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PARENT: Why are you fighting?
KID #1: He started it.
KID #2: He pushed me first.
KID #1: I did not. He pushed me first.
KID #2: Did not.
KID #1: Did, too.
KID #2: Did not.
KID #1: Did, too.
KID #2: Liar.
KID #1: Butthead.
PARENT: Stop. What happened?
KID #1: I was playing downstairs.
KID #2: With my toys.
KID #1: They’re not your toys. They’re my toys.
KID #2: No they’re not.
KID #1: You gave them to me for my birthday.
KID #2: That’s right: I gave them to you, so they’re mine.
KID #1: That’s not fair. He can’t do that… can he?
PARENT: No, he can’t do that. When I was a kid and somebody did that, we called them an Indi… er… uh…
KID #2: A what?
PARENT: Oops.
KID #1: What’s an “Indi… er …uh?”
PARENT: Forget it.
KID #1: Why?
PARENT: I misspoke. Just forget what I said and go back downstairs and play.
KID #1: We can’t.
PARENT: Why?
KID #1: Because he’s being a – what did you call it? An “Indi… er… uh?
KID #2: I’m not an “Indi… er… uh,” you’re an “Indi… er… uh.”
PARENT: Let’s stop this right now.
KID #1: “Indi… er… uh.”
KID #2: “Indi… er… uh.”
PARENT: Enough! Look… I said something I shouldn’t have, okay? So just forget it. What I said was wrong, so don’t say it.
KID #2: Why? If you called kids “Indi… er… uh” why can’t we?
PARENT: We didn’t call kids an “Indi… er… uh,” we… um… we said something else that’s probably offensive now, but I… uh… I can’t remember what it is, so what I need you to do is play nice or you’re both going to be sent to your rooms for the rest of the day. Understood?
KID #2: Yes.
KID #1: Fine.
15 minutes later
KID #1: That’s mine.
KID #2: Is not.
KID #1: Is too.
KID #2: Is not.
KID #1: You can’t take it back like that.
KID #2: Can too.
KID #1: Mom, he’s being an “Indi… er… uh!”
When characters in cartoons get angry, smoke comes out of their ears, their heads explode or they undergo instantaneous genetic mutations that turn them into aliens, gigantic, green-skinned freaks, uncontrollable ninja-war- riors, ghost-demons, magical giants, etc.
While young kids believe this kind of thing is possible in real life, older kids eventually learn it’s not.
Or is it?
As bad as it can be for a parent to have a massive, screaming, meltdown – something that happens to everyone eventually, thanks to too little sleep, too much caffeine and a child with bad timing – allowing your offspring to glimpse “the monster inside you” can ultimately be good, because if you play it right they’ll wonder if maybe, just maybe, you might turn into some kind of mutant humanoid if they really, really piss you off.
All you have to do – and this is probably harder than it seems – is let your rage build almost to the breaking-point but then suddenly stop, turn, and walk briskly to the kitchen, hall closet, laundry room, etc. and grab the unlabelled bottle of vodka you keep hidden in there “just in case.” Pour yourself a shot, and then just before you knock it back, check to make sure your kids are close enough to “accidentally” overhear you as you say something like “That was close. Too close. I was able to stop the transformation this time, thanks to the antidote, but if something like that happens again, who knows. When the kids are older I’ll tell them the truth, but for now, it’s got to be my secret.”
If you’re lucky, the next time they decide to have an indoor water fight or shave the dog, they’ll maybe – just maybe – think twice.
(Although probably not.)
WIFE: Never mind.
HUSBAND: What?
WIFE: Forget it. It’s not important.
HUSBAND: What’s not important?
WIFE: Nothing.
HUSBAND: Now you’re confusing me: how can I forget about the “nothing” that’s not important if I don’t know what it is?
WIFE: I don’t want to talk about it.
HUSBAND: Then why did you bring it up?
WIFE: Because right after I did I saw our entire argument play out in my head.
HUSBAND: And?
WIFE: You won.
HUSBAND: YES!
WIFE: And then you reacted the same way you’re reacting now: like you couldn’t care less what the argument was all about as long as you won.
- Rain.
- Zippers.
- Things that won’t fit in suitcases.
- Politicians
- Scotch tape.
- The person in front of you at Starbucks who can’t decide between a mocha frappuccino and a cinnamon dolce latte.
- A computer – because even though it seems like it knows when you’re having a bad day and chooses that exact moment to crash, it’s just a glorified toaster. (Why doesn’t somebody develop some kind of curse-recognition software to replace online help? – i.e. the way you say “Damn it!” determines what kind of help you get.)
- Traffic.
- Stop lights.
- Delivery vehicles that double-park.
- Tire jacks.
- Bus drivers – aside from the fact that they’re encased in a sound-proof – and seemingly sight-proof – cocoon, they don’t care.
- Maps.
- Speed bumps.
- Street signs.
- Stairs (both the invisible one at the top of the landing and the non-existent one at the bottom).
- Pants that won’t button.
- Toys that get left in the driveway.
- Rakes.
- Pets (especially hamsters, who are too stupid to understand, dogs, who get their feelings hurt and cats, who get revenge).
- TV remotes.
- Automated telephone helplines – the only thing that happens is you get stuck in a loop where you say “Screw you!” and the computer says “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Could you repeat that please?” and no matter how angry you are you can’t outlast the computer, so you’re the only one who suffers.
- God (even if you sometimes feel justified).
- People on TV.
- Coaches, refs and players on Monday Night Football.
- Little League Umpires.
- The cable guy.
- Anyone who messes up your order at the drive-thru.
- Anyone in customer service.
- Anyone with a name tag that says “Asst. Manager.”
- Tour guides.
- A fetus that won’t stop kicking in the middle of the night.
- A spouse that won’t stop kicking in the middle of the night.
- The Post Office.
- The DMV.
- Pre-schoolers – because if they don’t cry, they gasp and say “You said a bad word!” and then repeat it the next day at school.
- Teachers – imagine having to tell your kid he or she has to repeat 3rd grade because the parent-teacher conference you had last week got really, really ugly?
- The other cable guy who comes to fix the problem the first cable guy couldn’t fix
- Anything you stub your toe on.
- Congress – because unless you’re making a major campaign contribution or have a radio show that reaches 20 million people they can’t hear you.
- Your boss.
- Your spouse’s boss – because if you yell at your boss and get fired, you have only yourself to blame, but if you yell at your spouse’s boss and he or she gets fired, you not only have yourself to blame but your spouse has you to blame, too, and if you think it took a long time to be forgiven for, say, denting the car, imagine how long you’ll suffer for this!
- Your parents.
- Your irons, putter and sand wedge. (But not, oddly enough, your woods because swearing at them does actually seem to help.)
- Bills.
- Yourself.
- Fate/providence/karma.
- Life.
But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel good when you do.
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Why do we make kids eat stuff they don’t like?
On some level, it’s got to be an unconscious continuation of the cycle of abuse our own parents inflicted on us with their liver and onions, their Spam® meatloaf, their homemade creamed turnips – all the horrible foods we tried to shove in our pockets or slip under the table to the dog.
And yet knowing this doesn’t help — if you’re like me, you’ve actually uttered the phrase “If I had to finish my plate when I was a kid, so do you!” to your own kids without even realizing you were saying it.
But what if forced feeding isn’t really a bad thing?
Looked at from a historical perspective, isn’t it really just a way of paying homage to our family traditions and the ancestors who worked so hard to establish them? What better way to say “I remember my roots” than by, for example, making everyone at the table choke down a bowl of viscous, foul-smelling oyster stew every now and then?
Or by whipping out a few dollops of artery-clogging Crisco and turning the toughest cut of beef you can find into “great-grandma’s” chicken-fried steak?
There’s a practical reason for subjecting kids to food they don’t like, too, and that’s because it gives them first-hand experience with the human race’s most important survival skill, the one that enabled us to make it through the earliest days of our evolution: the ability to eat anything, no matter how unappetizing.
HUNTER-GATHERER #1: I’m hungry.
HUNTER-GATHERER #2: Me, too.
HUNTER-GATHERER #1: Maybe we should eat that gloopy, foul-smelling thing over there?
HUNTER-GATHERER #2: That?!?!?! We don’t even know what that is.
HUNTER-GATHERER #1: Yeah, but I’m hungry.
HUNTER-GATHERER #2: Me, too.
HUNTER-GATHERER #1: So what do we do?
HUNTER-GATHERER #2: I know, let’s get Hunter-gatherer Mikey to try it — Hey Mikey!
Besides when you compare what we give our kids to what our parents gave us, boy, are they getting off easy. “Tuna Surprise” anyone? At least the stuff we make our kids choke down is healthy, organic, minimally processed and preservative-free.
You know, good.
On the other hand, maybe our parents felt the same way about the stuff they served us? Maybe they were thrilled to be able to provide us with tin-canned vegetables, shelf-stable cheese and frozen TV dinners instead of what they had to force down when they were kids?
All of which means one thing: the cycle will surely continue, virtually guaranteeing that when our kids have kids who complain about what they’re being forced to eat, our kids will tell their kids they’re lucky because as bad as whatever it is mid-21st Century parents will serve, it’s nothing compared to tasteless, organic, whole-kernel flax waffles, tofu and vegetable stir fry, free-range, hormone-nitrate-antibiotic-free uncured turkey bacon* and everything else Grandma and Grandpa made them eat.
Besides, they’ll say, “If I had to finish my plate when I was a kid, so do you!”
*Which will probably have been proven to be terrible by then.
- Dinner was at the same time every night.
- Nobody called (or texted).
- If you were late, Mom would just stand on the back porch and call out your name.
- If you were really, really late, Dad would stand on the back porch and call out your name, and then you were really in trouble.
- Mom cooked.
- And if she got home late from the the beauty parlor, post office or grocery store, she could always make a 20-minute casserole out of rice, leftover chicken and whatever can of Campbell’s Soup happened to be in the cupboard.
- A well-equiped kitchen had a sink, an oven, a fridge, a KitchenAid mixer and sometimes a croc pot, but no dishwasher, pot-filler, microwave, Cuisinart, automatic espresso maker, bread maker, bagel toaster, juicer, George Foreman Grill, rice cooker, TV, second fridge, second dishwasher or computer.
- The kitchen was only for cooking, too, not entertaining (unless you were a grandmother, second cousin, aunt or female relative helping cook a holiday meal).
- The Four Food Groups were an important government-sponsored guide that encouraged people to eat meat & poultry, grains, fruits & vegetables and dairy products not because they were healthy or nutritious but because they were important American (or American-controlled) businesses.
- If you said grace, it was something short, that rhymed, and even though you said it fast you had to be careful not to say it too fast because then your parents would say it “didn’t count” and make you do it over.
- Kids drank milk then for the same reasons adults drink it now: it’s good for bones.
- Margarine was superior to butter because margarine had less fat (as opposed to today where butter is superior to margarine because it has less trans-fat).
- Kids had to eat everything on their plate before they could be done, even if that meant they had to sit at the table until their vegetables got cold and their fried chicken turned soggy.
- It didn’t matter if kids weren’t hungry.
- It didn’t matter if kids didn’t like something, either, especially liver and onions.
- Tang, Minute-Rice and Cheez Whiz were preferable to orange juice, “old-fashioned” rice and real cheese because they were fast, easy and they never, ever spoiled.
- Take-out pizza was a treat.
- Organic food wasn’t “organic,” it was just “fresh.”
- Nobody cared about BPA, which meant plastic cups were better than glass cups because they didn’t shatter when somebody knocked them on the ground.
- Kids had to ask to be excused from the table.
- Parents sometimes said “No.”
It seems like there are two kinds of divorces: the ones where the split is amicable, or at least free from a restraining order, and the ones you get caught in the middle of – where the pain, hatred, contempt, frustration, mistrust and loathing go on long after the marriage ends.
Staying neutral can be a challenge for even the most savvy and diplomatic, but usually – eventually – you’re sucked in:
BITTER EX-HUSBAND: Can you believe my ex-wife! She’s such a selfish, spoiled, careless, mean, stupid, cow. Don’t you think?
YOU: Uh… I couldn’t say.
BITTER EX-HUSBAND: Trust me, she is. I’m sure you’ve seen her act that way. You can admit it, she’s a heartless, bossy, mean-spirited, nitpicking, ego-centric, man-hating shrew.
YOU: I.. uh… I guess I haven’t really seen that side of her, but.. uh… I’m sure you know here better than I do.
BITTER EX-HUSBAND: ‘course I know her: I was married to her. And trust me: she’s a first class bitc-
YOU: Hey! Will you look at the time? I really have to go.
BITTER EX-HUSBAND: What’s your problem? You’re on her side, aren’t you?
YOU: I’m not on anyone’s side.
BITTER EX-HUSBAND: My God, she’s turned you against me, too.
YOU: I barely even know her.
BITTER EX-HUSBAND: Yeah, right – you think she’s a saint and I’m an abusive, controlling, foul-mouthed jerk.
YOU: Uh…
BITTER EX-HUSBAND: That’s the exactly the same thing she’s done to our friends, that clueless therapist she dragged us to go see, her lawyer, the neighbors, even my kids. Well you know what? Screw you.
As ugly as these conversations can be, at least they don’t require you to anything more than walk away. What can be worse is when you’re pressed into service:
BITTER EX-WIFE: Say, I’ve been meaning to ask you: you see my ex-husband when he picks up the kids, right?
YOU: Yeah, at the playground after school.
BITTER EX-WIFE:: Interesting.
YOU: Uh-oh.
BITTER EX-WIFE:: I say “interesting” because I’m hearing some things that are just a little troubling.
YOU: I’m sorry to hear that.
BITTER EX-WIFE: Not troubling because I still secretly want him back, or blame him for ruining my life and am looking for ways to exact revenge, but because I’m concerned the children might be exposed to something inappropriate.
YOU: Uh…
BITTER EX-WIFE: Have you ever seen him with a girl that’s much too young for him?
YOU: I can’t say.
BITTER EX-WIFE: If you did, would you let me know?
YOU: I don’t think it would be right for me to spy on your ex-husband.
BITTER EX-WIFE: Oh, heaven’s no – I’m not asking you to spy: just keep on eye on him and his whore for me. And if you can get video or a picture, that would be even better.
Fortunately, there is one benefit to being caught in the middle of this kind of animosity: it reminds you to treat your own spouse with a little more kindness and compassion, if for no other reason the last thing you want is to put your friends, neighbors or even acquaintances in the position of being the “you” in any of the exchanges above.
ME: So… how much did I gain?
MY SCALE: You don’t want to know.
ME: C’mon, it can’t be that bad.
MY SCALE: Not if you’re sumo wrestler.
ME: What?!?!?
MY SCALE: Just think of yourself as being “fat but fit.”
ME: I think I’m gonna cry.
MY SCALE: Well… each ounce of tears weigh .0652 pounds, so that’s one way to lose weight.
ME: You make it sound like I’m obese.
MY SCALE: See that mirror?
ME: You mean the one I covered with a towel so I wouldn’t have to look at myself?
MY SCALE: If that’s not a cry for help, what is?
ME: You try losing weight at my age!
MY SCALE: Your age has nothing to do with it — besides the fact that whenever you think about it you get depressed and eat a gallon of Ben & Jerry’s.
ME: I do not.
MY SCALE: You think I’m lying?
ME: It wouldn’t be the first time.
MY SCALE: Please… Scales don’t lie.
ME: How else can you explain my weight?
MY SCALE: Uh… maybe the fact that you’ve been taking in more calories than you burn?
ME: I know for a fact that’s not true. Just look at what I eat? Fruit. Vegetables. Chicken. Fish. Whole grains.
MY SCALE: Plus ice cream and cookies when nobody is looking, half of whatever food you make for your kids but they don’t finish, a piece of cheese before bedtime, wine…
ME: Wine is good for you.
MY SCALE: A glass is good, not a bottle.
ME: Sometimes I just need something to help me relax at night.
MY SCALE: Or on weekends.
ME: That only happens every once in a while. And that doesn’t…
MY SCALE: You were gonna say “count,” weren’t you?
ME: No.
MY SCALE: I’m not judging. I get it. Sometimes you just need a double- chocolate brownie before you go to bed… Or a mocha frappuccino… Or some of that spinach dip from Whole Foods. My point is that all those calories count, even if you don’t count them.
ME: Says you.
MY SCALE: Do you really think that every time you step on the scale I’m secretly adding 20 pounds?
ME: No, not 20 pounds… more like 30 pounds.
MY SCALE: You’re hopeless.
ME: And you’re a liar. So you know what I’m going to do?
MY SCALE: Let me guess: stick me back in the closet until I learn to be more accurate.
ME: Exactly.
MY SCALE: That’s what you said last month.
ME: Right, and clearly you haven’t learned your lesson — because last month you were only off by 20 pounds.
- Don’t make yourself at home.
- If you stay longer than invited, you will not be asked to come back.
- Ever.
- There is no maid.
- Seriously — NO MAID, which means whichever host you are related to, or knew first, will end up cleaning up after you (though probably not until after a long, ugly argument).
- If you bring a pet, make sure your pet is housebroken.
- On second thought, no pets.
- When we say “if you need anything, just ask,” we don’t expect you to take us up on it.
- But if you really do need something, we’d prefer if you would let us find it for you rather than snooping looking for it in our drawers, closets, cabinets, etc. yourself.
- Pottery Barn rules apply: you break it, you buy it.
- This rule applies to kids, too.
- If you forget your toothbrush, razor, underwear or prescription anti-depressants, please don’t borrow ours.
- Just because you walk around naked at home doesn’t mean you should do that here, if for no other reason than seeing you naked will forever change our impression of you, and probably not for the better.
- Please refrain from discussing politics, religion or anything else unless you are certain your views are in line with ours, or that we like to argue.
- You know that ugly piece of art we have on the wall in the living room? We don’t think it’s ugly.
- On a related note, you know the voice you use when you don’t want anyone to hear you? We can still hear you.
- Please keep in mind that we invited you, not members of your extended family.
- Flush.
- And knock.
- If you don’t think you can abide by these rules, stay home.
- Unless you are family.
- And then only come during the holidays, when we are more likely to be forgiving.
- And which only come once a year.
- To go to the gym three days a week for two weeks, then once a week for the next three to five weeks, then three time a week for a week or two, then twice a week for one week before stopping entirely and resolving to resolve to go to the gym more next year.
- To go on a diet until something happens to necessitate a massive intake of comfort food that will lead to the slow, steady return of the bad eating habits that become entrenched in 2009.
- To talk about going on vacation someplace new and different, but then go to the same place as last year and the year before and the year before that because it’s easy and cheap and who needs the stress and uncertainty of a big trip anyway?
- To buy a lot of books about getting organized, but never have time to read them, let alone utilize any of their tips and suggestions.
- To spend more quality time with the kids, but only when its convenient and/or they’re not being needy, loud, destructive, insolent or pouty, which is probably never.
- To be greener, but only in ways that don’t involve hardship, self-sacrifice or extra work because, let’s face it, the environment is important but there’s just too much going on right now.
- To try to cope with the stress of modern life in a productive way, but eventually give up and just over-eat, drink an extra glass of wine or two each night, and take a variety of prescription medications.
- To save more and spend less, unless there’s a really great sale.
- To be anxious about the economy, health and well-being, work, family, marriage, saving for college and the future, but hopefully not all at once unless there’s a bottle of wine handy.
- To come home after a difficult day at work and yell at the kids for no apparent reason, but then feel more guilty about it than normal.
- To tell the kids again and again to “be careful” and then not be completely surprised when they aren’t and must be rushed to the emergency room for stitches and/or a cast.
- To worry less about what other people think, unless those other people are the neighbors, selected co-workers or somebody we want to impress.
- To find meaning and purpose in life, but then forget what it is thanks to chronic sleep deprivation, the never-ending demands of work and our household’s perpetual state of chaos.
- To maintain a positive mental state, even though it still looks like we’re all screwed.
“10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… Hey! No Fair!” — only kids could fight over who gets to do the New Year’s Eve countdown first. Happy New Year.
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