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GET UP! GET UP! WE OVERSLEPT!
For most families, Daylight Savings 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.
IDIOT: I did.
RESPONSIBLE SPOUSE: Then why does it still say 7:40 when it’s really 8:40?
IDIOT: I guess I forgot.
RESPONSIBLE SPOUSE: Right — you forgot, so I’m late.
IDIOT: You could have changed it, too.
RESPONSIBLE SPOUSE: I changed all the other clocks!
IDIOT: That’s my point: why didn’t you remind me to change this one while you were changing all the others?
RESPONSIBLE SPOUSE: I did!
IDIOT: Well… I guess I didn’t hear you.
According to wikipedia, Daylight Savings 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 Savings 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?
RESPONSIBLE SPOUSE: Because you’re an idiot!
IDIOT: Me? If anyone’s an idiot, you are — and not just because of the clock.
RESPONSIBLE SPOUSE: Oh, really?
IDIOT: Yes, really. Do you have any idea how many stupid things you do around here on a daily basis?
RESPONSIBLE SPOUSE: No, but why don’t you tell me.
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 Savings Time doesn’t actually save anything, what’s the point?
Perhaps the one good thing about Daylight Savings 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.
KID: Where are we going?
PARENT: I’ll tell you when we get there.
KID: Uh-oh – you’re taking me to the doctor, aren’t you?
PARENT: Why do you say that?
KID: Because that’s what you always say when you take me to the doctor.
PARENT: I do?
KID: Either that or the dentist.
PARENT: It’s not the dentist.
KID: I knew it! But I’m not even sick!
PARENT: I know, but it’ll be over before you know it. And then we’ll go for cupcakes.
KID: CUPCAKES!
PARENT: I thought you liked cupcakes?
KID: I do like cupcakes, but cupcakes after the doctor mean I have to get a shot.
PARENT: Not always.
KID: Yes always.
PARENT: No, sometimes we go for cupcakes even when you don’t have to get a shot.
KID: So does that mean I don’t have to get a shot?
PARENT: Unfortunately, no – it turns out the H1N1 vaccine you got last year takes two shots.
KID: Two shots!
PARENT: Two shots.
KID: That’s so unfair.
PARENT: I know. But I tell you what – after cupcakes, I’ll let you get one small toy at the toy store.
KID: NOOOOOOOOOOO!
PARENT: What’s wrong with getting a toy!?!?!?!
KID: Getting a toy after the doctor means they’re gonna use a big, huge needle. AHHHHHHHHHHH!
PRE-SCHOOLER: Hit. Bit. Fit. Shit. Hit. Bit. Fit. Shit.
DAD: What?
MOM: Did he just say what I think he said?
PRE-SCHOOLER: Hit. Bit. Fit. Shit.
MOM: Sweetie, you shouldn’t say that.
PRE-SCHOOLER: Say what?
DAD: That word.
MOM: Especially around Grandma – God knows she thinks I’m a bad enough parent as it is.
PRE-SCHOOLER: What word? Hit? Bit? Fit? Shit?
DAD: That’s enough.
MOM: How are we gonna tell him not to say S-H-I-T without saying S-H-I-T?
DAD: Why don’t you make a different rhyme?
PRE-SCHOOLER: Mass. Class. Bass. Ass.
MOM: I have a better idea. Have a seat and let’s talk about this. See, there are some words you can’t say out loud.
PRE-SCHOOLER: Why?
MOM: Because they’re bad words.
PRE-SCHOOLER: Why are they bad? Did they do something to get in trou- ble, like leave their toys in the hallway?
MOM: No, the words didn’t do anything, they’re just bad.
DAD: And if you say them you’ll get in trouble.
PRE-SCHOOLER: Why are you using your angry voice?
MOM: Daddy’s not using his angry voice. He’s just trying to tell you there are some words that are bad and good boys don’t say them.
PRE-SCHOOLER: But Daddy says them when he drives us to school, and sometimes after he talks to Grandma.
MOM: Look… Let’s just take a break from rhyming and you and I will go play with your fire truck.
PRE-SCHOOLER: Okay – Truck. Duck. Muck. F –
MOM & DAD: NOOOOO!
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:
- Extra arms
- Some kind of emotional fuse that would blow before we did
- Two mouths – not to clear up the problem of talking out of both sides of the one we have, but so we could have an adult conversation with our spouse while simultaneously telling our kids why it’s a bad idea to see how many pieces of furniture they can stack on the dog
- A personal thermostat so we could lower our core temperature whenever an infant or exhausted toddler falls asleep on our chest, enabling us to not have to choose between heat-stroke and moving a sleeping child
- 5-gallon bladder (for same reason as above)
- No need for sleep
- Implantable encyclopedia, because who can remember “Why is the sky blue?“
- A safe, legal, side-effect free substance that gives us the energy of a three-year-old – not to keep up with a three-year-old, of course, but so we’d have the energy to get things down when our three-year-old finally goes to sleep
- A filter that enables us to watch the same animated TV show over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over without getting bored
- A neuro-plug-in that allows us to enter a zen-like state whenever we have to listen to the kind of long, boring, ultimately pointless stories kids under 10 tend to tell, but that still enables us to back-channel so they can’t tell we’re not really listening
- A neuro-plug-in that allows the neuro-plug-in listed above to work on spouses, too
- Memory implants to help us remember the names and attributes of all Transformer, Pokemon, Bella Sara etc. characters
- A dial that allows us to manipulate our taste buds so that all the awful-tasting foods we make our kids eat (but then have to choke down ourself so we can set a good example) taste like chocolate to us
- Portable, detachable eyeballs that we can hide on the shelf in our kid’s room so that when that eerie silence falls over the house we can see exactly what trouble they’re causing
- A tracking device that helps us locate all the jackets, pants, shoes, socks etc. our kid “forgot” to hang up and now can’t find
- A remote-control bladder override button so that when we’re leaving for a long car trip and our kids swear they don’t have to go pee we can drain their 98% full bladder anyway
- Anti-bacterial skin so we don’t catch every single cold our kids bring home from daycare
- The same kind of sonar that bats have, only this would let us know when balls, pillows, toy trucks and other objects are accidentally – and inexplicably – launched at our heads
- Selective hearing – somewhat like what we have now, only with a much, much greater degree of control, so that instead of figuratively “tuning out” our kids when they whine and cry because we won’t give them another cookie, we would actually be able to shut off whatever part of the audio spectrum they use so we actually wouldn’t hear them
- The ability to “aim” our voice so only the kid we’re actively yelling at can hear us, enabling us to make threats during church, while standing in the supermarket check-out line, at the movie theater — anywhere decorum prohibits loud, angry outbursts
- Bite-proof skin
- Implantable BS detector
- Spare limbs to replace those inadvertently damaged by jumping toddlers, grade schoolers who underestimate their own strength and teenagers who encourage us to follow them down the hill on a snowboard without realizing we’re not nearly as resilient as they are.
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?
KID: I don’t know.
PARENT: Have you seen your brother?
KID: I don’t know.
PARENT: Why is your lip bleeding?
KID: I don’t know.
PARENT: Did he hit you?
KID: I don’t know.
PARENT: Are you even listening to me?
KID: I don’t know.
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.
Just because kids say they’re sick doesn’t mean they actually are sick. And while Teachers and principals will almost always tell parents to keep kids home if they have any question at all about how they feel, that isn’t practical.
(And it’s kind of laughable, too, because for most parents the fact that their kids learn something at school isn’t nearly as important as the fact that somebody else has to put up with their crap watch them for a few hours each weekday.)
So how do you know if your child really is too sick for school? All you have to do is ask your kids what sort of electronics they think they’ll be able to use later in the day, once they’re “feeling better.”
| Electronics they say kids say they might be able to use: |
chance they’re actually sick: |
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- Nintendo DS, Gameboy, PSP, games on cell phones, e-mail
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- Wii, texting or talking to friends on cell phone, online multi-player games
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- Any of the above while electronically linked with a friend (or friends) who just happen to be home “sick,” too
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1This mostly depends on what they watch — a Cartoon Network Marathon would raise suspicions, CNN’s The Situation Room wouldn’t.
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?
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.)
- 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.”
- 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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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?
KID: A video game, see?
PARENTS: I don’t think that’s appropriate – it says on the box it’s rated “M for Mature.”
KID: No, it’s fine – I have tons of other “M for Mature” games.
PARENTS: You do?
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?
CEO: We did.
ATTORNEY REPRESENTING CLASS ACTION LAWSUIT: And where did you state that?
CEO: On the label.
ATTORNEY REPRESENTING CLASS ACTION LAWSUIT: But the four-year-olds I’m representing can’t read, can they?
CEO: No, they can’t. Which is why we agree to pay whatever settlement you want.
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
My true love gave to me
The worst cold I ever did have.
On the second day of Christmas
My true love gave to me
Two hours of sleep
And the worst cold I ever did have.
On the third day of Christmas
My true love gave to me
Three last-minute invites
Two hours of sleep
And the worst cold I ever did have.
On the fourth day of Christmas
My true love gave to me
Four wound-up kids
Three last-minute invites
Two hours of sleep
And the worst cold I ever did have.
On the fifth day of Christmas
My true love gave to me
Five no-show sitters
Four wound-up kids
Three last-minute invites
Two hours of sleep
And the worst cold I ever did have.
On the sixth day of Christmas
My true love gave to me
Six pleas to grandma
Five no-show sitters
Four wound-up kids
Three last-minute invites
Two hours of sleep
And the worst cold I ever did have.
On the seventh day of Christmas
My true love gave to me
Seven cups of egg nog
Six pleas to grandma
Five no-show sitters
Four wound-up kids
Three last-minute invites
Two hours of sleep
And the worst cold I ever did have.
On the eighth day of Christmas
My true love gave to me
Eight off-color comments
Seven cups of egg nog
Six pleas to grandma
Five no-show sitters
Four wound-up kids
Three last-minute invites
Two hours of sleep
And the worst cold I ever did have.
On the ninth day of Christmas
My true love gave to me
Nine disagreements
Eight off-color comments
Seven cups of egg nog
Six pleas to grandma
Five no-show sitters
Four wound-up kids
Three last-minute invites
Two hours of sleep
And the worst cold I ever did have.
On the tenth day of Christmas
My true love gave to me
Ten accusations
Nine disagreements
Eight off-color comments
Seven cups of egg nog
Six pleas to grandma
Five no-show sitters
Four wound-up kids
Three last-minute invites
Two hours of sleep
And the worst cold I ever did have.
On the eleventh day of Christmas
My true love gave to me Eleven silent curses
Ten accusations
Nine disagreements
Eight off-color comments
Seven cups of egg nog
Six pleas to grandma
Five no-show sitters
Four wound-up kids
Three last-minute invites
Two hours of sleep And the worst cold I ever did have.
On the twelfth day of Christmas
My true love gave to me
Twelve nasty looks
Eleven silent curses
Ten accusations
Nine disagreements
Eight off-color comments
Seven cups of egg nog
Six pleas to grandma
Five no-show sitters
Four wound-up kids
Three last-minute invites
Two hours of sleep
And the worst cold I ever did have.
(Which is probably why we’re not talking to each other right now.)
PARENT: What are you doing?
4-YEAR-OLD: Mom said I should write a letter to Santa Claus.
PARENT: Can I see?
4-YEAR-OLD: Sure. Here.
PARENT: It says “A.”
4-YEAR-OLD: Yeah, I was gonna write a “G” but I couldn’t remember which way the opening went.
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DASHER: What’s wrong? You look pissed.
COMET: Did you see the memo? “To reindeer, from Santa: due to unforeseen weather conditions, effective immediately, Rudolph will assume responsibility for sleigh navigation and team member management.”
DASHER: Rudolph’s gonna lead the sleigh tonight!?!?!?! But Rudolph doesn’t even have any experience.
COMET: I know: how can somebody who’s never even been on the team step in and lead it?
DASHER: I guess if you kiss the right ass, anything’s possible.
COMET: Yeah, forget “red nose,” they oughta call him “brown nose.”
DASHER: Doesn’t Santa realize there’s a reason we never let Rudolph join in any of our reindeer games?
COMET: You know Santa as well as I do: he only cares if you’re “good” or “bad,” not if you’re bossy, manipulative, selfish and conniving.
DASHER: Personally, I find the whole thing insulting. I mean, have we ever let Santa down before? Doesn’t he believe in us?
COMET: Sometimes I think Santa’s not just thick around the middle, he’s thick in the head, too. But what can I say? The fog’s got him worried.
DASHER: What he should be worried about is Rudolph getting a DUI.
COMET: Huh?
DASHER: C’mon – why do you think they call him “red” nose?
COMET: I had no idea.
DASHER: And the worst part is we’ll all just go along with it because that’s what good reindeer do.
COMET: We’re enablers.
DASHER: And then, when Christmas is over and all the children of the world have their toys, everybody will say it’s all because of Rudolph.
COMET: Oh, c’mon. We’ll get some of the credit.
DASHER: Mark my words: Rudolph will go down in history.
- Door dings.
- Trash bins that are supposed to be animal-proof but aren’t.
- Dropped calls.
- FEDEX drivers who double-park.
- Stores that post the wrong hours online.
- Meter maids.
- Parents who bring their kids to daycare when they’re sick.
- Traffic.
- Drivers who make phone calls instead of turning.
- Construction delays.
- Drivers who don’t wait their turn at 4-way stops.
- Tele-marketers who claim they don’t have to heed the “Do Not Call” registry because you’re a customer of their subsidiaries’ off-shore cousin’s shell company.
- SUVs parked in compact spaces.
- Chatty baristas who don’t seem to care/realize there are now 37 people in line.
- The drive-thru (especially McDonald’s).
- Golf.
- People who don’t pick up after their pets.
- News promos that use the words “deadly,” “outbreak,” and “protect yourself” when all they’re actually talking about is the flu.
- Parents who call before 8:30 am.
- Activities that are canceled or postponed by e-mail a few hours before they’re supposed to start.
- Radio stations that have 25 minutes of commercials every hour.
- Things at the supermarket that are still on the shelves days, weeks or months after their expiration date.
- Cable-company DVRs.
- Apple Airport Extreme Wi-Fi.
- Universal remotes.
- Spellcheck.
- When your kids hide your keys.
- Saran Wrap.
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?
KID: I was. But I got kicked out.
PARENT: What?!?!?! Why?
KID: Well… you know how you tell me I shouldn’t say bad words?
PARENT: Yeah.
KID: You never told me I shouldn’t type them, either.
PARENT: Oh.
KID: You’re not gonna wash my mouth out with soap like your mom did, are you?
PARENT: No, that only happened when we saida bad word.
KID: Good, ‘cause that sounds gross.
PARENT: It was. But I am gonna make you get some soap and scrub under your fingernails.
KID: Why? Because I used them to type a bad word?
PARENT: No, because I can see they’re dirty.
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:
- More choices
- The complete season of anything
- Bigger HDTVs
- New neighbors (they don’t say “The devil you know…” for nothing)
- Sleep (though it might not feel that way today, the fact that our eyes are still open proves it)
Things we need but don’t have:
- Time
- Enough space in the hall closet
- Healthy, all-natural, organic snacks that don’t taste like crap
- Somebody to validate our decisions
- Perspective (which, like car keys and DVD cases, is easy to misplace and doesn’t usually turn up until we stop looking for it)
Things we have but don’t use:
- Offers from childless friends to baby-sit
- Half of whatever we got at our school’s last silent auction
- A fondue set
- Kid coupons for “15 minutes of quiet,” “a free back rub,” “breakfast in bed,” etc.
- Control over what we do with our life (even though it doesn’t always — or ever? — feel that way)
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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.
KID: Look at me. I have a beard!
PARENT: Wow. You do have a beard. You look like Grizzly Adams.
KID: I made it myself.
PARENT: I can see that. It looks like… Hold on… Come closer so I can get a better look.
KID: I did a good job, didn’t I?
PARENT: You didn’t use the permanent markers from my drawer, did you?
KID: I did — but it’s okay because when I was done I didn’t leave them out, I put them right back where I found them.
- Showering.
- Getting dressed in the morning.
- Punctuality.
- Watching a TV show all the way through in one sitting.
- Airport security checkpoints.
- Walking through the house without tripping over a toy (or a toddler).
- Talking on the phone.
- Going to the toilet by yourself.
- Peace and quiet.
- Driving anywhere more than 15 minutes away.
- Scheduling.
- Maintaining order.
- Arguing with your spouse. (Especially because swear words tend to get re- peated over and over by the little ears that hear them.)
- Dinner (because they want to help make it and/or because they hate every- thing you suggest).
- Administering oral medications.
- Keeping your shoes in order on the floor of your walk-in closet.
- Logic and reason.
- Staying in bed all day when you’re sick.
- Keeping food off your clothes.
- Keeping make-up in the top drawer of the vanity.
- Vacuuming.
- Sex. (Which you’re probably too tired to want, anyway.)
- Talking to other adults like they’re adults.
- Working from home.
- Writing anything longer than a list.
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
Punishment: brown rice, tofu and vegetables for dinner every night for the rest of the month
Real reason: mom started a new diet, has somehow gained 3.5 pounds
Crime: putting hotels on Boardwalk and Park Place just before dad lands on it
Punishment: game over, everybody sent to bed
Real reason: one of dad’s fraternity brothers just made the Forbes 400
Crime: putting hotels on Boardwalk and Park Place just before dad lands on it
Punishment: game over, everybody sent to bed, dad sits in living room drink- ing whiskey
Real reason: one of dad’s brothers just made the Forbes 400
Crime: acting like a 4-year-old
Punishment: no more Chuck E. Cheese’s, ever
Real reason: as if an hour at Chuck E. Cheese’s wasn’t bad enough, you’ve now been there for three
Crime: one sibling violates another’s personal space by “not touching”
Punishment: turn car around, go home
Real reason: dad just got the taxes back from the accountant, who said “child care” wasn’t deductible
Crime: answering the phone
Punishment: fined $50
Real reason: it’s fundraising season and charities are exempt from the “Do Not Call” registry
Crime: leaving a single cookie crumb on the kitchen counter
Punishment: helping clean the entire house from top to bottom, including the back yard
Real reason: mother-in-law coming, will mentally perform “white glove test” the second she arrives
Crime: getting out dad’s “Stripes” DVD
Punishment: no TV for the rest of the week
Real reason: it’s not really a “Stripes” DVD (wink, wink, nudge, nudge)
Crime: missing the toilet
Punishment: a good talking-to
Real reason: mom and dad spent the day cleaning up somebody else’s mess at work, just can’t handle doing it at home right now
Crime: not finishing food
Punishment: 20-minute lecture on how food costs a lot of money that we can’t afford to be wasting right now
Real reason: employment figures released, stocks plunged, housing market dropped even lower, etc.
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?)
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PARENT: Did you decide what you want to be yet?
KID: A vampire.
PARENT: I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.
KID: Why?
PARENT: You’re not supposed to be anything anyone might find inappropriate.
KID: Seriously?
PARENT: That’s what it said in the paper.
KID: I guess I could be G.I.JOE.
PARENT: No, you can’t do that because your school has a zero-tolerance policy on weapons.
KID: What if I leave the plastic gun at home?
PARENT: You’d still get expelled for wearing a holster.
KID: How about I go as a hobo?
PARENT: That’s culturally insensitive.
KID: You were an Indian when you were a kid, what about that?
PARENT: That’s racially insensitive.
KID: A wrinkly old man?
PARENT: That’s ageist.
KID: The Devil?
PARENT: Too many people think Halloween glorifies Satanism, so that’s not a good idea either.
KID: How about I just throw a sheet over my head and go as a ghost?
PARENT: No.
KID: Why?
PARENT: Covering your face like that would be a safety issue.
KID: Then what should I be?
PARENT: How about a clown?
KID: No way – clowns are too scary.
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?
KID #2: I’m Floyd, the Hillbilly Sheriff.
KID #1: Oh.
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?
KID #2: I’m a generic pirate. Argh. How about you?
KID #1: I’m a generic ghost. Boo.
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:
- Schools actually had Halloween parties during school hours.
- If a kid was going as, say, a soldier or a cowboy, he’d bring a toy gun without worrying about a zero-tolerance expulsion.
- For costumes in general, nobody thought twice about being culturally insensitive. (And sometimes it seemed like that was the whole point.)
- Kids went trick or treating by themselves, late into the night, without flashlights, beacons, cell phones, GPS or an adult guardian.
- Nobody gave out healthy snacks (or felt guilt that they didn’t).
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.)
- If you’re a parent, just accentuate the bags under your eyes and go as a zombie.
- Stick your head in the sand and tell everyone you’re an optimist.
- Put on white pants, a white shirt, and white shoes, then jump in the shower and go as the melting polar ice caps.
- Grab your resume, put on a suit and tie and be one of the millions looking for work. (And if you actually are one of the millions looking for work, do all of the above, but also smile and tell everyone you’re the 1 in 500 who applied for a job and actually got hired.)
- Grab a coin, a ouija board, an astrology chart and some of those bones mystics in movies throw to predict the future and tell everyone you’re an economist.
- Write “Healthcare Debate” on your shirt, then stab yourself with a fork and say you’re done. (But first make sure the nearest emergency room is on your list of approved providers, you have plenty of money to make your co-pay, and that your health insurance company won’t decline coverage because your stab wound is a pre-existing condition.)
- Stay home and hide in the attic, then when people ask you what you did for Halloween you can tell them you went as the balloon boy.
- Smile, breath a deep sigh of relief, and be the parent of a kid who’s going to a Halloween party at somebody else’s house.
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:
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“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?
KID: Sure, what’s it about?
PARENT: It’s about a governess who –
KID: What’s a “governess?”
PARENT: A governess is like a nanny, only… er… uh… well, I guess a governess is a nanny – only this one has magical powers.
KID: You mean like Nanny McPhee?
PARENT: No, not like Nanny McPhee. Or maybe a little like Nanny McPhee. Only Mary Poppins is beautiful and Nanny McPhee is… not.
KID: You know, you shouldn’t judge people by the way they look.
PARENT: I wasn’t judging.
KID: It sounds like you were judging.
PARENT: I wasn’t.
KID: She can’t help the way she looks.
PARENT: I know that.
KID: Why are you getting upset?
PARENT: Do you want to watch the movie or not?
KID: Not if you’re gonna get mad at me.
“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.
- The first thing you do when you wake up in the morning is look for somebody to blame.
- No matter what anyone says, you completely disagree.
- There are no accidents or innocent mistakes: everything everybody does to you is “on purpose.”
- You yell at your spouse for breathing too loudly.
- You yell at the dog for laying around the house all day doing nothing.
- You yell at your kids for almost anything, and then you feel so bad about you break down and cry.
- Even though you’re not hungry, you stand at the fridge eating (usually whatever you can reach, instead of something you might enjoy).
- You stop going to Starbucks because you can’t take the pressure.
- Everything you say ends with a threat.
- You find yourself staring at a stranger whose face is locked in a permanent scowl for two or three minutes before you realize you’re standing in front of a mirror.
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KID: Can I juggle knives?
PARENT: No.
KID: Please?
PARENT: No.
KID: But I promise to be careful.
PARENT: No.
KID: The Brown twin’s parents let them do it.
PARENT: No.
KID: That’s so unfair! All you ever say is “No.”
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.
| Response: |
Not as long as there's breath in my lungs. | |
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.
YOUR KID: I know. I brought it home.
YOU: It says you have a paper due on Friday.
YOUR KID: Yeah, for Social Studies.
YOU: Have you started it yet?
YOUR KID: No.
YOU: Why not?
YOUR KID: ‘cause it’s only Wednesday. Duh.
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.
YOUR PARENTS: Yeah, sometimes helping you with homework got so bad we had to stop and walk around the block.
YOU: I’m sorry I put you through all that.
YOUR PARENTS: We forgive you.
YOU: Thanks.
YOUR PARENTS: And when your kids call you in 20 or 30 years to say the exact same thing, you’ll forgive them, too.
YOU: I guess.
YOUR PARENTS: Besides, every minute of stress and frustration they cause you now, they’ll suffer when they get older and have to help their kids.
YOU: That’s supposed to make me feel better?
YOUR PARENTS: No, but it finally makes us feel better.
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?
| Codependents |
Parents |
- place the needs of others above their own
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- which explains why parents never get enough sleep, can’t get a minute to sit down and relax, and frequently find themselves sitting in a booth at Chuck E. Cheese eating cold pizza and waiting for tokens to run out
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- derive their sense of self from being a caretaker and feel lost without somebody to need them
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- which explains why parents cry when their pre-schoolers finally learn to tie their shoelaces by themselves
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- commit to things they don’t want to do, then resent having to do them
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- like playdates, chaperoning school field trips, hosting sleepovers or anything involve a PTA sub-committee
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- feel like they are the only ones who can do things right
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- even after explaining “how to” three or four times using charts, graphs, diagrams and instructional videos
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- make excuses for the bad behavior of those they are taking care of
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- especially in public, when in-laws or other parents are watching, even though nobody really believes it when they say their kids are just “over-tired,” “still learning to share,” or “out of sorts”
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- and would probably go to therapy because of it if they had the time
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- constantly give but get little or nothing in return
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- all day, every day, without so much as “thank you” — Is it really that hard to show a little appreciation for all the time and effort parenting takes?
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- do things others are clearly capable of
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- like picking up the towels on the bathroom floor, wiping butts, “helping” with science projects that were supposed to have been started weeks ago but weren’t, etc.
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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:
- Billy’s parent’s mortgage is $2200 per month. But since Billy’s Dad lost his job and Billy’s Mom had her hours cut, their monthly take-home pay is only $3200. After subtracting $1400 for food, $80 for cell phones, $440 for a car loan, $340 for cable, gas, electric, water and trash pick-up, and $700 in credit card interest payments, how much do they have left to pay their mortgage? And how long can they keep making this payment before the bank decides to just foreclose?
- If 10 people apply for 100 different jobs, what chance does any of them have of getting hired? And how many times do the other 90 have to be rejected before they just give up and stop looking?
- Alison’s Mom’s therapist wants her to start taking two anti-depressants. If anti-depressant X reduces anxiety and takes 3 weeks to start working and anti-depressant Y reduces depression and takes 1 week to start working, how long before Alison stops finding her mom sitting on the sofa in the dark at 2 am crying uncontrollably?
- Two men discover large masses growing out of the back of their spines. If one is 25 and the other is 85, which one will get the go-ahead from his insurance company for experimental treatment? Hint: keep in mind that most 25-year-olds don’t have health insurance, and while the 85-year-old gets Medicare, he lives in a swing state that’s been bombarded with so much health care propaganda he’s worried he’ll be euthanized by a Death Panel the second he steps foot in the hospital.
- Two men run for president. One wins handily by promising to change things. How long does the winner have to come through on that promise before his party gets crushed in the mid-terms and he follows in the footsteps of Jimmy Carter and George H. W. Bush and only lasts one term?
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:
- If your child is running a fever, your child will be sent home.
- If your child is vomiting, your child will be sent home.
- If your child is sneezing anything yellow or green, your child will be sent home.
- If your child “isn’t acting like himself,” your child will be sent home.
- If your child “looks like” he’s getting sick, your child will be sent home (even if he’s not sneezing, coughing or vomiting).
- If your child is just kind of being a pain in the ass and the teacher can’t really deal with it anymore and there have been confirmed cases of H1N1 at the school, your child will be sent home.
- If another child is sick but that child’s parents can’t be reached, your child will be sent home.
- If your child is fine but three or more other children in the same class who sit near your child are sent home, your child will be sent home.
- If another child coughs and sneezes on your child, your child will be sent home. (Though the sneezing child will be allowed to stay because his/her parents can’t be reached.)
- If you have a meeting or appointment you absolutely can’t miss, your child will be sent home.
- If your child is tired and cranky, your child will be sent home.
- If the teacher is tired and cranky, your child will be sent home.
- If you didn’t conceal your dislike for your child’s teacher at the last parent-teacher conference, your child will be sent home.
- If you usually rely on your parents to watch your child when your child is sick and they go out of town, have errands to run, or just can’t do it today, your child will be sent home.
- If you came promptly to pick up your child the last time your child was sent home, your child will be sent home.
- If you are sick, your 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.
DOCTOR: Why?
PARENT: My kids are driving me crazy.
DOCTOR: Prozac won’t help.
PARENT: Paxil?
DOCTOR: No.
PARENT: Zoloft?
DOCTOR: No.
PARENT: Celexa? Cymbalta? Wellbutrin?
DOCTOR: No. No. And no.
PARENT: C’mon, there’s got to be something!
DOCTOR: I could prescribe sedatives, but there is one problem.
PARENT: What?
DOCTOR: Kids won’t usually take them.
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?
DAD: What woman?
4-YEAR-OLD: That woman over there.
DAD: No, she’s fine. And don’t say that kind of thing so loudly.
4-YEAR-OLD: She looks fat to me.
DAD: She’s not.
4-YEAR-OLD: She’s bigger than Mommy, isn’t she?
DAD: Yes.
4-YEAR-OLD: When Mommy looks in the mirror, she says “I’m fat!” So if that woman is bigger than Mommy, then she’s fat, right?
DAD: Look… nobody is fat. Mommy isn’t fat. That woman isn’t fat.
Nobody is fat. Now… LET’S TALK ABOUT THIS LATER!
4-YEAR-OLD: Why?
DAD: Because.
4-YEAR-OLD: Because why?
DAD: Because it’s not nice to say that about people in public.
4-YEAR-OLD: Why? Don’t they know they’re fat?
DAD: I’m sure they know, but sometimes people are self-conscious about their weight because they think other people will look down on them.
4-YEAR-OLD: I won’t look down on them. I don’t care if they’re fat.
DAD: That’s good.
4-YEAR-OLD: Do you think I should go over and tell that woman I don’t care if she’s fat?
DAD: No!
4-YEAR-OLD: But then she won’t be self-conscious!
DAD: Too late.
4-YEAR-OLD: Why?
DAD: See the way she’s staring at us? I think she heard everything we just said.
4-YEAR-OLD: Hey! Doesn’t she know it’s not polite to stare?
God bless Oprah and all the good she does in the world, but sometimes she – or, perhaps more accurately, her editors – get it wrong.
Case in point: the 10-point family guide to getting more sleep, which starts out sensibly enough, but quickly takes an impractical turn:
1. Make sleep a family priority.
2. Recognize sleep problems in your children.
For most parents, the problem isn’t recognizing the problem – it’s pretty obvious that kids don’t like going to sleep, ever, no matter how late it is or how tired they are – it’s figuring out what to do about it, other than turning to Benadryl.
3. Parents need to work together.
But we don’t.
It’s not “divide and conquer” so much as it is “You deal with it while I relax for a while and watch TV ‘cause I’ve had a rough day.”
4. Be consistent.
Ha.
5. Set a regular bedtime and wake time.
Parents already do this all the time, we’re just not very good at it. Because while most of us realize that bedtime should be 15 to 30 minutes before we finally reach the breaking point, and wake time should be whenever we finally get enough sleep to feel rested and alert – say 8:09 pm and 7:51 am – the reality is that bedtime is usually 15 minutes after the breaking point, and wake time is whatever time you absolutely, positively have to leave the house in the morning so you’re not late minus half the time you need to make breakfast, make lunches, make coffee, take a shower, get everyone dressed, settle whatever random fight breaks out that morning and kiss your spouse. (Unless you’re still fighting because you didn’t work together.)
6. Routine. Routine. Routine.
In your dreams. In your dreams. In your dreams – unless a “routine” can consist of a carefully planned series of random, unpredictable events to which no timeframe can ever logically be applied.
7. Dress and room temperature – not too hot, not too cold.
Oh, please – if one kid is too hot, the other is too cold, and if they’re fine, you’re uncomfortable. The only one who ever got anything “just right” was Goldilocks and she was make-believe.
8. Transitional object to ease separation – doll, stuffed animal, blanket.
Okay, but what do you do when the “transitional object” is Mom?
(While that might seem good for Dad, it’s bad for Mom, which means that ultimately it’s bad for Dad, too.)
9. Don’t share your room or your bed with your child.
Anyone with parents who weren’t hippies has heard this, but let’s examine the way it works in real life:
CHILD: Can I sleep with you?
PARENT: No.
CHILD: But I’m scared.
PARENT: No.
CHILD: And I don’t like being by myself.
PARENT: No.
CHILD: Why not?
PARENT: Because Oprah says you can’t.
CHILD: I hate Oprah. Oprah is mean. I’m never going to watch Oprah on TV again. (Unless she gives me a car*.)
Worse, the next night when your kid comes in it won’t be because there’s a monster under the bed, it’ll be because Oprah is there, too.
10. There’s always one last thing with kids, so anticipate.
Anticipate? One last thing? How about 10 last things? Or 20? Any parent who can do that is clearly psychic and should just hit the Atlantic City casinos and hire an army of nannies with the winnings.
For most parents, the most practical suggestion for getting more family sleep is to just be patient for 18 years or so, at which time the kids will finally be old enough to move on and sleep by themselves.
*Or recommends her audience checks out www.overcaffeinateddad.com.
>When did the Civil War start?
>What’s a dangling participle?
>How do you find the radius of a circle?
Homework may be be good for kids, but it’s bad for parents — what else could make an educated person feel like such an idiot?
KID: Is this answer right?
PARENT: What are you supposed to do?
KID: Find the slope of the line.
PARENT: Um… geometry wasn’t my best subject.
KID: This is algebra.
It’s one thing to forget something you only learned once, a long time ago, like what year World War II started, but it’s another to blank out completely on an entire subject.
(No wonder that nightmare where you find yourself back in school taking a test is so scary — you know for a fact you can’t pass.)
There was a time when parents could conceal their ignorance by telling their kids “Don’t forget to finish your homework!” before disappearing into the other room to watch TV for the rest of the night. But today’s schools send home so many hints and reminders it’s pretty clear they expect parents to not only actively check their kids’ homework, but participate in the doing of it, too.
PARENT: Any homework tonight?
KID: I have to measure the effects of pressure on memory by having you recite as many capitols as you can in under 60 seconds. Ready?
PARENT: I don’t need 60 seconds: Olympia, Washington; Sacramento, California; and I forget the other 48.
KID: Seriously?
PARENT: Geography wasn’t my best subject, either.
It’s not like you can defend yourself by admitting the real reason you’re not smarter than a 5th grader is because you don’t have to be, and that outside a limited number of professions, nobody really needs to know Π, the central theme of Dante’s Inferno, or how to say “Good Morning” in German.
(In Chinese, maybe, with the way the world is going, but definitely not in German.)
That’s worse than telling to a pre-schooler there’s no reason to be good because there’s no Santa Claus.
Leaving two ways to handle the homework knowledge gap: shrug it off and remind yourself that your kids are being graded, not you,* and that part of learning is learning how to do assignments on your own with no help from your parents.
Or hire a tutor.
For yourself.
*Parent-teacher conferences aside.
TO: PARENTS
FROM: YOUR SCHOOL DISTRICT
RE: 2009/2010
Greetings.
As we kick off the new school year, we thought it necessary to take a few moments to discuss some of the challenges we’re facing this year. As many of you know, the economy is still struggling and we have been hit particularly hard by state budget cuts.
Again — wasn’t Obama supposed to have fixed everything by now?
As a result, we have undertaken a series of steps to deal with this unfortunate situation, and ask for your understanding in this difficult time.
The first and most obvious change is a slight reduction in the total number of days school will be in session this year. In addition to usual holidays, we will also be observing Halloween, All Saints’ Day (in a non-denominational way), Dia De Los Muertos, Guy Fawkes Day, the Winter Solstice, The Great American Smoke Out, Pearl Harbor Day, World Religion Day (again, in a non-denominational way), The Day The Music Died Day, Groundhog Day, Valentine’s Day, Good Samaritan Day, The Ides of March, St. Patrick’s Day, April Fools’ and Arbor Day.
We had planned to observe Cinco De Mayo as well, but since the last day of class will now be April 15th, school will already be closed.
Our vacation schedule is undergoing some adjustments as well: Thanksgiving Break will now go through the end of the November, Winter Break will last until the day after Martin Luther Kind Day, and Spring Break will be March.
We will also be closing the school February 16-20 to give all parents a chance to take part in — depending on your situation — either a “Take Your Child to Work Week” or a series of field trips to The Unemployment Office, Health & Human Services, and various shelters and soup-kitchens.
We apologize for any inconvenience this might cause, but would like to point out that because these additional closure days will be unpaid, all teachers and administrators will be available for babysitting at the standard rate of $9/hr if your child is well-behaved, $25/hr. if he or she is not.
(If you’re not sure which category your kid falls into, ask the principal or one of the teachers to check the secret “trouble-maker” list in the office, or ask your child directly — though if talking to your child is not something you normally do, just go ahead and assume you’ll be paying the higher rate.)
In addition to schedule changes, we have also been forced to make adjustments to what we call “non-core classes,” or what most students refer to as “fun.”
Where we used to offer music class and after-school guitar, violin, flute and coronet lessons, we will now just have an iPod filled with classical music in the library that students can check out.
Art class will continue, thanks to the generous corporate support of Exxon, but will consist solely of students painting pictures of happy animals frolicking among oil derricks and pipelines in a global-warming-free world. And not with pastels or water-colors, either, but only oils.
The biggest change will be to shop class, which will be mandatory for all students, and will focus exclusively on offering them practical, hands-on experience, beginning with re-tarring the gymnasium roof, which was supposed to be paid for with federal stimulus funds, except the governor rejected them.
In light of all this, we are also revising our official “Back to School” supplies list to include the following:
- Work gloves
- Hard hat
- Safety goggles
- Notarized liability waiver
We have also changed the required quantities of the selected items.
Instead of:
Students will now be required to bring:
- 10 rolls of tape so the old torn-up text books that were pulled from the incinerator just before they were scheduled to be burned can be taped up and used for one more year
Instead of:
Students will now be required to bring:
- 120 oz. bottle of Whiteout to correct any outdated information in the above-mentioned text books such as references to the 48 states, the U.S.S.R., American economic dominance or The Great Depression — not because this type of information is incorrect, but because we don’t want students reading about it and freaking out that it still might happen again
Given increasing concern about Swine Flu, we also recommend each student bring:
- Medical-grade hand sanitizer
- Rubber gloves
- A hospital mask or filtered respirator
And where in past years we have discouraged students from brining an apple for their teacher out of food-safety concerns, we now not only encourage it, but suggest canned goods, cereal, grains and shelf-stable dairy products as well, as their pay has recently been involuntarily de-raised by 20%.
We appreciate your understanding and ask that any parents who are able should join us next Tuesday for a bake sale, where we’ll be offering a wide variety of donated cookies, cakes and pies all starting at $172.50 each.
Signed,
Your School District
P.S. We are also looking for unpaid volunteers, specifically five parents who just happen to have teaching certificates and can commit to spending five days a week from 9:00 am to 3:15 pm with between 20 and 30 students for the rest of the year.
- Summer is no time to diet.
- Sometimes you do have to turn the car around and go home.
- Which sucks.
- You should be allowed to speed when one of your kids just can’t hold it anymore and it’s 21 miles to the next rest stop.
- Either that or kids should be able to pee by the side of the road without anyone giving their parents a nasty look.
- The stuff you like doesn’t last; the stuff you hate lasts forever.
- Even people who like heat don’t like 100 degree heat.
- For most people, the idea of sleeping out under the stars is much more peaceful and relaxing than the reality sleeping out under the stars, especially when you drink too much and have to pee every hour and a half.
- Sometimes you have to let your kids head off in the woods and get stung by a bee.
- Even bad experiences have redeeming qualities, except for 15-hour car trips, which totally suck.
- There’s a fine line between “burnt” and “well-done.”
- (For most people, anyway.)
- Even families who vowed not to watch TV all summer watched ABC’s “Wipeout.”
- Steak + grill + friends & family = the perfect summer party.
- Steak + grill + friends & family + lots of alcohol = 2nd degree burns, a video clip for Youtube, and a lot of things you can’t explain to your kids until they’re much, much older.
- A beach is better than a video game, but only for a few days. After that, kids get bored and want to play Wii Resort.
- A staycation is not the same as a vacation no matter what anybody says. (On the other hand, at least with a staycation you get to sleep in your own bed at night instead of some soiled, bedbug ridden mattress.)
- Almost anything can be grilled, except spaghetti. And while this might seem obvious, to 4-year-olds it’s not.
- It’s funny when kids ask “Are we there yet?”, but only the first half-dozen times. After that, it’s frustrating as Hell.
- Time outs seem much crueler when the sun is shining and everybody is outside playing.
- On the other hand, they are much more effective.
- Fishing is over-rated.
- If you’re taking a road trip and you want to know how often you’ll have to make a pit stop, add the ages of everyone in the car together, divide this by the total number of passengers, then multiply by 2.
- Some camps are good. Some camps bad. But you won’t know which is which until after the point at which you can still get a refund.
- Nothing tests a friendship like two families taking a vacation together.
- And splitting expenses.
- Sometimes it’s hard to believe that your parents and your kids’ grandparents are the same people.
- A good way to tell if kids have too much free time is by how often they fight.
- Another good way to tell if kids have too much free time is when they start looking forward to going back to school.
- It’s sad when summer ends.
- But given the way rules and routines get pushed aside when the sun shines late into the evening, there would be complete chaos if it didn’t.
Don’t let the credit crisis, the housing slump, gas prices, global warming, the cost of groceries, layoffs or the generally sad state of world affairs stop you from enjoying quality time with your kids.
Instead, let these troubles inspire you with the following games:
Mortgage, Mortgage, Who’s Got The Mortgage?
Kids sit in a circle with their fists closed, pretending to hold a button, which in this case represents a mortgage. As you go around the circle, everybody says “Mortgage, mortgage, who’s got the mortgage?” and then whoever’s turn it is says “Billy has the mortgage.” Billy must then open his fist to show everybody if he has the button/mortgage or not. The joke, of course, is that he doesn’t. In fact, nobody does, because credit is still so tight nobody can get one.
Stock Market Limbo
How low can it go? There’s one way to find out: put on “The Limbo Song” and see if you can make it under without collapsing.
Time Travelers
Take an imaginary trip to the future without leaving home. Just unplug the air conditioner, shut off the water main, and set the thermostat as high as it will go. The first person to pass out from heat stroke loses, the last one standing gets a half-glass of dirty water and a chance to play “An Inconvenient Truth: The Home Edition.”
The Crumbling Infrastructure Game
Just like “London Bridge is Falling Down,” only substitute something local.
U.N. Election Monitor
Help ensure the spread of democracy with this variation on “Kick The Can.” Select one U.N. Election Monitor, then divide everyone else up into two groups: voters and henchmen. While you turn your back and pretend every- thing is going really, really well, “voters” try to run up and kick the can before “henchmen” stop them.
Magic 81/4 – Ball
Buy? Sell? Forget your broker’s “opinion” and just ask the Magic 81/4 – Ball. It couldn’t be any worse.
Filibusted
Pretend you’re Congress and you’re trying to do something to re-ignite the economy, only you get so bogged down in partisanship you just stand around calling each other names.
The Coupon Game
What kid doesn’t like to cut things out? Here, you put yours to work helping you find enough coupons to make up the difference between what you make and what you spend. (While technically not a game, it would probably be helpful. Plus, you can give your kids bonus points if they find any coupons that are good for discounted liquor or anti-depressants.)
Chinese Toy Russian Roulette
Toxic? Non-toxic? Line up the toys and use a home lead-test to find out.
NEIGHBOR: Did you get my invitation?
NEIGHBOR’S TEENAGE SON: To what?
NEIGHBOR: To be my friend.
NEIGHBOR’S TEENAGE SON: I don’t understand.
NEIGHBOR: On Facebook.
NEIGHBOR’S TEENAGE SON: You have a Facebook page?
NEIGHBOR: Sure. It’s becoming so popular, I thought it was time.
NEIGHBOR’S TEENAGE SON: Seriously?
NEIGHBOR: You might not realize this, but I’m pretty hip when it comes to technology – I had one of the first Atari game consoles… I got a PC before there was even Windows… and my first cell phone was the size of a… Hey! Where are you going?
NEIGHBOR’S TEENAGE SON: To my room.
NEIGHBOR: Why?
NEIGHBOR’S TEENAGE SON: To cancel my Facebook account.
NEIGHBOR: But if you cancel your Facebook account, who’s gonna be my friend?
NEIGHBOR’S TEENAGE SON: Try mom.
- Nobody wore seatbelts.
- Babies, infants and toddlers sat on mom’s lap in the front seat; the older kids argued over who got to lie on a sleeping bag in the back of the station wagon.
- If you were good, you got to stop at A&W. Otherwise, you ate bologna sandwiches wrapped in wax paper.
- Dad spent most of the trip trying to tune in an AM station that was carrying the game. The signal would come in strong for a while then fade. Sometimes there was no signal at all.
- If you were too loud, your mom would say you were distracting your father, and then eventually he would just reach back and smack whoever was closest in the head, even if they were the one kid being quiet.
- This was one of the reasons the middle seat was the worst place to sit.
- Your station wagon got eight miles to the gallon, but you probably didn’t know that because nobody cared.
- If you were lucky enough to have air conditioning, you couldn’t use it on long trips because your dad said the car would overheat.
- If you felt car sick, you were supposed to stick your head out the window.
- “He who smelt it, dealt it.”
- Dad would only stop for gas or Stuckey’s, so mom kept a pee jar under the front seat just in case you couldn’t hold it.
- When you passed a truck, you would raise your fist and gesture for the driver to blow his air horn.
- If your dad had a CB radio, he would listen to it to find out where the speed traps were. If not, he would try to follow a truck.
- When another car passed you, a kid in the back seat would sometimes pull down his pants and stick his butt out at you. When this happened, you would say “Looks like the moon’s out early tonight.”
- Sometimes it was a full-moon, other times it was just a half-moon.
- After driving for six or eight hours, mom and dad would stop at a bar for a drink. They would leave you in the car in the parking lot to wait. After 45 minutes or so, they would come back out, get in the car and then drive for two or three more hours to a Holiday Inn.
- You drove because flying was a luxury.
- You spent 1/3 of your vacation going to your destination, 1/3 at your destination, and 1/3 driving back from the destination.
- If it was Spring Break, the destination was Florida or Arizona. If it was summer, you would go to a cabin in the mountains or by a lake or on the river.
“No.”
“Never.”
“Probably not.”
“Maybe.”
“I’m not really listening.”
“Ask your mother.”
“You forgot to say please.”
“Huh?”
“No, unless you keep asking me over and over again and then yes.”
“I don’t understand the question.”
“I’m too tired.”
“Okay, but you can’t tell anyone I said yes.”
Now that Mother’s Day is over, it’s time to get back to blaming mom.
While this might seem harsh, new 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 if 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 their child needed to feel comfortable acting like an ungrateful little shit.
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 (or how much she drinks).
Before Dads get all superior and start pointing fingers, they 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 you’re going to blame anyone because Junior is socially inept, you should probably blame dad.
(Though not until after Father’s Day.)
KID: Mother’s Day is coming up.
MOM: I know.
KID: Do you want us to get you anything?
MOM: Only if you want to.
KID: Or course we want to, we just don’t know what you want.
MOM: Surprise me.
KID: With what?
MOM: With something I’d like.
KID: A present?
MOM: Sure.
KID: But what kind of present?
MOM: How can you spend so much time with me and not know a single thing I like? Just think about what I do every day.
KID: Okay.
MOM: Does that give you any ideas?
KID: It does — we could get you some plastic bags.
MOM: Plastic Bags?
KID: For making our lunches.
MOM: No.
KID: Okay, what about some dish towels?
MOM: No.
KID: Pencils you could use to help us with homework?
MOM: No.
KID: A mop?
MOM: No.
KID: You already have an SUV you like to drive us around in. How about one of those cool toilet bowl cleaners I saw on TV?
MOM: No.
KID: New laundry basket?
MOM: Do you think I do all those things because I like to?
KID: Why else would you do them?
MOM: Because I’m a mom and that’s what mom’s do: stuff they don’t like doing, but needs to be done.
KID: Oh.
MOM: Yeah, “Oh.”
KID: If that’s the case, then I know exactly what you’d like for Mother’s Day.
MOM: What’s that?
KID: To be like Dad: ‘cause there’s lots of stuff he needs to do, but usually he just watches ESPN instead.
Editor’s Note: While not entirely true, there’s no doubt the sentiment expressed above often feels true.
First peanuts, now pistachios.
It seems like salmonella is everywhere these days, making a lot of people equate eating a handful of nuts with playing a game of Russian roulette. But if you look at statistics, you realize you have just as much to fear from a cold winter’s day:
|
U.S. Deaths Per Year
Salmonella
|
|
600 |
|
Which means all those nut products you emptied out of the cabinets “just to be safe” are just as dangerous as walking out to the trash in bare feet and a t-shirt to throw them away.
It’s clear that worry served us well in our hunter-gatherer days when that rustle in the bushes really might have been something deadly, but what we seem to have now is the reaction without the rustle — we worry there might be a rustle and if there is, it might be something that could hurt us.
The problem is that “what it might be” is usually wrong — as anyone who’s ever googled a health symptom and then rushed into the emergency room knows:
YOU: So… how long do I have?
DOCTOR: To live?
YOU: Yes.
DOCTOR: I have no idea.
YOU: But I just read this particular flesh-eating virus is usually fatal within 72 hours!
DOCTOR: It is.
YOU: And?
DOCTOR: You have poison oak.
YOU: Oh.
Somewhere along the line we seem to have lost our perspective on worry. Which probably explains why more people are afraid of being attacked by sharks — which kill an average of 2 people per year in the U.S. — than they are of equally strange, but much more likely causes of death like elevators and escalators, lightening, bees, dogs and even Bambi:
|
U.S. Deaths Per Year
Elevators and escalators
|
|
30 |
|
|
Bee, wasp and hornet stings
|
|
82 |
|
In our defense, part of the problem is that we’re constantly reminded of the many things we have to worry about, with dozens of freaky possibilities brought to our attention every day by a 24/7 news cycle that loves to spotlight the odd and the unusual (without mentioning it’s also “the highly unlikely”).
Leaving us in a position of rushing off to the ER in a panic because we’re worried we might be one of the few hundred people killed each decade by the deadly whatever the Evening News just warned us about, when what we should be worried about is being one of the few hundred people killed each day by medical errors.
If Nintendo can make ping pong, paper airplanes and bass fishing addictive, why can’t they do all the parents who pay for those games a favor and come out with Wii Homework?
Every subject could be covered — Wii Lab for physics, biology and chemistry (where if kids blew anything up, they wouldn’t get detention and you wouldn’t get a bill for repairs); any number of Sim City knock-offs for Social Studies and History (e.g. Sim City: Jamestown, in which kids would have to decide between starving to death and turning cannibal); and some kind of battledome for math, where famous mathematicians from history fight each other to the death using the powers of Euclidean Geometry, Algebra, Calculus, etc.
Even grammar could be a game where, say, kids rescue dangling participles, or help a peace-loving race of “nouns” defend themselves against the evil pronoun horde that’s trying to assimilate them, or even assume the role of an ancient wizard who teaches adjectives to stand up to verbs by uttering the magical incantation “l-y.”
Levels would be the same as they are now, K -12, only instead of “graduating” kids would “level up.”
Parents would have to pay a little more attention to what they’re saying, too, as some of those unconscious responses would lead to confusion:
KID: Can I play Wii?
PARENT: Not until you finish your homework.
KID: But… Wii is my homework.
The main problem with Wii Homework would be that as with all Wii games, kids would eventually fight over it. And while this would be satisfying on an ironic level, it would also mean parents would end up taking the Wii away for a week as punishment, leading to an awkward situation where the teacher would ask “How come you didn’t finish your homework like you were supposed to?” and instead of saying “The dog ate it” or “I forgot,” your kid would say “Because my parents wouldn’t let me.”
Game over.
Not for the way he’s handled the nation’s business (both sides of the aisle seem to give him good marks so far) but because he let his daughters have a sleepover on a school night.
A SCHOOL NIGHT!
If one of his goals is to lead by example, what kind of example does this set for the rest of America’s parents?
Kid: Can I have a sleepover tonight?
Parent: No.
Kid: Why not?
Parent: ‘cause it’s a school night.
Kid: But President Obama let his daughters have a sleepover on a school night.
Parent: Well… he’s the President of The United States, he can do whatever he wants.
Kid: But it’s wrong for the president to just “do whatever he wants” – at least that’s what you said about George W. Bush.
Parent: Uh…
As if that wasn’t bad enough, he had the audacity to arrange for screenings of both “High School Musical 3” and “Bolt,” which won’t be out on home video for months (except in China), followed by a private concert by Jonas Brothers.
There’s no question the First Daughters deserve something special for what they have gone through over the last 18 months, but it’s important to be conservative (just this once, anyway) because there are a lot of parents in American who will do anything for their kids – even vote Republican in 2012 if that’s the only way they can avoid being shown up.
KID: Can I ask you something?
MOM: Sure.
DAD: What is it?
KID: Promise you won’t get mad?
MOM: What makes you think we’d get mad?
KID: Just promise.
DAD: Fine.
MOM: What’s your question?
KID: What’s “stress?”
MOM: Stress?
DAD: It’s a prolonged state of mental and emotional strain.
MOM: It’s like you’re being pulled in two different directions.
DAD: At the exact same time.
MOM: You’re stuck.
DAD: But you can’t get unstuck.
MOM: Until you feel totally and completely overwhelmed.
DAD: And irritable.
MOM: And short-tempered.
DAD: And impatient.
MOM: And you can’t sleep.
DAD: Or focus.
KID: But it’s not contagious, is it?
PARENT: No.
KID: Good — ’cause obviously the only thing you can do about it is drink, and I’m not old enough.
As a parent, you know what’s best. That’s why you’re raising your kids to be God-fearing conservatives or free-thinking liberals, just like you.
Or so you thought until you came home one night to find an Obamarama going on in your living room, or caught one of your kids watching Fox News wearing a Glenn Beck Fan Club t-shirt.
Fortunately, there are ways to deal with this unsettling situation:
- Ground them until after the 2012 election.
- Force them to live their politics. This means that if your Little Limbaugh objects to your anything-goes liberal ideology, remind him that conservatives are against welfare of any kind (except corporate), so he needs to either pay his own way or go live in a homeless shelter with all the other free-loaders. Or, if your Lil’ Nancy Pelosi condemns your unwavering support for God, guns and unborn babies, remind her that come Judgment Day, she’ll be the one burning in Hell.
- Move somewhere so far to the Left or to the Right that your kids won’t have anyone to join them when they pass out fliers condemning Barack Obama or stage a sit-in against the evil influence of Big Oil. For liberals, this means moving to Berkeley; for conservatives, try Oklahoma City, OK or Cincinnati, OH (or if you’re a Mormon, try Provo, Utah, which is regularly ranked the most conservative city in America).
- Have them deprogrammed by either sending them to an Evangelical Christian Boot Camp or making them watch Oprah all day, every day until they come around.
- If you’re a conservative, blame Bill Clinton.
- If you’re a liberal, blame Ronald Reagan.
- If you’re either, blame George W. Bush (as the least-liked president in modern history, he’s become the official scapegoat for everything).
- If all else fails, break out the big guns of parenting – guilt and shame – and let your kids have it until their fragile egos are so crushed and broken the Stockholm Syndrome kicks in and they begin to love and embrace you and your ways once again.
- All schools have a very specific procedure for dropping off kids in the morning.
- Some parents don’t realize this.
- Some parents realize this, but don’t actually know what the official procedure is.
- Some parents realize this, but don’t care.
- The more complicated the procedure, the more likely it is to change.
- The more complicated the procedure, the more likely it is to be written down, but since it will have been written by the same people who write those bizarre standardized testing story-problems, it won’t make any sense.
- The more time you spend trying to understand the procedure, the less time some other parent at the school will spend trying to understand the problem, thus maintaining equilibrium and ensuring that the drop-off will never, ever go smoothly.
- Parents who don’t follow the drop-off procedure always think they have a good excuse, but they don’t:
- “I’m running late” isn’t a good excuse
- “I drive a Mini so I’m not reallly getting in anyone’s way” isn’t a good excuse
- “I haven’t had my coffee yet” isn’t a good excuse
- “It’s just this one time” isn’t a good excuse
- “I forgot” isn’t a good excuse
- “I’ve read the procedure a hundred times but I just don’t undersand it” isn’t a good excuse
- “My wife usually drops the kids off” isn’t a good excuse
- “The person in front of me did the same thing” isn’t a good excuse (though certainly understandable, given our sheep-like tendencies)
- Saying “sorry” doesn’t help, but it’s better than giving somebody the finger.
- Before 9 am, nobody is polite.
- If you leave early, something will happen that will make you late – an accident,
road construction, freak snow storm, broken water main, etc.
- If you leave really, really early because you expect something will happen to make you late, it won’t. But then you will be so early, you’ll have to wait anyway because the crossing guards, door openers, teachers monitoring the playground and/or sidewalks will be late.
- The minute after you start screaming and yelling at your kids (for no reason other than you’re tired), you will realize the driver in the next car over who’s looking at you like you’re the worst parent in the world is the principal.
- You can always tell the parents who got a good night’s sleep from the ones who were up all night, unless you were one of the parents who was up all night, in which case you can’t really tell anything.
- Some parents take their time in the morning and you hate them for it.
- Some parents take their time in the morning and you are inspired by them, even if you have no idea how you could ever be patient and relaxed at this hour.
- When your kid says “I have to go to the bathroom” two blocks from school and you say “just hold it ‘til we get there,” half the time they won’t be able to and the other half the time they won’t be able to because going those last two block will take 25 minutes thanks to sewer maintenance.
- If there is a convenient, quick, easy place to stop and get coffee on the way to the drop-off, it will close just when you come to depend on it.
- Even if you stop in the drop-off lane because your child has just thrown up all over the backseat, the car behind you will honk and/or flip you off.
- The only thing worse than being late is being late on a day when the principal
is standing on the sidewalk opening doors.
- If four parents come to an intersection at the exact same time, the one with the most kids will go first.
- When you see a parent juggling a dog, a double-stroller, a cell phone and a coffee cup, watch out, because they aren’t.
- When you see a parent juggling a dog, a double-stroller, a cell phone, a coffee
cup and a 5-year-old, get your Handicam out because you’re about to witness an “America’s Funniest Home Video.”
- For some kids, being a crossing guard is their first taste of power, so don’t give them an excuse to flaunt it.
- For some kids, being a crossing guard is their last taste of power, which explains why so many will need therapy later.
- Your SUV may look like a school bus, handle like a school bus, and be as big as a school bus, but it’s not a school bus. Which means that empty stretch of curb conveniently located directly in front of the school’s main doors is off limits until the big, bright, yellow sign that reads “School Buses Only 7 am to 10 am” gets removed (during the day, by workers from the Department of Transportation, not at night by a couple of dads with a hack saw and a crow bar).
According to a recent research study, one in five adults who responded to a survey admitted to using Ritalin or Adderall to boost their brain power.
When asked where they got the drugs, most just mumbled and said “I can’t remember,” but speculation is they simply raided their kids’ medicine cabinet. And while this clearly breaches the bonds of trust between parent and child, when you consider how often kids raid their parents’ liquor cabinet, it seems only fair.
- Go to your local organic supermarket.
- Fill as much of your shopping list as you can (and hope your kids just won’t notice that organic hot dogs, organic fish sticks, organic “Froot Loops” and organic Kraft Mac ‘n’ Cheese taste nothing like their non-organic counterparts).
- Go to the check-stand and apologize for not bringing your own bags.
- GASP! when you see how much money you just spent.
- Realize that organic groceries cost between 28 to 64 percent more than non-organic groceries.
- Feel conflicted.
- Ultimately decide you’re doing the right thing going organic.
- Repeat this process each week until you’ve spent so much money on groceries you can’t afford to pay your other bills.
- Get kicked out of your house.
- Instead of getting depressed, congratulate yourself because according to recent research, you’ll generate 57.5% fewer greenhouse gases being homeless.
- Multiply this across the entire country.
- Listen carefully for the sound of Al Gore giving his last “An Inconvenient Truth” lecture.
It’s been estimated that the hourly cost to parents for raising a child from birth through age 18 is $1.58. Whether this is shocking or pleasantly surprising depends on individual circumstances, but it certainly is useful, allowing parents to calculate – down to the penny – how many hours their kids will need to work around the house or in some illegal, downtown sweatshop to pay for themselves.*
For comparison, other hourly costs:
-$125
therapy
-$2.86
-$14.21
camp
-$12.00
babysitter (licensed, adult)
-$6.00
babysitter (irresponsible teenager)
-$0.00
babysitter (grandparent)
-$5.35
going to see a movie (excluding trailers, waiting in line, $300 for popcorn and two drinks)
-$38.51
going to see a Bon Jovi concert
-$200 – $600
criminal defense attorney specializing in juvenile offenses
-$0.37
-$7,400,000
-$2100
-$9.50
-$14.85
*When calculating, please keep in mind that in most states parents can legally take any money their kids earn until age 18, which is especially good news for parents who pimp their kids out to Hollywood , because if they wind up with the next Hannah Montana they could enjoy a substantial return on their $1.58 per hour “investment.”
- Are you a boy or a girl?
- How much does your house cost?
- Are you really as stupid as my dad says you are?
- Why do you smell so bad?
- Did you just fart?
- Is there a baby inside your tummy?
- Shouldn’t you be on a diet?
- Why are you so mean?
- Why are you so ugly?
- Why are you so short?
- If you’re already married, why do you have a boy/girlfriend?
- The most popular styles in America aren’t “Modern,” “Georgian,” “Mediterranean” or “Neoclassical,” they’re “It may not go with anything else but it’s really comfortable” and “We can’t throw it away because it was Grandma’s.”
- More often than not, people who are certain their friends and family love their unique sense of style find out the exact opposite is true when cameras are rolling, and that their style makes others want to vomit.
- Women are to closets what men are to garages.
- Everybody has at least one thing in their house that they can’t get rid of, even though it’s ugly and doesn’t fit in, because it was a gift.
- Everybody has at least one thing in their house that they can’t get rid of, even though it’s ugly and doesn’t fit in, because they like it.
- Everybody has at least one thing in their house that they can’t get rid of, even though it’s ugly and doesn’t fit in, because their spouse likes it, in which case they just pretend it doesn’t exist.
- Or they get divorced.
- Everybody has at least one thing in their house they just don’t fix (even though it probably wouldn’t take that much time or money). And the longer it goes unfixed, the more they get used to it. To the point where they don’t think it’s at all strange, for example, that the only way to get to the backyard is by climbing out through the kitchen window because the key broke off in the lock years ago and jammed the backdoor.
- Anyone who knows exactly what’s in their hall closet is more organized than 99% of the country.
- Or they’re moving and it’s empty.
- Most people are shocked to learn their HVAC unit has a filter that needs to be cleaned and/or replaced every year or so, and that this filter is really the only thing keeping the air clean.
- Even anal, persnickety neat-freaks have a junk drawer.
- Nobody thinks their home remodeling project will take twice as long and costs 50% more than the original estimate, even though every remodeling project that’s ever been done has taken twice as long and cost 50% more than the original estimate.
- Nobody thinks it’s their fault, either.
- Everybody has unrealistic expectations about how much house they’ll get for their money — this was true before the housing bust, and it’s still true now, mostly because as much as prices have dropped, they still haven’t dropped to the point where a $2.5 million mansion costs under $179,000.*
- Even somebody moving from a yurt to a 3500 sq. ft. 5 bedroom house would find one of the bedrooms “too small.”
- When it comes to complaining about doing laundry, distance doesn’t matter: it’s just as inconvenient to go “all the way to the laundromat” as it is to go “all the way downstairs.”
- It’s not just easier to move than to clean out the garage/basement/attic, it’s less stressful.
- Just because somebody has a gourmet kitchen they never use doesn’t mean they don’t need a gourmet outdoor kitchen they won’t use, too.
- On any given home improvement project, there will be a tense moment between spouses, partners or various members of the interior design staff, but the ones on TV never result in divorce or a lawsuit, and by the time the project is completed everyone involved is the best of friends.
- This doesn’t happen in real life.
- Anybody can make a room look bad, but only a professional interior designer will charge you $125 an hour to do it.
- If one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, why isn’t everything at the flea market more expensive?
- If you have two ugly ceramic plates or bowls or figurines that you don’t know what to do with (and for some reason can’t get rid of), and you stick them on a shelf somewhere you think nobody will see them, everybody will see them, and worse, they will assume you collect them and start giving you more of them as gifts.
- The secret to a happy marriage is to have the exact same sense of style as your spouse. Otherwise, the furniture you’re fighting over in the store is the very same furniture you’ll be fighting over in divorce court a few years later.
- If the Health Department had jurisdiction over homes, every kitchen in the country would be shut down and the owners would be fined thousands of dollars for unsafe food handling, improper storage, improper preparation and varying degrees of infestation — and yet, when we drop something on the floor of the restaurant, we leave it; when we drop something on the floor at home, if it’s been there less than three-seconds we dust it off and eat it.
*Not yet, anyway.
“Can’t you hold it until we get home?”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to put a bucket by your bed, just in case?”
“Don’t answer it. DON’T ANSWER IT!”
“The kids will love it.”
“I thought you were picking them up?”
“Okay, but only if you promise not to do it in the house.”
“Okay, but only if you promise to be careful.”
“Make sure you put that on the counter before the dog gets it.”
“Did you bring the tickets?”
“Relax, the kids have been asleep for hours.”
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