Sorry it took so long…

Sorry it took so long to get the second draft up. Looking forward to receiving your feedback.

My female supervisor harassed me — and I’m a man.

It began with flirting, which I initially went along with as I was flattered — thinking it was harmless. As the inappropriate IM’s started pouring in, I realized how wrong I was. I did my best to brush them off by pretending to be clueless.
Eventually, she said what she wanted to have sex with me. I was taken aback and it was extremely uncomfortable. My first thought was, “how do I tell this woman, who supervises me, that I don’t want to sleep with her?”

I rambled on how it would be inappropriate since she was married with kids. This reason — as valid as it was — wasn’t the solution. But I was taken aback by the situation; as a man, I never imagined being sexually harassed by a woman, which left me unsure how to respond. After all, isn’t it the men who do the sexual harassing? Sure. I want sex, but not with her.
So what do you say when your supervisor tells you what she’s into sexually? Laugh uncomfortably and say, “too much information.” How about when she indirectly offers to reward you with sex in the back seat of her car after you fix her portable vacuum? Just politely brush it off.

As much as I wanted to go to HR, I didn’t because of the repercussions she would have ensued such as her family knowing and the possibility of her losing he job; and another part of me felt that it was pointless, as HR wasn’t actively doing their job.

Looking back, I should have been more firm with my harasser as I didn’t realize how much power I had; I had evidence — inappropriate messages from her insinuating that clear sexual advances. I should have reported her to HR with a screenshot of them and requested a transfer to another office, as I continued to look for full-time work. I should have also filed suit with the company, as this has happened to other people who’ve worked there.

In the end, I was removed from the toxic environment and I’m happy to be out. I’m still learning to cope with the idea of having been sexually harassed. And I never realized how prevalent sexual harassment was in the workplace until I was a victim of it. I knew it always existed, but I never knew how uncomfortable it would make me feel, as a man.

#musings

This is the first draft….

This is the first draft. Looking forward to getting your feedback on this article I wrote for musings.

Sexual Harassment — It Goes Both Ways

For many, a place of work becomes a second home, because they spend a large portion of their day there. This is why work environments are important. A positive environment encourages workers to grow and improve professionally. On the other hand, an unfavorable environment dampens workers’ moods, which negatively affects their work. Ultimately, individuals may have various perceptions as to what constitutes a negative environment; however, there are few circumstances that clearly contribute to them — sexual harassment being one of them.

It’s not uncommon (but definitely wrong) for men to sexually harass women in the workplace. But after my supervisor made sexual advances, I scoured the internet for brethren who’ve experienced this. The few resources I did find, were accompanied by sad, tasteless, jokes about why men would complain about a woman making sexual advances.

I tried to see their perspective. What if one of your deepest, darkest fantasies itself, would you act on it? People fantasize about doing inappropriate things with co-workers, whatever the profession. The thing is, I never imagined that I would have the opportunity to sleep with a co-worker — let alone, my supervisor.

I’ve had office sex fantasies (on a copy/fax machine and office furniture) — so sue me. And the opportunity to act on these fantasies with my former supervisor was a mentally straining. It was a tad weird when she told me what she was into sexually; like being choked and offered to reward me in her car’s back seat after I fixed her portable car vacuum. Did I do any of them? No.

As tempting as it was to bend her over her desk, logically, it wasn’t a good idea. (Wait, men don’t think with their genitals?). I turned her down, gently (twice) and here is why:

It took me more than four years to get my Bachelor’s degree and, when the sexual harassments took place, I was gainfully underemployed at a university. I didn’t enjoy the job — and it showed in how I performed at work and my interactions with grumpy customers

Like many recent grads, I was frustrated because I hadn’t started my career. I felt that my supervisors weren’t utilizing my skill set — the ‘work’ I was doing wasn’t challenging. I went from doing (what is considered) higher education executive level work to mindless robotic work.

Getting yelled at by people because they own tuition was mentally draining. Departments created issues from the lack of communication, direction and efficient procedures — so my supervisors mumbled (they actually did that). Unfortunately, childish behavior and toxicity started at the top, among mid-senior workers and trickled down. I was also experiencing health issues, which, thankfully, I’ve overcame.

As far as the harasser, she is married (not sure if she still is) and has children. She admitted she wasn’t happy in her marriage. And, you guessed it — she was not getting her bread buttered. I won’t go into details, but from the information I was provided, it was clear that her husband was unhappy and was projecting negativity by starting arguments. Ironically, she was trying to make things work.

If I caved and slept with her, our situations probably would have become worse; her marriage would have gotten messy, especially with kids involved. Because I was easily affected by my environment, my mental health would have been affected. So as much as my supervisor wanted me to eat and pound her cake, it was not the best idea to think with my genitals.

I, however, could understand why someone in her situation would make sexual advances; we have things in common and I’ve been known to be shrewd and witty. For a married person who is being denied basic emotional and physical needs, it can be tempting to cross that boundary with that attractive co-worker. Is there something wrong with two people wanting to jump bones? No. But it becomes a problem when only one person is interested.

Reflecting on this experience, my conscience was feeding me the idea that my personality was the water that harvested the seeds of sexual harassment I realized I was blaming myself.

I went along with the flirting initially as I thought it was harmless and I was flattered. But flirtation doesn’t always equate to sexual desire. I felt powerless because my supervisor, a person who was in power, wanted more than just my skills in the office. She wanted sex, for the lack of better word, while I did not and that left me feeling cornered. This is when things got out of hand.

I explained that we worked together and reminded her that she’s married and has kids. She was a bit upset when I refused to have an affair. We conversed about me not reporting her and during this fuzzy exchange of words, I remembered taking control of the conversation and reassuring her I wouldn’t report her, because her advances weren’t a big deal. Truth is, they were. I regretted not filing a report.

The mistake was realized when she advanced and was rejected a second time. I hadn’t thought that I would be treated differently, but I was. I recalled making a personal phone call with a company phone, which was no longer than two minutes. Additionally, it was also made when I was free. Her snide remark still rings in my brain, “make personal calls on your own time.” To make things worse, a co-worker was having, a good ten to fifteen-minute conversation using a company phone; the supervisor walked by her at least twice and didn’t say a thing — she didn’t even bat an eyelash.

Maybe this was just in my head. Maybe not. But it’s not necessary to bring them forth — and to be honest, they’re not important. Maybe she was stressed out? Maybe this is me rationalizing.

Was I treated better treatment than my co-workers? Other than being offered sex, there were many times I was allowed to take off because I wasn’t feeling well. She also tried to accommodate my schedule so I could complete homework, submit job applications and more. But wait! I believe she did that for my co-workers, too.

In the end, I was removed from the toxic environment and was happy to be out. I’m still learning to cope with the idea of being sexually harassed by a person (senior or not), and the feelings I experienced — vulnerability and having my sexuality challenged, because as a man, how could I say no to a woman? My heart goes out to women who’ve been sexually harassed at their place of work, because it’s a total mindfuck.

Being sexually harassed tested my boundaries changed how I view gender roles in the workplace, work friendships and work environments, marriage, desire, love and sex. Looking back, I should have been more firm with my harasser and I didn’t realize how much power I had at the time; I had messages from her that insinuated sexual harassment. I should have reported her to HR with a screenshot and requested a transfer to another office, as I continued to look for full-time work. I also should have filed suit with the company, as this has happened to other people who’ve worked there.

Ironically, my supervisor left to work at another university. On the last day she said, “you’ll be alright — you’ll do great.” In some twisted way, she was right.

I never realized how prevalent sexual harassment was in the workplace until I was a victim of it. I knew it always existed, but I never knew how uncomfortable it would make me feel, as a man.

#musings

Draft 2. Feels a little choppy… thoughts?

In Defense of “Mommy Shaming”

When I had a baby, I was prepared. I had researched everything from breastfeeding to Montessori school. I had bought everything from a crib to orthopedically-correct toddler shoes. My car seat was installed, and my husband had taken swaddling lessons. I was prepared.
I had been told all about the inevitable unsolicited advice that would be coming from the women that hadn’t birthed a child since the Eisenhower era. I was prepared to smile gracefully and forget any and all advice that involved using chicken bones as teethers (not making that one up, it’s real advice).
What I wasn’t prepared for was the onslaught of blogs, lists, status updates, and commenters that would pathologically spout the new company line: “her child, her choice.”
Facebook seems to have become the new neighborhood playground for swapping mommy stories about whose toddler throws the worst grocery store tantrums, asking for advice on funny-colored bowel movements (hopefully the child’s), and getting a sympathetic shoulder when you haven’t slept in three days and you’re seriously contemplating running away and joining the circus. I myself am a member of no less than four different mom groups, each with a different purpose, and all with a standing rule about being supportive. No matter what.
I was browsing Facebook recently, and a woman posted in one of these groups asking why her pediatrician was telling her to keep her 1 year old rear facing in her car seat. Many women came back with statistics, reports, scientific studies, and crash test videos enforcing a simple fact of physics: keeping children rear-facing is safer. By an approximate margin of 500%. This isn’t debatable. It’s fact. And when one woman came on and said that it was totally acceptable to turn your 11 month old around because it would make them happier, I jumped in with a little shame.
This was obviously a woman that had no interest in logic, reason, or avoiding potential death. She was making parenting decisions based on the same logic that the state of Kentucky used writing its motorcycle helmet laws. Hint: there aren’t any.
This wasn’t the time to sit back and remain quiet while a woman chose to raise her kids with an unnatural affinity for Bob Dylan. This was the time to make her feel terrible for making parenting decisions based on what was convenient, what was easy, and what made her infant smile like she’d just given him Cookie Crisp for dinner.
I stated that distributing that particular brand of parenting while ignoring every ounce of, you know, science, in the world was irresponsible. And I got immediately called out for “mommy shaming.”
There are studies on everything from public vs. private school, breastfeeding vs. formula feeding, and even what color of nightlight promotes the healthiest sleep. Most of these choices make a minimal impact at best. Putting your kid in Kindergarten at 6 instead of five gives them an educational advantage, but only until about the fourth grade. Breastfeeding has developmental and immunological benefits, but not as much previously touted. And by God, don’t buy a blue night light.
But then there are the opinions that can have potentially fatal consequences. For your own child, and even for other people’s.
Everyone has their own opinion, and you know what, sometimes those opinions are wrong. But according to every mom with access to a keyboard, you are only allowed to speak those opinions with all the love and acceptance of a Daniel Tiger episode. No hint of judgement. And God forbid you actually question the decision of another mom. That will get you thrown right into mommy jail, where Cailliou is stuck on repeat, and you’re forced to eat cold leftovers covered in toddler drool for all of eternity.
But you know what, shame is a powerful motivator. Shame is the foundation of the social contract. If no one ever felt bad about themselves and the consequences of their decisions, our world would be unlivable. Shame keeps us from indulging our every primal whim. Shame is what keeps (most) people from singing loudly to Abba with the windows down in rush hour traffic. Shame makes our society more livable.
And if shame will keep a child from contracting an infectious disease, or from getting paralyzed in a car crash, then I say bring on the stocks!
As a parent, you will run into this particular brand of molly-coddling in a couple of specific areas. It is also a rampant theme in the vaccination debate. The vaccinators have every piece of science, logic, and reason on their sides. But no matter how many time you present studies, or facts, or mortality rates, the anti-vaccinators just ignore it and bring up a new and more ridiculous argument.
The problem comes in when you’re dealing with people so overwhelmed with hormones, and love, and squishy baby thighs that they can’t listen to reason. They can only listen to the pieces of advice that make their tiny little monsters squeal and giggle with delight. This is an entirely natural reaction, and I understand it completely. But when that decision affects the health and safety of your child, or god forbid, the health and safety of MY child, then it’s no longer “your child, your choice.” It’s now my time to step in and call you out for being an idiot.
Because endangering your child is cause for concern, and a little ridicule. And endangering my child is with absolutely no valid reason is shameful.

#musings

So, this is a piece…

So, this is a piece that I’m planning to submit to the Scary Mommy blog. If you’re not familiar with it, it’s a mostly-humorous/irreverent take on parenting (aimed at moms, obviously).

Toddler Development: A Realistic Assessment
This simple test will help you determine if your toddler is hitting all the appropriate developmental milestones.

Gross Motor Skills
Does your child:
a. Pull self up to stand
b. Pull self up to stand using exclusively furniture upon which hot cups of coffee are balanced
c. Pull self up to stand using sibling’s hair

Does your child:
a. Squat to pick up a toy
b. Squat to pick up a toy belonging to child next to him, then hit child in face repeatedly when she tries to take toy back
c. Squat to pick up dog poop

Does your child:
a. Walk independently
b. Walk independently, but stumble randomly over invisible obstacles and regularly run into walls, so that other parents secretly think you are spiking your child’s bottle with whiskey
c. Run immediately into the street whenever allowed outdoors

Does your child:
a. Climb onto and down from couch or chair unsupported
b. Climb onto and down from bookcase unsupported, allowing her to reach the one unchipped decorative item in remaining in your house
c. Climb onto roof

Fine Motor Skills

Does your child:
a. Pick up a cheerio with thumb/index finger
b. Pick up a piece of cat food with thumb/index finger
c. Pick up a piece of cat food with thumb/index finger and quickly shove it up his nose

Does your child:
a. Scribble spontaneously
b. Scribble spontaneously on wall
c. Scribble spontaneously on wall with permanent marker

Does your child:
a. Stack four or more blocks
b. Stack four or more blocks, then cry uncontrollably for 10 minutes when his block tower falls over after she tries to stack a fifth block
c. Mostly just throw blocks at your nose

Does your child:
a. Put objects in a big container
b. Put objects in a big container with an opening too small for an adult hand
c. Put your car keys in a big container with an opening too small for an adult hand

Does your child
a. Turn over container to pour out contents
b. Turn over container to pour out graham crackers on your bed
c. Turn over container to pour out paint all over the kitchen floor. At your in-laws’ house.

Does your child
a. Poke with index finger
b. Poke eye with index finger
c. Poke neighbor’s dog’s eye with index finger

Language Development

Does your child:
a. Respond to no
b. Respond to no by screaming and throwing body repeatedly on ground until you must drag her away writhing and wailing, causing onlookers to assume you are a child abductor
c. Respond to no by rolling eyes

Does your child:
a. Use one word in addition to mama or dada
b. Use one word in addition to mama or dada, over and over again at the top of his lungs, but only at times/in places where you really need him to be quiet
c. Use one word in addition to mama or dada. It’s a swear word.

Does your child:
a. Repeat sounds or actions to get attention
b. Repeat the phrase “poo-poo stinkhead butterfly” to get attention
c. Break things to get attention

Does your child:
a. Point to items she wants
b. Pull on your face until it points to the item she wants
c. Wait until you are out of the room to get items she wants but knows she isn’t supposed to have

Does your child:
a. Respond to simple verbal commands
a. Respond to simple verbal commands with a primal scream reminiscent of a scene from Saw
b. Pointedly ignore simple verbal commands

Problem Solving

Does your child:
a. Explore objects in many different ways
b. Explore breakable objects in many different ways
c. Explore breakable objects that belong to other people in many different ways

Does your child:
a. Find hidden things easily
b. Find hidden “adults-only” things easily
c. Find hidden “adults-only” things easily, and proudly show them to your grandmother when she comes for a visit

Does your child:
a. Start to use things correctly; for example, drink from a cup, brush hair
b. Start to use things correctly; for example, drink from your wineglass, lock bathroom door from inside
c. Attempt to use the car correctly

Does your child:
a. Hand you a book when he wants to hear a story
b. Hand you a book when he wants to hear a story, even though you have purposefully “hidden” it in the trash can so you never have to read it again
c. Hand you an iPad when he wants to hear a story

Personal/Social Skills
Does your child:
a. Test parental responses to his actions during feedings
b. Test parental response to his actions during feedings by throwing spaghetti
c. Test parental responses to his actions during feedings by throwing spaghetti so many times that you now eat all meals on the dining room floor

Does your child:
a. Extends arm or leg to help when getting dressed
b. Extend arm or leg to help when getting dressed, wait until clothes are nearly on, then wriggle out of clothes so you have to start over again
c. Extend leg to kick you when getting dressed

Does your child:
a. Imitate behavior of others, especially adults and older children
b. Imitate behavior of others, especially that one really bratty kid at daycare
c. Imitate behavior of your dog

#elsewhere

#musings So this needs work…

#musings
So this needs work with the beginning and ending and transitions and consistency in tone…

Teachers go kind of crazy in the summertime. We conceive of all kinds of projects to improve our homes, our classrooms, our teaching practice, our ambitious selves, and imagine that two months will be enough time to accomplish all this, and also take a well-earned vacation. This summer I decided to try to recapture something that I had enjoyed as a teenager: ballet dancing. I signed up for dance classes at a local university’s dance program. I’m the mom of a toddler, about to turn 31, and I haven’t danced seriously since I was 16, but I definitely needed the exercise.

I walked into the first dance class, the one advertised as “level 1-2,” and shrank inside a little. All the other women were at least 10 years younger than me, some as young as 13, barely post-pubescent, all thin and poised in classical ballet attire: black leotard, pink tights, and hair in a severe bun. I was wearing black tights and a workout top, with a ponytail that exposed my gray roots.

After I took a place at the barre, the instructor explained detailed series of exercises, demonstrating in a perfunctory way that assumed lots of knowledge on the parts of her students. She rattled off lots of steps in a complicated sequence, clearly expecting us to remember them all after hearing them only once, and be able to do them to the front, side, back and side, then turn around and do them on the left.

I was lucky enough to be positioned behind the hotshot dancer of the room, a tall girl in pointe shoes with bright blush on her high cheekbones. Keeping my eyes glued to her feet helped me to approximate the steps. That’s really as close as I got: an approximation. My mind knew the steps, but my feet had forgotten them. Before we were halfway through the first combination, I realized my ancient ballet slippers no longer fit me at all. And then we had to turn around, and I floundered until I found another girl to watch, aware all the time that little Margot Fonteyn behind me could see all my mistakes.

We spent most of the class at the barre, pausing between combinations for the instructor to talk about body alignment and which muscles did what when we did the different movements. She asked the girls questions about why they were moving the way they did and troubleshot the various steps with us. One of the messages I remember was the idea that exertion isn’t always the way to execute a step correctly: some steps must be relaxed into, or perform themselves automatically if the body is positioned right. At the very end of class, we did a combination across the floor. It included a pirouette, which I’d totally forgotten how to do. Did you pick up the front or back foot? Which way did you turn? I made sure I had a position in the back and fumbled my way through it.

Walking out of the class, I expected to feel horrible after an hour and a half of staring at my body in skintight clothes standing next to skinny girls half my age. That’s how I would have felt if I’d taken these classes when I was in high school. I would have felt chubby and outclassed, and I might have quit. But to my surprise, I didn’t feel that way at all now. My standards had been radically lowered by 15 years without dancing (and maybe motherhood had something to do with it too). Comparisons no longer even made sense. Instead of feeling discouraged and jealous, I was proud of myself for showing up at all. I was able to look at myself in those floor-to-ceiling mirrors and notice that I did still have a waist, and my collarbones looked nice, and, whoa, my feet had beautiful high arches. Yeah, I messed up the steps, but I liked doing the graceful arm movements and the way tondus and plies made my legs feel strong.

In trying to take apart my body image issues and self-consciousness with a counselor once, I admitted that what I was really afraid of was being the ugly girl in the room. I was always hyper-aware of an unspoken hierarchy of women in any room, from the most beautiful and put-together to the least, and I feared being in the bottom of these rankings. What I discovered as the oldest and least-coordinated woman in ballet class was that when you’ve already clearly “lost” the nonexistent competition it becomes fairly easy to stop giving any fucks at all. Maybe this is one of the reasons why aging is supposed to be so liberating for women. When you’re out after the first round of the continuous beauty pageant that is life as a woman, you find you have other things to worry about besides pointless looks-based competition. You can concentrate on learning the steps instead of sucking in your belly and making duck faces in the mirror.

I’ve read tons of body-acceptance essays, and seen all the memes telling moms to be proud of their “tiger stripe” stretch marks. I agree with these ideas intellectually and politically, but my emotions always refused to buy in completely. Some stubborn part of me insisted that beauty standards exist, and no amount of self-acceptance erases the fact that others will judge us by them. And no matter how much you pretend other people’s opinions don’t matter, those opinions determine the way we get treated, and it’s pretty hard to feel good about yourself if people either treat you like crap or ignore you all the time.

I’m still kind of skeptical about body-acceptance messages that dismiss the hard work of unlearning shame or that pretend self-acceptance is a thing that happens once and for all, rather than a continuing process. But I also think that a lot of that concern for other people’s opinions is sometimes just a projection of a poor self-assessment. It might be hard to believe, but other people are just as self-concerned as you are. That’s why dance teachers encourage self-conscious students by saying, “Don’t worry about the others. They’re all focused on themselves. No one is watching you.” And it was true: the other girls were just so much scenery to me after a while, something to watch to help me keep up with the steps. I wondered if they paid so little attention to me, in turn, that despite my workout top and gray hair I might have actually blended in.

Even though I didn’t become a prima ballerina, or even recapture much of the skill I had half a lifetime ago, I consider the class a success for me. I did something risky, that made me feel nervous and on display, and I survived. Yeah, if I thought about it too much, it was kind of depressing to lower my standards to mere survival, but if I never did that I wouldn’t try new things and grow. I knew I would stink at ballet, but I signed up for the class anyway, and that choice necessitated accepting failure ahead of time. Brene Brown says, “When failure is not an option, you can forget about creativity, learning, and innovation.” Maybe I can go a step farther: it’s only in the midst of failure that it’s possible to learn this lesson about self-acceptance and courage, and thus unlearn perfectionism. After all, even a thirty-year-old, out-of-shape ballet dancer in ill-fitting shoes can learn a new step, and with it, a bit of grace.

Ok… first draft here. I…

Ok… first draft here. I got all sorts of called out tonight for being a bitch. And frankly, I’m tired of the PC-ness of being a mom. Take a read, let me know what you think. I feel like it’s a little short and takes a little too long to get to my point… but this is just what spouted off my head tonight.

In Defense of “Mommy Shaming”

When I had a baby, I was prepared. I had researched everything from breastfeeding to Montessori school. I had bought everything from a crib to orthopedically-correct toddler shoes. My car seat was installed, and my husband had taken swaddling lessons. I was prepared.
I had been told all about the inevitable unsolicited advice that would be coming from the women that hadn’t birthed a child since the Eisenhower era. I was prepared to smile gracefully and forget any and all advice that involved using chicken bones as teethers (not making that one up, it’s real advice).
What I wasn’t prepared for was the onslaught of blogs, lists, status updates, and commenters that would pathologically spout the new company line: “her child, her choice.”
It seems that the current status-quo of political correctness has infiltrated every facet of our lives. Including my boobs.
Every choice a mom makes can severely impact the future of her children. There are studies on everything from public vs. private school, breastfeeding vs. formula feeding, and even what color of nightlight promotes the healthiest sleep. Most of these choices make a minimal impact at best. Putting your kid in Kindergarten at 6 instead of five gives them an educational advantage, but only until about the fourth grade. Breastfeeding has developmental and immunological benefits, but not as much previously touted. And by God, don’t buy a blue night light.
Everyone has their own opinion, and you know what, sometimes those opinions are wrong. But according to every mom with access to a keyboard, you are only allowed to speak those opinions with all the love and acceptance of a Daniel Tiger episode. No hint of judgement. And God forbid you actually question the decision of another mom. That will get you thrown right into mommy jail, where Cailliou is stuck on repeat, and you’re forced to eat cold leftovers covered in toddler drool for all of eternity.
But you know what, shame is a powerful motivator. Shame is what keeps the majority of the population from wearing Speedos while walking down Main Street. Shame is what keeps (most) people from singing loudly to Abba with the windows down in rush hour traffic. Shame makes our society more livable.
And if shame will keep a child from contracting an infectious disease, or from getting paralyzed in a car crash, then I say bring on the stocks!
I was browsing Facebook today, and a woman posted in a local mom’s group about why her pediatrician was telling her to keep her 1 year old rear facing in her car seat. Many women came back with statistics, reports, scientific studies, and crash test videos enforcing a simple fact of physics. Keeping children rear-facing is safer. By an approximate margin of 500%. This isn’t debatable. It’s fact. And when one woman came on and said that it was totally acceptable to turn your 11 month old around because it would make them happier, I jumped in with a little shame.
I talked about how making parenting decisions based on what made an infant / toddler happy probably wasn’t good parenting. I stated that distributing that particular brand of parenting while ignoring every ounce of, you know, science, in the world was irresponsible. And I got immediately called out for “mommy shaming.”
This is also a rampant theme in the vaccination debate. The vaccinators have every piece of science, logic, and reason on their sides. But no matter how many time you present studies, or facts, or mortality rates, the anti-vaccinators just ignore it and bring up a new and more ridiculous argument.
The problem comes in when you’re dealing with people so overwhelmed with hormones, and love, and squishy baby thighs that they can’t listen to reason. They can only listen to the pieces of advice that make their tiny little monsters squeal and giggle with delight. This is an entirely natural reaction, and I understand it completely. But when that decision affects the health and safety of your child, or god forbid, the health and safety of MY child, then it’s no longer “your child, your choice.” It’s now my time to step in and call you out for being an idiot.
Because endangering your child is cause for concern, and a little ridicule. And endangering my child is cause for a full on tongue lashing.

#musings

Gizmodo is hiring a science tech reporter and…

Gizmodo is hiring a science/tech reporter and an internet culture reporter. Two years experience writing for online publications is required:

http://gizmodo.com/were-hiring-science-tech-and-internet-culture-writers-1690223253

#resources