about punk-fathering, and a really heartwarming interview with the bright-as-anything 15-years-old daughter of a couple of punk parents who pioneered taking kids to shows, protests, and on tour.
COMBAT BOOTS goes from prenatal to four, and it's just the thing for your different friends who are already being buried under heaps of What to Expect When You're Expecting or worse, Nestle- or P&G-published "parenting magazines" that are just thinly disguised pitches to get you to buy a ton of crap you and your kid don't need.
My Mother Wears Combat Boots: A Parenting Guide for the Rest of Us
"Rad Dad: Dispatches from the Frontiers of Fatherhood features bestselling writers, punk-rock stars, artists, political thinkers, and regular guys tackling all the topics conventional fathering guides won't touch: the brutalities, beauties, and politics of the birth experience; the challenges of parenting on an equal basis with mothers; our fraught relationships with Star Wars and Star Trek; the tests faced by transgendered and gay fathers; the emotions of sperm donation; and parental confrontations with war, violence, racism, and incarceration. Contributors include Steve Almond, Jeff Chang, Ta-Nehisi Coates, Cory Doctorow, Ian MacKaye, Raj Patel, and many other dads from all walks of life."
Take an average housewife, the target of much time mining early in the 20th century. It was clear where her attention was directed. Laundry, cooking, walking to the well for water, cleaning, were all obvious attention sinks. Washing machines, kitchen appliances, plumbing and vacuum cleaners helped free up a lot of that attention, which was then immediately directed (as corporate-captive attention) to magazines and television.
But as you find and capture most of the wild attention, new pockets of attention become harder to find. Worse, you now have to cannibalize your own previous uses of captive attention. Time for TV must be stolen from magazines and newspapers. Time for specialized entertainment must be stolen from time devoted to generalized entertainment.
Sure, there is an equivalent to the Sun in the picture. Just ask anyone who has tried mindfulness meditation, and you'll understand why the limits to attention (and therefore the value of time) are far further out than we think.
The point isn't that we are running out of attention. We are running out of the equivalent of oil: high-energy-concentration pockets of easily mined fuel.
The result is a spectacular kind of bubble-and-bust.
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