While the number of women with kids is in decline–having a rather obvious correlative effect on birth rates–there is apparently a “bright spot” out there for those of you who think that extending the glorious rein of human beings on this earth is a good idea: single men having babies. They usually need a little help with this process, either enlisting a surrogate or adopting–in both cases, requiring a woman–but they’re raising the motherless packets of joy on their own. And once they develop their daddy-legs, it seems most of them aren’t particularly interested in coupling up and sharing the task. Like with most other things–TV remotes, masturbating, cooking–guys prefer to have complete control. Some of these #1 dads are gay, some are straight, and some are…Ricky Martin, who’s having twins via gestational outsourcing, so this drive is not just confined to one sexual community. The most successful (parent-wise) among them–as with all other parents–are those who are willing to enlist help from friends, family members, and paid employees, allowing them to gain perspective, maintain their Fantasy Football League commitments, and generally burst out of their Parenting Bubbles.
As you know, the Gay Uncle doesn’t personally believe in reproducing: unless you’ve figured out how to build a baby with gills, radiation resistance, and integrated UV blockers. (While he believes strongly in HOPE during this election cycle, he’s a bit more cynical about the longer-term future.) But he totally supports those of you who are more optimistic, vain, or in need of something cute and cuddly (and cry-y) around the house. So if you’re one of these partnerless partriarchs, and you’ve gone ahead and paid the $100,000 it costs to plant your seed in a suitable carrier, you can certainly afford to spend another $13.95 to pick up a copy of his book, so when Junior is born, at least you won’t totally ruin the little darling.
The Gay Uncle went to visit a friend this weekend at the house she’d recently bought upstate. Since he’d last seen her, she’d had one baby boy, and managed to get herself pregnant with another. She and her hubby seem to be doing a great job with the kid–he’s chatty and sweet, and more importantly, doesn’t seem to need constant adult input in order to enjoy himself. But they seem to be struggling (like many folks) on the parent-friend front. The other moms and dads they meet these days are all INSANE. This didn’t exactly surprise Gunc. (Have you read his book?) What did surprise him was his friend’s illustrative story. They recently hosted a party for their son’s first birthday and, as with most parties, there were a bunch of people there, some of whom knew each other, and some who didn’t, but all of whom were connected through the host. The day after the celebration, a mommy-pal emailed the hosts. Her tone immediately went from zero to irate. “It came to my attention during the birthday event that some of your guests recognized my daughter, apparently from photos you posted on your Flickr page. How dare you exploit my child, and put her at risk like this! I need you to remove those pictures right away, and desist from adding any others. If you want to put your son in danger, that’s your business, but my family won’t be party to this practice.” Now the G.U. understands kids’ right to privacy, but recognizing the children of your peers’ pals at a birthday isn’t exactly tantamount to endangerment; that’s called “being friendly”. Studies have shown conclusively that the danger of on-line predators is grossly exaggerated by the media, with some explorations even stating that the numbers of actual examples are too small to draw any useful conclusions about incidence. Kids are at a monumentally greater risk getting in a car, being left with relatives, living near a pool, or being entrusted in the care of their parents (four kids a day in the U.S. die from parental abuse and neglect.) So, parents: relax. Also, when something does freak you out: check yourselves and your tone. If you’re not sure whether you’re going off half-cocked, feel free to send your draft email to the Gay Uncle first. He’s happy to let you know if you sound like a demented wacko. (Hint: you probably do.)
The Gay Uncle is angry about so many things right now, most of them having to do with the Republicans and their vile Hate-Fest in the Mid-West. (Favorite moment: the “spontaneous” chant in response to Rudy Ghoul-iani’s invocation of the need to tap oil reserves in protected regions: Drill Baby Drill! Drill Baby Drill! Are these people out of their fucking minds, or what?) But one thing he’s decidedly NOT angry about is a little song his nine year-old niece Amber made up. It goes like this:
Do yourself a favor and check out this week’s 
The Gay Uncle is burning up, and it’s not simply the fact that he’s in Austin, Texas where it’s 98 degrees at 11:00 at night. He just discovered that the Mayor of his fair city has snuck a pilot program into the upcoming school-year plan allowing standardized tests to be given to kindergarten kids. He’s all for useful measurement being completed–after all, he spends a good portion of his professional life helping people like PBS make sure that their programming actually teaches kids what it claims to. But there’s a huge difference between a optional, one-off, research project intended to help a quality educational program receive federal funding; and a systematic, citywide, requisite battery of testing for five year-olds, which will be used to force them into ability tracks, and punish their schools and teachers. Wasn’t it the Eighth Amendment to the Constitution that outlawed cruel and unusual punishment (or is that another one of the ones that the Bush Administration did away with in the past few years?) Once again the G.U. repeats his mantra: young kids should be allowed to be kids. That means, early childhood education should be dedicated to open-ended materials, play, and exposure to literacy materials–not multiple choice assessment. He thinks that any funds for this kind of testing would be much better spent expanding the promise of providing UNIVERSAL PRE-K–a promise which has yet to be fulfilled, forty-plus years after it was initiated with Head Start–and which has been scientifically proven to be one of the most important factors differentiating kids who succeed in school from those that struggle. Oooh. Things like this really make the Gay Uncle ANGRY.
Gunc has a new piece up on Babble, the magazine for smart and interesting parents. If you fit into those category descriptors, you may want to check it out. It’s called “Pinocchio Parenting” and it’s all about how and how not to lie to your kids. 
The Gay Uncle attended a barbecue at a friend’s place upstate the other day, and was joined by a few other friends, including a couple with two small kids. Also in attendance was the host’s puppy. The sun shone, the vegetarian-options were bountiful, and there was plenty of beer, so the G.U. was very happy. Wally (the dog) and Abraham (the two year-old) were happy as well, as they share a fascination with sticks, of which there were a plethora on the host’s wooded lawn. Unfortunately, they seemed to share a fascination with exactly the same sticks: a foot and a half long, four inches around, stripped of bark. Also unfortunate, was the fact that the dog seemed to like the sticks just a bit more…bitingly than the little boy. Both young animals attempted to communicate their desires to the other–Abe by waving his stick around in the air and shouting; Wally by licking Abe’s arm salaciously, jumping up toward his stick’s high end, grabbing it in his mouth, and attempting to play the game of fetch he assumed was being initiated. Much whimpering, running, and shouting (barking) ensued on both ends, with each party attempting to make the most of their limited brain energy and communicative skills. “He thinks you’re playing,” one grown up explained to the boy. “I am playing,” Abe responded (just not the same game, or with the dog.) In the end, it became clear that it was impossible for these puppies to dialogue, and Wally was put inside for a time out. After a few moments of uninterrupted play with his stick, Abraham looked up, bewildered. “Where’d the doggie go?”
Check out the Gay Uncle’s excellent advice for how (and how not) to get on your child’s teacher’s good side. 