Showing posts with label parenthood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenthood. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 04, 2025

The Parental Cone of Silence

The parental cone of silence is hard to exit
All-encompassing, it is very hard to resist
Sleep deprivation is the moving force, and it accumulates
Slowly at first, then it catches up on you suddenly, the sleep deficit
But there's no way to prepare for this cognitive theft
When your circadian rhythms are arbitrarily disrupted
And the little bundles of energy leave you exhausted
Witness your bleary eyes when you find yourself spent
After running on the initial fumes of elation, you find very little left

The parental cone of silence is a sort of sink
Responsibility, and the duty of care for the offspring
If you're lucky, you can share the burden with a kind of a zone defense
But, even with the best assistance, you're still apt to be depleted
A different story every day, labor in manifold forms, and always intense
Silence also seems like a misnomer when ear-splitting cries are your daily bread

As they grow older the quality of the challenge varies
Different demands arise as they develop their personalities
It's a wonder to behold their peccadillos, their eccentricities
And the conversations you have make you forget when you were running on empty
There's nothing like it, the joys of parenthood have to be experienced
But it's worth acknowledging upfront the parental cone of silence


at the newborn care class


Parenthood, a playlist


A soundtrack for the little bundles of energy. (spotify version)


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Writing log: July 2, 2022

Saturday, September 26, 2020

The Prince and The Honey

A sequel of sorts, this time the tale is of The Prince and The Honey. One morning, not too long ago, The Little Prince was overheard plaintively saying as he tucked into his morning oats, "Daddy, I don't like the smell of this honey"...

"You what?", thundered the harried father. "Ebei, what little Lord Fauntleroys am I raising here? It's a pandemic, Oliver Twist. I'm in exile. I'm not complaining about what I am missing from the shores of Lake Bosomtwi. Your Akim Swedru lineage is not about delicate sensibility."

But it turned out that The Wicked Mother had replaced the contents of the bottle of Good Flow Austin wildflower honey with an obviously less than adequate Round Rock honey. The 10 mile discrepancy in taste was duly spotted; the Prince had promptly called out the deception. Identity theft. Imposter honey.

The wicked mother quickly snatched her honey back, apparently it's a natural cure for all manner of allergies - they were living in the allergy capital of the land of America. The father placated the son by locating an unadulterated bottle of original honey - the nectar of princes, and fruit of his last pre-lockdown trip. The Princess smiled to herself that her little brother was following in her regal steps.

The mother was slightly chastened that her deception had been exposed, but had the readymade explanation that she was actually protecting the prince, who was still prone to breaking things, and had preemptively decanted her counterfeit honey from its crystal bottle - the Round Rock brand aspired to high class glass, into the old faithful plastic bottle that the family knew and loved, the good flow, as it were.

The father accepted that explanation - he was known to engage in parental deceptions of his own, but he decided to troll the mother by nudging the princess, and loudly saying to the prince: "Likely story...". He winked, accepting as he did this, that he would face the inevitable marital repercussions later, but winding Mother Bear up would be worth it in this case and, well, it was a covidious pandemic, what else does one do to entertain oneself and pass the time?

The father then opened up a browser and, after a quick search session and one-click tribute to an Amazonian tribe - there was a transfer of filthy lucre to their leader, Count Bezos - a whole paycheck's subtribe collected a not-inconsiderable amount of black gold coins in exchange for food. A supply of the Good Flow honey was duly sourced for the next few months.

And everyone lived happily ever after...

(Ducks)

Dew drops by Gabriele Schwibach

The Prince and The Honey, a playlist


A soundtrack for this anecdote (spotify version)

Woe is me, this life of fairytales I am living is not for the faint of heart, what with peas and brown sugar princesses, not to mention princes and honey for the bears. What about the hard knock life, I ask? What next, I wonder? Am I to be the boy who cried wolf?

Bonus soundtrack


See previously: The Princess and The Brown Sugar

This note is part of a series: In a covidious time

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Sunday, September 06, 2020

The Princess and The Brown Sugar

Woe is me, I'm living in a fairy tale entitled The Princess and The Brown Sugar. I've raised someone who can detect when brown sugar is substituted for white cane sugar in her tea. I know her grandmother writes cookbooks but hadn't realized that such food sensitivity was genetic.

My uncouth palate was curtly dismissed with a hand wave. But it's all just sugar to me. Let's be frank, can you really tell the difference? Let alone after said sugar is dissolved in tea? Ebei, there's some African electronics at work, Nyame dua.

Or perhaps I should turn to her grandfather, a materials scientist, for pointers on aqueous processing of sugar. Could it really be that brown sugar crystals are processed differently by the tongue? Enough to make a difference in taste? Another book project...

The Princess and The Honey, a playlist


A soundtrack for this anecdote (spotify version)

les nubians

Further reading

Backstory


The initial feedback to this note was ferocious, I was told that there was a indeed a difference in taste and texture, and that I had a wholly indiscriminate palate. I was even deemed to be shameless for drinking tea with brown sugar, a culinary affront. Moreover there were fears that I might even have the rona or be covidiously afflicted if I couldn't even pass such a taste test. The Wife's testimony in my defence didn't make a difference, almost every one sided with the princess. I've come to realize that I am definitely in a minority in this business so much so that I've decided that, as I am indeed living in a fairy tale, I needed to add some beasts to the prevailing soundtrack:

(Ducks)

This folktale is part of a series: In a covidious time

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Tuesday, September 01, 2020

The Necessity of Permanent Outrage

"If you're a billionaire, you wouldn't have to follow
Orders from Trump", observed The 7 year old.
True that, and yes, I should try to make more money,
My son, I don't have to be told.

But I note that many billionaires remain servile,
If not supremely supine, at Mr Trump's bullying.
Most of the all-conquering Masters of the Universe
Remain strangely silent at the outrageous looting

Their gaze is so fixated
On the future prospects for their bank accounts
That this ceremony of blood is tolerated
With its gruesome body count

It all just goes to show
That even hard-nosed businessmen will quickly fall in line
Despite their bluster and self image,
Their reality doesn't include a spine

Class solidarity matters more in America than integrity
Forget exit or voice, America's elite chooses loyalty

But I do understand the basis of their decisions
Even if it amounts to condoning impunity
For the demands of capital writ large
Are their overriding reality and underlying conditions.

When you live on the wages of monopoly rents
And the toil of factory workers who produce your profitable garments
You can surely spare the unseemly daily casualties
And keep your self regard and belief in your innate abilities

And they can well afford to misbehave as we have observed,
Even in the disastrous covidious here and now
As goes your grandfather's favorite Ga proverb:
An elephant which is lean is still fatter than a cow.

We, on the other hand, must be a part of a loud minority
The stakes are too high to abdicate our responsibility
Even if our preferred tactic is to seek out a quiet revolution
With bite-sized advocacy, compromise, and above all conversation

The hard knock life teaches us lessons in social studies
Brace yourself, gird your loins son, for all manner of adversity
But know this, these challenges to our values can be surmounted
When your time comes, I expect nothing less of you, stand up and be counted

It falls to us immigrants unfortunately to forgo the lure of profits obscene
Even without a safety net, be bold and treat it as an opportunity
And speak up, like your sister, to help make the reality
Match up the visibly empty promises of the American dream

Your grandparents, by their actions,
Taught me this wisdom, it applies at any age:
We are firm believers in this family
In the necessity of permanent outrage

integrity

The Necessity of Permanent Outrage, a playlist


As usual a soundtrack for this note (spotify version)

  • A Loud Minority by United Future Organization
    The song starts with a sample from the introductory chants from Frank Foster's version and veers off into a wonderful slice of acid jazz dance excellence.
  • Outrage by Booker T. & The M.G.'s
  • It Was Supposed To Be So Easy by The Streets
    The entire A Grand Don't Come For Free album is worth a repeated listening, the small things outlined here are part of an awoof conception.
  • The Loud Minority by Donald Byrd
    His great album, Kofi, was the fruit of his first encounter with Ghana. The song features trumpet and saxophone histrionics as befits its title.
  • Season For Change by Ronny Jordan and Guru
    This playlist features two songs from Ronny Jordan's great album The Quiet Revolution. This first one is an inspired collaboration with Gang Starr's Guru
  • Loud Minority by Kero One
    A full-throated appeal calling out the disgraceful attacks on anyone looking vaguely Asian in the aftermath of the coronavirus pandemic. The instrumental is vicious enough let alone when accompanied by the vocal onslaught on xenophobia.
  • The Loud Minority by Frank Foster
    His second take on this tune after the initial Donald Byrd collaboration is a forceful affair, the next movement.
  • The Jackal by Ronny Jordan
    Featuring Dana Bryant's delicious spoken word poetry, a musing on "a brother who loved the high life / and got a PhD in street strife".
  • Easy Words by Uche Ogbuji
    My soul brother in lineage and sensibility outdid himself with this response to George Floyd's murder. My reaction to his poem, music and video production says it all. It reminded me of something I've always sought to live by and now seek to pass on to the next generation. A head nod in your direction, Uche, and thanks once again for your inspiration.
    The necessity of permanent outrage
    Bomb Squad antics and verbal gymnastics.
    You're writing the urban griot soundtrack.

I suspect this short take on the titular subject will be easier to digest for my progeny than the earlier 9,000 word cris de coeur that laid the foundation. I hope my easy words belie my own and their mother's bitter roots.


See also: Herd Immunity

A closing quote:

The one important contribution that the African can make to the world is to keep reminding everyone that it is out of sympathy and the love for one another that we can build eventually what is valuable and peaceful.

- Kofi Abrefa Busia, The Prospects For Democracy In Africa


I nominate this note for The Things Fall Apart Series under the banner of Social Living.


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Saturday, August 08, 2020

After Tom Sawyer

The fence was in a state of disrepair
A household with some children going crazy with stir
The self isolation blues reminded one of Tom Sawyer
Inspiration struck: cue a one-click order
Some paint was duly delivered a few days later
You would have liked to tip Amazon's essential worker
But the software's design favored capitalism over labour
But you know, it's really not a lot of money to spend
Further, the property values will work out in the end
Maybe we'll foster some Picassos or Da Vincis
Or rather our own Wizs, Glovers and El Anatsuis
We might even discover a pot of black gold
These minor art pieces, perhaps, a prelude to riches untold
Back to basics, Nyame had suggested, it's about nuts and bolts
The cement of society by way of Home Depots
A saving grace, and a morning's fun activity
Behind the yam, a respite from the outside agony
The memories here are painted in colors at the rainbow's end
Fence painting as a covidious dividend.

After Tom Sawyer... in a covidious time...

Further Reading


After Tom Sawyer, a playlist


When conjuring a soundtrack for this note, I could only think of one song to start and end it. Mandrill was a fearsome funk band and a hard act to follow. Fencewalk is their magnum opus to my ears. (spotify version)

See also: Colors, a playlist (spotify version)

Previously: Nuts and Bolts

Note: a Harry Potter motif was a later addition, The 9 year old insisted on a departure from the original maternal suggestion. Needless to say. I approved of this redirection.

This note is part of a series: In a covidious time.


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Sunday, May 26, 2013

Our Son

We were blessed with a baby boy in the early hours of last Sunday. The Wife, The Daughter and I are as blissed out as can be about the new addition to the family.

Our son! My son! I'm as happy as can be. May your 8 pounds 5 ounces lead you onwards and upwards.

I plan to spend as much quality time with my family as I can. All the observations I've made in the past about the effect of parenthood on one's published output now apply doubly. In this instance however, I have a few pieces lined up that will be published automatically in the next few months as this blog will run on autopilot.

There is much deliberation in the mores of Akyem-Swedru, Accra and Aburi about the naming of children and a certain logic that is often followed (lineage, day names, special names and so forth). Still I am minded of the weight of all of those additional names, those shadow names, that may not appear on one's birth certificate but that still apply to you. Even at my age, I am still learning about names bestowed on me. There is power in naming and I wonder what names others will emphasize for our son. I look forward to his outdooring and to marking all the ceremonies that are to come in his life.

Welcome my son. I love you.

Soundtrack for this note

I'll add the following playlist to augment my previous take on parenthood. The theme is joy. (Listen here).


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Tuesday, March 08, 2011

Parenthood

So The Wife and I were blessed with a baby girl yesterday. A bundle of joy, pounds of loveliness, we couldn't be more elated. We'll have the outdooring (naming ceremony) in due course. Like all new parents, it's all about change, lots of change to our life, and an abundance of love.

The Wife had also been labouring to deliver her book manuscript to the publisher and, in the race between baby and book, our child barely won by two nagging footnotes, it was a close run thing, you know. The one was all sweetness and the other is to be titled, Bitter Roots. My own role was minor: a shoulder to rest on, a hand to squeeze, a chaufeur, a cook, a proud husband, and a copy editor.

I expect to be spending lots of quality time with the new addition to the family so blogging and everything else will be fitful at best, and diaper-constrained for certain. In mitigation, I've written a whole lot already over the past 6 years and even have some toli queued up for episodic release.

In the meantime, allow me to bask in parenthood.

Soundtrack for this note


A parenthood playlist. Enjoy. (spotify version)

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