Parenting Tips (for the insane)

I recently came across some interesting parenting tips and figured that since my attempt at incorporating "positive discipline" was such a huge success, maybe I'll put some of these tips to use, too. But then after reading the tips and envisioning myself actually using them, I couldn't stop laughing.

Start kids off on plain (unflavored, unsweetened) yogurt in an attempt to help them develop an appreciation for foods that are not sweet. This sounds like a simple enough idea, if it weren't for the fact that Sour Patch Kids are so good and unflavored, unsweetened yogurt tastes like pus and has the texture of silicone caulk. And I think that kids are naturally attracted to eat things that aren't sweet, considering all the little kids I know that have eaten dirt.

Continually build upon responsibilities into adolescence until one day your children are responsible adults with the ability to live independently! Yeah!!! Oh yeah, that all sounds fine and good but there is this little thing called "reality" that interferes once in a while with the whole giving the kids responsibilities plan. Like the reality that kids forget, or decide not to do something, or roll their eyes before they say "I'm not going to do that," or are busy completing the 864th goddamn science project of the year so they don't have time to even say "I'm not going to do that." What this tip failed to include after the word "adolescence" is the phrase "by repeating yourself three times each day for 15 years, and occasionally hurling a clean basket of laundry across the room while simultaneously pointing out the fact that slavery ended decades ago..."

How many other words for "No" can you use instead of "No"? Ideally, you should divert attention to another healthy activity, but what other responses do you have? Okay, seriously, where do I begin? Do I include just the words I actually say out loud, or should I include the ones that I say to myself, too? I guess I'll do both: Nope, nuh-uh, no way in hell, not unless you want to experience massive amounts of physical pain, what the fuck are you thinking, are you mildly retarded, seriously oh my god, who are you, that's a good idea if you were a moron, I'm going this way please don't follow me, stop it, stop it now, stop it now before I call the cops on you, and of course -- NOOOOOOOOOOO!

Need a diversion for those long car rides with your toddler? Make a sock puppet, give it a name & keep it in the car. This is a tip I may actually try to use. I think I'll name my puppet Martin E., and he'll be made out of stitched together cocktail napkins. I'll glue a couple cigarette butts to his head, give him bloodshot eyes and tape an acrylic martini glass to his side. Then, when I'm driving around retrieving various forgotten items and passing myself on the highway, Martin E. can tell my kids that instead of going to the school or the tennis court, mommy decided to drive to the bar, because Martin really needs a drink.

Take care not to use language that identifies a child with any physical, emotional, or behavioral challenges. So, yay for me because I already knew this before reading the handy dandy tip. For example, if one kid has a giant zit growing on his chin (you know, the kind that if it were to grow it's own face and start talking you wouldn't be surprised) instead of saying "Wow, that's gross and looks painful, glad I don't have to go to school looking like that," I say something like "I hope you don't get hit on the chin today and by the way, have you been using that facewash I bought you?" And when a kid is behaving in a way that I find unacceptable or really, really embarrassing, I never say "No!" but usually opt for things like "Your behavior is making me consider walking that way and you shouldn't follow me" or "That's a good idea if you're trying to piss me off." Or if a kid suddenly bursts into tears because someone looked at them wrong, I never say "Quit crying and being a pathetic drama queen" but instead say, oh wait...I actually do say that. Never mind.

Singing silly songs is a wonderful way to disarm a cranky kid. Seriously. If you ever see me doing this, especially in public, you have permission to pull that machete out of your giant purse and chop my head off.

For improved sleep & strength, get kids to climb up and down stairs whenever possible. The only question I have is: who in the hell doesn't make their kids use their own two legs to climb up the steps? Is this some sort of joke? Like, climbing the steps is the only physical diversion this person could come up with? How about kick a ball, or jump rope, or play tag. No, no. Let's climb up and down the fucking stairs! Oh, maybe I could trick them, like "Go get me that ___ upstairs. Oh, wait, just kidding! I don't need it after all. Put it back and bring me the ____ instead. Ha ha, gotcha again! Isn't this fun? Now go get me the ____ downstairs and put it all the way upstairs." I agree that this type of activity may wear a kid out, but it may also create a kid that, when he gets to school and his phy-ed teacher tells the class to run stairs, discovers a violent side that he never knew existed.

Spring is the perfect time to increase outdoor time and explore the birds, bees & butterflies. There are two birds nests in our yard: one in a front yard shrub and another under our deck. While it's fun to watch the baby birds grow after the eggs hatch, it's not fun to see the dog maul baby birds immediately upon their departure from the nest. Also, I hate butterflies and have really, really bad reactions to bee stings. There's also the fact that I'm pretty sure that Zoe is afraid bees, considering the fact that every time she sees one within two feet she says "A BEE! IT'S A BEE! GET IT! GET IT! AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH! A BEEEEEEEE!" So, while I'm happy spending time outside and gradually teaching my kids about the birds and the bees, I will not be exploring any actual birds or bees.

Kids should yell and scream outside. Teach them to use their "Fairy Voices" inside, giving quiet voices a magical quality. If a kid grows up hearing and saying "Let's all use our Fairy Voices" and then that kid goes to school and has to go outside for a little free-time commonly referred to as "recess" and says "Oh goody, now I can be loud and I don't have to use my Fairy Voice anymore" that kid might get laughed at and be like, gee mom, thanks for making me sound like an idiot.

Get kids in bed 1/2 hour early to give them time to decompress, talk about their day & sleep peacefully. Let's see, I think it's time for some basic math skills: If I were to spend 1/2 hour each night with each of my three kids individually, that would mean that bedtime would take me an hour and a half, every night, not including the time spent saying "Go to bed, go to bed, please go to bed, get your ass to bed." I'm all for a good night hug, but spending two hours on bedtime? Not so much.

Since we all love to hear people say our name, address kids by their names only for good events, NOT bad! Then what exactly am I supposed to call my kid for the majority of the day!? "Hey you, over there, stop picking on your brother. Kid upstairs that lives down the hall, you need to get your ass to the bus. I wish that this person standing in front of me with the attitude would stop being crabby. Boy with buzz cut, you were supposed to take the garbage out." Not only would this make me sound like an idiot, but my kids would wonder what the hell happened to me because usually when they're in trouble I (like most other moms) not only use their first names, but their middle names too.

Unless, of course, I said these things while using my Fairy Voice. In that case, they'd just laugh at me.

You Forgot the Snack & Drink? BITCH!

Over the weekend, over 800 kids were in Minneapolis competing in a National Chess Championship. Even though playing chess doesn't burn very many calories or involve a huge amount of athleticism, I'm sure their parents are making sure that the kids get enough sleep and eat well so that they're ready to face the competition.

And I'm wondering: did anyone arrange a snack and drink schedule?

It seems weird to be experiencing April without getting ready for a kid's baseball season. I actually kind of miss shopping for cleats, heading to the batting cages, waiting for a phone call from the new coach and adding all of the games to my calendar. One thing I don't miss, though, is getting an email from an over-eager parent telling me when I'm supposed to bring the fat and sugar.

When I was pregnant with Zoe -- or more specifically, when I was in labor with Zoe -- I realized that I would be enjoying the wonderfulness of intravenously administered pain medication, and hopefully pushing, at the same time I was supposed to be supplying a team of 15 boys with granola bars and juice boxes. Since it was too late to switch games with another parent, I managed to drop off the sustenance at a teammates house, on my way to the hospital, while my contractions were about six minutes apart. Was this insane? Absolutely. But since there isn't an epidural that would help me cope with the eight-weeks of pain brought on by dealing with a team full of pissed off parents, it was necessary. Trust me, it doesn't matter what comes up, you just DO NOT forget to bring the snack and drink.

Being anti-snack and drink isn't something that developed after several years of schlepping a cooler -- I have always hated the idea. I just don't understand why kids, after standing around in a baseball field or sitting on a bench for an hour, have to then receive a bag of chips and a can of pop. With all of the news about the increase in childhood obesity rates and people complaining about kids eating too much crap and not getting enough exercise why, when they finally burn 150 calories, do we need to hand them 350 empty calories as a reward for showing up?

One thing that I've noticed is that it's always the laziest players that are obsessed with finding out which parent brought the snacks. The kid that is never at practice on time, can't seem to run the bases without watching where the ball went (which, by the way, is a HUGE pet peeve of mine) and is always the last one off of the field between innings is always, always, the first one in line at the cooler, hoping that there will be extras so that he can grab two snacks.

Even though the snack and drink schedule usually includes a note at the top that encourages providing something nutritious, I have yet to find a parent, besides myself, that is brave enough to shun Frito Lay/Hostess/ Little Debbie and just bring fruit. There was one dad a couple years ago who flat out said that "he loves it when he gets to bring the snack because it means that, for one night, he's super cool and popular with the kids." I was tempted to ask him if he was aware of the fact that, the rest of the nights, the parents think he's a loser, but I'm pretty sure he would have just handed me an oatmeal creme pie in an attempt to win me over. Sure enough, when his night arrived he didn't bring just a snack. He brought ginormous bags of fruit snacks and the big bags of chips, plus bottles of Mountain Dew Code Red. By the way, did I mention that this guy is a loser?

One year when our scheduled snack/drink game arrived, Charlie was adamant about bringing clementines and bottled water. I even pre-peeled the tangerines and put them in individual bags, and threw in a handful of red grapes for some additional color. Sure enough, only three boys took the fruit and the rest of them were tempted to throw Charlie a pity party, just a small get-together for my kid so that they could tell him "Oh, sorry your mom sucks."

So this summer, I will pack sandwiches and fruit into a cooler, haul my kids to tennis and not worry about having to watch other parents compete over who is bringing the most indulgent snack to baseball games. And if any of the other tennis players ask me if I have an extra granola bar, I'll just say "Oh, is it my day for snack and drink? Sorry, but I didn't get a copy of the schedule."

I'm Eating WHAT For Dinner?

I know that there are people that love to cook, experiment with recipes, try new ingredients and spend hours in the kitchen. These are the kind of people that own a bottle of white truffle oil, are able to keep a sauce at a low simmer, can quickly dice carrots without losing a finger and aren't intimidated when it comes to preparing a whole fish. I am not one of those people. I do, however, read nutrition labels, have eliminated trans fats from our house, make sure that fresh produce is in the fridge, would rather make dinner than eat out (unless someone says "let's go out,") and am usually able to serve something edible in about 20 minutes. But do I actually enjoy cooking? Usually, no.

Some people are able to plan a week's worth of meals, shop only once (with coupons) and even manage to use all of the leftovers in creative and appetizing ways. I, on the other hand, have arrived home from the grocery store with produce, crackers, bread and tonic and, although I'm tempted to try, I don't think it's possible to make dinner-for-five out of strawberries and Wheat Thins. At least I usually have a few pork chops or a pound of ground beef that can be whipped up into something delicious, if they weren't in the freezer.

Fortunately, none of my kids are very picky about what they eat so making dinner is rarely a complete pain in the ass. Actually, now that I think about it, it could be that some of them are pretty high maintenance, but since I've been making food for this family for so long I've grown accustomed to the idiosyncrasies and quirks of each person. Ah, who the hell am I kidding -- there are definitely some individualized dietary demands that should be making me insane. In fact, if someone else came to my house and was given the task of cooking for my kids for one week, they would probably run out the door after three days, screaming and bashing themselves on the head with a ladle in an attempt to end the misery.

One kid will eat just about anything and although he likes cheese, he only likes certain kinds and if there's too much cheese than the meal is basically inedible. Another kid doesn't like pepper on anything, likes eggs fried so that the yolk isn't slimy, isn't a big fan of sauce and will skillfully arrange uneaten peas on his plate in an attempt to make the pile seem smaller. Grilled meats are fine, as long as they don't require excessive amounts of chewing. Everyone likes Caesar salad, but it can't have too much dressing. They all like fruit, but it can't have blemishes. Casseroles are quick and easy to prepare, but Zoe doesn't like anything that consists of multiple ingredients mushed together. Although it would make life easier, serving a rotation of corn dogs, pancakes and pasta seems a little irresponsible.

So basically, cooking for this family is easy, as long as it's not too saucy, cheesy, mushroomy, spicy, mushy, crunchy, greenish or chewy. Or in other words, I'll admit that sometimes, cooking for this family is a complete pain-in-the-ass.

The Daily Beef About Chicken

Considering the fact that my husband is a writer and owns an ad agency and as a result I have friends that produce work for a wide range of clients, I don't often criticize or complain about the commercials I see, at least not in public. After all, in this economy anyone who is still employed in the advertising industry is fortunate, even if that means that they have to write spots that aren't creative masterpieces for things like tampons or dog food. Occasionally though, I see a TV spot that is so bad for so many reasons I can't help but talk about it.

Yes, Tyson chicken nuggets. I'm referring to you.

Since Zoe realizes that most commercials (except dad's TV spots, of course) are crap, she keeps the remote handy whenever she is watching TV so that she can either hit the mute button or fast forward through them (if what she's watching is on DVR). Unfortunately, the first time this Tyson spot aired in our house, she wasn't quick enough with the mute.

Just in case it wasn't already difficult enough to get young kids to eat something besides fries, chicken nuggets and cookies, Tyson has decided to run a commercial starring adorable youngsters making faces of disgust and talking about all the foods that they hate. This list includes perfectly edible items like sausage, asparagus, meatloaf, pasta and string beans. One little girl says that "pasghetti" (the one thing that I thought all kids loved), looks like worms.

Since she heard the voices of children instead of my voice, Zoe immediately paid attention. "Hey that girl says meatloaf is gross. And string beans sound gross. What? Spaghetti is made out of worms? Oh look, that boy really likes those chicken nuggets. Those chicken nuggets look good."

While I hate it when people blame TV and other forms of media for brainwashing their kids and turning them into mindless consumers, I get a little pissed off when some chicken company thinks it's funny to make the job of feeding kids harder than it already is. I have no problem telling Zoe "No I am not buying you Moon Sand just because you saw it on TV" or "No I am not buying those cookies just because you saw the elf cartoon on TV" since these are items that I was never planning on purchasing no matter how spectacular they looked in the commercial. I would, however, like her to eat the meatloaf and beans that I sometimes make for dinner without having to hear her say "but the girl on TV said that meatloaf was gross."

I reminded Zoe that she likes meatloaf (covered in ketchup), string beans are the same beans that she's eaten several times and that no, of course spaghetti is not made out of worms. I also told her that this particular commercial and the kids in it are stupid because although that boy was lucky enough to get some green grapes with his chicken nuggets, he never ate them. I also maybe said something like did you know those all natural ingredients used to make Tyson chicken nuggets are actually chicken feet and feathers.

The ironic thing is that Tyson claims that "they can make my job a little easier." I guess they're sort of right, since now when I'm grocery shopping I'll be able to skip going down the aisle with the Tyson chicken nuggets.

Please Don't Poison My Child

Every February I shop for school Valentines and every year, due to the increase in class sizes, the number of Valentines I have to purchase gets bigger. Next year, when Charlie is finally in junior high, I will be back to buying for only one classroom, but this year was obnoxious. But I'm sure there are 60 kids that are ecstatic about receiving yet another red heart sucker stuck to a Spongebob card.

The funniest thing for me this year was comparing the contents of the Valentine box between a kindergartner and a sixth grader. Charlie's box contained nothing inedible and was mostly Fun Dips, Skittles and chocolate. After examining the contents of Zoe's box, though, it's now a proven fact that there are some really un-fun parents in kindergarten.

There are no fewer than four pencils, one box of raisins, a paper airplane, a couple tattoos, and a few sticker puzzles. She was really excited about receiving one Ring Pop, but unfortunately it was shattered into 27 pieces. Yes, there are a few heart suckers and one piece of taffy, but mostly, it's a box of disappointment.

Everything was pretty lame, except for one Valentine, which was lame and toxic. It seems like there is always one classroom mom that goes above and beyond the world of fun size, trying to impress all of the other moms and hopefully buy her kid a few more friends.

While I don't have any issues with daily sugar consumption and definitely don't consider myself a nutrition nazi, this "sucker" almost made me barf into her box. Even if it weren't for the fact that I hate marshmallows almost as much as I hate kiss-ass parents, there's no way in hell I will let Zoe touch this cellophane-wrapped, and I am not exaggerating when I say this, piece of shit.

The ingredient list: sugar, corn syrup (Glucose), Dextrose, water, gelatin (HALAL - whatever the fuck that is), corn starch, artificial flavors, artificial colors, (FD&C Red 40, FD&C Yellow 5, FD&C Blue 1). These wonderful ingredients, when whipped together in Arkansas, result in an apple-flavored Marshmallow Lollipop containing 240 calories and 41 grams of sugar.

I felt like kind of a bitch mom when I told Zoe that she wasn't going to eat it, but then she said, "It looks gross and it smells horrible. I don't want it anyway. Oh hey, look! Skittles!"

I'm so glad that the next holiday to look forward to is St. Patrick's Day, when all I have to worry about is drinking beer and Irish whiskey. After all, I need to celebrate my heritage.

Phrases That Make Me Go "GAAHHH!"

The conversations change as soon as the pee hits the stick and the blue plus sign appears in the viewing window. From that point on, it seems that never again can anything be discussed that doesn't include "the baby." I know that kid-related topics are going to come up once in a while, and obviously there are priorities that have to shift, but sometimes when I'm with adults, I just want to talk about movies, or stupid shit, or make fun of people, or maybe just talk about what kind of drink to order next. There are some people that were really fun pre-kids and would be more than capable of being a little bit fun post-kids, but now instead of "Enough of this shit, do you want to meet for a fucking beer? Or five?" it's "Let's meet for coffee and talk about the redesigned Diaper Genie."

Over the past few years, my tolerance for these conversations has been gradually diminishing to the point of nonexistence. And while I've become pretty good at escaping meaningless chit chat about potty training or bedtimes (a benefit of hating all moms clubs), there are some phrases that I can't always avoid, and they will always make me gag a little bit whenever I hear them.

• I'm preggers. Actually, I think what you're trying to say is I'm pregnant.
• We're pregnant, and we're due on March 8. Honestly, we all know it takes two to make a baby, but the last time I checked it was the woman that gets knocked up and gets to push the duffel bag through the keyhole, which most likely won't happen on March 8, and yes, she will probably want drugs.
• Is there a quiet room available for me to use so that I can breast feed my child? Nursing is free, convenient, and it makes your boobs look fantastic. But not everyone at the party wants to know exactly what it is you're doing behind Door #1, hear about your lactation schedule, or know that little Petunia is latching on like a pro. Just quietly find a couch/chair/spare bedroom/fitting room and knock yourself out.
• No, I can't use that blanket because it isn't made with organic cotton. Unless the blanket is woven from the ass hairs of a rabid skunk or was just used to wipe up a gasoline spill, just say "thank you" and take the stupid blanket.
• I'm sorry ma'am, but we don't have Ketel One. Seriously, what kind of bar doesn't have Ketel One?
• Is the birthday cake made with all organic ingredients and whole wheat flour? It's a cake, and kids generally like their cake to taste good. Just assume that the cake is made with normal sugar, non-organic butter and white flour, and it might have even come from a magical place called "Costco." If it's really that important to you, don't ask, and then don't have a piece. Questioning the sub-par eco-friendliness of a child's birthday cake and expecting the party host to recite the ingredient list is kind of mean and a little bit pretentious.
• I know he broke the lamp, but boys will be boys. Accidents happen, but shit does not get broken just because they're boys. Offer to replace the lamp, stop blaming the kid's lack of coordination on gender, and make the kid apologize.
• Will you childproof before we come for a visit? No. But I won't have dishes of bleach or mousetraps lying around, either.
• I would get so bored being a stay-at-home mom. What do you do all day? Sit on my ass, eat crappy food, and dream of ways to inflict pain on clueless, inconsiderate people that have the balls to ask stupid questions.

Everything in Moderation

I spent the majority of today at a tennis tournament, watching parents hover over their boys with giant jugs of Gatorade, forcing them to eat energy bars that had the texture of wet cardboard, and glaring at other parents who let their kids have pop, bologna sandwiches and Doritos. I don't know if they noticed the layer of orange goo that had formed on my own left hand, but at least it wasn't under my fingernails. Or at least it isn't there anymore.

I came across one family who took a group of boys to lunch. Their original destination was Subway, but then the boys all decided to head to McDonald's instead. The mom that chaperoned the lunch was a little freaked out afterward, wondering if one boy specifically was even allowed to eat McDonald's. She tentatively talked to the other mom, who merely shrugged her shoulders, tilted her head, and had a "well, the damage is done, since he's already digesting it and it's too late to make him throw it up" kind of expression.

Okay, first of all lady, your kid got a free lunch. With friends. Second of all, he's almost 12 years old. At some point you have to trust him to make his own choices as far as what he's going to eat. Chances are that if you let a kid that normally eats healthy food choose to eat fast food enough times, that kid will most likely shit his pants within 10 minutes of eating the double cheeseburger. This is not a desirable outcome for a normal 11 year old boy, which will result in him never wanting to eat fast food...again. Best of all, he will have discovered the horrid realities of fast food all on his own, without feeling nagged by the parent. Unfortunately, though, you end up with the laundry.

My kids never ask to go out for fast food, but won't turn down the occasional small fry. They voluntarily eat vegetables, fruit, carbs, and meat, but also have a piece or two of candy almost every day. We always have fruit in the house, but we also have a shit load of fun size sugar and chocolate. Sure, I've used a roll of Smarties here or a single-serve Fun Dip there to serve as some very effective bribery, but for the most part they see a little bit of sugar as something normal, not something to be coveted or hoarded.

We all know people that pride themselves on feeding their families nothing but whole grain goodness, 100% organic, sugar-free, soda-free and definitely no MSG. And chances are that you've seen the children from these families at a birthday party, without their parents, putting extra pieces of cake into their coat pockets, drinking orange pop by the pitcher-full, and hoarding licorice and gummy bears in their party bag. These kids have rarely been given the opportunity to choose what and how much they eat, and they are pretty sure that this particular birthday party is the last time they will ever see that much sugar in one place at one time. So, better stock up now while mom isn't watching!

I think that kids, at some point, need to experiment with a little sugar overdose, deal with the repercussions of eating too much grease, and learn how to interpret the serving size on a nutrition label, and that all food, including sugar and snacks, should be presented in moderation. Nothing should be forbidden, except for maybe those special brownies that fun Uncle Harvey made. Those are mine.