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Teenager? Or politician? Sometimes it’s not so easy to tell.
- Both want your money.
- Both will do anything to get it.
- Both say you can trust them completely.
- Neither understands why you won’t.
- When caught in a lie, both initially deny the accusation, then claim they “misspoke,” and finally try to blame you, saying it’s really your fault because of something you did.
- Both give out your phone number to fundraisers — with teenagers, it’s to the PTA; with politicians, it’s to the NRA.
- Both can be lobbied.
- Both trade favors.
- Both have ulterior motives.
- Both need you more than you need them.
- Neither sees it that way.
- Neither is very good at keeping a promise, but both always have what they think is a perfectly good excuse for why not.
- When it comes to priorities, both believe the same thing: party first.
- Both would do anything to be more popular.
- No matter how innocent they seem, both are guilty of something that you won’t find out about until later.
Rumors are swirling around that Pampers new, reformulated Swaddlers and Cruisers lines of diapers are causing rashes and chemical burns. But is this true? Has anyone come forward with conclusive proof that this is actually happening? Has anyone come forward with conclusive proof it’s not?
According to P&G, these allegations are “completely false.”
This response makes sense because we live in an age where misinformation gets passed off as gospel, and large, multi-national corporations like P&G have to act decisively.
On the other hand, we also live in an age where large, multi-national corporations spin just about everything, so who’s to say that 25 years from now, after some kind of “Jane Doe v. Pampers” class action lawsuit has been filed, all appeals have been exhausted and 150,000+ boxes of research, focus-group results and internal memos have been subpoenaed, cataloged and read in search of a smoking gun, P&G won’t pay a nominal fine and admit that while they didn’t lie, intentionally ignore some data, or make a critical error in judgement, they are sorry their long-since-reformulated product might have caused a limited number of cases of diaper rash all those years ago.
What strikes me as really silly is that P&G didn’t stop at denying the rumors were true, but went on to claim they were actually part of some giant conspiracy.
“These [diaper rash] rumors are being perpetuated by a small number of parents, some of whom are unhappy that we replaced our older Cruisers and Swaddlers products while others support competitive products and the use of cloth diapers,” said Pampers Vice President Jodi Allen in a statement.
A cabal of disgruntled former customers, Huggies families and the cloth diaper mafia?
Seriously?
(In the interest of full disclosure, I should point out that we are Huggies family and have been for 10 years.1 That said, I don’t personally have anything against Pampers, and can’t honestly remember why we chose Huggies over Pampers in the first place, though I suspect it was because the supply of newborn diapers the hospital gave us ran out at 2:40 am some night, and when I went to the nearest all-night drug store to find more, I grabbed the first box of diapers I could find, which happened to be Huggies.)
While it’s possible that P&G is right, and eventually some hidden camera footage of the secret meeting where the plot was first hatched between the aforementioned groups will emerge, but until then, do they really want to handle the concern parents have for the health and well-being of their offspring this way?
CONCERNED PARENT: Your diapers gave my pride and joy a rash.
FICTIONAL P&G SPOKESPERSON: That’s a lie.
CONCERNED PARENT: Then why was my little angel, whose life I care more about than even my own, crying in pain?
FICTIONAL P&G SPOKESPERSON: We don’t know. But let us ask you a question: Are you now, or have you ever been a member of an anti-Pampers organization?
CONCERNED PARENT: No — but I guarantee that I will be in the future.
However this all shakes out, one thing seems clear clear: just because Pampers is in the diaper business doesn’t mean they can handle a big mess.
1Yes, we should be using green diapers, or at least cloth diapers, but we don’t and to the extent we are ruining the planet, we are sorry.
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.
Just because kids say they’re sick doesn’t mean they actually are sick.
Which means for parents, trying to decide if a child should stay home or go to school can be quite a challenge.
(And even though teachers and principals almost always say keep kids home if there’s any question about how well they feel, that isn’t either practical or fair – for many of us, the fact that our kids learn something at school isn’t nearly as important as the fact that somebody else has to put up with watch them for a few hours each weekday so we can catch our breathes.)
So how do parents figure out if their kids are nauseas because they have the flu or because they have to turn in a 10-page report they completely forget to even start?
While medical electronics can be helpful, they’re not nearly as accurate as consumer electronics: all parents have to do is ask the child who complains about not feeling well “If you stay home sick, what are you going to do all day?”
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- watch TV1, listen to iPod
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- play Nintendo DS, Gameboy, PSP, games on cell phones, check e-mail2
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- play XBOX 360, Playstation 3
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- play Wii, text friends3, play online multi-player game
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- Do 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 would not.
2Though given the rate at which most kids check their e-mail, actually checking e-mail might be a sign of some kind of fever-induced delusion.
3With the chance they’re sick dropping one percent for every 5 texts they send and/or receive.
“So… what’s it like having kids?” the would-be parent asks.
“It’s great,” you say, “Having kids is the best thing that’s ever happened to us. They’re a lot of work, but when you see the way they smile and laugh and take in the world, it’s definitely worth it.”
And then maybe you chuckle and offer to let them stay over and take your kids for a weekend “test drive,” knowing they probably won’t but hoping they will so you and your spouse can get away for that “romantic weekend” you’ve been talking about since pretty much your kids were born (with the term “romantic” being parent-code for “getting some sleep and being able to watch pay-per-view movies all the way through, in one sitting, without being interrupted a dozen times because ‘I’m hungry’ or ‘I had an accident’ or ‘I spilled jam on the carpet,’ etc.”).
You may suggest these would-be parents pick up a movie or two, too. But while many recommend something like “Parenthood”1 for its funny and touching insights into the ups and downs of, well, parenthood, there’s another movie that gives a fuller and more complete picture: 1970s horror classic “The Exorcist.” Here’s why:
Demonic possession is just another name for a weekday morning.
As every parent knows, at random and unpredictable intervals, your little angel will wake up snarling and nasty like a beast from Hell. Foul-mouthed? Before you even get through the door to say “Good morning, I made you breakfast,” you find yourself assaulted with “GET OUT! Can’t you see I’m sleeping? You always wake me up like this. I hate you. I hate you. I HATE YOU.”
And their appearance? Definitely something unholy (though, to be fair, not because they’re suddenly sporting horns, scales and some grotesque demon pig-nose, but because nobody looks good when they don’t shower for three days – why is personal hygiene such a difficult concept for kids to get, anyway?).
As for being able to crawl across the ceiling? Well… maybe not the ceiling, but when you consider the gravity-defying ways kids flip around in their beds while they sleep, it’s not such a stretch to think they might some- how end up on the ceiling.
Green puke? How about orange puke, yellow puke and blue puke, too?
It’s not called “The Technicolor Yawn” for nothing, something parents usually find out fast. Often, these multi-colored hues can be traced back to two types of foods: foods consumed in excess, like artificially-flavored fruit punch, Halloween candy and birthday cake; and foods consumed under protest such as salad, non-breaded fish, and brussels sprouts (with the eventual volume of puke increasing exponentially if you happen to say something like “I don’t care if you don’t like it. Nobody ever threw up eating brussels sprouts, so finish your plate!” first).
You know a child’s head can’t spin completely around… but a 5-year-old doesn’t.
And no matter how quickly the parent dashes into the other room to get the phone or answer the door or shut the oven off before dinner burns, it’s five seconds more than the 5-year-old needs to twist the 2-year-old’s head around to the point where it’s about to snap. “But we were just playing owl,” the child protests.
You don’t need an exorcist, but a child psychologist might be a good idea.
What parent hasn’t thrown up their hands at some point and said “I can’t do this anymore!” before turning to an expert for help?
Whether it’s the therapist, the math tutor, the reading coach, the college placement counselor or even the pitching specialist, all these experts are trying to do is exactly what Father Merrin was trying to do to Linda Blair’s Regan: make the kid “normal” again.
There can always be a sequel because evil – like parenting – goes on forever.
Which means the moment parents think they’re done and their kids are on their own, they move back home. Or go into therapy. Or just stop calling. This can happen at any time, for any reason (though it’s often financial), and it’s generally a lot worse than the original, just like “Exorcist 2 – The Heretic,” “The Exorcist 3,” and both versions of “Exorcist – The Beginning.”
And if that isn’t scary, nothing is.
From “Why Chicken Nuggets are Better Than Prozac.”
1Is the TV version of this movie a reasonable substitute? Clearly the show has plenty of fans – here, here, here and here, for example – but what if it gets cancelled? Imagine devoting hour after hour to something, getting attached and becoming emotionally invested in its well-being, only to have it suddenly just grow up and move go away? On second thought… maybe that’s even more like parenthood than the movie “Parenthood.”
Is there anything worse than bringing a baby to a bar?
Judging by all the anger that’s being vented online, this seems to be among the most grievous sins any parent can commit.
But why?
To begin with, it’s more than likely the lonely, bitter, child-hating singles who seem to be so put out by this are in the minority, and that the majority of bar-patrons either don’t care, or accept the fact that there’s really no getting around the situation because babies need to be with their parents and their parents need to relax and have a few drinks before they completely lose their minds.
(Though I might be more than a little biased about that.)
On the other hand, if the baby-haters are in the majority, then… well… at least they’re in a bar where they can just order another round to numb their senses, right?
But forget that for the moment.
It seems like the primary objection to babies in bars is that they do a lot of things that ruin it for everyone else.
Maybe that’s true, but is a suckling newborn any more off-putting or “obscene” than two semi-intoxicated singles groping each other in a back corner of the bar that’s not nearly as dim as they think it is?
If spit-up is the problem, it’s important to keep in mind that when babies do that — whether in the car, or in a bar, or in a country called Myanmar (sorry, too much Dr. Seuss) — they usually do it on themselves, their mom or their mom’s childless, single friend who suggested they meet for a drink in the first place.
The same can’t be said for the just-turned-21 winner of the “Let’s see how many shots of Jack Daniels I can do” contest.
(Though he, too, may spit up on mom’s single, childless friend:
JUST-TURNED-21-YEAR-OLD: You ever watch “Cougar Town?”
MOM’S CHILDLESS, SINGLE FRIEND: I do, actually.
JUST-TURNED-21-YEAR-OLD: Me, too. I… I…
MOM’S CHILDLESS, SINGLE FRIEND: You want to come over and watch it with me some time?
JUST-TURNED-21-YEAR-OLD: No, I think I’m gonna be sick. BLA-AAAAA-A-A-TCH.
Think baby spit-up smells bad? It’s nothing compared to the stench of half-digested bar nuts and bourbon.)
So what about drool?
Any two geezers who’ve spent the entire day knocking back $2 PBRs produce a lot more than an infant.
Ditto for diapers, and the whole Huggies vs. Depends thing, too.
Which leaves what? Crying?
Sure, that can be loud, grating and unstoppable, but even a 5-month-old with a bad case of colic can’t compete with the sobs and wails that ring out when those same two semi-intoxicated singles run into each other a few nights later and one claims to have absolutely no memory of the other, let alone the passionate night they spent together where they pledged their mutual love and promised to be soul mates forever.
Conclusion: Baby-haters 0, Babies 1
In fact, maybe more than “1″ when you consider that to singles, a baby in a bar might not just be a reminder that they should enjoy themselves while they can still get out of the house without hiring a sitter, but that they should be careful, too, lest some intoxicated encounter take an intimate turn and they find themselves having to do that way too soon.
Now… if there’s anywhere babies should be banned, it’s coffee houses, because nothing makes every coo, burp, squeal, shriek or sob more irritating than a whole lot of caffeine.
(Note: to be fair, of course, if we ban babies from coffee houses, we should also ban loud talkers, people who yell into their cell phones like they’re stuck in a hurricane, anyone with an iPod who sings along to whatever’s playing through their earbuds, people who push three or four tables together to have a staff meeting, teenagers who spread their textbooks out across all the tables but then sit there and text their friends instead of studying, anyone trying to sell anything, promote anything, or affect any kind of social change, anyone coming from, or going to yoga, because who needs that kind of guilt, politicians, dog walkers who leave their dogs outside, nannies who leave their strollers outside, and, of course, anyone trying to write anything on a laptop — especially if it’s a post like this.)
Links to the many online articles and rants:
“Babies in Bars”/New York Times Blog
“Babies in Bars”/CNN
“Babies in Bars”/Luke Constantino
“Babies in Bars”/Brownstoner
“Babies in Bars”/New York Blips
“Babies in Bars”/The Nervous Breakdown
“Babies in Bars”/Parent Dish
“Babies in Bars”/Gothamist
“Babies in Bars”/New York Times
For a lot of parents, Earth Day is a time to feel guilt and shame for driving an SUV and having too many flat-screen TVs. For kids, it’s a time to learn that the psychological problems they’ll have later in life because of the way mom and treat them are nothing compared to the environmental problems they’ll have later in life because of the way mom and dad treat the planet.
(Assuming, of course, life is still around later.)
KID: Thanks for ruining the earth.
PARENT: It’s not my fault. Blame grandma and grandpa, too — they started it.
The good news is that thanks to most Americans grudging acceptance of climate change, a renewed government-focus on conserving natural resources and developing alternate energy sources, and the fact that it’s cool to drive a Prius, there’s hope for the future.
The bad news is that kids are still kids, which means they can turn just about anything to their advantage, especially environmental tips they come home and claim to have been taught in school:
PARENT: How was school today?
KID: We learned how to help the planet for Earth Day.
PARENT: Great.
KID: They said we should all conserve water and turn off lights when we don’t need them so we don’t waste electricity.
PARENT: That’s right.
KID: Which means I shouldn’t take a bath tonight, or probably even this week.
PARENT: Huh?
KID: And you know how you always bug me about reading in the dark?
PARENT: Yes.
KID: That’s actually good because reading in the dark doesn’t waste electricity.
PARENT: Uh…
KID: We’re supposed to recycle everything, too, so wearing the same shirt, pants and underwear all week isn’t gross, it’s green.
PARENT: I think you’re taking these tips the wrong way.
KID: How could I take them the wrong way?
PARENT: I don’t know but I guess we’ll find out: what else did you learn?
KID: Eat local.
PARENT: And?
KID: Just that: eat local.
PARENT: That seems pretty straight forward.
KID: It is — and since that McDonald’s is just down the street, I was thinking we should go there as much as possible.
PARENT: Are you serious?
KID: We don’t even have to drive. We could walk!
PARENT: I don’t even know how to respond.
KID: I know eating local like that isn’t always practical, so we learned that when we can’t eat local, we should at least eat less.
PARENT: Let me guess: starting with vegetables?
KID: Especially carrots.
PARENT: Right.
KID: We should also try to use less.
PARENT: Which means?
KID: No more boring, stupid trips to Target! Hurray!
PARENT: Anything else?
KID: Americans waste 5.8 billion gallons of water each year flushing their toilets.
PARENT: No.
KID: But you don’t even know what the tip is.
PARENT: I can guess. And I don’t care how good it is for the planet, you have to flush.
KID: Wow. You know, when they said some people didn’t want to help the environment, I never thought they meant you.
Happy Earth Day.
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KID: Why are you using your angry voice?
PARENT: I’m not using my angry voice.
KID: It sounds like you’re using your angry voice.
PARENT: This is not my angry voice.
KID: Oh. Is it your totally-stressed-out voice?
PARENT: My what?
KID: If it’s not your angry voice, then it must be your totally stressed-out voice.
PARENT: It’s not my totally stressed-out voice, either.
KID: Is grandma coming?
PARENT: Why do you think grandma is coming?
KID: Because if it’s not your angry voice or your totally stressed-out voice, then it’s probably your grandma-is-coming-to-visit voice.
PARENT: I don’t have a grandma-is-coming-to-visit voice.
KID: No, you do – you definitely do.
PARENT: Well… grandma’s not coming to visit so it can’t be my grandma-is-coming-to-visit voice.
KID: Did you get a bad email from somebody?
PARENT: No.
KID: Are you tired?
PARENT: No.
KID: Do you have to wait around the house all day for the cable guy to show up?
PARENT: No.
KID: Hmm… if it’s not your bad-email voice, your I’m-really-really-tired voice or your I-hate-waiting-for-the-cable-guy voice, then what is it?
PARENT: Maybe it’s just my normal voice?
KID: If it’s your normal voice then why haven’t I ever heard it before?
PARENT: What’s that supposed to mean? Are you suggesting the only time I ever say anything to you I’m angry, stressed or irritated?
KID: Uh-oh… I think I know what voice it is.
PARENT: What?
KID: I don’t want to tell you.
PARENT: Why?
KID: Because I think it’s your if-you-say-anything-else-I’ll-get-upset-with-you-and-make-you-do-chores voice.
PARENT: I don’t have an if-you-say-anything-else-I’ll-get-upset-with-you-and-make-you-do-chores voice!
KID: Okay.
PARENT: But go clean up your room anyway.
KID: I knew it.
As a parent, time is precious. So how do you make the most of it? Time management experts offer the following advice:
1. Prioritize.
2. Delegate/outsource.
3. Set time limits for tasks.
4. Establish routines and stick to them.
5. Don’t waste time waiting.
At first glance, these suggestions seem simple and straight-forward, but when you actually try to implement them you quickly realize they are better suited to some kind of parallel “self-help dimension” where the laws of time, space and sibling in-fighting don’t apply.
1. Prioritize.
In theory, yes. In practice – forget it.
Take, say, the tasks of treating an injury versus giving a toddler a bath. Typically, bleeding kids come first, unless they’re bleeding because they did the thing you told them not to do five times, in which case the toddler would get the bath. If the bleeding kid is bleeding on furniture, however, then the furniture needs immediate attention.
On the other hand, if there’s only a little bleeding and it’s not on any furniture, then that might not be as important as preventing the toddler from trying to bathe himself.
2. Delegate/outsource.
Which means what? Parents are supposed to ship their kids off to India to get help with their homework?
3. Set time limits for tasks.
Okay. But what is the appropriate time limit for a temper tantrum? And if getting everybody ready in the morning takes 15 minutes longer than whatever amount of time you set aside – whether it’s 40 minutes or two hours – how are you supposed to limit that? Or if you make reservations for that one night out a year you get a leisurely three hours to eat, what happens when the babysitter is 20 minutes late and the restaurant gives up your table?
4. Establish routines and stick to them.
Most parents already do this, but it doesn’t seem to help. For example, a typical morning routine would be telling the kids to get up, get in the shower, get dressed, get some breakfast and get in the car, then repeating this three or four times over the course of 20 minutes before threatening them with some kind of bodily harm if they don’t do all of the above RIGHT THIS MINUTE!
This is followed by the nagging suspicion that something that was supposed to have been done last night wasn’t, and the sudden realization that this “something” was making lunches for all the kids.
Oops.
As there is now not nearly enough time left to do everything and still get off on time, vows that “This will never happen again!” must be shouted so that all in the house can hear, spouses must be silently cursed for not helping, and God must be asked “Why me? What have I done to deserve this?”
5. Don’t waste time waiting.
Clearly this was not written by anyone living in a small house with kids. How else is a parent supposed to get into the bathroom?
From “Why Chicken Nuggets are Better Than Prozac.”
As this week’s New York Times points out, “Working parents perpetually agonize that they don’t see enough of their children. But a surprising new study finds that mothers and fathers alike are doing a better job than they think, spending far more time with their families than did parents of earlier generations.”
Take that, grandparents.
But if “time spent with kids” is an indicator of overall parenting success, it raises the question: who does a better job? Mothers ? Or fathers?
The answer: fathers.
Because when you compare the amount of time spent with kids today to pre-1995 amounts, fathers are up an impressive 102 percent, while mothers are only up 77 percent.
Sorry moms.
(As with all statistics, there is an alternate interpretation. Click here to see how the same statistics indicate mothers are better than fathers.)
As this week’s New York Times points out, “Working parents perpetually agonize that they don’t see enough of their children. But a surprising new study finds that mothers and fathers alike are doing a better job than they think, spending far more time with their families than did parents of earlier generations.”
Take that, grandparents.
But if “time spent with kids” is an indicator of overall parenting success, it raises the question: who does a better job? Mothers ? Or fathers?
The answer: mothers.
Because when you compare the amount of time spent with kids today to pre-1995 amounts, mothers are up an impressive 9.2 hours per week while fathers are only up 5.1 hours.
Sorry dads.
(As with all statistics, there is an alternate interpretation. Click here to see how the same statistics indicate fathers are better than mothers.)
How can a two hour and 20 minute flight take five hours?
Electronic check in:
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Manual check-in after electronic check-in can’t find everyone’s name:
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34 minutes |
Airport security:
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37 minutes |
Pat down, additional questioning after dad was randomly flagged as a potential terrorist (which the kids thought was funny, but the parents couldn’t believe):
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11 minutes |
Flight Delay (cause unknown, but “kid in control tower” incident suspected):
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40 minutes |
Actual flight:
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Wait on tarmac (after pilot announces “We’ll be taxing to the gate in just a few minutes”):
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Wait at gate:
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Wait at baggage claim:
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Wait at baggage claim “lost luggage” department:
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Time-out for deep, calming breaths:
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Finding car in long-term parking after losing slip of paper with level and section number:
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Explaining why there won’t be any more family trips until the memory of this last one has faded away completely:
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“Why do my kids always need to tell me things when I’m going to the bathroom?”
- from 140characterparenting.com
KID: Dad! Dad! You gotta come quick!
DAD: Why? What is it?
KID: Just come with me.
DAD: Wait… is this an April Fools’ prank?
KID: A what?
DAD: An April Fools’ prank — you know, where you play a practical joke on somebody and then when they realized it, you yell “April Fools!”
KID: I’ve never heard of that. Is it new?
DAD: No, April Fools’ Day has been around forever. In fact, it used to be one of my favorite holidays. One time when I was a kid, your uncle and I put black food coloring in the milk, and then when your grandpa poured it on his cereal he screamed. Another time we let the air out of one of his tires and told him he had a flat. And then there was this time we switched the morning newspaper and tricked him into thinking it was still yesterday, so he got dressed and went into work.
KID: Didn’t you get in trouble?
DAD: No way. That’s what’s so great about April Fools’ Day: it’s the one time of year you get to play practical joke on people and not get in trouble.
KID: Not even a little bit?
DAD: Anybody who gets mad at you for an April Fools’ prank is a bad sport.
KID: Cool.
DAD: Hey… where are you going?
KID: To the garage: I need to get a bucket, some duct tape and the hose.
DAD: Why?
KID: If I told you it wouldn’t be an April Fools’ Day prank, would it?
…the answer is “NO!,” regardless of whether the question was “Are you up- set?” or “Can I go to the potty?”
…you call your kids by the wrong names. Or worse – by the dog’s.
…simple things become infinitely complicated, to the point where microwaving chicken nuggets takes an hour.
…you can’t remember if it’s your day to do the pick-up, and if you think it is, it isn’t, and if you think it isn’t, it is.
…you try to play hide ‘n’ seek but fall asleep in the upstairs hall closet.
…your spouse is “in the mood” and doesn’t understand why you’re not.
…somebody throws up, bleeds on something, or has “an accident.”
…non-parents suggest you just put the kids to bed early and get some sleep, but you’re too tired to tell them what a massively stupid and unrealistic idea that is.
…telemarketers call every few minutes asking you to donate.
…helping your kids with their homework proves so stressful and challenging, it makes you cry, even though it’s just addition.
…you don’t realize you’re yelling at your kids until everybody else in the supermarket aisle starts to stare.
…you push on, because you’re a parent and that’s what parents do.
CLICK ABOVE TO PLAY MOVIE
Time was, Spring Break was a blurry haze of non-stop adventure where the goal was to cram in as much fun as possible before returning to class – usually more tired than before we left.
But now we have kids, which means Spring Break is still a blurry haze of non-stop adventure, but the fun we try to cram is for our kids’, not for ourselves.
And while we still end the week far more tired than we were before it even started – Why is there no absolute limit to sleep deprivation, anyway? – at least we can take comfort in the fact that we’ll actually remember the memories we’re making now, and be able to look back on them forever and smile.
(Except for the ones involving the flight, which was delayed 2 hours.)
- Immediately in front of the main doors.
- Immediately in front of the side doors everybody uses because some idiot is standing immediately in front of the main doors.
- In the middle of the hallway.
- In the middle of the hallway with a double-wide baby stroller, dog, or large box of school supplies (even though they are appreciated).
- In the middle of the hallway with three or four other parents who don’t seem to realize they are blocking the main hallway.
- At the bottom of the stairs.
- At the top of the stairs.
- Anywhere on the stairs, even to the side because everybody still has to go around you.
- In a semi-circle of other parents directly in front of your child’s classroom door.
- Just behind the semi-circle of other parents standing directly in front of your child’s classroom door, but in front of some other parent’s child’s classroom door.
- On the playground next to a bunch of kids playing kickball (especially if your head is down because you’re angrily typing a list of dumb places to stand, because then you don’t see the ball that’s arcing toward your head until it’s too late).
KID: Why’s Dad throwing up in the bathroom?
MOM: Um… he’s not feeling well.
KID: Is it because of St. Patrick’s Day?
MOM: What do you mean?
KID: Well, when I walked into the kitchen last night, I saw him putting green food coloring in his beer and when I asked him what he was doing he said he was celebrating St. Patrick’s Day.
MOM: Um… uh… that’s right – sometimes adults drink green beer to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day.
KID: And wear green clothes.
MOM: Yes, and they wear green clothes. When I was a little girl, we used to drink green milk, too.
KID: Yuck. You’re kidding right?
MOM: No. Why?
KID: Duh – because obviously green food coloring makes you sick. Why else would Dad be throwing up?
GET UP! GET UP! WE OVERSLEPT!
For most families, Daylight Saving Time turns what’s typically a frantic, time-crunched mess of morning activity into a domestic version of roller derby, with everyone throwing elbows and accusations as they scramble to get dressed and get out the door:
RESPONSIBLE SPOUSE: You said you were gonna change the clock.
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 Saving Time, which was standardized across most of the United States in 1967, was primarily intended to reduce energy consumption — the “extra” hour of daylight in the afternoon was supposed to mean fewer lights would have to be on at offices, retailers, restaurants etc.
But when you consider how most people react when the Daylight Saving Time-bomb goes off, it’s more likely that any energy savings will be more than off-set by the increased consumption caused by all the stupid things people do when their sleeping patterns get disrupted.
What’s the net-effect of having to make two extra trips to the grocery store — the first because you accidentally left your list at home, and the second because you accidentally left your kid there?
Or what about having to replace a freezer full of food because just after you opened the door to sneak some ice cream for breakfast, you realized the soccer game you thought was next weekend, wasn’t, but that if you left RIGHT NOW! you might still make it?
Or what about having to run an electric air pump off and on all night because otherwise the slightly-leaky inflatable mattress in the den you’ve been banished to because you said one-too-many mean things to your spouse will deflate?
IDIOT: If you reminded me to change the clock, then why didn’t I change it?
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 Saving Time doesn’t actually save anything, what’s the point?
Perhaps the one good thing about Daylight Saving Time is that between all the extra caffeine it takes to get through the day and the fact that no matter how late the clock says it is, it’s impossible to sleep, everyone affected by it can spend half the night staring at the ceiling trying to figure that out.
PARENT: C’mon.
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!
There’s a lot of controversy surrounding kids in the control tower, but what’s the big deal? What would really happen if the FAA decided to let kids land planes?
Five consequences:
1. New pre-flight procedures:
PILOT: Air Traffic Control, Alaska 827 requesting permission to take off.
KID AIR TRAFFIC CONTROLLER: Permission granted, Alaska 827, just as soon as everyone on board goes potty.
2. Pilots who didn’t follow directions wouldn’t just be grounded, they’d be sent to bed without dinner:
KID AIR TRAFFIC CONTROLLER: Northwest 104, where have you been? Do you know what time it is?
PILOT: Sorry Air Traffic Control, we hit turbulence over Denver and got delayed.
KID AIR TRAFFIC CONTROLLER: Sorry? It’s a little late for that now, isn’t it?
PILOT: But it wasn’t our fault.
KID AIR TRAFFIC CONTROLLER: I don’t want to hear it.
PILOT: It was the jet stream!
KID AIR TRAFFIC CONTROLLER: Then you should have called and told us that. But you didn’t, did you?
PILOT: No.
KID AIR TRAFFIC CONTROLLER: You come straight to the gate after you land, no detours or delays.
3. Pilots would be expected to use good manners:
PILOT: Air Traffic Control, this is United 817, request permission to drop to 10,000 feet.
KID AIR TRAFFIC CONTROLLER: I’m sorry United 817, request denied – you didn’t say please.
4. No more foreign flights:
PILOT: Air Traffic Control, this is Ukrainian Airlines 202, over… Come in Air Traffic Control, this is Ukrainian Airlines 202… Air Traffic Control? Hello? Is anybody there?
KID AIR TRAFFIC CONTROLLER: I’m sorry, Ukrainian 202, I’m not allowed to talk to strangers.
5. All planes would have to land by 8 pm on a school night, 10 pm on weekends:
PILOT: Air Traffic Control, this is Alaska 111, requesting assistance.
KID AIR TRAFFIC CONTROLLER: I’m sorry Alaska 111, it’s past my bed time.
KID: Are you sick?
PARENT: No.
KID: Then why do you look like you’re gonna throw-up?
PARENT: The President is talking about the economic crisis again.
KID: What’s an economic crisis?
PARENT: Well… Basically, it’s when everybody in the country suddenly realizes they’re fucked.
KID: GASP! You said a bad word.
PARENT: I’m sorry.
KID: You’re not supposed to say bad words.
PARENT: You’re right. Even with a situation as bad as this, I shouldn’t swear.
KID: Why is the situation so bad, anyway?
PARENT: The cost of living is going up. Real wages are going down. People’s houses are worth less than they owe on them. Nobody can get credit any more. We can’t seem to find a way to use less energy. And now the experts are saying the very foundation upon which our entire economy is based is cracked at best, and may actually be broken beyond repair.
KID: Wow. We are fucked.
PARENT: Now you said a bad word.
KID: Sorry. Do I have to wash my mouth out with soap now?
PARENT: No, but only because we can’t afford any.
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.
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.)
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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.”
- 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.
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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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It’s easy to forget that kids have to be taught pretty much everything, and that just because something seems as if it would be self-evident to even the littlest of minds, it probably isn’t.
While this is true at all times of the year, it seems especially important to keep in mind over the holidays.
- Even though Play-doh is a lot like cookie dough, and can easily be cut into holiday shapes that look exactly like the sugar cookies Grandma makes, you can’t bake it. And if you do, it smells really, really bad for days.
- Magic Marker shouldn’t be used to decorate Christmas cookies. Or mommy’s new Christmas dress.
- Taking a bite of raw dough is probably not going to make you sick, but eating all the raw dough in the bowl probably will. (Although probably not until 3 am.)
- Santa is not fat because he’s so completely stressed out at the thought of losing his job he’s eating too much. (Though he will be cutting back a little this year, so you might not get absolutely everything you put on your list.)
- Just because you like egg nog doesn’t mean you can have as much as you want. This also goes for the dog.
- 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. √
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.
1.
PARENTS: Hi, we’re X’s parents. You must be… Hey, you don’t look so good!
TEACHER: I just need to sit down.
PARENTS: Are you alright? Should we call the school nurse or something?
TEACHER: No, I just get nauseous whenever I hear your child’s name.
2.
PARENTS: Hi, we’re X’s parents.
TEACHER: Who?
PARENTS: X?!?!?!
TEACHER: Are you sure he’s in my class?
PARENTS: He sits right here, right in front of you.
TEACHER: I guess he hasn’t made much of an impression on me, but why don’t you have a seat anyway.
3.
PARENTS: Hi, we’re X’s parents.
TEACHER: Glad you could make it. Now, if you’ll just follow me, the principal wants to talk with you as well.
4.
PARENTS: Hi, we’re X’s parents.
TEACHER: Nice to meet you.
PARENTS: And this is our lawyer, Gloria Allred.
5.
PARENTS: Hi, we’re X‘s parents.
TEACHER: Yes, he talks about you a lot.
PARENTS: That’s good.
TEACHER: …with the school psychologist.
PARENTS: Oh.
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?)
Everybody draws a blank sometimes, especially tired, distracted, frustrated parents. So what do you do when you need a threat but just can’t think of one? Click the box below to randomly generate a generic threat that should work for just about any occasion.
| Threat: |
If you don't stop it right now I'll make you clean out the garage. | |
To generate other responses, just click the bold text in the box above.
KID: What’s Daylight Savings?
PARENT: It’s when we set our clocks back an hour.
KID: What does that mean?
PARENT: It means what used to be 10:00 is now 9:00, so there’s actually an extra hour in the day.
KID: Which day?
PARENT: Today.
KID: That’s a relief – I was afraid it was gonna be when I was in school.
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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.
Halloween is supposed to be the one night of the year you can let your kids eat too much candy without feeling guilty about it, which makes an in-depth article like this one on CNN.com not only depressing, but irresponsible, mean-spirited and wholly inappropriate.
Boo-hiss, CNN.
Next time have the courtesy to run this after Halloween is over.
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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Which means:
- Whatever the weather forecast is for next weekend still has a 50% chance of being wrong — 75% if it’s supposed to be a nice.
- All the good candy is already gone.
- If you are hoping to exchange the costume you told your child not to get because you knew he or she wouldn’t ultimately want to wear it, you are probably out of luck because all the good costumes are gone, too.
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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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|
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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?
KINDERGARTENER: I don’t think my teacher knows how to tell time.
MOM: What makes you say that?
KINDERGARTENER: In class today she told us that when you count from 1 to 60, that’s a minute.
MOM: No, she’s right.
KINDERGARTENER: Really?
MOM: You look surprised.
KINDERGARTENER: I just thought it was longer than that.
MOM: Why?
KINDERGARTENER: ’cause whenever I ask Dad to play with me he says “Sure, just give me a minute,” and then, like, half the night goes by.
MOM: Yes, well… sometimes your father gets busy.
KINDERGARTENER: So that means my teacher does know how to tell time.
MOM: Yes
KINDERGARTENER: But Dad doesn’t.
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.
No age group is immune to meltdowns, with even teenagers releasing their inner Linda Blair every now and then.
If you’re lucky, these unprovoked, uncontrollable eruptions occur in the privacy of your own home at the exact moment a parade of siren-wailing fire trucks, ambulances and police cars passes by, so there’s absolutely no chance the neighbors can hear anything and report you to the Department of Child and Family Services.
(And if you’re really lucky, you’re the parent of the one out of 1,000,000,000 kids who just don’t melt down. Ever. And not because they’re medicated all the time, either.)
Still, some places are worse for meltdowns than others:
Church
God won’t care, thankfully, but some of the parishioners sure will. And even though you are in a place of compassion and forgiveness, always remember that none of it will be directed at you if you can’t keep your kid quiet during the sermon.
Chuck E. Cheese
It’s only bad if your kid is the one who sets off the chain reaction of temper tantrums. And if that happens, get out of there fast.
At home, the minute before the new babysitter arrives
Because even if you manage to calm your kid down, you’ll clutch your cell phone the entire time you’re out, waiting for the babysitter’s exasperated call, making it all but impossible to enjoy the play, movie,
dinner, etc. (And if you don’t calm your kid down, you’re not going anywhere. Ever. Because now you’ve scared off the last babysitter in your neighborhood.)
Upscale, urban supermarkets
None of those people looking at you with disgust have kids, so none of them realize you’re about as responsible for a meltdown as you are for an earthquake.
School
If you can’t get your child out before things get really ugly, count on the fact that from now on, any time your child has trouble paying attention, or doesn’t understand an assignment, or gets in even the slightest amount of trouble, the teacher will assume it’s because you’re a crappy parent.
Around old people
Not because there’s anything wrong with old people in general – most are understanding, even indulgent when it comes to kids – but there are two sub-groups you can’t always avoid: those who never had kids and hate the fact that part of their taxes go to educate “your” dirty, greasy, uncontrollable monsters, and the “spare the rod and spoil the child” types who look at you like you’re weak for not just hauling off and smacking your kid across the face when he or she gets out of line. Sadly, both groups seem to go out of their way to let you know how they feel.
Somebody else’s birthday party
This is especially bad if the meltdown coincides with the opening of presents and all the other parents can hear your kid wailing about the fact that the birthday boy or girl is getting lots of cool stuff and your kid isn’t.
As awful as it is when your kid has a meltdown, another kid’s meltdown can be among the more satisfying of parental experiences.
All you have to do to feel really good about yourself is throw meltee’s mom or dad an empathetic look that says “Hang in there, compadre, and don’t focus on the fact that everybody in the entire food court is staring at you like you’re the worst parent in the history of parenting. Focus instead on the terrific way my kid is behaving and let his or her pleasant and well-behaved exceptionalness remind you that your kid will soon return to his or her normal behavioral state, and within a few weeks even the most shocked and horrified of the bystanders will have forgotten what you look like, at which point it will be safe to return to the mall, where – if you’re lucky – you will find yourself standing where I am now, offering a look of encouragement and compassion to somebody who most definitely needs it.”
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.
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