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.

Oh Yeah, It's Valentine's Day

I thought about not writing anything today, and instead I was going to spend the day soaking in a warm tub filled with rose petals and sipping on champagne while nibbling on frozen grapes. But since I don't live in a Nora Ephron film and there's the fact that I think Valentine's Day is dumb, I decided to post something after all.

The following "poems" are entries from a Washington Post competition asking for a two-line rhyme. The stipulation was that the first line had to be oozing with romance and the second line had to be, well, you'll figure it out.

My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife

Marrying you has screwed up my life.

I see your face when I am dreaming.

That's why I always wake up screaming.

Kind, intelligent, loving and hot;

This describes everything you are not.

Love may be beautiful, love may be bliss,

But I only slept with you 'cause I was pissed.

I thought that I could love no other

--that is until I met your brother.

Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet and so are you.

But the roses are wilting, the violets are dead,

the sugar bowl's empty and so is your head.

I want to feel your sweet embrace;

But don't take that paper bag off your face.

I love your smile, your face, and your eyes.

Damn, I'm good at telling lies!

My love, you take my breath away.

What have you stepped in to smell this way?

My feelings for you no words can tell,

Except for maybe 'Go to hell.'

What inspired this amorous rhyme?

Two parts vodka, one part lime.

I'm actually surprised that there isn't a special section for these cards at Hallmark. If there was, I might be more of a fan of Valentine's Day.

Sharing The Love

Valentine's Day is lame. I'm convinced that the holiday was conceived in a junior high locker bay in Wichita by an 8th grade girl named Bernice Madsen. Bernice was frustrated because her main man Walter had been expressing his love and affection in ways that Bernice found inadequate, pathetic and cheap. So, after a brainstorming session with a few other pissed off girls, they created a day called "Buy Me Shit Or I'll Be A Bitch Day" (which has since been renamed "Valentine's Day"). News of this gift-giving/unrealistic expectations day spread like a flu epidemic across the country, eventually resulting in the production of hideous heart-shaped jewelry, highly-flammable heart-shaped pillows, overpriced flowers that die within hours of receipt and pajamas that no woman, unless booze is involved, would ever allow to come into contact with her skin.

Since I profess my love to my kids and my husband on a daily basis, and I have a strong dislike for anything heart-shaped, I won't be celebrating Valentine's Day. But since I don't want to be a complete party-pooper, I thought I'd use the day to express my love for a few individuals that I sorta love, because they make my life easier:

• Happy Valentine's Day garbage man, and thank you for showing up every Wednesday morning bright and early to haul away my crap. Even when I've strategically stacked stuff well over the top of the container and it falls out and lands on the street, you always take the time to get out of your warm truck and pick the shit up. I really appreciate that, because the thought of having garbage in my possession any longer than absolutely necessary makes me crazy. I don't know if you do this extra service because you're good at your job, or if it's because you see me glaring out the front window, ready to scream if you quickly drive away, pretending not to notice the stuff that fell out. Either way, thank you.
• I really like Elle, at Floyd's Barbershop, for always managing to cut Zoe's bangs in a way that makes her look bad ass and cute at the same time, and not at all like an American Girl Doll.
• The non-English speaking table clearer guy that has worked forever at Noodles & Co. has a special place in my heart because not only does he take away my dirty bowl, but he always has a smile on his face and a free cookie for Zoe.
• I love that the tennis racquet stringers at Michael Lynne's have saved our asses by being able to get a stringing job done in less than an hour. In a perfect world, my boys are supposed to monitor their strings and check them for wear, and not wait until we are minutes away from leaving for a tournament to say: "Hey, check it out. This string is about to break." Obviously, we do not live in a perfect world.
• I love any bartender or liquor store employee that has carded me, and went the extra, morale-boosting mile to say "Wow!" after looking at my birthdate.
• I definitely like the people at school drop-off that actually know what they're doing and don't drive around with their head up their ass.
• Since I'm supposed to love my neighbors, I guess I should be extra appreciative of one neighbor in particular for showing me exactly what to do if I ever want to be known as The Worst Neighbor In The World. By all means, keep using your lawn mower/leaf blower/ weed whacker after 9pm, your snowblower at 6am, your Shop-Vac at 10pm and put your screaming, uncoordinated kids in the yard anytime you want to. And speaking of your kids, you should definitely take every opportunity to tell me about how amazing, smart, intelligent, one-of-a-kind, spectacular, gifted and outstanding they are. I can see why, if I have the common courtesy to mutter "hi" while I'm getting the newspaper in my pajamas, you would interpret that as "Oh, you must want to hear all about my kids. And my job. And my wife's job." By all means, neighbor, keep up the good work because the longer you keep acting like this, the more people will talk about you, which will leave them less time to talk about me.

I hope everyone has a Happy Valentine's Day tomorrow, whether you're acknowledging it's existence or not. I might even take the day off from writing and being mean, because after all, in addition to it being about horrendous gifts, disappointment and feeling lonely, it's a day about love. In fact, maybe I'll hang out with my neighbor for the afternoon, while our kids have a play date. You never know, I might just find a new use for his Shop-Vac.

Unexpected Empathy

Although Zoe loves all animals, worms and toads, she hates bugs. There have been moments during the summer when she has chased the boys around while wielding a sword in one hand and a water pistol in the other, only to run into the garage shrieking like a girl, all because she saw a bee. Bees are definitely the king of her hated bug kingdom, but her dislike of flies, mosquitoes, ladybugs, dragonflies, and box elder bugs comes close. Oh, and she also hates ants.

A few days ago, Zoe and Charlie were tolerating being around each other and watching the movie Honey, I Shrunk The Kids. I was a little worried about how she would react when the bees swooped in sounding like B-1 bombers, but she handled it pretty well and didn't hide behind the couch or anything. She was more upset about the fact that her bedtime arrived before the movie was over, but after reassuring her that it would be on DVR and she could watch the rest of it the next day, she agreed to go to bed. It was then that I realized that she had stopped watching right before the ant (creatively named "Anty"), after saving the kids from the scorpion, gets attacked and dies.

Now, I've seen how this girl reacts when surrounded by ants. Let's just say that she cannot stomp her New Balance size-10's fast or hard enough, and will happily smash ants into the concrete for hours. So even though Anty was like a pet, the kids are all sad and Ron sheds some tears, I wasn't really worried about how Zoe would take the news about a dead ant. After all, she's personally responsible for ending the lives of thousands of them.

The next day while she was watching the movie again, I took advantage of the time to get a few things done since I knew I wouldn't have to console her during the giant bee scene. But then we got to the part that she had missed and the scorpion appeared. Sensing a bit of distress, I sat on the couch with her as she watched Anty take the fatal blow. She sat there in silence with her mouth hanging open, and then said: "He died? He's dead? How can he die? It's Ron's pet ant! He can't die! Does he get a new Anty? Promise me he gets a new ant!"

She looked at me, and I could see her eyes start to get glossy. Within ten seconds, she started sobbing, devastated by Anty's death. If only the kindergarten teacher who thinks that my daughter has a little bit of a mean streak could see her now, crying over a dead ant.

"Yes Zoe, I'm pretty sure that Ron gets a new pet ant in the sequel." This, and some fruit snacks, seemed to make her feel better, and she managed to finish watching the movie, never even flinching when Nick almost got sucked up and chopped into little bits by the lawn mower.

Meanwhile, I think I'll file this moment away in my brain because it might come in handy at some point. Like this summer when she is freaking out about "all the stupid ants" and is obsessed about destroying all of them, maybe I'll casually mention the fact that one of those ants might be someone's pet, so perhaps she could STOP BEING INSANE AND QUIT STOMPING ON ALL OF THE ANTS!

Parenting Anti-Advice

I've decided that now is as good a time as any to fine tune some parenting techniques. I know that there are a few things that could use a little improvement, like my lack of patience (okay, a lot of improvement), and since there seems to be more advice out there than ever before, I thought maybe I'd look into a couple age-appropriate suggestions and give them a try.

Goal #1: Stop yelling at Zoe so much.

To accomplish this goal, I looked into the "positive discipline" philosophy. This approach takes a lot of work, patience and mental strength. It also requires a lot of time, like your-whole-life kind of time. With positive discipline, there is no such thing as "wrong, evil" or "punishment," only "inappropriate" and "teachable moment." And here's the real kicker: negotiation and raising your voice are definite no-no's.

Well, things seemed to be going pretty smoothly and I thought that maybe just reading about positive discipline did the trick. I'll never have to yell again! I did all of that research for nothing! After informing her all afternoon that we would be leaving for Charlie's violin lesson in one hour, half-an-hour, and then fifteen minutes, the moment arrived where I asked her to turn off "Tom & Jerry" because we actually, really did have to leave, which instantly triggered crabbiness and a meltdown. Time to engage Project Positive Discipline!

"No! I don't want to! Maybe in ten minutes." She was sprawled out on the couch and showed no signs of cooperation.

"Zoe, we have to leave in no minutes, not ten. You're acting inappropriately. Please turn the TV off, get a snack, put your shoes on and get in the car." I still hadn't raised my voice, the snack wasn't really a negotiation or bribe since she needed to eat, and I felt like I was still in control.

"But I'm tired. I don't want to go." Now she was crying and doing her best eel impression by sliding off of the couch and into a heap on the floor. Meanwhile, Charlie was standing by the door with his coat on, waiting for us to get in the car and Zach was attempting to get his homework done amidst the drama. "And I'm hunnngreeee!"

"I already said you could get a snack! And you need to get your shoes on now! All you have to do is sit in the car and eat some crackers. The way you're acting is so naughty and wrong." I didn't have time for this and now I was definitely yelling. "Positive discipline" was quickly becoming "project unrealistic."

After a couple more minutes of sobbing and yelling, she finally composed herself enough to get in the car and we were headed to the violin lesson. In a perfect positive discipline world, I would have knelt down, looked my overwhelmed daughter in the eye, and taken a few minutes to explain to her that her behavior was inappropriate, and that I sure did love her lots and understood that she was mad and felt powerless. Then I would have wrapped my arms around her in a reassuring hug, pulled an organic snack out of the pantry, and carried her to the car. But here's the thing: I live in reality, where we have places to be ten minutes ago. Sure, my method resulted in a few more tears and a little bit of yelling, but at least I embraced a "teachable moment." After all, she learned that she should stop acting like a psycho and get her ass in the car already.

Since Goal #1 was such a rip roaring success, I figured I'd take a shot at another goal, since I couldn't possibly do any worse.

Goal #2: Communicate more efficiently with Zach.

According to the teenage communication experts (which, by the way, I'm now convinced do not have teenagers of their own), a parent should find common ground and mutual interests that they share with their teenager. Spend more time together talking about things other than school, don't snoop through their things or spy, and if they tell you or show you something that you find inappropriate or don't necessarily agree with, share your disapproval with them in a non-judgmental way. And when you are having a conversation with them, make sure you have their full attention before you start talking.

Zach gets home from school an hour before Charlie does, so it's a great time for us to catch up on his day and maybe even talk about what is on the schedule for the rest of the week. If he's willing to talk and/or listen, that is.

While he was eating a granola bar, and before I started talking about after-school plans for Thursday, I made sure to make eye contact so that I knew he was listening. As soon as I said "Okay?" though, he said "What about Thursday? You were talking to me?" It's official, I completely suck at this.

After a couple minutes of silence, he said, "Oh hey. Check this out. John got this random text from someone and he forwarded it to me. You gotta see this." I decided to suck it up and not be mad about his lack of listening skills, and instead I was going to be open-minded and non-judgmental. After all, he was voluntarily showing me stuff on his phone, so I wouldn't have to snoop through his texts like I usually do. And then I saw this:

Okay then, very well. So then I guess if anyone needs me, I'll be outside shoveling the driveway. Oh, and I think I also had a Goal #3 for Charlie, but for some reason I seem to have forgotten what it was.