bearing blog


bear – ing n 1  the manner in which one comports oneself;  2  the act, power, or time of bringing forth offspring or fruit; 3 a machine part in which another part turns [a journal ~];  pl comprehension of one’s position, environment, or situation;   5  the act of moving while supporting the weight of something [the ~ of the cross].


  • I have never had a knack for getting labs to go right.

    I could have predicted some of the problems we'd have with Oscar's science lab this morning, the one where you mix baking powder with various liquids in bottles sealed by balloons, and see how much gas evolves.

    For instance, that the balloons I'd bought would be too small to put the required amount of baking powder in, or that they would be quite tight and hard to stretch over the bottles.  

    Or that the baking powder would not disperse well with the liquid, leaving a dry cake of baking powder stuck to the bottom of the bottle, unable to be dislodged even with vigorous shaking.

    Yeah, I could have foreseen that, and if I hadn't been in such a hurry, might have been able to set the experiment up to run a little bit more smoothly.  I had Oscar write a list of problems and difficulties with the experiment, and things we learned from them.

    What I couldn't predict:  that three-year-old little sister would run shrieking and weeping with terror out of the room at the sight of the expanding balloons, nearly tearing my pants off in her attempt to climb straight up my legs into my arms, out of fear that they would pop suddenly and loudly.

    And that this performance would be repeated for every one of the six balloon-bottle-baking powder experiments of the day.

    And that Oscar would need an extra pair of hands for most of the experiments (because the balloon necks were too tight for him to stretch over the bottles) so I would spend the morning alternately comforting a crying, frightened little girl, and peeling her off my body for long enough to act as laboratory assistant (while she screamed "Come BACK mommy!  Come BACK!"

    I wish I could say that this was the sort of thing that drove me into theoretical rather than experimental work…


  • It’s the hair.

    Yesterday evening at the grocery store I finally caught a clue about something that's been bugging me.

    With this pregnancy, as with the previous three, complete strangers have been coming up to me and asking "what I'm having–"  you know, what's the baby's gender.  One thing that's different this time is that I know the answer; I had an ultrasound a few weeks ago, my first one.  

    But another difference has been the frequency — I hardly ever appear in public without someone coming up to me and saying, "I just have to ask you — do you know what you're having?"  And I'll say yes, a boy, and they'll shake their head and smile.   Why so much?  Have people gotten more forward in the past three years?    I don't get it.

    And then yesterday a woman who asked me the question supplied the missing piece:  after I said "A boy," she said sympathetically, "Wow, four boys!"

    And I realized that all these people have been looking at Mary Jane and assuming she was a boy too.  Therefore it is necessary that I be interrogated to determine if I will be saddled with the fourth boy.  This explains the questioning, and also the sympathy.

    *I* don't think she looks like a boy.  She was wearing a red and white striped dress yesterday, for pete's sake.  But… I guess I can see where someone might think "boy" looking at her.

    Photo 82

    From left to right:  XY, XY, XX.


  • Public service announcement, bacon edition.

    Got a bacon-topped recipe you're dying to try, but just discovered there's a non-pork-consuming person coming to your dinner party?

    You need a recipe for Vegan Coconut Bacon.

    You're welcome.

    (p.s. "Bragg's Aminos" is some stuff that tastes an awful lot like soy sauce.  Go ahead and substitute.)


  • A silly physics joke I hadn’t heard.

    From Jamie at Light and Momentary.  To my delight, much like another silly physics joke I have long appreciated, it also involves cows.

    Of course, I might change it to "interrupting viscosity" or possibly to "interrupting chemical potential."  We are, after all, engineers here.


  • A silly physics joke I hadn’t heard.

    From Jamie at Light and Momentary.  To my delight, much like another silly physics joke I have long appreciated, it also involves cows.

    Of course, I might change it to "interrupting viscosity" or possibly to "interrupting chemical potential."  We are, after all, engineers here.


  • Keep your hands off my family’s Sudafed.

    From Reason.com (h/t Radley Balko's excellent The Agitator), the latest update on the policy issue that was recently voted "Policy Issue Most Likely To Turn Bearing Blog Into A Flaming Libertarian Site Devoted to Deregulation:"

     The Wall Street Journal reports that "a nationwide resurgence in illegal methamphetamine labs" has caused state and federal legislators to re-examine the effectiveness of the Sudafed crackdown. They plan to do what prohibitionists always do in the face of failure: double down—in this case by requiring prescriptions for a cheap, safe, effective decongestant that not long ago was readily available in convenience stores across the land. That requirement will force doctors to police Americans' pseudoephedrine consumption…

    Yes, you heard it:  the feds (and some states; Oregon's already done it) want to turn Sudafed into a prescription-only drug, not because of safety concerns, but because making it difficult for us to get it has not worked to stop methamphetamine production, and even less to stop methamphetamine use.

    Leaving aside the ridiculously bad timing of such an endeavor (we already spend HOW MUCH on health care?  And you want to turn an effective self-treatment option, a well-beloved one measured in the dollars spent on pseudoephedrine every year, into one that requires a doctor's visit?  Perhaps an emergency room visit, for the uninsured?)….

    …aw, what the hell, I've ranted about this before, here's my post from 2007 about the stupid guidelines on children's "cold medications" that don't distinguish among the several different compounds commonly sold as "cold medications."

    And can I just add to the comments on the Reason website…

    "have you ever tried to breastfeed a baby who has a terrible head cold and can't breathe through her nose? It's awful. Bleeding awful, both for you and the baby. An effective decongestant can mean the difference between a sick baby who can't easily take in her only source of fluid and nutrition, and a baby who can do it easily. Believe me, saline spray does NOT do the trick.

    (disclaimer: nursing mothers should be cautious taking decongestants because of anecdotal evidence that in some women it compromises milk supply)"


  • “Profs. Embuggerance and Feisty.”

    Glossographia brings us a funny story from the depths of Google Scholar, which is Google's full-text-searching answer to searchable catalog subscription indexes like JSTOR, SciFinder, etc.

    One of my students in my introductory linguistic anthropology course this term is doing a paper on linguistic aspects of laughter and humor. During my search, I encountered the following citation (direct from Google Scholar to you):

    Embuggerance, E., and H. Feisty. 2008. The linguistics of laughter. English Today 1, no. 04: 47-47.

    After I stopped laughing, I set to figuring out what was going on.

    The answer turns out to be a metadata problem that's endemic to machine indexing. It serves to illustrate the differences between machine and human indexing, and also to spark an interesting discussion in the comments about the relative merits of Google Scholar and the subscription services. Academics or former academics may enjoy it. It reminds me a bit of the perennial "Wikipedia vs. Encyclopaedia Britannica" debate, even as it reminds one of the commenters more of John Henry, the steel-drivin' man.

    (h/t Eugene Volokh, from whom I take the title of this post)


  • Morning organizing project.

    I haven't attacked anything around here in a long time, and woke up early to sleeping children, so I decided to try to put together an organized meal planning/grocery shopping binder.

    You would think I would already have this, wouldn't you, given my detailed menu planning algorithm?  I don't.  I have all the necessary stuff, but it's either saved in files on my computer or scattered around the house.  Let's pull it together today.

    First thing I did was print off my aisle-by-aisle grocery list and stick it in a page protector for reference and as a photocopy master.   (Here's a file so you can see what it looks like:  Grocery list.ods  – Warning, it's probably not useful to you as is unless you shop at the same South Minneapolis Cub Foods that I do) 

    Next thing I did was to get out the box in which I have been saving weekly menu plans for a long time, and sorted them out from the other random stuff I've tossed in there (printed recipes, receipts, junk) along the way.  I counted them:  I have about 30 weeks of menus.  

    The next step is to mine data from the menu plans.  More later…

    11:11 AM.  I have mined data from my menu plans.  

    It is interesting to see which meals repeat frequently.  In thirty weeks of menu plans, we saw repeats of

    • Some kind of meat or burgers on the grill (8)
    • Emergency chili (6)
    • Homemade pizza of some kind or another (5)
    • Spaghetti and meatballs (5)
    • Rice-cooker rice and beans (5)
    • French-style split pea soup with ham in the crock pot (5)
    • Embellished scrambled eggs (5)
    • Taco salad (4)
    • Chile-cheese egg puff (4)
    • Vegetarian Mexican-flavor lasagna (3)
    • Salmon patties (3)
    • Ground beef gyros (3)
    • Egg salad sandwiches (3)
    • Spicy tomato soup (3)
    • Chicken mole enchilada casserole (2)
    • Skillet chicken fajitas (2)
    • Pasta salad with tuna, capers, tomatoes, mint (2)
    • Minestrone soup (2)
    • Green fettucine with squash, sage, chickpeas, onion, parmesan (2)
    • Judy's taco soup (2)
    • Stuffed peppers (2)

    There are a few other obvious-to-me family favorites that didn't appear on the list at all, don't know why.  Calzones, for one thing, and spinach-ricotta pie, and chicken-and-noodles; hummus and cut vegetables, and chicken-pepper-cashew stirfry with hoisin sauce.  But this sampler should help.  I printed it out.  And then I threw away the piles of meal plans!

    11:43 AM.  Actually, before I threw them away, I also mined a list of lunches I've brought to feed 6-10 kids and 2-3 moms with minimal fuss and complaining.  That list (for the 30 weeks) is shorter.  

    • Taco soup
    • Tuna, pasta, olives, tomatoes, peas (assemble your own)
    • Summer sausage, pickles, fruit, salad greens
    • Seasoned cooked ground beef, pitas, sliced cucumber, yogurt
    • Canned Amy's alphabet soup, served variously with crackers, pretzels, or homemade bread
    • Mini bagels with cream cheese, olives, salami (assemble your own); lox for the moms; grapes
    • Pasta with chili and cheese or just cheese; fruit
    • Hot dogs baked in sauerkraut, served with or without sauerkraut in buns; fruit
    • Mini pizzas with sauce, cheese, pepperoni, olives (assemble your own); applesauce
    • Baked potatoes with yogurt, ham cubes, and cheese (assemble your own); canned beets
    • Sloppy joes, English muffins, canned fruit
    • Salad with choice of toppings from salsa, cheese, corn, beans, chicken, yogurt, tortilla chips
    • Tuna salad with mayo, pickles, and olives, served with crackers
    • Pasta with red meat sauce and cheese or just cheese, green beans
    • Frozen pizzas and applesauce
    • Plain rice, chicken, and soy sauce with frozen mixed vegetables

    Hannah has perfected a crispy salmon loaf that all ten children love, but that's her territory…


  • Co-schooling and planning.

    Today Hannah and I sat down and made a supply list for our (between us) four youngest children's school days together.

    To recap, our family co-schools with Hannah's family on Tuesdays, and with Hannah's and usually Melissa's family on Thursdays.   Partway through last year Hannah and I completely revamped our school schedules to sync them together, so that on T-Th we were working together on the same subjects, more or less, and the stuff we couldn't do well together we segregated to the other days of the week.

    (Meanwhile Hannah and Melissa set up other days to work together for their two families.  It's a weird sort of three-family co-schooling thing we've got going.  But it's working pretty well now, fantastically well compared to before when we weren't sync'ed together.)

    Hannah's and my oldest boys, who are both fourth graders, are pretty much scheduled out for the rest of the "school year."  We have a few vague plans — When we get to the end of the second level of the writing curriculum, how about we have them do a subject report with library research, and take however long that takes, before we go on to begin the next book?  – but mostly we know what they're up to.  I run world history, American history, and Latin.  Hannah runs English grammar and composition.  We are chugging forward through curricula and book lists, and it's all pretty much worked out at least till mid-June.  

    The younger children are harder to fit together, maybe because of a slight age mismatch.  Our middle boys are an "old" kindergartener and an "old" first grader.  They're not too far apart in reading skill, i.e., "can read many sentences with help, not much independently yet;"  but there's a big gap in attention to detail and ability to sit and work for a while.    Our youngests, both girls, are still wider apart; Hannah's girl will be 5 soon and so is nearly ready for kindergarten-level stuff, but mine has only just turned 3.  They play together beautifully, but will they be able to work together?  Or will Hannah's youngest, the 5yo girl, wind up being the natural schoolmate of my middle child, the 6yo boy?   How will that work?  Maybe we will be doing some cross-pairing from time to time.  We are experimenting right now with teaching an early-childhood music theory curriculum to the younger four as a group, and seeing what happens.

    Despite not being exactly sure how to put it all together, a year or so of working together like this has made it easier for us to identify "stuff" that will probably work for us.  So we really enjoyed sitting down with the Rainbow Resource catalog and picking out some things we can do with each group of children.   

    The middle boys have been learning about common Eastern mammals via the Burgess Animal Book for Children, and coloring pages and doing narrations about what they've learned.  When they finish that book, we've decided to spend some time working on birds — not an exhaustive study, but focusing on the dozen to twenty species they might actually see in the backyard.  We'll use the Burgess Bird Book for text, and the Peterson Field Guide Color-in Book for coloring pages (with attention to correct coloring — it matters more with birds than with bobcats), and the Cornell Ornithology Lab site for birdsong.  And spend several sessions on each bird.  And use it as a starting point to jump into the Usborne First Book of Nature, bird section, for generic bird anatomy and lifecycle and stuff, and see where that takes us, through the winter I hope.  We also hope to dabble in the activity suggestions in One Small Square:  Backyard, which has a couple of winter activities, but mostly we would gear up for that in the spring.

    As for the younger girls, Hannah will probably take the lead in their adventure together, since she's got a child who's approaching Real School Age, and mine is only a preschooler tagging along.  Still, my 3yo's "first exposures" to things like letter formation and number theory can happen alongside a kindergartener's "firm grounding in the basics."   They love to do worksheets together (to my MJ, "schoolwork" = "Mommy sits and does a worksheet with me, or better, ten worksheets in a row"), and so we identified some books that they can do together (because the nice thing about worksheet books is that they are easy to tote and easy to pull out the instant the girls come clamoring to us, "We want to do our schoolwork!")  We think we'll teach them how to use the telephone in the coming months, and to remember a parent's phone number and their addresses.  We found a great prewriting worksheet book that incorporates nursery rhymes — memory work! — along with practice with the basic handwriting strokes and shapes.  And we've got some old Charlotte-Mason-y tricks in our bag from when our older kids were younger… a listen-and-parrot Spanish phrase curriculum that they might like, Aesop's Fables to hear and narrate back, a stash of art prints to show and talk about.  When we were done with our list, we were satisfied that the stuff we had would make part of a proper kindergarten curriculum for Hannah's 5yo, while still allowing my 3yo to join in fully as much as she wants.

    Hannah and I enjoyed the work session so much, we didn't even notice that we had forgotten to have our "schoolwork's done, pour a cup of tea and sit down" ritual.  That's something we don't miss much — it was one of the things we resolved to make time for, way back when we revamped our awful schedule so we would enjoy life more, and enjoy the kids more, including each other's kids.   

    Which just goes to show what inveterate curriculum geeks we both are.   Which is one of the reasons why it works so well, I think.


  • Obesity: A different perspective from what you’ve seen here.

    If you're interested in some of the things I wrote about obesity and finding the power to change, maybe you might be interested in reading other writers coming at the same subject from a very different perspective.  Ta-Nehisi Coates at The Atlantic has been blogging about obesity, class, and race.  This meditation is outstanding.  I recommend it. 


  • “Imperial history of the Middle East.”

    I may have pointed to this before, but I wanted to recommend again this animated map of the imperial history of the Middle East.  A very cool survey of 3000 years in 90 seconds. 

    We used it today with the 4th-grade boys to accompany Chapter Eight of Story of the World: Early Modern, which contains a too-exhausting-to-remember survey of the history leading up to the Ottoman Empire.  The animation worked a lot better.


  • Weekend improvement.

    (I guess if I'm going to post, I need to settle for shorter posts.)

    Some time ago, Mary Jane informed us:  "If the new baby is a brother, we will throw him in the trash can, and Daddy will have to take care of him."  

    Now I have been through this sort of thing before.  Oscar used to say when I was expecting Milo:   "We will put the new baby in the pot, and stir, and burn the baby!"  So I am not, shall we say, worried about it.  

    But after we learned that the new baby is indeed male, or at least looks that way on the ultrasound, I did do a little bit of coaxing about baby boys, and yet MJ remained unmoved.  Nope.  Baby boy = in the trash, Daddy = primary caregiver.  

    However, a week ago MJ and I flew out West to visit friend and commenter Christy P, who happens to have a daughter "Z" the same age as MJ — and a new baby son, whom I assume I can call, James-Bond like, "Q." (The last time I went out to visit her, we were both pregnant with the girls.)  

    It was an interesting weekend.  We learned, for example, that not only can you fit 3 kids in the back of a Prius (that's one rear-facing carseat, one front-facing carseat, and one booster), you can in fact fit — in the back of that same Prius—3 kids PLUS one nearly-6-months-pregnant 35-year-old, crouching in the backseat behind the passenger seat clutching her screaming daughter's legs to keep her from kicking the baby, and calmly (under the circumstances) requesting that the driver drive, um, carefully.  

    (An impressive amount of legroom, the Prius has.  I'm just saying.)

    Also that the best thing to do with two three-year-olds sentenced to spend lots of time together over the course of three days is to take them outside.  Park, zoo, whatever:  It's all good.  Mr. Rogers also made a welcome appearance.

    But since I have gotten back I have also discovered something else very pleasant.  I think MJ was very taken with little Q, who is 3 months old and placid and wide-eyed and chubby, and also with Z's big-sisterly attitude toward Q.   She has been describing our trip as "I went on an airplane to visit Z and Q."   And since we have been back, she has been telling people rather proudly, "My baby is going to be a brother too." 

    She has for a long time referred to Oscar and Milo as "her boys:"  – "I'm going to go up to bed with my boys now and read stories."  "I'm going downstairs to watch a movie with my boys."  Maybe #4 will become one of her boys now, or maybe — being younger — he will occupy a wholly new spot in the family ecosystem.  Either way, I think she has come to some kind of acceptance.  Nice to see.