A few weeks before we left for England, I started playing around with Twitter. I poked around, looking for people to follow: skeptics, writers, at-home parents, and generally people who would amuse me. On any given day, I might add 5 or 6 people to my “following” list, so when I received the following Direct Message, I wasn’t sure what to think:

I was soon in touch with Diane Wright, the founder and managing editor of The Story Spot, “an online resource for screenwriters and the story consultants who love them.” She offered an hour of consulting as my freebie, and though I am not an aspiring screenwriter, I figured I could use her as a sounding board for some ideas about this and my personal blog. [Editor's note: Wright's exact words are recreated from memory and notes of our conversation, and are therefore probably not exactly what she said. Below I'm paraphrasing for dramatic effect.]

“I’ve never consulted someone about a blog,” Diane told me. “It should be interesting.”

I gave her links to some of my favorite posts, and told her I was looking for a way to make a unified story within each of my blogs.

This is tricky. As Andrew Sullivan wrote last year in his article, “Why I Blog,”

As you read a log, you have the curious sense of moving backward in time as you move forward in pages—the opposite of a book. As you piece together a narrative that was never intended as one, it seems—and is—more truthful. Logs, in this sense, were a form of human self-correction. They amended for hindsight, for the ways in which human beings order and tidy and construct the story of their lives as they look back on them. Logs require a letting-go of narrative because they do not allow for a knowledge of the ending. So they have plot as well as dramatic irony—the reader will know the ending before the writer did.

So how does one construct a story for a blog, if one doesn’t know the end? This is what I wanted to talk about, but it wasn’t quite where the conversation went.

It started simply enough, with Diane offering suggestions as to how I could frame the overall narrative arc.

“You could draw specific parallels of you growing as a parent and a skeptic as you watch your daughter grow up as a person. Maybe use her growth stages as metaphors.”

Fairly straightforward advice, and we explored this for a bit. But, after about 20 minutes, she took me down an unexpected path.

“You know, Blake, there’s always something there, whether or not you see it.”

I wasn’t quite sure what she meant, and asked her to continue.

“Well, um…. Have you ever thought that maybe it’s your, well, your own insecurities.”

Moments like this are rare in one’s life, moments where time seems to elongate, when one’s vision narrows to a single point. Moments when truth becomes suddenly and dramatically clear.

“Hmm.” I replied, stalling for time.

“I mean, maybe part of the reason you chose the subject of skepticism, is based partly on your insecurity of being a father, feelings every new parent has.”

She was backing off because she thought my silence meant I didn’t like where she was going. To keep the moment, I had to reel her back in.

“No, you’re absolutely right.”

That thing that had been nagging at me for weeks, had just revealed itself. My reticence to speak, my feelings of inadequacy, perhaps even my entire blog, had been based in my own insecurities. Not just the standard new-parent insecurities, but ones that ran even deeper.

Next post: At-home Fatherhood

(cross-posted at domestic father)

As I mentioned in a previous post, we stayed with our friends Simon and Simone when we were in England. Simon is an MD and scientist, and, as such, is a professional skeptic. Talking with him about some of these subjects is a bit daunting, as he also has two children, and therefore has been both a parent and a skeptic for far longer than I.

When discussing parenting, and especially skeptical parenting, I was perhaps a little more guarded than I am with other friends. Fear of looking like an idiot was certainly part of it, but it was mostly because I know I can learn more by listening than by talking. Being around someone who has more experience at something can be enlightening; being challenged inevitably makes you better.

But, when we left Oxford and headed to London, I found that my reluctance to speak about my skepticism did not stay in Oxford. In fact, my reluctance to join in many conversations was heightened around friends with whom I normally would banter freely.

Never one to shy away from introspection, I ruminated on what might be causing this change in my behavior. When I stumbled on it, I was a little troubled by what I determined was the root of this reluctance: my status as a stay-at-home dad.

I have not talked about this much here. There are many other SAHD blogs, all of which address the subject better than I could. I have never really felt it was relevant to this blog. But, after the trip to England, it was no longer something I could ignore.

At the core, I felt as though I no longer had anything to add to a conversation. All of our friends had kids, and since my life was currently centered around raising our daughter, what could I say that they didn’t already know, hadn’t already experienced for themselves? When talking about the blog, I felt like I was being humored, like a child showing off his drawings.

Of course, none of our friends actually treated me this way. And when I was working for a paycheck, I never felt this way about other stay-at-home parents; if anything, I envied them. For some reason, though, I was projecting something on to everyone else, struggling with my own worries about how society perceives me because I left my job to stay at home with my child.

Now, all of this was not quite so well-constructed in my mind when we left the UK. It was more of an irritating nag just above my subconsciousness. But, it all came out, fully-formed like Athena from Zeus’ forehead, when, of all things, I won a contest.

Next Post: The Story Consultant

(cross-posted at domestic father)

“And why, exactly, are nitrates bad?”

This question, from our friend Simon, made me realize I had accepted the word of an authority figure without question. I had no idea why an elevated level of nitrates in CJ’s food was bad, but her pediatrician said it was so, and I accepted that.

Nitrates, I knew, are a naturally occurring form of nitrogen absorbed by plants through the roots. Some farmers add nitrates to the soil in the form of fertilizer, and some vegetables, like carrots, beets, and spinach, retain higher levels of nitrates after harvest.

But, after I couldn’t answer Simon’s question, and after Simon left the house, I jumped on the web. According to the American Academy of Pediatrics,

The gastric pH of infants is higher than that in older children and adults, with resultant proliferation of intestinal flora that can reduce the ingested nitrate to nitrite.

Once the nitrate is converted to a nitrite,

the nitrite ion oxidizes ferrous iron in hemoglobin to the ferric state. The resulting compound, methemoglobin, is incapable of binding molecular oxygen… which results in hypoxemia.

This is known as methemoglobinemia, and the resulting lack of oxygen in the blood leads to Blue Baby Syndrome, at which point it’s time for a visit to the hospital.

This is quite a terrifying prospect, and one I would certainly like to avoid. Wouldn’t it be safer to avoid these foods altogether?

The AAP’s policy comforted me a little. The Abstract states,

There seems to be little or no risk of nitrate poisoning from commercially prepared infant foods in the United States. However, reports of nitrate poisoning from home-prepared vegetable foods for infants continue to occur.

OK, but when could I start feeding her the same food we eat? According to the same policy statement,

home-prepared infant foods from vegetables (eg, spinach, beets, green beans, squash, carrots) should be avoided until infants are 3 months or older, although there is no nutritional indication to add complementary foods to the diet of the healthy term infant before 4 to 6 months of age.

CJ was 8 months old when we were in Oxford.

In other words, not only was it something we shouldn’t worry about, but according to the AAP’s own statement, it’s something most parents don’t need to worry about. If you’re not feeding your baby anything but breast milk or formula until 4-6 months, as they recommend, then you’re already out of the proverbial woods.

Apparently, the main problem is not with homemade baby food, nor is that even the main subject of the policy statement.

The greatest risk of nitrate poisoning (methemoglobinemia) occurs in infants fed well water contaminated with nitrates.

Well water.

Considering there haven’t been wells in Manhattan since 1842, I’d say I was over-concerned about nitrates in CJ’s diet.

(cross-posted at domestic father)