Archive | Children

Whose Family Values Are They, Anyway? Happy Adoption Day!

I wrote this post almost four years ago. In that four-year time, gay marriage has become law in almost half the states in the Union and yesterday Tylenol ran a new ad that celebrated all the different types of families you can imagine — including some that look like mine.  To celebrate #HowWeFamily, here’s this post again…

My extended family will officially, legally, extend by one more person today, August 29.

My brother is going to become a father.

It’s very exciting and my mom has gone out west to join him for the big day.  They’ll meet at the courthouse where the papers will be finalized and then they’ll go out to lunch: my brother, my mom, my now-official nephew, his mother, and a few assorted other relatives.

It’s an event that would make Michelle Bachmann’s well-groomed toes curl in horror and make all of Rick Perry’s hair stand up straight (Michelle’s would stand up straight, too, except she uses too much hairspray. Come to think of it, maybe Rick does too).  In fact, my brother is pissing off the entire cohort of the Far Right today, with one simple action.

My single gay brother is legally adopting his biological offspring, the result of a single woman’s trip to a sperm bank some fifteen years ago. Continue Reading →

Continue Reading · on June 23, 2015 in birth, Children, family, Feminism, Gender, Politics

Gender Gap in Silicon Valley…

So the other day I was reading The New Yorker — the actual magazine, not the tablet version. I hate reading magazines electronically. They force me to read chronologically, when for me some of the joy of reading a magazine is flipping through the pages and reading whatever I want, in whichever order. Yes, that means I’m always about two weeks behind, but hey — if you want to know what the hot restaurants were in late October, I’m totally your gal.

Anyway. So the other day, there was a short article about the gender gap in Silicon Valley, written by James Surowiecki.  Titled “Valley Boys,” the article described what we all already know: the leadership in the digital world is overwhelmingly male. Sorry Sheryl, it seems that leaning in isn’t getting the job done. Screen Shot 2014-11-29 at 10.17.25 AMThe article sketched out some of what is being done in an attempt to change this problem, which is, in fact a problem.  At the end of the article, Surowiecki cites an oft-cited study by McKinsey, which found that “organizations with the most diverse executive teams had dramatically higher returns on equity and earnings performance than those with the least diverse teams.”

Want a higher return on your investments? Invest with the company whose board doesn’t look like a poster for the Old White Guys society. Wait, what’s that you say? That’s what most of the Republican party looks like?  Er… well, ‘Murrica, hope you’re not expecting a quality return on that particular mid-term investment.

But I digress.

The next article in the magazine was titled “The Programmer’s Price,” by Lizzy Widdicombe, and focused on an agency whose specialty is hiring out computer programmers and techies.  Here’s the photo that ran with the article:

The agency 10x has nearly eighty clients, mostly in North America, though one codes from India and one from beaches in Thailand.

Nice-looking bunch of fellows, aren’t they? Especially the lad with the gingery tresses in the front.

So here’s my question: did the editors at the magazine intend for this piece to be a visual commentary on the “there are no women in tech” article? Or are we witnessing unintentional editorial irony?  There are no women in that picture and the only mention of women in the article is the fact that this digital talent agency only has three women on its roster, a fact that one of the agency’s owners says he is “bummed” about. Yeah. I’m sure the gender inequity is, like, totally a drag for him.  I’m sure that the  the women trying to break through the ranks of coding machismo in order to land one of the plum coding jobs (or should we say Apple jobs?)  are bummed about it too.

It’s no surprise to find irony in the pages of The New Yorker; I’m just not used to seeing the articles silently comment on one another in this fashion. I appreciate the irony–and realized too that if I had a daughter, she’d be learning to code.

 

 

 

Continue Reading · on November 29, 2014 in Children, Education, Feminism, tech life, Uncategorized

a decade of caleb

This face of joy is Caleb, at one, at Barnegat Light on Long Beach Island.  He’d learned to walk at nine months, which meant that despite having a brain about the size of a walnut and a diaper the size of a basketball, he would climb up stairs, stagger along the curb, or waddle straight into the surf, utterly without fear.

This August, we spent our tenth summer on LBI and it’s Caleb’s favorite beach (which, given that he’s now spent time on beaches in the Maldives and Sri Lanka, is quite a compliment).  Our first summer on LBI, I was hugely, gigantically pregnant and wearing a maternity bathing suit that was so hideous it can be only excused by pregnantbrain. Why else would a woman in her last weeks of pregnancy purchase and wear a shiny teal maternity tankini? On the upside, I suppose I was responsible for any number of teen-age girls not getting pregnant  that summer. They took one look at my spherical teal body and told their boyfriends to back the hell off

But Caleb. My sweet, fearless Caleb, who still plunges into the ocean with the grace and abandon of a seal, he’s ten. He’s learning Arabic and computer coding and the trumpet; he wants to be an author, or maybe a spy, or maybe a mad scientist, perhaps a basketball player.  I think he might be headed for the stage, because the boy has never met a hat he doesn’t like:

calebinnurseryschoolnursery school graduation

calebindiaIndia – tiger safari (no tigers, just a hat)

calebsingaporeUniversal Studios Singapore: minion loot

This boy who loves hats and computers, who doesn’t read books so much as devour them, and who was as happy with his book about military history as he was about an envelope containing 300 dirhams (about 80 bucks, and okay, he was a bit more excited by the cash), doesn’t yet realize the strength of his own gifts.  He measures himself against his older brother, not willing to concede the difference that almost four years makes.  I think that might be why Caleb learned to walk so young: he wanted to keep up.  Now, however, with the dawning of pre-adolescent self-consciousness, he sometimes doesn’t try to keep up because he’s sure that he’ll never catch his brother.  It’s a funny trick of growing up, isn’t it, the way the confidence of childhood evanesces just when we need it most?

Caleb is our current-events child; he reads the newspaper and tells us what’s happening in Gaza, in Syria, in Ferguson–and then asks the hard questions that we should all be asking and attempting to answer: how do these things happen, why do these things happen, why do people care about the color of other people’s skin or the way they worship?

We moved to Abu Dhabi on the eve of Caleb’s 7th birthday and the traveling we’ve done since we’ve been here means that he’s been to more countries by ten than I had by thirty-five.  His passport looks weather-beaten, as if he were a career foreign services officer–and who knows, perhaps that’s where he’s headed.  I can’t even begin to predict what he’s going to be when he grows up–perhaps the stage, or maybe he’ll go concoct strange potions in some jungle laboratory. Who knows.

All I know is that our lives for the past decade have been richer and more joyous for Caleb’s presence.  I can’t wait to see what’s next on the journey.

calebsand

 

Continue Reading · on August 24, 2014 in Abu Dhabi, birth, Children, family, Kids, Parenting, Travel

how you know you’re raising a twenty-first century kid

Last night as Caleb was getting ready for bed, he told me he wished he’d played on our neighbors’ trampoline after school.

I pointed out that he’d basically come home from school and rushed to his Minecraft game.  Never one to miss a chance to twist the knife, I said “there are lots of things you used to like to do  – build legos, write stories, draw, ride your bike – but for the last few weeks, all you’ve wanted to do is play Minecraft.”

He thought about that for a minute, came to sit on my lap and gave me a kiss.

“No, that’s not true. It’s not all I do. I spend a lot of time managing my YouTube account, too.”

Continue Reading · on February 5, 2014 in Children

Big Pharma

Another post from the archives (I’ve got biiig archives…wanna come over and see them sometime?).  This post is from 2010, when we first started Liam on HGH. He’s been doing these shots now for three years, more or less, and still hates them.  But he’s growing. The doctor told us, back in April of 2010 “that if we lived in Peru” Liam’s height wouldn’t matter that much because men are much shorter there. Having no immediate plans to move to South America, however, we opted to live in the world of Big Pharma instead.

 

We’ve entered the world of Big Pharma.  At the beginning of this past summer, Liam announced that he was ready for “those shots that make you grow” –and in a sign of how long it takes to get approved for this medicine, we only started the shots last week.

First step? A lovely four-hour blood test, administered while Liam sat in a hospital room, starving hungry because he couldn’t eat until the test was over. That was in June and he’s still angry about it.

Second step? Forms, forms, forms.  Our endocrinologist says that insurance companies make the application process for this drug ridiculously complicated—and in fact there is someone from Pfizer (which makes Genotropin) who comes into endocrinologist’s office once a week “just to help” with the Human Growth Hormone application forms. It seems a little incestuous, don’t you think? Having a rep from Big Pharma in the office, making it easier for you to prescribe HGH to your patients?

Although, of course, as beneficiaries of the nice lady in the doctor’s office, we went through all the various hoops pretty easily. We talked to people at Pfizer, where there is an entire department devoted to Genotropin, including doctors, nurse liaisons, patient care consultants…I talked to about five different departments–probably I could’ve found someone to consult on a new color scheme for the kitchen if I’d asked around.

We talked to the pharmacy reps who order the drug and to the reps who talk to the insurance company–but we couldn’t talk to the insurance company. Liam’s entire case has been handled, more or less, by people sitting in cubicles in anonymous office buildings somewhere in New Jersey–and none of them have ever laid eyes on Liam. After the blood test last summer and a few phone conversations in August, we never heard from our actual endocrinologist.  She’s regularly on those “best doctors in New York” lists—but trying to get her to return a phone call? You’d have better luck mapping a genome with your iPhone GPS (hmm… new app?)

All these nice people sent us literature and videos and dvds about the drug; and “fun” calendars; and even stickers for the “Leap Frog Club:” with every refill of the drug, you get a sticker, and after six stickers, you get a prize. Woo woo. I guess that’s supposed to be consolation for getting stuck with a needle six days a week?

And we got a huge and scary red “Sharps Disposal” container; needles and swabs and a “pen” to inject this wonder drug…And we got the drug itself: a cartridge that we insert into the pen, the way you do an ink cartridge into a fountain pen.  One cartridge is about eight doses of the medicine. Would you like to know how much a cartridge costs, approximately?

700 bucks.

Right. 700 smackeroos. Multiply that by…well, the endocrinologist says that the medicine is supposed to be administered through puberty.  Let’s see. That’s six shots a week times 52 weeks times 5 years.

Comes to about $182,000.  Give or take ten grand. Explains why insurance companies would rather Liam just rolled up his shirt cuffs and got his pants hemmed instead of taking these shots.

Do you suppose if you work for Pfizer and your kid needs HGH you get a discount? Five cartridges for the price of four, something like that?

It feels a little strange, I have to say, to be willingly participating in a system that is so broken (of course, I voted, too, so I guess I’m a sucker for broken systems).

But I’m not going to quibble about the price because Liam needs this stuff:  he’s tiny and not growing very much and he’s filled with angst about his size.  I just got him a new pair of corduroys–size 7 slim–and had to cuff them twice, plus cinch them in at the waist. Probably I could’ve gotten him a size 6, but that’s the size I get for Caleb, and I couldn’t bring myself to buy my 10 year old and my 6 year old the same size pants.

I can still afford to buy my kids pants, though, even after we’ve started this medicine, because we’re among the lucky ones: we have “good insurance,” so the cost to us is minimal. God forbid what would happen if we didn’t have insurance and decided that Liam needed this medicine.

I was thinking the other day about how expensive Liam is. I mean, all kids are black suck-holes of financial need, but Liam?

He’s like our own little Mastercard ad:
Two months in the NICU? Umpteen thousand dollars
Three years (3 months to 3 years) PT and OT through Early Intervention? Umpteen thousand dollars
Five years of HGH? Umpteen gazillion dollars
Liam himself? Priceless

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...

Continue Reading · on August 22, 2013 in Children, growing up, HGH, Kids, Parenting, preemies

Powered by WordPress. Designed by WooThemes