Mathematics in Parenting

When Poker Chick was pregnant, she loved BabyCenter. Emails once a week, giving her cool little scientific facts, helping her bond with this little thing inside that didn't do anything at the time other than make her throw up. Lots. Then she slowly started realizing its sappiness. The cheesy "life is a gift!" corny posts. Despite growing skepticism, she still looked forward to the emails.

Until she gave birth. Over time, curiosity turned to disillusionment. The emails, instead of telling her neat things she didn't know, changed completely in tonality. Now they were telling her about things she clearly should've known about but didn't (well, that's how she interpreted each one). She read the parent comments and read about all these things moms were doing for their kids, special projects, putting them on the potty as an infant, miraculously cutting a newborns nails without drawing blood. And she felt inadequate and abnormal.

These mothers were clearly all superior to her, or so she thought. Each weak she dreaded the emails, and while she clung to them, desperate for information she was clearly clueless on, they fed into all her insecurities which were only magnified by lack of sleep and a lack of any sort of maternal influence (i.e. any guidance whatsoever). She inhaled parenting books at the time for the same reason, and despite reading 5 different books on the same subject that told you five different things she still thought they were all smarter than she was. It was tearing her apart.

So it came as just as much of a surprise to her as it may to those reading this that one day she suddenly stopped cold turkey. Still insecure, she checked in with the pediatrician on this position:

Poker Chick: "So you're really sure I can forego any and all parenting books, advice, etc. from now until the end of my life? Seriously just trust my instincts and check in with you for when in doubt?"
Him: "Yes. For the fifth time."
Poker Chick: "Have you seen my instincts?"

Anyway. So from that day forward, not only did she shun all parenting advice specifically, she took great pleasure in it. She was scoffing at them, mocking the extra work and worry they put all these parents through. The "I'm better than you!" attitude felt great!! But still, underneath all that, she had doubts that she knew what she was doing.

But then something wonderful happened. She re-discovered parenting magazines. She began reading them and realized they were restoring confidence in her parenting abilities immensely. In fact, she actively seeks them out now and reads them to feel good about herself.

And she highly recommends this form of self-help for other parents, too. Why, you might ask?

Because they're $3.99 of overpaid common sense. For instance, the article on how to eat out with a toddler. It was filled with "tips" such as "order as soon as you sit down" and "bring crayons or something for the child to do".

No sh*t, sherlock. If you haven't figured that out by the third meal with a toddler, then you've got bigger fish to fry. And clearly there a lot of people out there looking for this information. Which, if you follow some kind of weird algebraic theorem Poker Chick is making up at this moment, looks something like the following equation:

First we state that demand for content in parenting magazines is directly driven by modern parental needs:

Demand for content in parenting magazines -> by modern American parents

And, as we have just stated:

Content in parenting magazines = ridiculously obvious to Poker Chick

Therefore...

Poker Chick = smarter than the average parent reading this stuff

And because "smarter than the average parent reading this stuff = just fine..."

We conclude....

Poker Chick = just fine

A genius solution.

A Little Bragging

Another fan: Poker Chick discovered her site on something called Alltop. How did she get there? No clue. According to the site:

"We import the stories of the top news websites and blogs for any given topic and display the headlines of the five most recent stories...."

Huh. Poker Chick is both baffled and flattered.

The Death of Pop Culture as We Know it

Have the brains of the entire American public turned to mush? Judging by the latest in a bad rush of reality TV shows, Poker Chick thinks yes.

Conquering Phobias*

It was time. After several years, Poker Chick needed to face her nemesis. Not for herself, but for the mini. Unfortunately, this was easier said than done. The very thought of it sat there in her head like a huge thereat. It sent stress signals throughout Poker Chick's body, made her nerves jump, evoked all latent and conscious feelings of inadequacy and took her to that deep, dark scary place she usually can't cope with.

That's right, peeps. Poker Chick went to the Container Store.

You see, domestic skills are not exactly at the top of the list of Poker Chick's talents. Big shock, we know. But household organization is a big part of that. And somehow that neatness gene skipped this girl. She just doesn't have a clue how to put things together, where to put things, basically all those things that people do that make a house a home - yep, she ain't got it.

So it follows that walking into this store, this shining beacon for scrapbookers and neatniks, is like walking into hell. Panic ensued pretty much as soon as she set foot in the door. All sorts of gadgets and gizmos she not only didn't know existed, she doesn't know what to do with them. What would you use a 2" box for? What about a 5" one? What about a bigger one? Why are there 300 different kinds of tupperware? What's the difference? She looked around and wondered how other people (normal people) get their closets to look like that. How do they avoid those piles of "stuff"?

The panic got worse. Poker Chick felt claustrophobic, the store began to close in on her. Normally, this is the point where she backs out and walks out in tears. She can't do it. This stuff is just too scary. But with the husband and mini in tow as well as her close pal, there was no way out. They were on a mission and the mini needed those toys organized!!! They simply cannot be all over the living room floor anymore.

The husband helped. Poker Chick had predetermined they had a lot of underutilized closet space in the mini's room they could use to magically organize stuff. So the husband measured. And off they went. Resolving to face her fear, Poker Chick grudgingly held the blue buzzer handed to her as she waited for "help".

It would appear that storage does not, in fact, make you smile

Only the help wasn't helpful and she knew it wasn't going to be. See, designing a closet is not for people who hate this kind of crap. It's for those that love it. So if you hate it, and worse - don't know what to put where, they look at you like an alien from out of space. Poker Chick could practically hear this saleswoman scream "What kind of a mother are you? How do you not know this? What's wrong with you?!! Are you even a real woman?" Poker Chick was suddenly regretting her ignorant questions ("what do you put in here? what about here? where would you put a toy like this? books?") She was also confused. Aren't these people here for the sole purposes of answering these questions? Apparently not. It would appear that other people are not as dumb as Poker Chick in this arena of the home. She somehow missed that class in life.

Easier? Surely they jest.

But no worries!!! The Container store, and its best friend - Real Simple magazine were here to remind Poker Chick of her failures!!

Still, she came, she went, she purchased.

Maybe the boxes are still unopened but doesn't that still warrant some kind of recognition. A little credit? Yeah!!! A little credit!

*For those inquiring, this is the prequel to the post in the works on femininity.

Duude, how are people not talking about this?

Castro just....quit??