It's about time for another installment of the most tasteless and sophomoric of recurring DadLabs episodes: the Wikipoopia.  In case you have never caught an episode of Wikipoopia, here is the bit:  we recreate what you are finding in your child's diaper using only the ingredients found at a nearby big-box.  So your challenge; come up with a name and a "recipe."  Totally gross and immature, we know.  We live it every day.  Poop it up, people!

If we choose your "entry" then you'll get a fabulous prize from the schwag room. 

Every family has its orthodoxies, large and small, assumed and shared values that undergird the household.  One of these for us: sports are good for kids, especially girls.  Both my wife and I were college athletes.  We think that Title IX is one of the glories of American civilization for what is has done for women's athletics, and for a generation of women and girls.

We have gently guided out six-year-old girl away from Hannah Montana and toward Mia Hamm.  When she expressed a preference for basketball over dance, we were quietly satisfied.  My wife has been very overt that cheerleading is forbidden.  We both wept our way through In These Girls Hope is a Muscle.  As teachers we have watched literally thousands of girls, over fifteen years in the classroom, benefit in the areas of self-esteem, confidence, and body-image as a result of participation in athletics.

And there have been plenty of studies that show sports help girl delay sexual activity, avoid drugs and alcohol, reduce eating disorders, and serve them well in their careers.

I sincerely hope, and if pushed would probably insist, that my daughter will participate in sports.  Orthodoxy.

The fun starts when information emerges that, as a parent, really forces you to question your assumptions.  Michael Sokolove's article "The Uneven Playing Field" in this weekend's New York Times Magazine was a gobsmacker for me.  I kept shaking my head as I read page after page of his description and analysis of the epidemic of injuries plaguing high school and college age female athletes.

I won't summarize the article because if you have female children you will read it this instant without hesitation or objection.  You must read it now.

The frequency of injury statistics (the article focuses on ACL injuries, but the news on concussions is equally bad) had me putting down the magazine to ponder.  Five times more frequent?  Times five! Orthodoxies are not easily shed, so I needed confirmation.  The director of a girl's soccer club is a close friend.  Over breakfast I asked him how many ACL injuries he had in the past season.

"Two."

"Really, that's not bad, just two in the whole club."

"Oh, the whole club?  I thought you meant my team.  Twelve."

One club.  One season.  A dozen girls with ruptured ACLs.  It quite literally took my breath away.

In the article, club sports and specialization predictably come under heavy shelling, but as hard as Sokolove tries not to say it, the underlying message here is that any intense team sport puts girls at a very high risk of serious injury.  Parents seemingly get a bye as the article characterizes girls submersed in a warrior culture insisting that they be allowed to push themselves beyond the limit.

My wife and I are not alone in our orthodoxy.  Belief in girl's sports has become conventional wisdom backed up with the power of political correctness.  To assert that competitive athletics may be hurting our girls is a tough one to make, and an even tougher one to swallow.  This is a particularly personal issue for me, as my leg is pinstriped and crisscrossed with long scars from ACL reconstruction attempts performed before orthroscopes came into use.  Jogging is out of the question.  A knee replacement is in my future; it's just a matter of when.

So I told my son that football was off limits.  Does that mean by extension that I should be turning the Hannah Montana back on?  Talking up fashion? (Dance and cheerleading are certainly no safer.)

The article did offer some hope.  Some sports medicine wonks believe that improving core strength (training these girls harder?) will reduce injuries, though the jury is out large study-wise.  I certainly hope that this is true, because I simply do not want to be in the position to decide that despite the huge and permanent risks to my daughter, that sports are still worth it.

Come on down tomorrow, Tuesday, May 13th from 4-7PM at Freddie's Place (1703 South 1st between Monroe and Annie) for another taping of "The Lounge."  Freddie's is a new location for the taping, and we're really excited because the place is so damn family friendly we can't stand it.  There is a great playscape, and our taping will be happening on kid movie night at Freddie's.  This week "Bee Movie" will be showing.

So you can ship the kid off to sit in front of the big screen, grab yourself one of their potent and tasty margaritas, maybe order up a atasty burger, then sit down with us for a little chat.  For those of you taking your turn in the hot seat, we'll be talking about charity/volunteering/giving back, game nights, kid movies, and, of course, sex.

So come take your turn in the hot seat, share your opinions of things parental, and get your snack on.  Hope to see you there. 

I suspect that there are a number of Americans that would rather buy a new car than a new set of tires.  Buying tires may be the most arcane, arbitrary, and opaque of all major purchases in the American consumerist universe.  What is worse than buying tires?  Dentistry?  Is there anything that involves more secret codes, more rating systems, more shibboleths and buzzwords that getting a set of radials for the minivan?  International arbitrage is a cinch by comparison.

The reason I have to buy new tires is that I pay off my minivan in two weeks.  That’s just how it works.  Pay off the note after five years, then immediately get slammed with new tires, bad oxygen sensor, need for transmission fluid change and oil change.  At least a grand, all told.  Could I please just keep paying for the car a little longer instead?  You can keep the title.

I could just go to Costco and be done with it.  Just take what tires I get.  But I refuse to be bested by this thing.  It’s the information age.  So I crank up the Google machine and:

1) Consult How Things Work to learn about tires and all those numbers
2) Go to Consumer reports to figure out what tires they rate the highest
3) Go to Costco.com to learn that my 2003 Mazda MPV has exotic tires that they don’t carry (same with Walmart)
4) Consult NTB, Discount Tire, Goodyear, and Firestone
5) Get really depressed

Because it turns out that, in addition to being difficult to understand and evaluate, tires are incredibly expensive.  This may have to do with the price of oil, or may be a function of the system described above.  My initial study leads me to believe that if I want to replace my tires with anything like the original Dunlops, I’m in for a bill from $800-$900.

Now, I could go cheap.  There is a rubber ocean out there.  The problem with this is that Consumer reports only rates expensive tires.  If I want something off brand, or cheaper, then it’s up to me to understand the interlocking rating systems (H vs T speed rated, Uniform Tire Quality Grading, whatever).  The prospect of being defenseless and information-free in the face of a tire salesman makes me queasy. And even cheap tires are going to be $450, installed.

And then I think of my kids.  Do I really want cheap tires?  Isn’t this a fairly important component?  Braking, wet performance, where the rubber meets the road, etc.  I finally decide. I want Goodyear Triple Treads. I call the Goodyear guy and get quoted $875 installed.  I decide I do not want Goodyear Triple Treads.  I want Michelin Hydroedges.

At this point I decide that all the big chains are trying to price gouge me and I resolve to go local.  I search all the local search sites. One shop rise above all the rest, with consumer raves all over the web -- a father/son spot.  I resolve to go local.  I call.  I get the son.  I tell him Michelin Hydroedge.  He laughs.

“On a minivan?  On some crappy minivan?  You, really...Dude, if I was you, I would slap some cheap-ass Toyos on that an be done.  It’s a minivan, right?  Who cares?  Like you need good tires on a minivan.”  And on like that.  But if I really want those Michelins, $800 out the door.

Let me be perfectly clear: I love my minivan.  I think my minivan rocks.  The “it’s only a minivan” argument doesn’t really work so well with me.  So I ditch my “buy local” thing, go back to the internet, spend about a hundred hours researching tires, stores, prices.  Finally, finally, I settle on a discount tire warehouse.  Time spent obsessing and researching: 12 hours.

The following day, I’m picking up some party supplies at Costco.  On a lark, I stop in the tire dept. Turns out they special order. Turns out their price if $50 cheaper, and I get a $60 cash card.  Turns out that spending hours of research and thinking you can out smart the system and running all over town does not necessarily mean a great return.

But I do speak P215/60R17 95H.

And I’ll never forget it.

We’ve always liked the folks over at iParenting Media.  They gave our first DVD “Due Dads, The Man’s Survival Guide to Pregnancy” one of their awards.  But now that have really shown that they have impeccable taste.  They have chosen our own Daddy Brad as their Father of the Month for May (the Mother of the Month is Rikki Lake).  The accompanying article is very nice, but are they really talking about our Brad?  Like Brad Powell?

A nice honor for a genuinely great dad.  Congrats, Daddy Brad!