May 1st, 2009
Swine Flu Advisory - What Not to Do

Amidst the anxiety and media hysteria about the swine flu, I appreciated finding this in my inbox the other day, a much welcome antidote to the fear and uncertainty.

Amidst the anxiety and media hysteria about the swine flu, I appreciated finding this in my inbox the other day, a much welcome antidote to the fear and uncertainty.
So if the dude is going to watch television, at least I’d like it to be quality programming. In trying to figure out what this might include, I’ve been thinking about the programs I really liked as a kid, many of which have been released on DVD for parents of a certain age to share their nostalgic love with their kids. And I’m thinking that Schoolhouse Rock is definitely on that list.
This has nothing to do with psychology or motherhood, but here are some blogs that make me chuckle which, as a psychologist and a mother, is a valuable quality indeed:
They have that “it’s so funny ’cause it’s true!” quality. And then there’s this one…
… I’m not sure if it is mockery or appreciation, or maybe a bit of both. And now I’m one of those ironically funny people! I wonder what kind of unintentionally funny emails I’ll be sending my little dude in 18 years when he is a big dude. It also reminds me of how the caricatures of mothers and therapists in pop culture is often of a similar flavor; we love them, we need them, and hate how much we love and need them, but that’s a posting for another day.
No one makes fun of shrinks and of psychotherapy like the New Yorker; from The New Yorker Book of Doctor Cartoons.
As someone who does not live where she grew up, I thought this post from Offsprung was a good snippet about regional variation in language and a small taste of the issues that arise when one’s children are raised in a different part of the country than their parents. My explanation is actually a lot more serious sounding than the post itself. I especially love the map they linked to.
This Yankee vs. Dixie quiz is pretty cool too.
I really dig these shirts, they crack me up. This one in particular taps in to the paranoia I sometimes become the recipient of when I tell people what I do for a living. And no, I’m not diagnosing you. My response is usually, “are you paying me?” Is that harsh?