When it comes to parenting questions or decisions, I research everything ad nauseam. The search history on the Google app on my iPhone is full of things like, “mercury levels in fish and toddlers,” “2-month-old sleeping schedule,” and “how to brush my child’s teeth without having to put him in a headlock.”

I own books on breastfeeding, on gentle discipline, on the Montessori education method. I ask my mom her opinions on how to stop bedwetting and encourage vegetable eating. And I compare notes with other mothers more often than I’d like to admit. Basically, I’m constantly trying to assemble a mental child-rearing manual that’s tailored specifically to my family. However, there’s one decision I made recently without one bit of prior thought or research: I decided that my kids would share a bedroom.

Earlier this year, the Charlotte Observer had to disable the comments on its story about the first baby of 2012, a boy of Latino descent, because of their racist and hateful nature. Just this week, three Mecklenburg County commissioners presented a proposal that would count the number of undocumented students who attend CMS so that the county can, as Bill James put it, “send a bill to the Mexican government for the education of their young.” Luckily, the commissioners’ motion was struck down. But I have to tell you — as the mother of two Latino children in Charlotte, I am disturbed by the sentiment some in our community seem to have toward my kids.

• Radok
• Bill James: This man and his cronies — Jim Pendergraph and Karen Bentley — hate our children.

That article about the first baby of 2012? It didn’t mention anybody’s immigration status once. (Well, I take that back, I guess you can argue that immigration status could have been implied when the article stated that the baby was BORN IN THE UNITED STATES, which would make him — yes, that’s right — an AMERICAN CITIZEN!) It was the mere fact that the child had a Latin last name and that his grandfather called from Mexico City to offer his congratulations that led to the inappropriate and hateful comments against immigrants. They can’t fool me; those comments had nothing to do with legal immigration and everything to do with bigotry and fear.

Luki and I were watching the Olympics the other day when the news about the Sikh temple shooting came on the TV. I immediately gasped, in part because of the horrific violence, but also because I couldn’t believe I was watching footage about a mass shooting again. Luki, whom I keep forgetting is an actual, perceptive, inquisitive, human person and no longer a baby, asked me what had happened. “Um, nothing, um, just that some people got hurt,” I answered and changed the channel. “Look! It’s Dora.”

I felt awkward, embarrassed, the way parents are generally portrayed when talking to teenagers about sex. Except, I think that talking to my kids about sex is going to be a lot easier than talking to them about violence. I’ve got my sex speech prepared: Sex is a wonderful thing you should share with someone you love and are committed to. It’s a big decision that can have major consequences. Make sure you’re safe. Violence, on the other hand, is much more complicated. And I think the fact that adults carry guns and use them to take others’ lives is a much dirtier, shameful truth to have to explain to my sons than that we occasionally get naked and have intercourse.

I’ve tried hard to keep violence out of Luki’s life. We don’t own any weapons, real or make-believe. He doesn’t watch any violent television. And whenever we get to the end of Little Red Riding Hood, the wolf gets put in “time out” by the hunters, not shot. Still, I can’t control the games his friends play at preschool or the scenes he sees in movies, even when they’re rated G. And I certainly can’t control the news.

It’s funny how things change. Four years ago, during the last Olympics, I kept looking up the athlete’s ages and whenever I found someone older than me — I was 24 at the time — I’d feel a silly smidgen of hope. It wasn’t too late for me! I could still be an Olympian! The fact that I have absolutely no athletic ability was just a minor detail.

This time around, I’ve been doing a different kind of math. According to the always reliable Yahoo! Answers, you must be at least 16 years old on an Olympic year to compete, that means that both, Luki and Pau can go to the 2028 games. Now it’s just a matter of figuring out which sport they’ll be winning gold in.

• Pau showing off his swimmer's bod / Luki perfecting his fencing skills

This is my first time watching the Olympics as a mother, so I’ve been paying close attention to the footage of the athlete’s parents and it’s got me thinking: How much of a role has their parenting style played in getting their kids there?

I know that these kids’ folks have made tremendous sacrifices. The countless hours watching their children compete, the money spent on their training and equipment, the driving back and forth to different gyms and tournaments have all, undoubtedly, contributed to their offspring’s success. But, what about what they say to their kids? How they treat them? It takes a whole lot of confidence to be 16 years old, do a back flip off a balance beam in front of the whole world, and stick the landing. How have these parents instilled that kind of confidence? Are they responsible for planting the seed of competition in their children? Do they actually tell their kids that they are the best so that they can go out and be the best?

You know that expression, “unless you’ve been living under a rock... ”? I feel like it could easily be substituted by, “unless you’ve been living with a newborn” and mean the exact same thing. Seriously, some days I don’t even step out unto my front porch. I’m not much of a TV watcher and haven’t quite mastered the art of nursing while surfing the Web, so I’m pretty clueless when it comes to current events. I say this to say, don’t invite me to your next party ... all I’ll talk about is poop.

The other day, however, I showered(!) and left the house to run a few quick errands. While driving, I caught the tail end of a story on NPR about Marissa Mayer, Yahoo!’s new CEO. The radio host said something like, “So, in a way, the pregnancy is the least of her problems...” On the way back from my outing I, again, heard a different radio host mention that Yahoo! had a new, pregnant CEO. At this point, I checked my radio dial to make sure I was indeed listening to National Public Radio and not one of the gossip stations. Maybe Tony had messed with my car radio since Pau was born? Nope, that was All Things Considered alright.

Why was this woman’s pregnancy national news? Why was the host assuming that the pregnancy would be a “problem”? And would we even be having this discussion if the new CEO was an expectant dad?

This warranted some googling (sorry, Marissa!).