Showing posts with label children's books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children's books. Show all posts

Babies Are Probably A Nuisance

Wednesday, June 15, 2011 | |



Awhile back, I read this book. A lot of people read it, actually. I'm not going to lie, most people read it because of its name. And I'm not going to lie, it drew me in, too.

But anybody can write a book with a clever name. And a great many people could write a great book with a clever name.

But for people to deny this book its accolades because of a minor gripe they have with it is absurdist thinking. The art in this book is beautiful. I'm not going to spoil it and post a bunch of pictures, so you get just the one (and that is a crop, too, that is a small part of a two-page spread. You should buy this book to see the rest. It may not be the best to read to your child, but you can always read it to your significant other if the night is going as planned. It should brighten things up a tad.

Or you could give it as a gift to a newly preggers person with a sense of humor. Despite what you may read, I don't think this is a book for hipsters; I think it's a book for everyone. Well, everyone who has had, or is having, kids.

If all else fails, you could listen to the one and only Samuel L. Jackson narrate it:

I Don't Eat Mashed Potatoes, And That Ain't No Crime

Wednesday, December 1, 2010 | |

A bowl of mashed potatoes
That's right, I said it. I don't like mashed potatoes. I don't like them baked either. The only potato I like is fried in the form of french fries or potato chips (preferably homemade, yum. Guess what else, I don't like corn, either. A crime, for sure, but the fact is, it's not just that I don't like these (and basically every other food), I really don't like them. And this, as you can imagine, has been quite problematic for me.

I am a picky eater, as you might call me. Quite picky. I love dairy. Milk, eggs, egg nog, butter, ice cream, sour cream, yogurt, cheese, and Greek yogurt are all delicious; dairy is, and has been, a staple of my diet for probably most of my twenty five years. I like bread, hamburgers, meatballs, pasta sauce (so long as it isn't chunky). I often say I like fruits, but really I like strawberries. I can eat about three of them before I am attacked by the monster that is tart. When sliced and left to fester in sugar, I can eat a small bowl's worth. Aside from that, I don't really eat fruit. I can eat part of an apple, some kiwifruit and not a single vegetable.That's right, I don't eat vegetables and I never have.

I can't tell you how many hours I've sat at the table just waiting because "you can't leave the table until you finish everything on your plate!" My problem started at birth. I didn't eat baby food. I didn't eat as a toddler, an adolescent, and my situation has improved only marginally at best since entering adulthood.

Click on the picture to buy the book and help me out! (It's $6.99)
Growing up, we all have those children's books that we remember, the ones that mean something to us; the one that I remember is Gregory, the Terrible Eater. Or, as my mom read it to me Dennis the Terrible Eater. I guess I was born a pain in the ass and I stayed that way.

You might know a picky eater or two, maybe you give them a hard time for it. After all, how hard is it to just try something? Why so stubborn? It turns out, trying things might be harder than you'd think. Consider how a picky eater would feel going out to a party or dinner. Imagine going out and wondering if you'll end up at that Pad Thai restaurant, and the mere thought of Pad Thai disgusts you. I suspect that would make you a little uncomfortable: that is me.

It turns out, picky eating may be an eating disorder and that makes a lot of sense. According to LiveScience:
Researchers think Krause could be one of thousands suffering from a previously unrecognized illness:selective eating disorder, more commonly known as very picky eating. Instead of having a couple foods they'd rather avoid, the way most of us do, people with selective eating disorder feel there are very few foods they are even capable of eating.
This is me! This is me!

Krause likes peanut butter, crackers, grilled cheese sandwiches, chocolate milk and little else. More adventurous meals look like "a plate of barf," he told LiveScience.
"If I could snap my fingers and change, I would," he said, explaining his pickiness helped ruin two marriages, limited his career options and makes most social occasions sources of stress.
I completely understand where Mr. Krause is coming from here. Most foods don't just look gross so I avoid them, no, foods are completely unappetizing. They look...like barf, have nauseating textures, and tastes that demand I never subject my mouth and palate to such a thing ever again. And if I could simple "snap my fingers" to be "normal" I would. I like how food smells. I like making food, the process of it all is exciting and all kinds of wonderful. I simply can't eat any of it though.

"People who are picky aren't doing this just to be stubborn," said eating researcher Nancy Zucker of Duke University, explaining that extremely picky eaters experience food differently than the rest of us.
Zucker, who is also the director of the Duke Center for Eating Disorders, first became interested in selective eating, because adult picky eaters were walking in, looking for help. Their eating behavior was getting in the way of their job or social life, or they were worried about being bad role models for their kids, she said.
I think this is one of the points most people don't try to understand. Who would subject themselves to this on their own? If eating foods and liking them were a choice, wouldn't I take the easy way out and eat them? It's kind of like being gay; people are born that way. Most people, myself included, are inclined to go about things in the easiest manner possible. When two roads diverge in a yellow wood, we generally, against Robert Frost's advice, take the road oft traveled.

This is us. We're a lazy people, and that's okay.
Why climb a wall when there's a very nicely manicured path that leads around said wall, right?  Well, for some of us, there are no paths, just a wall, a really, really, realllly tall one at that. And I am certainly no champion wall/rock climber, nor do I expect others to be.
Most people with this disorder are highly embarrassed by their limited food repertoire and will go to great lengths to keep it hidden, either by avoiding social events that involve food or drinks (which ones don't?), or by making up excuses to avoid eating, such as fibbing about an upset belly.
Might I suggest, "Oh, I'm not really hungry, I just ate." Of course this doesn't work though, because our bellies belie this untruth, for when hungry, our bellies grumble. Plus, when people host gatherings they expect people to show up hungry; it's kind of rude to eat beforehand. But what choice do picky eaters have? I see two choices: eat beforehand and be rude or don't eat and go hungry. And let's face it, not eating is kind of already rude, which is why most stay home.

Selective eaters tend to like similar foods, with an emphasis on the bland and processed. They love salt. French fries are a favorite. Bacon is the only meat many of them will eat. Fruit, vegetables and alcohol are snubbed for the most part — with light beer and raw carrots being possible exceptions.
Could they be supertasters? That is, people who, because of their genetic makeup, taste certain flavors more acutely than average tasters?
This sounds about right; my food group seems to be dairy and to some extent breads and sauce. The second paragraph is particularly interesting considering in more complex foods there seems to be specific tastes that both me. It happens a lot, and most people have never believed me. Most of the foods I like are simple, because the more flavors that are added, the more opportunity to ruin something I might actually eat.

So keep in mind, picky eaters aren't setting out to be bastards, and you can't fix us. Just let us be and,  maybe, try to be a little more accommodating; we'll thank you for it.

Where The Wild Things Are

Friday, November 19, 2010 | |

Everyone dabbles...


I like children's books. I may not have the affinity for them that a certain other person does, but, to be honest, I've always loved them. I may not read them every day, or think about them all that much, but I like them. I cannot imagine writing (or illustrating) one myself. They are incredibly simple at face value but beyond the simplicity of the words and rhymes directed at children are messages far more profound. I don't know if this is for the parents or if these deeper messages are meant to sink in for the children who are merely given these books for their educational purpose (what kid learns with War And Peace, right?). I suspect that children know what they're reading; perhaps children aren't given enough credit.
Where The Wild Things Are
Max (Click to see larger)

I drew this first picture the other day. For some reason I decided to draw Max from Where The Wild Things Are. I don't know why. Maybe because Max is troublesome, or a rebel, or because of a certain cat, but it is likely because my brain meanders constantly and at that precise moment it thought Where The Wild Things Are.

I don't have a deep connection with this book. I like it (also, the movie is good). I don't recall reading it all the time or anything. I do remember it though. I like that it's not your typical children's book; it's darker than many are. But the story is relateable, is it not?


Where The Wild Things Are
Monster #1 (Click to view larger)

Next, I decided to draw the rest of the characters. I figured, while I am at it, I may as well do the rest of the characters. Truth be told, I haven't started one of the characters yet (the girl with the long, straight hair). But I started with who I can only assume is the leader of the monsters Max finds. I like the way he looks. My drawing actually turned out fairly well. I have since drawn a new one with colored pencils, which looks pretty decent but I don't have a photo of it yet.

Where The Wild Things Are
Goat Monster? (Click to view larger)

As I made my way through the cast, I next arrived at this goat like fellow. He seems angry, but I don't know why. Maybe he wants to be in charge sometimes, maybe he is tired of having to take orders from the other monsters. Maybe he reflects Max's struggles with his mother, which subsequently get resolved in the end. I don't know, but he is angry and he really shouldn't be. Sure, he's kind of alone. He only has three other monsters on the island to keep him company; perhaps he needs more. Some people do, after all, need more companionship than that. Maybe he needs to be surrounded by creatures to be comfortable. Then again, maybe three is the perfect number and once Max showed up, his entire foundation crumbled; not to mention Max immediately becomes their king, so maybe the monster has a lack of trust there.

Where The Wild Things Are
Bird Monster (Click to view larger)


Next in line is the bird. I was looking forward to the bird, to be honest, but it proved to be somewhat of a pain. I found it difficult to find a good source image so I could see what the bird actually looks like. All in all, I am fairly happy. He is not perfect, but then again who or what is? The fur and stuff isn't bad. Oh well, I'm pleased.

Max - Where The Wild Things Are Painting
King of the Wild Things (Click to enlarge)


For some reason I ended up painting Max. It's loosely based on the drawing from the first card. This is an 8x10 canvas board. Krissy likes it a lot, but she likes everything. I like it. As a whole, I'm happy with the painting but there are definitely parts I feel could be improved if I knew how to paint, but I'm kind of a perfectionist, so if I knew how to paint I can only imagine how I'd tear it apart. I didn't add the bush's shadows until the end, and I feel like it brought the painting up a level. It's kind of neat how small things can have such an impact sometimes.