Fatherhood strode from the sidewings to center stage in the form of the Lone Centurion (aka Rory Pond, nee Williams) in “A Good Man Goes to War,” and continued in “Night Terrors” and “Closing Time”. In these episodes, we see first a portrayal and then subversion of the most common tropes of fatherhood; respectively, the Hero (the aforementioned centurion-slash-nurse Rory), the Abandoner (Alex), and the Bumbler (Craig). Assisting each we have, of course, the Doctor — a man who, 10 incarnations and nearly 50 boringly linear human years ago, was himself a grandfather. Although most versions of the show between 1963 and now have glossed over the central character’s implied fatherhood, here he is portrayed in full Wise Patriarch mode, taking these three men — and the viewer — on a transformative journey that amounts to a guide to Moffat’s vision of Enlightened Fatherhood.
Finish reading at GC, because it’s good and because I managed to write it with a newborn — often one handed — so click over if only to be amazed that I formed cohesive sentences and semi2-cogent arguments.
Speaking of, one day I will write a memoir, and in it will be a piece about sitting in the living room holding a sleeping baby over the potty with one hand (because she fell asleep immediately upon finishing her business and if I moved her she might wake up again and that would just be unacceptable), breast hanging out of the nursing tank, laptop balanced on the arm of the chair, typing with the other hand because I was In the Middle of a Thought and also On Deadline. Because if there is a more perfect metaphor-and-example of balancing parenting and paid employment, I haven’t heard it.
Another link round up from the lovely Emily. With luck, I’ll even have a chance to read them all soon. Probably whilst nursing.
Hello all. How’s you? Me, oh you know… Now we’ve gotten the pleasantries out of the way, down to linkage.
At Big Fat Blog, in Scotland, a couple might have lose four of their seven children because their parents “failed to help them slim down.” There’s email addresses at the bottom of the post you can use to help support keeping this family together.
And speaking of, Doctor Whooves is feeling impatient.
Arwyn again: The dear (pony-fied) Doctor was obviously not in postpartum baby-land. As Kareena says, babies distort the space time continuum. Truer words ne’er were spoken!
The hellish torture that is moving with a newborn1 babymooning continues apace, and to everyone’s surprise, or at least mine, the stress of it all has not yet landed me in hospital. But as I’m typing this one handed2, I leave you in the capable, lovely, and not nearly as baby-occupied hands of my friend Emily.
Hi all, Emily Manuel here. You might remember me from such internets as The Tiger Beatdown, The Global Comment, or The Twitter, or the comments of this here blog. But if not, then hi! How’s you?
Anyway, while Arwyn’s off babymooning, I’ve volunteered to provide the link posts. As with everything, Don’t Read The Comments, etc etc. So here goes.
And for your obligatory pieces of Whovianism, there’s Sady Doyle talking about how Doctor Who became “Nurse Rory” (note: I edited this piece. But you should still read it, even if you don’t agree), and this gem of a video, “Previously on Doctor Who.” Shots from every single episode in five minutes, amazing. A warning: the sound’s a bit rubbish, so turn down your speakers before you watch it.
To quote myself: “I hate every part of this except the smell of my new baby’s head, the feel of my new baby’s skin, and the sound of my new baby’s breath.” ↩
So I’m sort of, y’know, done? With this whole parenting-pregnancy-housebuying-blogging-daily-living thing? And my need for, and frequent inability to achieve, sleep has pretty much taken over my life? And yet, annoyingly, the world continues.
Fortunately, other writers have continued to, unlike me, write:
Both Salon and bluemilk have tackled the bruhaha around Madison Young (activist, artist, sex worker) and her Becoming MILF exhibit.
The emotional response to her public breast-feeding conveys the Madonna/whore dichotomy better than Young could ever hope to do with her kitschy quilt and breast milkshakes. The idea that there is something inherently prurient about a porn star breast-feeding plays right into that classic either-or thinking: Her breasts are erotic in one venue, so they can’t be wholesome in another.
bluemilk (if you only read one of these articles, make it this one):
There is something else worth considering about Furry Girl’s criticisms of Young, and that is the way in which she can’t distinguish between mothers and mothering. Yes, Young’s daughter can’t give permission for being included in her mother’s artwork, neither can mine give permission for my writing. But who owns Young’s experience of motherhood? Who owns mine? Where do Young’s and my experiences of early motherhood and our desire to explore these all-consuming aspects of our lives end, and our children’s ownership of them begin? Can Young, who describes her devotion to her baby daughter so lovingly, not be trusted to know? Does being sexual as women (or even sexually objectified unintentionally) spill dangerously over into our responsibilities as mothers? Does it prevent us from good mothering?
The researchers analyzed data from the Black Women’s Health Study, which has collected health information from some 59,000 women for the past 16 years, focusing on 318 cases of ER-/PR- breast cancer and 457 cases of estrogen receptor- and progesterone receptor-positive (ER+/PR+) cancer. Palmer and her team found that black women with breast cancer who had two or more children and didn’t breastfeed them were 50 percent more likely to have the ER-/PR- form of breast cancer than those who had two children and breastfed them.
And a note on language: in hypothesizing some other potential explanations for the difference, the post declares African-descended women have “tougher immune systems to cope with endemic diseases of sub-Saharan Africa” (emphasis added). While at first glance, this might appear a benign phrasing, it seems to me another instance of the animalization of Black peoples; other, just-as-accurate ways of phrasing the same concept might include “more advanced”, “highly evolved”1, “smarter”, etc. But these would require different cultural conceptualizations of race.2
And I feel like I owe you so much more in the way of linkage (and to be sure, there have been some amazing posts I’ve encountered in the blogosphere recently, and please feel free to leave more, your own or others, in the comments), but, well, see aforementioned done-ness.
PS No one say this doneness is a sign of immanent birth. It’s not allowed to be. We’re still weeks away from closing on the house, so if you’re going to send vibes, send stay-in-and-healthy vibes, please. One of the few things worse than dealing with another few weeks of this would be The Man using up all his vacation time babymooning — and then still have to move. With a newborn. So, just, no.3
ETA OMG PONY DOCTOR WHO!
This is only quite possibly the best thing in the history of everything. Because pony Doctor. And bad French. You’re welcome.
OK, technically we’re all equally evolved, because we’ve all been on the planet equally long, and therefore have evolved the same amount, if in very, very subtly different ways. ↩
I also have questions about the accuracy of generalizations that characterize sub-Saharan Africa as more disease-ridden, and inherently and long-term so, than other places, but am not knowledgeable enough about evolutionary epidemiology to make any challenges to this assertion. ↩
We’d survive, obviously; I’d manage somehow. I just don’t want to, ta. ↩
NOT ONLY is it a smiley face in an apple, and NOT ONLY did he do it entirely on his own (his dad and I didn’t even know what he was doing until he, quite happy with himself, showed it to us), and NOT ONLY is it proof that we have damaged him irreparably with television he is as much a scifi geek as his parents, it is his very first smiley face. In apple. Apple, people! Paper and pen? Pah! That’s for amateurs.
I’ve been feeling aggravated and triggered by parenting far too often recently, so it’s nice to have a vivid reminder of not only how much I love this kid (and I do, even when I’m wanting to run away) but how much I plain ol’ like him, too.
Heroes, bumblers, abandoners, and patriarchs: Fatherhood on Doctor Who
I have a new piece up at Global Comment: Heroes, bumblers, abandoners, and patriarchs: Fatherhood on Doctor Who (don’t be scared by the title, my non-geekling friends; it should be entirely1 accessible to those who have thus far avoided sullying their gaze with my dorky obsession):
Finish reading at GC, because it’s good and because I managed to write it with a newborn — often one handed — so click over if only to be amazed that I formed cohesive sentences and semi2-cogent arguments.
Speaking of, one day I will write a memoir, and in it will be a piece about sitting in the living room holding a sleeping baby over the potty with one hand (because she fell asleep immediately upon finishing her business and if I moved her she might wake up again and that would just be unacceptable), breast hanging out of the nursing tank, laptop balanced on the arm of the chair, typing with the other hand because I was In the Middle of a Thought and also On Deadline. Because if there is a more perfect metaphor-and-example of balancing parenting and paid employment, I haven’t heard it.