- Beef + flame = BBQ.
- Beef + flame + lots of beer = 2nd degree burns and a clip for “America’s Funniest Home Videos.”
- A grill is the second best way to cook asparagus. But a blast furnace is the best way because it completely incinerates those terrible little stalks.
- Don’t wear a “Kiss the cook” apron while you BBQ unless you want a drunken friend or neighbor to try to.
- If a cup of hot coffee has to carry a warning label, why doesn’t a grill? And since it doesn’t, how long before somebody files a class action lawsuit claiming they were burned because they didn’t realize grills get so hot?
- Not everything can be grilled — like pasta, for example. And although this may seem obvious, to 4-year-olds and drunken neighbors it’s not.
- If a dog is man’s best friend, a grill runs a close second.
- There is a difference between well-done and burnt, but only to people who like their steaks well-done. To everyone else — especially lovers of blood and pink — they are both the same: a waste of a perfectly good cut of meat.
- If you’re cooking with gas, it’s important to the light the grill immediately after turning on the gas instead of running inside to get another drink first.
- It’s also important not to use lighter fluid.
- Anyone who says “everything tastes better when it’s grilled” clearly hasn’t eaten at my neighbors.
- Men like to BBQ for the same reason they like to see stuff blow up.
- There should be a mathematical formula for calculating the increase in LDL given a steak’s price per pound so that anyone with high cholesterol can ignore their doctor’s advice in an informed manner.
- George Stephen, creator of the Weber Grill, should be sainted.
- If there is ever another Civil War, it will most likely have something to do with Texas, Alabama and Missouri claiming to have the best BBQ in the America, and all the other states either taking sides or taking offense, except for Wisconsin, which will remain neutral because they have fish boils instead of BBQ.
|
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Click image for amazon.com link |
One of the most popular feeds on twitter is “$#*! My Dad Says,” which is a collection of the irreverent, biting, very-funny comments 29-year-old Justin’s 74-year-old dad makes. It has close to 1.4 million followers and is being turned into a sitcom by CBS starring William Shatner. Maybe. A national family-advocacy group called the Parents Television Council is threatening an “unrelenting campaign” against the show’s advertisers and CBS’s affiliates if the show airs because they don’t like the idea of a show named “$#*! My Dad Says” being on at 8:30 pm. (They probably don’t like the idea of the show being on at all, as well — these are the same gate-keepers of morality who don’t recommend the new Shrek movie for kids under seven because it includes “toilet humor, with Shrek’s children belching, farting, pooping their pants and urinating on Shrek,” which, as even the most conservative parents know, is exactly what kids under age seven think is funny1.) It’s not like CBS is actually going to use the s-word in the title, of course; instead, they plan to substitute the all-purpose curse-word stand-in “$#*!” Which means the problem is… what exactly? Because CBS broadcasts its programing over the public airwaves, the FCC insists (more or less, depending on who’s in charge) that it and other broadcasters adhere to a higher standard of decency than, say, every other media outlet in the known universe, because there’s a reasonable (though infinitely small) chance some unsuspecting innocent will accidentally turn on the TV and be offended: CHILD: I just saw something on TV I don’t understand. There’s nothing wrong with parents protecting their kids from what they feel are bad influences, but isn’t it kind of silly to make such a big deal out of something like this? If for no other reason than the fact that there probably isn’t a kid left in this country who doesn’t already know the s-word, the a-word and probably the f-word, too. (FULL DISCLOSURE: I know my kids know them because (a) they are sometimes in the car with me when I drive and (b) I think it’s important they have a full and complete grasp of the English language, including words that are inappropriate, which is why I sat them down one night and taught them.2) Besides, when you think about it, television doesn’t need to be censored because televisions come with a remote control and a power button. Click. Click. Click. Isn’t that easier than a national boycott? (That said, remotes can be so confusing and complicated it is possible somebody somewhere can’t turn their TV off, change the channel, lower the volume or remove the annoying on-screen overlay because they haven’t managed to crack the secret combination of input/source buttons even this most basic level of functionality can sometimes require. But that’s the fault of the manufacturer, not the media.) Rather than being bad, in fact, a situation like “$#*! My Dad Says” is actually good because it’s a potential springboard for a family discussion about the the way personal beliefs shape behavior, and how these truths help us decide appropriate from inappropriate, right from wrong and good from bad. (Though, admittedly, given the time and effort that kind of thing would involve, a national boycott would probably be easier and less time-consuming.) So what do concerned parents do about “$#*! My Dad Says”? Just explain in clear and graphic terms exactly “$#*!” is: punctuation — because if the fear is that exposed kids will suddenly start slinging obscenities willy nilly, nothing will kill that impulse more quickly than a long, drawn-out lesson in grammar: PARENT: Have you ever wondered why they use “$,: “#,” “*,” “@” and “!” to denote obscenities instead of, say, a semi-colon? And as for the show itself, the only reason to ban, condemn or make it the focus on an “unrelenting campaign” is if it isn’t funny.3 Stay tuned. __________________________________________ 1 If anyone should be offended by this it’s parents, because they know from first-hand experience there’s nothing funny about pee, poop or puke, especially when it’s just been splattered all over you. 2 Given the current political climate, I’d venture that liberal households aren’t the only ones where kids are getting an education in vulgarities, either: CHILD: Where are you going? 3 If anything should be banned, condemned, or made the focus of an “unrelenting campaign,” it should be ads for erectile dysfunction that air during shows kids probably shouldn’t be watching with their parents but do, because trying to explain that is really, really uncomfortable. Teenager? Or politician? Sometimes it’s not so easy to tell.
MY SON: What’s that sign say? Now that Mother’s Day is over, it’s time to get back to blaming mom. While this might seem harsh, research indicates it may actually be justified: according to experts, “the way mothers talk to their children at a young age influences their social skills later in childhood.” In other words, children of mothers who explain things – specifically other people’s feelings, beliefs, wants and intentions – are better off socially than those whose mothers dismiss their budding curiosity with “Because,” “Because I said so!” or “Because if you ask me again you’re going to bed for the rest of the day!” Not that being more socially advanced is the key to a trouble-free childhood – researchers pointed out that kids who are more comfortable and confident expressing their emotions and opinions are much more likely to actually express their emotions and opinions, usually in complex and sophisticated ways, especially when they are contrary to yours. But while some authority figures might consider this “bad,” “inappropriate” or a reason for detention and/or counseling, researchers downplayed this implication and pointed out that, in a perverse way, these bile-filled diatribes are actually a good sign. And that when a teenager erupts in rage and frustration and screams “You disgust me!” “You’re the worst parent ever!” or “I have complete and utter contempt for everything you stand for,” it’s not proof he or she is possessed, it’s proof mom created exactly the kind of positive, loving, supportive environment her child needed to feel comfortable acting like an ungrateful little shit. FATHER: Why are you crying? If mom gets the credit, however, she also gets the blame. Which means that when a child is sullen, moody and silent, it’s probably because mom messed up years or even decades ago, and can now add that to the long list of things she feels guilty about but can never make up for, no matter how hard she tries. MOTHER: My kids are grown, so what am I supposed to do now? Go back in time and try to explain everything to them more thoroughly? Before us Dads get all superior and start pointing fingers, we should keep in mind that researches were only able to study the relationship between mothers and their offspring because fathers and their offspring didn’t spend enough time together to make enough of an impact, leading many to conclude that if we’re going to blame anyone because Junior is socially inept, we should probably blame dad, too. Though not until after Father’s Day. Rumors are swirling around that Pampers new, reformulated Swaddlers and Cruisers lines of diapers are causing rashes and chemical burns. But is this true? Has anyone come forward with conclusive proof that this is actually happening? Has anyone come forward with conclusive proof it’s not? According to P&G, these allegations are “completely false.” This response makes sense because we live in an age where misinformation gets passed off as gospel, and large, multi-national corporations like P&G have to act decisively. On the other hand, we also live in an age where large, multi-national corporations spin just about everything, so who’s to say that 25 years from now, after some kind of “Jane Doe v. Pampers” class action lawsuit has been filed, all appeals have been exhausted and 150,000+ boxes of research, focus-group results and internal memos have been subpoenaed, cataloged and read in search of a smoking gun, P&G won’t pay a nominal fine and admit that while they didn’t lie, intentionally ignore some data, or make a critical error in judgement, they are sorry their long-since-reformulated product might have caused a limited number of cases of diaper rash all those years ago. What strikes me as really silly is that P&G didn’t stop at denying the rumors were true, but went on to claim they were actually part of some giant conspiracy. “These [diaper rash] rumors are being perpetuated by a small number of parents, some of whom are unhappy that we replaced our older Cruisers and Swaddlers products while others support competitive products and the use of cloth diapers,” said Pampers Vice President Jodi Allen in a statement. A cabal of disgruntled former customers, Huggies families and the cloth diaper mafia? Seriously? (In the interest of full disclosure, I should point out that we are Huggies family and have been for 10 years.1 That said, I don’t personally have anything against Pampers, and can’t honestly remember why we chose Huggies over Pampers in the first place, though I suspect it was because the supply of newborn diapers the hospital gave us ran out at 2:40 am some night, and when I went to the nearest all-night drug store to find more, I grabbed the first box of diapers I could find, which happened to be Huggies.) While it’s possible that P&G is right, and eventually some hidden camera footage of the secret meeting where the plot was first hatched between the aforementioned groups will emerge, but until then, do they really want to handle the concern parents have for the health and well-being of their offspring this way? CONCERNED PARENT: Your diapers gave my pride and joy a rash. However this all shakes out, one thing seems clear clear: just because Pampers is in the diaper business doesn’t mean they can handle a big mess. 1Yes, we should be using green diapers, or at least cloth diapers, but we don’t and to the extent we are ruining the planet, we are sorry. Just because kids say they’re sick doesn’t mean they actually are sick. Which means for parents, trying to decide if a child should stay home or go to school can be quite a challenge. (And even though teachers and principals almost always say keep kids home if there’s any question about how well they feel, that isn’t either practical or fair – for many of us, the fact that our kids learn something at school isn’t nearly as important as the fact that somebody else has to put up with watch them for a few hours each weekday so we can catch our breathes.) So how do parents figure out if their kids are nauseas because they have the flu or because they have to turn in a 10-page report they completely forget to even start? While medical electronics can be helpful, they’re not nearly as accurate as consumer electronics: all parents have to do is ask the child who complains about not feeling well “If you stay home sick, what are you going to do all day?”
1This mostly depends on what they watch — a Cartoon Network Marathon would raise suspicions, CNN’s The Situation Room would not. 2Though given the rate at which most kids check their e-mail, actually checking e-mail might be a sign of some kind of fever-induced delusion. 3With the chance they’re sick dropping one percent for every 5 texts they send and/or receive. “So… what’s it like having kids?” the would-be parent asks. “It’s great,” you say, “Having kids is the best thing that’s ever happened to us. They’re a lot of work, but when you see the way they smile and laugh and take in the world, it’s definitely worth it.” And then maybe you chuckle and offer to let them stay over and take your kids for a weekend “test drive,” knowing they probably won’t but hoping they will so you and your spouse can get away for that “romantic weekend” you’ve been talking about since pretty much your kids were born (with the term “romantic” being parent-code for “getting some sleep and being able to watch pay-per-view movies all the way through, in one sitting, without being interrupted a dozen times because ‘I’m hungry’ or ‘I had an accident’ or ‘I spilled jam on the carpet,’ etc.”). You may suggest these would-be parents pick up a movie or two, too. But while many recommend something like “Parenthood”1 for its funny and touching insights into the ups and downs of, well, parenthood, there’s another movie that gives a fuller and more complete picture: 1970s horror classic “The Exorcist.” Here’s why: Demonic possession is just another name for a weekday morning. As every parent knows, at random and unpredictable intervals, your little angel will wake up snarling and nasty like a beast from Hell. Foul-mouthed? Before you even get through the door to say “Good morning, I made you breakfast,” you find yourself assaulted with “GET OUT! Can’t you see I’m sleeping? You always wake me up like this. I hate you. I hate you. I HATE YOU.” And their appearance? Definitely something unholy (though, to be fair, not because they’re suddenly sporting horns, scales and some grotesque demon pig-nose, but because nobody looks good when they don’t shower for three days – why is personal hygiene such a difficult concept for kids to get, anyway?). As for being able to crawl across the ceiling? Well… maybe not the ceiling, but when you consider the gravity-defying ways kids flip around in their beds while they sleep, it’s not such a stretch to think they might some- how end up on the ceiling. Green puke? How about orange puke, yellow puke and blue puke, too? It’s not called “The Technicolor Yawn” for nothing, something parents usually find out fast. Often, these multi-colored hues can be traced back to two types of foods: foods consumed in excess, like artificially-flavored fruit punch, Halloween candy and birthday cake; and foods consumed under protest such as salad, non-breaded fish, and brussels sprouts (with the eventual volume of puke increasing exponentially if you happen to say something like “I don’t care if you don’t like it. Nobody ever threw up eating brussels sprouts, so finish your plate!” first). You know a child’s head can’t spin completely around… but a 5-year-old doesn’t. And no matter how quickly the parent dashes into the other room to get the phone or answer the door or shut the oven off before dinner burns, it’s five seconds more than the 5-year-old needs to twist the 2-year-old’s head around to the point where it’s about to snap. “But we were just playing owl,” the child protests. You don’t need an exorcist, but a child psychologist might be a good idea. What parent hasn’t thrown up their hands at some point and said “I can’t do this anymore!” before turning to an expert for help? Whether it’s the therapist, the math tutor, the reading coach, the college placement counselor or even the pitching specialist, all these experts are trying to do is exactly what Father Merrin was trying to do to Linda Blair’s Regan: make the kid “normal” again. There can always be a sequel because evil – like parenting – goes on forever. Which means the moment parents think they’re done and their kids are on their own, they move back home. Or go into therapy. Or just stop calling. This can happen at any time, for any reason (though it’s often financial), and it’s generally a lot worse than the original, just like “Exorcist 2 – The Heretic,” “The Exorcist 3,” and both versions of “Exorcist – The Beginning.” And if that isn’t scary, nothing is. From “Why Chicken Nuggets are Better Than Prozac.” 1Is the TV version of this movie a reasonable substitute? Clearly the show has plenty of fans – here, here, here and here, for example – but what if it gets cancelled? Imagine devoting hour after hour to something, getting attached and becoming emotionally invested in its well-being, only to have it suddenly just grow up and move go away? On second thought… maybe that’s even more like parenthood than the movie “Parenthood.” For a lot of parents, Earth Day is a time to feel guilt and shame for driving an SUV and having too many flat-screen TVs. For kids, it’s a time to learn that the psychological problems they’ll have later in life because of the way mom and treat them are nothing compared to the environmental problems they’ll have later in life because of the way mom and dad treat the planet. (Assuming, of course, life is still around later.) KID: Thanks for ruining the earth. The good news is that thanks to most Americans grudging acceptance of climate change, a renewed government-focus on conserving natural resources and developing alternate energy sources, and the fact that it’s cool to drive a Prius, there’s hope for the future. The bad news is that kids are still kids, which means they can turn just about anything to their advantage, especially environmental tips they come home and claim to have been taught in school: PARENT: How was school today? Happy Earth Day.
As a parent, time is precious. So how do you make the most of it? Time management experts offer the following advice: 1. Prioritize. At first glance, these suggestions seem simple and straight-forward, but when you actually try to implement them you quickly realize they are better suited to some kind of parallel “self-help dimension” where the laws of time, space and sibling in-fighting don’t apply. 1. Prioritize. In theory, yes. In practice – forget it. Take, say, the tasks of treating an injury versus giving a toddler a bath. Typically, bleeding kids come first, unless they’re bleeding because they did the thing you told them not to do five times, in which case the toddler would get the bath. If the bleeding kid is bleeding on furniture, however, then the furniture needs immediate attention. On the other hand, if there’s only a little bleeding and it’s not on any furniture, then that might not be as important as preventing the toddler from trying to bathe himself. 2. Delegate/outsource. Which means what? Parents are supposed to ship their kids off to India to get help with their homework? 3. Set time limits for tasks. Okay. But what is the appropriate time limit for a temper tantrum? And if getting everybody ready in the morning takes 15 minutes longer than whatever amount of time you set aside – whether it’s 40 minutes or two hours – how are you supposed to limit that? Or if you make reservations for that one night out a year you get a leisurely three hours to eat, what happens when the babysitter is 20 minutes late and the restaurant gives up your table? 4. Establish routines and stick to them. Most parents already do this, but it doesn’t seem to help. For example, a typical morning routine would be telling the kids to get up, get in the shower, get dressed, get some breakfast and get in the car, then repeating this three or four times over the course of 20 minutes before threatening them with some kind of bodily harm if they don’t do all of the above RIGHT THIS MINUTE! This is followed by the nagging suspicion that something that was supposed to have been done last night wasn’t, and the sudden realization that this “something” was making lunches for all the kids. Oops. As there is now not nearly enough time left to do everything and still get off on time, vows that “This will never happen again!” must be shouted so that all in the house can hear, spouses must be silently cursed for not helping, and God must be asked “Why me? What have I done to deserve this?” 5. Don’t waste time waiting. Clearly this was not written by anyone living in a small house with kids. How else is a parent supposed to get into the bathroom? As this week’s New York Times points out, “Working parents perpetually agonize that they don’t see enough of their children. But a surprising new study finds that mothers and fathers alike are doing a better job than they think, spending far more time with their families than did parents of earlier generations.” Take that, grandparents. But if “time spent with kids” is an indicator of overall parenting success, it raises the question: who does a better job? Mothers ? Or fathers? The answer: fathers. Because when you compare the amount of time spent with kids today to pre-1995 amounts, fathers are up an impressive 102 percent, while mothers are only up 77 percent. Sorry moms. (As with all statistics, there is an alternate interpretation. Click here to see how the same statistics indicate mothers are better than fathers.) As this week’s New York Times points out, “Working parents perpetually agonize that they don’t see enough of their children. But a surprising new study finds that mothers and fathers alike are doing a better job than they think, spending far more time with their families than did parents of earlier generations.” Take that, grandparents. But if “time spent with kids” is an indicator of overall parenting success, it raises the question: who does a better job? Mothers ? Or fathers? The answer: mothers. Because when you compare the amount of time spent with kids today to pre-1995 amounts, mothers are up an impressive 9.2 hours per week while fathers are only up 5.1 hours. Sorry dads. (As with all statistics, there is an alternate interpretation. Click here to see how the same statistics indicate fathers are better than mothers.) How can a two hour and 20 minute flight take five hours? Electronic check in:
Manual check-in after electronic check-in can’t find everyone’s name:
Airport security:
Pat down, additional questioning after dad was randomly flagged as a potential terrorist (which the kids thought was funny, but the parents couldn’t believe):
Flight Delay (cause unknown, but “kid in control tower” incident suspected):
Actual flight:
Wait on tarmac (after pilot announces “We’ll be taxing to the gate in just a few minutes”):
Wait at gate:
Wait at baggage claim:
Wait at baggage claim “lost luggage” department:
Time-out for deep, calming breaths:
Finding car in long-term parking after losing slip of paper with level and section number:
Explaining why there won’t be any more family trips until the memory of this last one has faded away completely:
“Why do my kids always need to tell me things when I’m going to the bathroom?” - from 140characterparenting.com KID: Dad! Dad! You gotta come quick! What’s sex? Did you take drugs in college? Why did you vote for George W. Bush* the second time? Kids ask questions all the time, but there’s a difference between the ones parents can’t answer — “Does God need to shower?” — and the ones (some) parents don’t want to. The solution? Perhaps we can take a cue from politicians, their press secretaries and the so-called “bipartisan” pundits we see on TV and use the same simple strategies for answering without answering. 1. Give a detailed, thoughtful response, just not to the question they ask. Campaigning politicians are particularly good at this, and the trick is to remember that your answer can be anything, just as long as you can loosely relate it to the original question. For example, if asked about drugs, begin by saying “I’m glad you asked me about smoking pot in college…,” which makes it sound like you’re going to admit that for most of your sophomore year your best friend was your bong, but then say “…because I think it’s important that we be open and honest with each other, especially now that you’re older and starting to ask hard questions. It seems like only yesterday when the most important thing on your mind was which Power Ranger you wanted to dress up as, or if a certain Pokemon could beat a certain other kind of Pokemon. I have to admit that watching you grow up has been one of the most satisfying experiences of my life, and I look forward to helping you continue on that journey towards adult- hood by providing you with the information and insight I myself have gained over the years…” If you haven’t lost them by then, just keep talking. 2. Focus on “the larger issue.” Which can be pretty much anything you want it to be. 3. Ask your kids what they think the answer is. Also known as the therapist approach. This works well for things you don’t really know how to explain, but not-so- well for things you’re just not comfortable talking about. 4. Lie. Time was that people who didn’t tell the truth were called liars and they were looked down upon, but thanks to all the CEO’s, athletes, politicians and ce- lebrities who’ve been caught with their pants down (or off, or filled with drugs, etc.) those days seem to be over. The best thing about this approach is that if your lie is later exposed, you can claim you just “misspoke.” As in “Yes, I can see how my response to the ques- tion ‘Did I vote for George W. Bush?’ might have been confusing, because when I said ‘No,’ I actually misspoke. In point of fact – and because it’s im- portant to me that the record accurately reflect my views – I didn’t mean ‘No’ in the traditional sense of the word, and I can see now how my incorrect use of that word might have been somewhat misleading, because what I, in fact, meant was that I felt that in light of the specific challenges facing the Presi- dent at that time, it was important for me – and really, all of us as a nation – to remain united and strong, and because of that, I did my duty as an American by going to the polls and casting a ballot so my voice could be heard, and even though that ballot was nominally in the affirmative, it was really more a show of support for the country as a whole than a specific endorsement of any one candidate. I voted because it’s the duty of every citizen to vote, and for that I will never apologize.” 5. Use a spokesperson. Either a hired professional or your spouse, if he or she has the BS skills required. This has the added benefit of distancing you from your answer, whatever that might be. Plus, if you are later confronted about the answer your spokesperson gave on your behalf, you can say you didn’t actually mean whatever it was they said and that you must have been “quoted out of context.” *Or, increasingly for many, Barack Obama the first time. …the answer is “NO!,” regardless of whether the question was “Are you up- set?” or “Can I go to the potty?” …you call your kids by the wrong names. Or worse – by the dog’s. …simple things become infinitely complicated, to the point where microwaving chicken nuggets takes an hour. …you can’t remember if it’s your day to do the pick-up, and if you think it is, it isn’t, and if you think it isn’t, it is. …you try to play hide ‘n’ seek but fall asleep in the upstairs hall closet. …your spouse is “in the mood” and doesn’t understand why you’re not. …somebody throws up, bleeds on something, or has “an accident.” …non-parents suggest you just put the kids to bed early and get some sleep, but you’re too tired to tell them what a massively stupid and unrealistic idea that is. …telemarketers call every few minutes asking you to donate. …helping your kids with their homework proves so stressful and challenging, it makes you cry, even though it’s just addition. …you don’t realize you’re yelling at your kids until everybody else in the supermarket aisle starts to stare. …you push on, because you’re a parent and that’s what parents do.
CLICK ABOVE TO PLAY MOVIE Time was, Spring Break was a blurry haze of non-stop adventure where the goal was to cram in as much fun as possible before returning to class – usually more tired than before we left. But now we have kids, which means Spring Break is still a blurry haze of non-stop adventure, but the fun we try to cram is for our kids’, not for ourselves. And while we still end the week far more tired than we were before it even started – Why is there no absolute limit to sleep deprivation, anyway? – at least we can take comfort in the fact that we’ll actually remember the memories we’re making now, and be able to look back on them forever and smile. (Except for the ones involving the flight, which was delayed 2 hours.)
KID: Why’s Dad throwing up in the bathroom? GET UP! GET UP! WE OVERSLEPT! For most families, Daylight Saving Time turns what’s typically a frantic, time-crunched mess of morning activity into a domestic version of roller derby, with everyone throwing elbows and accusations as they scramble to get dressed and get out the door: RESPONSIBLE SPOUSE: You said you were gonna change the clock. According to wikipedia, Daylight Saving Time, which was standardized across most of the United States in 1967, was primarily intended to reduce energy consumption — the “extra” hour of daylight in the afternoon was supposed to mean fewer lights would have to be on at offices, retailers, restaurants etc. But when you consider how most people react when the Daylight Saving Time-bomb goes off, it’s more likely that any energy savings will be more than off-set by the increased consumption caused by all the stupid things people do when their sleeping patterns get disrupted. What’s the net-effect of having to make two extra trips to the grocery store — the first because you accidentally left your list at home, and the second because you accidentally left your kid there? Or what about having to replace a freezer full of food because just after you opened the door to sneak some ice cream for breakfast, you realized the soccer game you thought was next weekend, wasn’t, but that if you left RIGHT NOW! you might still make it? Or what about having to run an electric air pump off and on all night because otherwise the slightly-leaky inflatable mattress in the den you’ve been banished to because you said one-too-many mean things to your spouse will deflate? IDIOT: If you reminded me to change the clock, then why didn’t I change it? Net energy savings: probably zero And what happens when you factor in the cost of dealing with all that stress, ill-will and negativity? Therapists — whether for marriage or anger-management — don’t make house calls (and if they do, they don’t make them on bikes). There are bars for sulking/hiding/venting, of course, but they generally don’t have windows, meaning light (but not illumination) comes only from energy-sucking neon signs. The gym? Maybe in the old days when free weights and stationary bikes were the norm, but now it seems like every piece of exercise equipment has to be plugged in or it won’t work. Net energy savings: definitely zero All of which raises the question: if Daylight Saving Time doesn’t actually save anything, what’s the point? Perhaps the one good thing about Daylight Saving Time is that between all the extra caffeine it takes to get through the day and the fact that no matter how late the clock says it is, it’s impossible to sleep, everyone affected by it can spend half the night staring at the ceiling trying to figure that out. PARENT: C’mon. PRE-SCHOOLER: Hit. Bit. Fit. Shit. Hit. Bit. Fit. Shit. As every parent knows, that’s actually a trick question because when it comes to being peed on, pooped on or puked on, you don’t have a choice: it’s not a question of if it will happen or even when it will happen – though probably in the middle of the night, right after you’ve put on your last clean shirt, or just as you’re rushing off to an important meeting that you’re already 20 minutes late for, etc. – but how often it will happen. (Not to mention whether or not all three will happen at the same time, which is the parenting equivalent of hitting the “Trifecta,” even though – sadly – it isn’t nearly as rare.) While the idea of being splattered in your own child’s pee, poop or puke makes non-parents squirm (and probably resolve to remain non-parents), most of us eventually come to accept it – even welcome it – because no matter how disgusting that is, it’s not nearly as gross as being splattered with some other kid’s pee, poop or puke – something that’s also not a question of if, or when, but how often. From “Why Chicken Nuggets Are Better Than Prozac,” page. 83 Should genetic engineering and/or technology ever progress to the point where pretty much anything is possible, the following would be useful augmentations to the standard parent:
According to language experts, English includes approximately 250,000 words, which means that if a person were to answer any given question using only three of them, there would be 15,624,812,500,500,000 possibilities. So why is it kids always seem to ignore the other 15,624,812,500,499,999 and just say “I don’t know?” PARENT: What are you doing? True, there are occasions when they really, truly don’t know, but these are rare. Which means as parents, we usually have to spend anywhere from five minutes to five hours prodding and probing them for an actual answer – a course of action that results in them being ticked at us for interrogating them like a Guantanamo Bay-detainee, and us being ticked at them for making us interrogate them like some Guantanamo Bay-detainee when they could just as easily have told us what we needed to know in the first place. But before we attribute “I don’t know” to their being lazy, lethargic, unfocused, inattentive, flip, passive-aggressive, malnourished, narcissistic, ego-centric, spoiled or brain-damaged from spending too much time playing video games and watching TV, keep in mind that developmental psychologists say the adolescent mind is far from fully developed. So when kids say “I don’t know,” in practical terms, they don’t — because the part of their brain that’s trying to answer our question (a part that’s got to be tucked away somewhere in some insignificant corner of some underused lobe) isn’t communicating with the part of their brain that knows what the answer is, and probably won’t be able to with any kind of speed or reliability until they’re in their 20s. Which means that just about the time they stop answering every question with “I don’t know,” we’ll be starting to thanks to the debilitating effects of aging and all that extra wear and tear our brains have been subjected to over the years thanks to our kids. Check out “The Gigglesnort Test” at undercaffeinated mom for a fun approach to dealing with this problem. The bad times may be over, but the good times aren’t going to return any time soon. For many of us, that’s troubling. But it can also be inspiring – especially when it comes to finding appropriate ways to spend quality time with family. Kick The Can(didate) Family members divide up into two groups: Democrats and Republicans. Democrats try to prevent Republicans from kicking the can, just like in the classic childhood game, but have to put on blinders and argue among themselves, making it very easy for a lone Republican to come out of nowhere and kick the can. Alternately, family members don’t divide up into Democrats and Republicans at all, but just play as a single group of Democrats who work against each other to both kick the can and prevent the can from being kicked, turning the whole game into an ugly, shameless, ultimately un-winnable waste of time. Liar’s Dice, The Wall Street Edition In the traditional game, players roll a handful of dice and then try to lie about how many 1’s, 2’s, 3’s, 4’s, 5’s and 6’s they have. If one player doesn’t believe another, he or she says “liar.” If the accused is actually lying, he or she loses a die; if the accused is telling the truth, the accuser loses a die. The game continues until there’s only one player left. This version is played the exact same way, except that whenever a player lies and loses a die, he or she gets to replace it with one provided by the Treasury Department for as long as the government has adequate dice reserves, or can borrow dice from China. Tea Party The point of this game is to pretend to spontaneously gather around an imaginary table drinking imaginary tea from imaginary cups until the media believes it’s real, and then form a grassroots special interest group to force everybody to move to the right. Duck Duck Goose Each player pretends to be a homeowner and sits in a circle with the other homeowners. One player – representing a soon-to-reset adjustable rate mortgage, crushing equity line, further decline in housing prices, prolonged period of unemployment or other form of bad luck – walks around and taps each of them on the head, saying “Duck… Duck… Duck…” This goes on for an inordinately long time, with all the anxious homeowners hoping the bad luck will just go away. It doesn’t. When bad luck finally says “goose,” the player he or she just tapped sits there quietly in a complete state of denial, then wanders off leaving an empty spot in the circle. This goes on for an inordinately long time, too, until even the remaining homeowners are too depressed to continue. What’s my party line? Throw a blanket over your TV set and then randomly tune it to Fox News, CNN or MSNBC and see if you can tell what party’s talking points the supposedly non-partisan/independent/”fair and balanced” experts are secretly touting. I Spy Just like regular “I Spy,” only with the more apropos subjects: “I Spy, with my little eye, something that begins with F… a foreclosed house.” Or “I Spy, with my little eye, something that begins with O… a one-term president.” The Telephony Game Start with any of the promises Banks made when they needed to be bailed out – to take fewer risks, not put profits first, learn from their mistakes, help homeowners modify bad loans, etc. – and play the telephone game to see if any of these phrases end up making any sense at all. Pin The Tail (Of Blame) On The Donkey Much like ‘08s most popular game, “Pin The Tail on The Elephant,” this one substitutes a donkey and uses a much, much bigger tail. Don’t Be Afraid Of The Big, Bad Wolf Players divide into three teams, and then each team builds a house. The first uses straw, which represents a “no-doc” loan, the second uses wood, which represents a zero-down, adjustable-rate mortgage, and the third uses brick, which represents a 30-year fixed-mortgage with 20% down that will never, ever cause problems. They then wait for the Big Bad Wolf to huff and puff and try to blow their houses down. Obama Limbo How low can President Obama’s approval rating go? Put on “The Limbo Song” and see. Republican Hokey Pokey You put your right foot in, and then instead of putting your left foot in, you put your right foot in even farther unless you want the Tea Baggers to knock you over. Ghost in The Graveyard Shift Similar to the classic childhood game, except when word gets out you’re playing, 10,000 people show up. (To see family games from last year, click here.) PARENT: Why are you fighting? 15 minutes later KID #1: That’s mine. 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.)
But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel good when you do.  Loading ...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. 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.
“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. Loading ...While it may seem helpful that every toy in the toy store is labeled with a “recommended for ages X to Y” or “suitable for ages X and up,” it’s not. In fact, in many ways it makes gift-giving much more complicated. Let’s start with infants, toddlers and pre-schoolers: there isn’t a 21st Century parent who doesn’t believe the one running around his or her house isn’t clearly more developmentally advanced than most others. Not convinced? Just think about any conversation you’ve had with the parents since they became parents: doesn’t it always include at least one funny/touching anecdote about how their little angel accomplished something a merely “average” child wouldn’t be expected to do until he or she was much, much older? Given this, it would seem logical to assume the child’s functional age would be much greater than the child’s actual age, to the point where, for example, a toy designed to help pre-schoolers improve small muscle control would be well-suited for their little toddler. But no. Because even if the kid is advanced, there’s no way he or she is that advanced, which means not only won’t the kid be able to use the toy (not for its intended purpose, anyway), the resulting failure, frustration and over-stimulation will lead to a massive meltdown the child’s parents will blame on you and the idiotic gift you bought that traumatized their offspring. You might as well have given the child a dunce cap and the parents a t-shirt that read “We’re the proud parents of a moron.” It doesn’t get any easier buying gifts for older kids, either. Let’s say you have an 11-year-old nephew who loves to play video games. Having spent some time with him, you realize his favorite games are ultra-violent first-person shooters and elaborate, adult-oriented fantasy role-playing games. So you buy him one. And then come Christmas Day, when you call over to the house to say “Season’s Greetings,” you’re shocked when nobody will speak to you. What happened? The game you got was rated “M for Mature,” just like the dozen other “M for Mature” games he has in his room and plays regularly. Except his parents didn’t realize this (either because they never set foot in his room because it’s too messy, or because they’re parents and they’re so overwhelmed with everyday demands they filter out everything that isn’t homework or a fight). PARENTS: What did Uncle Scott get you? The result is your nephew hates you because you got all his games taken away and his parents hate you because you’re probably the one who corrupted him in the first place. As if that’s not enough of an argument against age-appropriate guidelines, there’s also this problem: where do they come from? Obviously not from parents, because if they did there would be some kind of board or council or non-profit organization responsible for determining them that would have splintered years ago into Liberal, Conservative and Centrist factions that parents would be pressured to support or denounce. Guidelines clearly aren’t determined by toy manufacturers, either, as they would never open themselves up to such and easy-to-win lawsuit: ATTORNEY REPRESENTING CLASS ACTION LAWSUIT: Did you or did you not state that this toy was appropriate for children ages 8 and up? So who is responsible? Unfortunately, the only group that’s left is the same group of child development experts who make up all the other guidelines for children — which might seem fine, except that for every parent who agrees with their advice (and quotes it freely, and condemns anyone who doesn’t believe it) there’s another parent who thinks everything they say is just stupid. So unless you know exactly where the parents of the child you’re buying a gift for stand, you’re better off avoiding toys and their age-appropriate guidelines completely and doing what generations of non-parents have been doing for decades: giving U.S. Savings Bonds. Don’t give clothes, either, unless you’re absolutely certain the parents will like them, otherwise they end up in a giant box in the back of the closet that’s not just a pain to get out whenever you come over, but becomes an enduring reminder of your bad taste and/or cluelessness when it comes to what kinds of clothes real kids wear. On the first day of Christmas On the second day of Christmas On the third day of Christmas On the fourth day of Christmas On the fifth day of Christmas On the sixth day of Christmas On the seventh day of Christmas On the eighth day of Christmas On the ninth day of Christmas On the tenth day of Christmas On the eleventh day of Christmas On the twelfth day of Christmas (Which is probably why we’re not talking to each other right now.) PARENT: What are you doing? Loading ...It’s easy to forget that kids have to be taught pretty much everything, and that just because something seems as if it would be self-evident to even the littlest of minds, it probably isn’t. While this is true at all times of the year, it seems especially important to keep in mind over the holidays.
DASHER: What’s wrong? You look pissed.
If Eskimos have a thousand words for snow, shouldn’t we have a thousand words for life’s little irritations? For most of us, a day doesn’t go by that God, the universe, fate, karma, quantum physics or all-of-the-above don’t needle our emotional well-being, usually when we’re running late, just had an argument with our spouse or suddenly realized we forgot to get a babysitter for tomorrow night so we could go to dinner and a movie and finally get a break from all this crap. It doesn’t help that these cosmic paper cuts never seem to be isolated one- offs, either, but instead come in sets, like celebrity deaths and unsolicited parenting suggestions from opinionated strangers – it’s not just the long line at Starbucks, it’s having them mess up your order twice and then spilling your extra-hot, half-caf hazelnut mocha down the front of your shirt as you pull out of the parking lot. The impact of these little irritations – and they are little, even if we can’t figure out how not to sweat them – increases exponentially as the day progresses, to the point where we find ourselves cursing some 82-year-old women with a walker because she’s not crossing the street fast enough, or threatening to ground our kids for the rest of their natural lives if they EVER give the dog another peanut butter and jelly sandwich again, or contemplating divorce because our spouse forgot (again) to fill up the car when it got close to empty, leaving us in the position of having to coast down the hill to the Shell. Psychologists say the only reason any of this stuff annoys us the way it does is because it reminds us that we’re not really in control (no matter how thoroughly we’ve managed to convince ourselves otherwise) and that ultimately mastering the moment isn’t nearly as important as just being in it, regardless of whether that moment is good, bad, satisfying, awful, rewarding, stressful, happy, sad, amusing, aggravating, etc. But as nice as that sounds (in a zen-like, higher-consciousness kind of way), who has the time to learn how to do that? Or the energy? Or the patience? If learning to live in the moment can’t be accomplished in one 30-minute session two times a week, in the car on the drive home from work, or during one of those rare moments when every kid in the house is quietly pre-occupied, then it just becomes one more thing we don’t have time to squeeze in but try to do anyway – or would try to do if we didn’t have to wait for the knucklehead in the car ahead of us to get off the phone and go. Note: It’s easy to complain about life’s little irritations, but it’s also important to point out that we could probably eliminate entire categories of irritation if we really, really wanted to – just moving to a remote cabin in Montana and living off the land, for example, would instantly rid us of driving-, shopping-, neighbor-, school- and work-related annoyances (though it would probably more than make up for that by adding starvation-, bear attack-, hypothermia-, and isolation-related irritations, so maybe that’s not such a good trade-off. Plus, let’s not forget that Unabomber Ted Kaczynski moved to a remote cabin in Montana so he could get away from it all and look what happened to him). PARENT: Hey… why’s your computer off? I thought you were on that internet kid’s club? Gathering around the table. √ Spending some quality time together. √ Taking a break from DVDs, movies, video games and other passive forms of entertainment. √ Reliving fond memories of playing Monopoly as a kid. √ Trying to figure out which version of Monopoly to play. √ Watching the kids fight over who gets to be the racecar. √ Watching the kids fight over who gets to roll first. √ Watching the kids fight over who who the bowl of popcorn gets to be set down in front of. √ Threatening to send everyone to bed if they don’t behave. √ Enjoying five minutes of stress-free game play. √ Trying to explain to a younger sibling why they have to give their older sibling money just because they landed on Marvin Gardens. √ Wiping away the younger sibling’s tears. √ Using the parent voice to tell the older sibling not to be a sore winner. √ Getting competitive. √ Mentally adding up the cost of therapy if you decide to just completely bankrupt your kids. √ Reminding yourself the point is to have fun. √ Letting your kids win. √ Hoping Family Game Night will be better next week. √ Fearing that it won’t. √ Wondering if Family Movie Night would be a better idea instead. √ Things we want but don’t need:
Things we need but don’t have:
Things we have but don’t use:
Loading ...With a single Thanksgiving meal packing a full day-and-half’s worth of calories, it’s easy to see why so many of us find ourselves slumped on the sofa in front of the TV after everyone has gone home, groaning, bloated, unable to move and wondering why we feel so bad. Fortunately, there is a simple way to prevent this kind of excess on Thanksgiving: go vegan. While many can’t imagine Thanksgiving without turkey, gravy and sausage-based stuffing, that’s the whole point: if you fill your table with stuff you don’t like and normally wouldn’t ever eat, you can’t possibly eat too much. True, nut roll, tempeh and all-the-vegetables-you-can-eat might not sound very appealing to some, but keep in mind that you can still booze it up. (And while that, too, may leave you slumped on the sofa in front of the TV after everyone has gone home, you won’t be groaning, bloated, unable to move and wondering why you feel so bad, you’ll just be passed out). Gobble. Gobble. Gobble. Editor’s note: What if you’re already vegan? Do just the opposite: go un-vegan. Not only will the shock of all that animal flesh make you instantly sick — and therefore unable to overeat — throwing up at the table will also help your friends and family because the sight, sound and smell of your vomit will likely cause them to vomit, too, and then nobody will be able to eat, let alone overeat. No matter what the year is like, there’s always something to be thankful for:
Click on the image and then use the “Send to a friend” button at the bottom of the post to send via SHARETHIS.COM Or click here for the complete ecard gallery. KID: Look at me. I have a beard!
Our legal system guarantees the accused a fair and speedy trial, proof of guilt “beyond reasonable doubt” and punishment that isn’t “cruel or unusual.” Fortunately, these same rights don’t extend to children — something every parent who’s ever come home stressed, worried, angry or anxious about something else and just exploded at their kids can take comfort in. (As if parenting wasn’t hard enough, just imagine what it would be like if you had to be fair and reasonable every minute of every day.) In light of that, a short, incomplete list of crimes, punishments and the real reason behind them: Crime: Cheetos Crime: putting hotels on Boardwalk and Park Place just before dad lands on it Crime: putting hotels on Boardwalk and Park Place just before dad lands on it Crime: acting like a 4-year-old Crime: one sibling violates another’s personal space by “not touching” Crime: answering the phone Crime: leaving a single cookie crumb on the kitchen counter Crime: getting out dad’s “Stripes” DVD Crime: missing the toilet Crime: not finishing food If it’s the cleaning lady’s job to clean the house, why do we always pick up before she comes? (Usually just before she comes, too, with one of the kids stalling her in the foyer as we scramble to de-clutter the upstairs.) It would be one thing if we were motivated by conscience, believing it unfair to have her clean everything, but this doesn’t seem to be the case. Are we worried she’ll realize we’re really just a family of slobs? She can probably tell that already, thanks to dishes that occasionally end up under the bed and the collection of crumbs, coins and God-knows-what-it-is she regularly unearths from beneath the sofa cushions. Do we think she’ll tell the H.O.A. how much more disgusting our house is than, say, the neighbor’s down the street? (It is, but only because they have no kids.) Or do we just not want anyone — even the cleaning lady — to find out how much of our lifestyle is an illusion, and that the only parts we have the energy to maintain week in, week out, are the ones that other people see? (And if this is the case, is it a valid reason to switch to a cleaning service that relies on a small, anonymous army that moves too quickly for any one that’s a part of it to form any kind of impression of what a stye the house usually is?) Loading ...PARENT: Did you decide what you want to be yet? For a holiday that doesn’t include presents or days off from school, why is Halloween so popular? And is it better than it used to be, or worse? If you were a kid at any time during the ‘70s, the contrast between Halloween now and Halloween then is pretty clear. (Besides the fact that now you’re the parent.) For starters, you didn’t buy a costume back then, you made one. You thought of something cool, that nobody else would come up with, and then you spent the two or three weeks leading up to October 31st badgering your mother to help you make it. “Pretty please?” Sometimes your creation went over well, sometimes it didn’t: KID #1: What are you? Now everybody just goes to Target or one of those pop-up Halloween stores and picks out one of the pre-packaged outfits from Star Wars, Hannah Montana, Harry Potter, X-Men, G.I. Joe, Transformers, iCarly or Micky Mouse Clubhouse, or for those who want something less commercial, a costume from the unbranded collection: KID #1: Who are you? Not that homogenization is all bad: at least nobody gets their feelings hurt because their costume sucks. And for grown-ups who can’t tell Boba Fett from Voldemort, it’s convenient that asking “And what are you supposed to be?” once means you’ll be able to correctly identify 80% of whoever comes up to your door the rest of the night. There were plenty of other differences as well:
Maybe it’s just that everything seemed to move at a slower pace back then, with fewer complications and less to worry about — the biggest fear a parent faced was an apple with a razorblade inside, not an Amber Alert. (Or an H1N1 outbreak after a crowded Halloween party.) Contrast that with today, where there seem to be so many risks and potential red flags, it’s amazing we even let our kids participate in a tradition where they walk around in the dark collecting candy we haven’t screened from neighbors we haven’t met. Then again, if the whole point of Halloween is to be scared, now definitely beats then, and probably will until our kids are grown. (Which is exactly what our parents said in the ’70s.)
According to The New York Times, shouting is the new spanking. But what ever happened to the old spanking? And how could anything be as effective as a cold, hard slap across the butt? Still… if psychologists are to be believed, the problem with spanking is that it teaches kids that hitting is an acceptable way to solve a problem. (Among other things.) On the other hand, at least it teaches ‘em something – ‘cause as any non-spanking parent knows, you can only yell so much before your kids just tune you out. And then what? Waterboarding? Poll: Loading ... Loading ...“Chitty Chitty Bang Bang” Sure, it’s fun and the songs are catchy, but the bad guy’s main henchman tricks kids into thinking they’re getting free candy, then locks them in a jail wagon and takes them away. You could argue this provides a much-needed opportunity to talk to kids about the scary realities of the world we live in (and the people who live in it with us), but not at 3 am when your kid’s crying hysterically because the “candy jailer” is hiding in the closet. “Old Yeller” Not only does beloved dog Old Yeller get rabies and die in the end, the kid has to kill him. Talk about issues. “The Cowboys” John Wayne needs help. John Wayne can’t find cowboys. John Wayne gets kids instead of cowboys. John Wayne teaches kids to be cowboys (and by extension, men). John Wayne dies. YES, DIES. (Brutally, too, in a totally unheroic way.) How can John Wayne die? If John Wayne can die, anyone can die? To a generation raised on The Duke, this was more traumatic than walking in on your parents having sex. The only thing that made John Wayne’s death okay was the fact that the kids avenged him by killing the outlaw who killed him. But unfortunately for today’s kids, John Wayne isn’t an icon, he’s just an old guy from old movies they don’t show on Nick, so the scene where the kids take turns putting bullets into his killer is kind of extreme. “West Side Story” Gangs, turf wars, racial tension (the Sharks are Puerto Rican), a girl who’s almost raped… all set to music. When you watch this with your kids, explaining why the hero dies in the end will be the least of your concerns. “Brian’s Song” Even though we now know that it’s okay for kids to see their fathers cry, it can be confusing for kids if they also see their mom standing in the doorway rolling her eyes at the sight of dad crying over something as dated and melodramatic as this. “Heidi” In the Shirley Temple version of the classic book, a mountain girl with an unbreakable spirit gets shuffled between various sets of cranky grown-ups, eventually winning them over but nearly dying in the process. It’s kind of like the ultimate DCFS nightmare, only everybody ends up happy and not in jail or Family Court. “The Wizard of Oz” Flying monkeys were creepy then, they’re creepy now. “Journey to The Center of The Earth” “You can’t lead a dangerous expedition to the center of the earth,” says scientist James Mason to Arlene Dahl. “You’re just a woman – and as everyone knows, women are frail, weak and stupid enough to wear frilly bloomers on a trip down into an extinct volcano.” Add to that Pat Boone singing, lots of irresponsible spelunking, a pet duck that gets eaten by the bad guy (who is then killed by the duck’s owner in an act of justifiable homicide) and a giant lizard at the end that tries to eat everyone, and you’ve got a movie that irritates women, gives boys bad ideas (“We should see if that sewer down on the corner leads to the center of the earth!”) and causes nightmares. “Charlotte’s Web” Oh, look… it’s a cute little spider that can read and write! And what’s this? She uses her talents to save a pig from being slaughtered? How noble and touching! But then she dies, because that’s the natural order of things and God-forbid we spare kids that (unfortunate) truth. “Grease” Good girl moves to town. Good girl falls in with “wrong” crowd. Good girl takes up smoking and learns to dress like a 1950s slut. Good girl becomes bad girl and gets the boy of her dreams, becomes insanely popular, lives happily ever after. Now that’s a message you want to send to you kids, right? “Boy’s Town” An entire town full of priests and young boys? Wasn’t there a lawsuit about this? Haven’t there been a lot of lawsuits about this? As innocent and uplifting as this movie was at the time, it takes on an entirely different subtext now. “Pollyanna” This movie should be avoided if there’s any chance any of your kids will watch it and then try to be like Hayley Mills, because that would be really, really annoying. “Captains Courageous” Boy falls off boat. Boat doesn’t stop. Abandonment issues follow. “Mary Poppins” PARENT: Wanna watch Mary Poppins? “Willy Wonka” Gene Wilder is great, but as responsible parents, do we really want to give our kids the message that if they do what they’re told they’ll be rewarded, and if they act spoiled, have no self-control, are too demanding, too self-centered, etc. something bad will happen to them? On second thought, maybe this is a movie all kids should see.
KID: Can I juggle knives? Sometimes parents do need to say more than just “No,” which is where the Parental Response Generator (PRG) comes in handy: it randomly generates an appropriate response to just about anything kids might ask.
To generate other responses, just click the bold text in the box below. Most school districts have guidelines for homework, which are generally 10 minutes per night per grade. This information is usually included in the “Back to School” handout, or available on a web site. What they don’t tell you is that they don’t mean students are expected to spend 10 minutes per night per grade doing homework, they mean parents are expected to spend 10 minutes per night per grade — usually just to get your kids to sit down and get started, too. Add to that the time it takes to make them double-check their work, re-read the directions so they do it right this time, call a classmate when the finally admit they can’t re-read the directions because they “forgot” them at school, re-do everything one more time… and then suddenly it’s 10:30 and you’re wondering where your evening went. And that’s on a good night. On a bad night, you have to factor in the additional time it takes to wipe away the tears your grade school kid sheds because they’re afraid that when you scream you’re going to throw all the video games and game players in the house in the trash if they don’t focus “RIGHT NOW!” you actually mean it, or the time it takes to think up the increasingly harsh forms of punishment you threaten your jr. high or high school kid with to get them to quite screwing around and get their assignment done — note to Dick Cheney: getting a terrorist to write a detailed confession isn’t all that different than getting a kid to write a history paper, so imagine all the controversy you could have avoided if you’d just asked the nation’s parents to tell you what really works? There’s also the time it takes you to work through the shame and embarrassment you feel when you realize you’ve forgotten so much Math, Science, History and Social Studies that even when you finally snap and scream “Here, just let me do it!” you can’t actually do it. Cosine? Pi? The atomic number of ruthenium? The capital of Botswana? Uh… There was a time when students got homework and if they didn’t do it they’d get yelled at the next day by their teacher, paddled, given detention, or forced to stay after class while everybody else went outside to play so they could write “I promise I will not forget to do my homework again” 100 times on the blackboard. Now parents are responsible. Which means when there’s a note that gets sent home because there’s a problem, it blames you, asking what the Hell kind of uninvolved, uninterested, unfit parent you are for failing on such a regular basis to get your kid to sit down every night to complete such a simple thing as each day’s assignment. Or worse, all of the above plus the reminder that there’s a 25 page Social Studies report due on Friday: YOU: I just got a note from your teacher. What’s a parent to do? If you’re like many, you’ll eventually turn to your own parents for help, asking them how they endured homework’s Long March. But the only thing they’ll do is laugh and say there’s nothing you can do, and that as awful as your kids seem, they’re not any worse than you were when you were their age: YOU: Wow. Ouch. (On the other hand, whether it’s Math, Science or Social Studies when you’re a kid, or Parenting, Perspective and Anger Management when you’re an adult, it’s nice to know that you can still turn to your parents for help you with your homework.) Codependency is a dysfunction associated with excessively focusing on the needs and behaviors of others. But isn’t that also what parenting is all about?
So then if parenting does qualify as a mental illness, shouldn’t health insurance pay for some kind of treatment like a week alone on a beach in Cabo San Lucas or even just a night of babysitting? Since educators are always looking for ways to make lessons more relevant to students, how about using more realistic scenarios in story problems? For example:
As if homework wasn’t depressing enough… Now that the cold and (swine) flu season is upon us, it’s important to take a few moments to review the rules for when a child will be sent home:
And once your child has been sent home, your child must stay home for a minimum of either 48 hours from the onset of the first symptom, or 24 hours after the last symptom subsides, whichever is more inconvenient. Nobody said parenting would be easy, but that’s why God (and McDonald’s) created Happy Meals: nothing gives you that brief moment of inner-peace and contentment you need to maintain your fingertip-hold on sanity like a colorful cardboard box with some food and a plastic gender-specific toy inside – anytime, anywhere, for any reason, all without a prescription. Kids fighting over the XBOX? Sure, you could sit down and explain why it’s important they respect each other and learn to work things out, or you could just say “If you stop fighting I’ll take you to McDonald’s.” Same thing with motivating your kids to get their homework done. Or playing with their annoying younger sibling. Or cheering up. Or not causing trouble in the backseat on the way to Target. Because when kids are happy and content, parents are happy and content. Name 80 mg. of anything you could get at the doctor that does that? PARENT: I need a prescription for Prozac. Not that Happy Meals are perfect; they exceed the recommended daily allowance for saturated fat, salt, and just about everything else you’re not supposed to have too much of, but that’s only a concern if you think of Happy Meals as food: if you think of them as medication, they’re essentially side-effect free. (Just watch one hour of prime time and you’ll see drug commercials that warn about bloating, headaches, nausea, constipation, stomach cramps, muscle pain, muscle weakness, fever, dry mouth, bloodshot eyes, involuntary spasms, double-vision and painful erections lasting more than four hours – Happy Meals don’t cause any of these.) Happy Meals main flaw is they’re so nutritionally-challenged they’re likely to make kids fat. But while childhood obesity is nothing to take lightly, neither is psychological health and well-being – and isn’t it better for kids to carry a few extra pounds than carry repressed memories of their parents being so stressed out and overwhelmed all the time the only thing they ever did was yell and scream? There are other ways to take the stress out of parenting, of course, but while previous generations relied on the stick, today’s caregivers are clearly more comfortable with the carrot – especially when it’s breaded, deep-fried and shaped like a nugget. (Even Vegans, who could use actual carrots for the carrot, choose breaded, deep-fried tofu-ken nuggets.) If there’s any real problem with Happy Meals it’s the fact that you have to get them from McDonalds, which means half the time you’ll get boy toys instead of girl toys, or BBQ sauce instead of ranch, or a cheeseburger instead of a hamburger, or one of those awful, healthy sides instead of French fries. And you won’t realize it until you’re 10 miles away. And then not even a Happy Meal is powerful enough to neuter the irritation and frustration that follows. 4-YEAR-OLD: Is that women fat? |
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
Copyright © 2010 over-caffeinated|dad - All Rights Reserved |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
17 minutes
