RMers with kids

[Rangi Guy]

My 9 year old wants to be a marine biologist of all thngs - kinda hope she sticks with that

That's what I wanted to be: Went to camps and shit throughout middle school and high school. Got to college and learned 90% of Marine Biologists just studied plankton and krill for the first 20 years on barely minimum wage. Better to disappoint her now than let her go through what I did!

She has dreams of going to Canada to work with seals and whales.....and bears

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[spike]

Haha far out, maybe they’re worried about allergies to things?

Our school is basically the opposite. We get an email twice a week with a bunch of items of what’s coming up, but they have this knack to bury the stuff that actually needs action from parents or is useful at the bottom of the emails, so it’s easier to miss.

[wease]

We get a daily text from the high school then a weekly round-up on Friday evenings.

[B]

At one point, I had 3 kids in 3 different schools. It was hell with the emails and calls.

[Bammer]

the constant trickle of useless info on my kid's school comms app is something else.

"Hi families! Today our morning snack has been changed from cheese sticks and apples to crackers and pears."

"Sorry! Make that crackers and carrots."

The problem is that we have no agency over which messages push an alert and which don't, so you're always checking the alerts in case your kid is sick or something. And then when you DO get an important note, like "We need you to update your kid's immunization records", there's no way to bookmark or save the message, so unless you act on it immediately, it's quickly buried under the snacks and other minutiae.

We have this also and I hate it so much. Too much information.

[daft twat]

How old were you when you had kids?

I am 48 now. I turned 30 two weeks before my first son was born. My second some came a few months before I turned 33.

Anders, I just read your lady is expecting. Congrats!

[spike]

I was 42 and have a 5 year old now. Old dad.

[wease]

I was a month away from turning 30 when our oldest was born.

[Rangi Guy]

I would have been 38 when my eldest was born

[Monkey_Driven]

31/35

Seems like the right age. Still had my 20s to have fun and get established in my career. I mostly still have the energy to deal with young children too.

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[Higgs]

I'd just turned 29 when son showed up, 32 when daughter arrived. We were on the younger side of our parent groups, but not by a huge amount.

[Higgs]

Also, congrats Anders!

[Sloppy Dupree]

As I turn the corner into 39, I’m relieved I don’t have kids. I honestly feel that relief every day, I don’t know how you parents summon the optimism for it.

[Monkey_Driven]

As I turn the corner into 39, I’m relieved I don’t have kids. I honestly feel that relief every day, I don’t know how you parents summon the optimism for it.

My kids make me more optimistic. Their curiosity and enthusiasm inspire me every day (even if they refuse to brush their teeth or put their shoes away in the right spot). They also root us to the community in some unexpected ways. Often, that local influence can be empowering in making my little world a more positive place.

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[Sloppy Dupree]

That’s good stuff. We could all use more optimism as we get older, I guess. It’s nice to hear when the next generation inspires the old.

[spike]

[Monkey_Driven]

We can be both!