Why Candy Tastes Better When It’s Free (or Stolen From Your Kids)
Posted: October 31, 2011 Filed under: children, kids, motherhood, parenting | Tags: Child, food, Halloween, Hershey, humor, M&M's, Motherhood, Parenting, Payday, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, The Hershey Company, Tootsie Roll 7 CommentsThere is only one thing that tastes better than free candy. And that is free candy you steal from your children. Candy you take out of your child’s Halloween stash somehow tastes sweeter, lasts longer, and seems less caloric than candy begotten from other means. I rationalize stealing my kids candy in two ways:
1. I think of it as a luxury tax. I bought the costume. I took them around from house to house. And I will most certainly have to deal with the consequences of their massive bellyaches once they’ve snarfed down eleven pounds of candy in half an hour. The way I see it, I deserve a percentage of net sales.
2. I tell myself I’m doing it for them. No responsible parent would allow their children to eat triple their body weight in sugar, would they?. By dipping into their supply, I am actually protecting them. I am being a good parent. I am acting righteously. (Refer to earlier post on How to Feel Righteous Everyday: A Cheater’s Guide).
But beware: Once children reach the age of four (or possibly a precocious three) they will protect their candy with their lives. If you are going to be successful in your quest, you must have a game plan. You must shut out all thoughts of selflessness and altruism. You must come prepared for battle. Here are a few bits of advice to help you along the way:
- When they dump their candy out on the floor to bask in its gluttonous glory, take note of any doubles and triples. Start with these items first. The earlier you can extract them, the better.
- Never, ever make the mistake of asking or worse, saying something like, “Let’s see, what do we have here…” This causes instant foodstress in kids and puts them on the defensive. You want them unaware.
- Tell them you have to check the candy for razor blades or other forms of tampering. The only way to know for sure is to test it out yourself. That’ll buy you at least a couple of pieces – but won’t work forever. Most kids I know would rather risk being poisoned than give away their Halloween candy.
- You can always pull the classic, “Look over there! Is that The Great Pumpkin?” and while their sweet little heads are turned, you swipe a bag of M&Ms or a Payday (if you roll with peanuts).
- Don’t be greedy. Never take the King Size Twix or the cute little homemade marshmallow pops the Martha-wanna-be down the street gave out. You’ll get busted for sure. Stick to the common stuff – your Hershey’s mini’s, your individually wrapped licorice, your Tootsie rolls, etc.
- Obviously, when they are at school and/or asleep, you have free reign to pillage at will. But be aware that some children take inventory and will know when something goes missing. You will pay the price in shame if you get caught. And possibly in actual candy as well. I’ll admit I had to do some re-stocking during the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup binge of ’08.
- Kids fear the unknown food. Play upon their natural pickiness. You can pull out the lesser-known Skor bar and say, “You don’t like this, do you?” and before they even know what hit them you’re enjoying that rich toffee goodness.
Best of luck in your efforts tonight… Happy hunting and Happy Halloween!
How to Feel Righteous Everyday: A Cheater’s Guide
Posted: October 17, 2011 Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: humor, Motherhood, Parenting 12 CommentsI will admit that I like feeling righteous. This is not to be confused with feeling self-righteous – which is to say, smug. Smugness is ugly and coarse and inelegant. But righteousness is above all that. To feel righteous is to feel conscientious, dutiful, virtuous, irreproachable – in short, Good.
But Good does not come cheap. Often times doing Good involves time and sacrifice. I have devised a system to get around all that. I have a list of Everyday Righteous Activities which, admittedly fall a bit short of the lofty heights of volunteering at soup kitchens or reading to disadvantaged youth, but still provide me a small sense of virtuosity, even if only for a couple of seconds. (The rule is: The smaller the act of Good, the shorter time you can spend feeling righteous about it.)
I do not pretend that these things will put me in contention for the Nobel Peace Prize, but I think you will agree that doing them is better than not doing them. And that is really the only qualification for inclusion on this list.
Everyday Righteous Activities:
- Eating vegetables
- Any form of exercise
- Shaving my legs
- Letting a car go in front of me in traffic
- Not shopping
- Any act of cleaning my home
- Making a dinner in which no ingredients came out of a bag or box
- Showering and washing my hair
- Wearing something other than yoga pants
- Not having dessert
- Holding the door for the person behind me
- Sewing on a button (or sewing of any kind)
- Clipping my kids fingernails
- Not going to Starbucks for my Iced Mocha
- Slowing down, rather than gunning it, when approaching a yellow light
- Eating soy products that pretend to be chicken or ground beef
- Wearing shoes other than flip-flops or tennis shoes
- Giving my dogs a bath
- Recycling
- Thinking about starting to compost
- Reading a newspaper
- Folding and putting away laundry on the same day
- Eating fruit with the skin on
- Using up the last of my hair products before buying new ones
- Opting for soda water instead of diet soda
- Putting a new roll of toilet paper on the thingy
Some might say that these things are nothing to feel special about. But I challenge those people to shift their paradigm: To believe that yes, you ARE a rock star because you cleaned behind your refrigerator. Or to feel proud of the fact that you got up, showered, and left the house. After all, you could have not done that, right? You could have sat on your ass eating canned cheese in your underwear all day. But you didn’t. You mowed the grass. You asked your mail carrier how her day was. You took your grocery cart to the cart-return and didn’t let it roll amuck. It may not be much, but there is some value in that.
The way I see it, my Everyday Righteous Activities are like my everyday clothing: Functional, comfortable, not-too-fancy, and easy to get away with. I also have my Good clothes, which I break out on special occasions; just like I do Good on a larger scale on special occasions, or at least as often as I can. But not everyday. Not everyone has the time everyday to engage in grand gestures of human kindness and/or public service (unless you are my father-in-law or Oprah.) For the rest of us mortals, I offer my list. Use it as a righteousness-patch – something to get you through until you have the time to dedicate yourself to something truly worthwhile. And while you’re at it, go ahead and give yourself a pat on the back for reading this blog. You deserve it.
You Can’t Have Two Fun Parents.
Posted: October 10, 2011 Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: family, Home, humor, Mother, Parenting, Writing 5 CommentsIn every two-parent home, there is the “fun” parent and the one who makes sure things gets done. These roles are almost always mutually exclusive. The parent who makes a fort in the basement with 47 blankets and every chair in the house is not usually the one who nags the kids for three days to clean it up. The parent who ignores bedtime is not typically the one who spends the next day being screamed at and sobbed to by Junior Jeckel & Hyde. And the parent who allows the double scoop with sprinkles in a waffle cone after dinner, is almost never the one who cleans the barf off the carpet before the dog can eat it.
In perhaps the best pearl of wisdom ever to come out of network television, the Mom on ABC’s Modern Family explains to her young son that you can’t have two fun parents. “It’s a carnival,” she says, “You know that kid Liam who wears pajama pants to school and pays for everything with $100 bills? Two fun parents.” And she’s right. Someone’s got to be the one to say it’s time to go home. Someone has to reapply the sunscreen and get the tangles out. And someone has to be willing to take flack for doing all these things because not to would be a carnival – that is to say, a nice place to visit, but you wouldn’t want to live there.
If you are the Fun parent, you likely live by the code, “What the hell?” You live in the moment. You don’t think too far ahead. You have a fairly high tolerance for noise and you don’t mind being late. You probably have low blood pressure.
If you are the Un-Fun parent, you’re motto is, “Not on my watch.” You are a planner. Your brain is ten steps ahead and can smell a meltdown hours before it happens. You look at most situations through the lens of “How likely is this to end us in the ER?” and/or “How much laundry will this create?” You are often referred to as “the fun police.”
In my family, I am the Fun Police. If you met my husband, you would understand why. He is naturally irreverent and silly and loud and was often compared to Jim Carrey when Jim Carrey was funny. Obviously, I never stood a chance. But I am okay with that. I’m okay with saying it’s time for bed in the middle of a movie, with refusing their requests for a fourth cookie, and with kicking them out of my bed in the hopes of sleeping more than four consecutive hours without being kicked in the groin. Because the thing no one tells you about being the Un-Fun parent, is you also get to be the Gatekeeper. The Gatekeeper may not be as sexy a role as being the Fun parent, but the Gatekeeper has something the Fun parent does not: Power. Dark, delicious, power. (Muhahaha…)
You know you have achieved Gatekeeper status when your daughter asks you if she can have an Oreo, when you’ve just heard your spouse say that she can. Or when your son says he can’t “just hop into the front seat” because Mom wouldn’t like that very much. That is power, my friends. And if you are a benevolent Gatekeeper, you use your power wisely. You back up your partner. You present a united front. You show your children that you are and your spouse are on the same page. Then, you privately rejoice in your small victory of being the one the kids fear more.
After all, just because you’re the un-fun parent, doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself once in a while, right?
At first I was afraid. I was petrified…
Posted: October 3, 2011 Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: camping, family, Gloria Gaynor, humor, I Will Survive, Parenting 4 CommentsThis post is an update on my one from last week, A Camping We Must Go. Due to the numerous calls, emails, and texts I received asking me if I survived my weekend camping trip, I have written an answer to the tune of Gloria Gaynor’s iconic anthem, I Will Survive. Since this is the one of the best ladies-who-kick-ass songs of all times, I felt it only fitting. (It was also fitting because camping made my hair look much like Ms. Gaynor’s on her 1978 album cover.) I hope you will be able to hear the music in your head as you read…
At first I was afraid.
I was petrified.
Kept thinking I could never learn
how to sleep outside.
I spent oh so many nights
just stressing out about the trip
Then I said, “Crap,
And I put on my baseball cap,
And then I camped.
I f*#!ing camped!
We made a fire and roasted s’mores; we hiked a trial and peed outdoors.
I should have changed my stupid shoes,
I should have left my flats at home,
If I’d have known for just one second,
just how far we’d hike and roam.
But yeah, we went!
We pitched a tent!
I didn’t even bitch and moan; I did not show my discontent.
Burnt food and bugs, they tried to make me say goodbye,
But did I crumble?
Did I lay down and die?
Oh, no not I!
I testified!
As long as I stayed cool and dry, I knew that I’d get by.
My next vacation,
I will spa.
But for now,
I say hurrah…
Because I camped,
I f*@!ing camped,
Hey, hey!!!!
A Camping We Must Go.
Posted: September 26, 2011 Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: camping, family, humor, Parenting 13 CommentsI have often said that I could live the rest of my life in an airlock in outer space and never miss going outside. Needless to say, I’m not really an outdoorsy person. I like my air – conditioned. My bathrooms – indoors. My showers – hot. And my bed – high off the ground. But this coming Saturday, nature and I have a date with destiny: I am going camping with my family. Outside. In a tent. All night long.
Why, you ask, would I do such a thing? In a heavily ironic twist of fate, I find myself the co-leader of my ten-year-old son’s Cub Scout den. I, along with my sister-in-law, are responsible for helping seven boys learn a variety of nature-related skills on their way to becoming Boy Scouts. Though I could not be less qualified for this work, I was willing and available to help, so I got the job.
For most of the skills we have to teach the boys, we can either call in a professional to help (knot-tying, wood whittling, or CPR) or we can do a quick-study and teach them ourselves (baking soda volcanoes, recycling projects, and bicycle safety). But this year, the boys have to earn their Outdoorsman Activity Badge and this requires – you guessed it – spending time outdoors. So we are all going on a Cub Scout Family Camp this Saturday. Outside. In a tent. All night long.
I had actually hoped never to go camping again. I went once when I was nineteen and living in Colorado for the summer with three friends. We, or rather, they decided it would be fun to go camping for a night. We, or rather, they were wrong. I don’t remember all the details, but I do remember a few important lessons I learned that night:
- Building a fire is harder than it looks.
- Cold hot dogs do not taste good.
- Never underestimate a 30% chance of rain.
- Not all tents are waterproof.
- One can never wear too much bug spray.
- Fear of a bear attack will keep a girl up all night.
- Any activity in which you have to “watch out for snakes” is not for me.
- It is not possible to “hold-it” all night when you’ve had a certain amount of diet coke.
- Going to the bathroom outside in the dark when you’re a girl can be tricky and upsetting.
- You can get poison ivy anywhere on your body.
I survived my one night of camping, considered it a victory that I didn’t go sleep in the car, and checked it off my to-do list forever. But here I am, too many years later, and there Camping is, on my list again. And this time I can’t even comfort myself by complaining about it. As a den leader, I have to show enthusiasm and excitement about camping! I have to model for the kids a positive attitude, a willingness to jump in, and if not show a love for nature, then at the very least hide my contempt for it. And I’ll have to do it all outside. In a tent. All night long.
I’d like to say that maybe I will learn to enjoy communing with nature this time around, but I am too old for that kind of naïve optimism. My only real goal is to make it through the experience without the boys picking up on my aversion to great outdoors. Second to that, I’m hoping for a dry forecast, a snake-free tent, and a personal state of semi-dehydration that will allow me to make it through till morning without needing a potty break. Because whatever else I will be this weekend – itchy, scared, cold, hungry – I will definitely be outside. In a tent. All night long.
Wish me luck.
We’re Having Fun. Quit Your Whining.
Posted: September 19, 2011 Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: family, humor, moms, Parenting 9 CommentsSometimes, having fun with my kids can be a lot of work. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a worthwhile pursuit – but there are times when it just plain wears me out. And I know I’m not the only one. I recognize the same weary look in the faces of moms and dads all over the place – at zoos, at museums, at parks, and always, always at Disney World.
I’ve been thinking a lot about why Family Fun isn’t as “fun” as it should be and I’ve come up with a new theory: Family Fun is composed of only 10% actual fun. The rest of Family Fun consists of complaining, whining, sibling rivalry, snappish comments, over-priced snacks, long waits, temperatures that are too hot, temperatures that are too cold, over-priced souvenirs, lines that are too long, rides that are too short, museums that are too boring, cars that are too small, planes that are too bumpy, food that is too different, and one too many requests to ‘say cheese.’
Inexplicably, when you combine all these factors together and look retrospectively through the lens of a proper cooling off period, (length of cooling off period will vary) more often than not, you are left with what passes for fond memories. Go figure.
I’m still waiting for the fond memories to replace my actual memories of my most recent Family Fun adventure. Yesterday, my husband and I decided we would take our kids on a family bike ride. The weather was perfect – a cool 68°F with overcast skies and a light breeze. We had nothing else to do that day and we figured the kids would be overjoyed. Here is a transcript of our discussion prior to our Fun activity:
Mom & Dad: “Hey kids, how would you like to go on a family bike ride?”
Son: “Maybe.”
Daughter: “Will there be food?”
Mom & Dad: “No –what? We thought we would go on the trail and just enjoy this nice day!”
Son: “How far will we go? I don’t want to go as far as last time.”
Daughter: “Can we bring snacks?”
This lukewarm reception should have served as a warning. But we ignored whatever alarm bells were going off in our collective parenting brain and spent what felt like five to six hours getting out the bikes, filling up tires, getting on the proper attire, gathering helmets, stuffing the 4 bikes into our minivan and yes, packing snacks. Exhausted already, but undaunted in our quest to for Fun, we headed out. Here is a transcript from the beginning of our Fun ride:
Mom& Dad: “Ready, guys?”
Daughter: “It’s freezing out here.”
Son: “It looks like it’s going to rain.”
Daughter: “What will happen to the snacks if it rains?”
Son: “I don’t want to get wet.”
Mom&Dad: “A little rain never hurt anyone. It’ll be an adventure.”
Son: “I don’t want an adventure.”
Daughter: “I don’t want to eat wet snacks.”
Son: “My bike seat is too hard.”
Daughter: “My helmet itches my chin.”
Mom&Dad: “Quit your whining. This is supposed to be FUN!”
Son: “Yeah – real fun.”
Daughter: “It isn’t fun when you yell…”
Dedicated-to-Fun parents that we are, we went ahead and took our Family Fun bike ride anyway, despite the fact that no one seemed to want to – not even us by that point. Here are some of the highlights from the event itself:
- We went a total of 7 miles in an hour and a half (that felt like four).
- We stopped eight times for water.
- We stopped six times for snacks.
- My son cried on four separate occasions. (We were going to fast; we were going too slow; his little sister passed him, he got rained on.)
- We stopped three times to adjust my daughter’s helmet, that incidentally never stopped feeling itchy.
- We stopped to look at a snake, gently prod him with a stick, and take his picture to identify what kind he was later.
- We got yelled at by a passing biker for blocking the trail while we looked at the snake.
- My husband snapped at me for being too negative.
- I snapped at my husband for being too cheerful.
- The leg of my yoga pants got caught in the gears on my bike, tearing my pants and causing me to fall –inexplicably in slow motion – off my bike.
In keeping with my theory, only one of the ten things that happened on the bike ride was actually fun. (And FYI -it wasn’t me falling off my bike.) Finding the snake was for sure the highlight of the whole experience – and was in fact, the turning point of our afternoon. We were all mysteriously buoyed by finding that snake and the ride back (we were on our return by that point) was pleasant – or at least not as miserable as the ride out had been.
I said to my husband, as I did the Sunday before when we went on a family run/walk, “Why do we keep doing things like this? No one likes this. This isn’t fun.” He agreed, as he does every week. But we both know that at some point between last Sunday and next Sunday, the memories of the Bike Ride From Hell, will be magically transformed into The Time We Found That Snake and we will all look back on the experience with fond, if distorted, memories as we set out on our next quest for Family Fun.
When Good Words Go Bad.
Posted: September 12, 2011 Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: family, humor, manners, Parenting, Writing 1 CommentPlease, or more accurately, “peas,” was one of the first words both my children learned to say. I remember being at Sam’s Club one day picking up a case of diapers and a 20lb tub of mayo (as one does when at Sam’s Club), when my little sweet thirteen month old boy pointed at the white-haired lady grilling up samples of TastyMex Chipotle Burrito Rolls and said in his little baby voice, “Peas?” The white-haired lady smiled, clearly impressed, and gave me an approving nod. “What a polite little gentleman you have there!” she said. It was, and continues to be, my crowning achievement as a mother.
Ten years later, I’m happy to report that my children continue to use the word please on a regular basis. Most of the time, this is a good thing. But sometimes it is not. Sometimes this otherwise wonderful word can go rogue. And when it does, it usually means someone is getting “a consequence” and someone else is getting a headache.
Thank You, Please’s alter-ego, also suffers from this tendency to stray from the straight and narrow. In the overwhelming majority of the time, it is a lovely expression of gratitude. But there are times when Thank You, along with Please, throw on their black leather jackets, pile on the heavy eyeliner, spike up their hair and strut around throwing themselves in everyone’s face. The effect can be a little unsettling the first time you hear your child employ one of these rebel words. But, fear not. I have translated the insurgent Please and Thank Yous most often abused by kids and outlined their definitions and common usages below. Use it well.
- Please: The traditional usage. Otherwise known as “the magic word.” Straight forward. Nice, polite, always appreciated.
- Pleeease?: Often used when a parent is wavering on the fence of some major decision like allowing a sleepover or abandoning the leftover meatloaf for a trip to Pizza Planet. Not an out-and-out whine, but heading that direction. Frequently accompanied by jumping up and down, big, cheesy grins, and gratuitous showers of affection should the request be granted.
- Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease: This is the sinking-ship of please’s. An odious, whining sound, and almost always a last-ditch effort on the part of the child to extort candy, a toy in the check out lane, or a third cookie. This please is often repeated, increasing in duration and frequency, until the user is led away (often kicking and screaming) from whatever captivating object has evoked its usage. Appears often with tears, stomping of the feet, and the instantaneous conversion to “boneless.”
- PLEASE!!!: This is when the meaning changes from a politely asked question to menacing statement implying, “Do it or else.” This is the bully of please’s. The aggressive please. The threatening please. Rarely should a request be granted if accompanied by this please.
- Please. (Note: this please is used in conjunction with an eye roll and/or a “talk to the hand” gesture.): This is insolence, plain and simple. This one word phrase comes into play usually in late tween-hood, or the early teenage years, and continues to be a staple word for years to come. It can mean anything from, “Are you kidding me?” to “I wouldn’t be caught dead in last year’s jeans.” It is best to squash usage of this word as soon as it begins, as it tends to grow in a vocabulary like a sarcastic little weed, strangling the life out of the other more vibrant and agreeable pleases.
THANK YOU
- Thank you: Traditional usage is polite, multi-purpose, often replaced with the less formal version, ‘Thanks.’ Cannot be overused by the young; always well-received.
- Thank you?: Asked rather than declared. This is the thank you of the shy and self-conscious young child. Usually said without looking the person in the eye and shifting nervously from foot to foot. Still acceptable, but only for ages 3 – 6.
- THANK you: Bordering on surly. Largely used after a child has been reminded that they haven’t yet properly conveyed their gratitude. Also used when what the child really wants to say is that they are not at all appreciative and wish you would just leave them alone. In my house, this thank you is always sent away – often to its room – until another, more polite thank you can make an appearance.
- Thankyouverymuch.: This is the aging spinster aunt, the miserly neighbor, the bitter lunch lady of thank yous. Always sarcastic. Often used by the cynical, the resentful, and those who are just about to be grounded. Oh, and Elvis. But he was an exception. He made it work.
Family Game Night: A Survival Guide
Posted: August 29, 2011 Filed under: children, kids, motherhood, parenting, Uncategorized | Tags: Board game, family, humor, Parenting, Recreation 4 CommentsEveryone talks about wanting more family time. But, let’s be honest -not all family time is created equal. Just like sushi in the Midwest, family time can be surprisingly good or monumentally bad.
For example…
- Good family time: An hour spent taking the kids out for ice cream on a warm summer’s night.
- Bad family time: An hour spent stuck in traffic while your four-year old plays a marathon game of “I’m not touching you,” with her unwilling older brother.
- Good family time: An afternoon strolling around the zoo looking at animals, eating over-priced snacks, and riding the carousel.
- Bad family time: An evening in the ER explaining to your children why throwing a belt over a ceiling fan, does not make it “just like the carousel at the zoo.”
But there is one family activity that usually falls firmly into Good Family Time territory and that is having a family game night. It’s easy, it’s cheap, and it’s not likely to end you in the ER.
Just follow the principal: If you plan it, they will come. Set a date, pick a game, and play. It’s pretty simple.
But sometimes, it isn’t.
Those of us who have children of an age where the art of sportsmanship is still being developed, know of whence I speak. For this segment of the population, I offer a few tips that may help avoid some potential family game night pitfalls.
Cheating will probably be an issue.
Look, I don’t know you and I don’t know your kids. Maybe your kids would never in a million years even consider withholding their 4’s in Go Fish or pretending they didn’t ‘understand’ what the Community Chest card said. But there are some kids out there who will. I’m not here to judge. But it’s best to decide beforehand what your policy on cheating is so that when it happens you are prepared to deal with it in such a way as not to ruin the entire evening.
And it isn’t just kids who cheat. We adults often bend the rules while playing games with our kids – not usually to win, but to either allow the kids to win or to make the game shorter. This is understandable given that a well-played game of Chutes and Ladders can last longer than a round of golf. Just be aware that if you decide to move your red plastic gingerbread man ahead a few paces down the candy trail, you may get caught. So have you’re answer ready for this one too.
If you insist on following the rules, you may have a nervous breakdown.
Children, especially those under the age of seven, don’t like to follow the rules. They forget. They misunderstand. They simply do not care. This is a battle you can choose to fight or you can wave your white flag and let them make up some creative rules of their own. You may even find a way to make the game more fun – or perhaps if nothing else, shorter.
Someone at the table will have a meltdown if they don’t win.
Try not to overreact. My blood pressure goes up when my son cries after losing at Sorry because I’m picturing the twenty-year old version of him doing the same after a game of intramural soccer (thus signifying my complete failure as a parent). Better to stay calm and use the opportunity to teach your kid that all games have a winner and loser. Painful, though it may be, sooner or later we all have to learn that lesson.
My advice is to let them have their little tantrum, but when it’s over, make them shake hands and say “good game.” This accomplishes two important goals: It helps build your child’s character; and it allows you to spend the rest of the evening feeling smug and self-righteous as you mentally check-off “Teach life lesson” from your day’s to-do list.
You will want to win.
Traditionally, this scenario presents itself as your kids get older (after all, there is no glory in beating your five-year old at Memory). But there may come a day when you are playing Monopoly with your darling son or daughter and you will enjoy, a little too much, watching them go bankrupt as they land on Boardwalk with your three hotels. It may be ugly, but it’s true. Yesterday, I won a game of Apples to Apples we were playing as a family. I’ll admit – I wanted that ‘W.” I worked for it. I deserved it. And when it was over, I may have forced them to call me The Apple Queen. (But only for like 15 minutes.)
Monkey see; Monkey say, “Too bad, so sad – I sank your battleship!”
I am referring here to trash talk. I realize that not everybody feels compelled to taunt their child during a game of Connect Four, but my husband certainly does and I’m here to tell you – it’s catching. My husband has always engaged our kids in good-natured, G-rated trash talk during games and as a result, whenever one of my kids beats me in anything from checkers to the bathroom first, they instinctively look at me and say, ‘Wa-wa-waaaaaaaa.” I’m not gonna lie – it stings a bit. So be prepared: if you start with the trash-talk, your child will be rubber and you will be glue and anything you say will bounce off him and stick to you.
You will have more fun than you think you will.
I can practically promise you that. Sitting around a table playing a board game with your family is almost retro in its simplicity, but therein lies its beauty. It is good, simple, inexpensive fun that not only holds possibilities for teaching your kids life lessons, but it also brings the family closer in ways you might not expect. So silence your cell phone, turn off the TV, shut down the computer, and plan an old-fashioned family game night. There will be lots of laughter, there may even be a few tears – but the best part is that if you’ve done it right, there will most certainly be a re-match.
Liar, liar, Mom Jeans on Fire!
Posted: August 15, 2011 Filed under: motherhood, stay at home mom | Tags: humor, Motherhood, Parenting 102 CommentsI’d be lying if I said I always tell my children the truth. And while I’m sure it doesn’t make me a lock for Mother-of-the-Year, (that ship undoubtedly sailed the morning I served fruit rollups for breakfast) I don’t think it makes me unfit either. The truth is that telling a few well-intentioned white lies can actually be a fairly effective parenting strategy. And to be honest, sometimes it just gets me through the day.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not encouraging inventing vast networks of lies that you need a spreadsheet to keep track of. But our kids don’t need to know everything. Nor can they handle everything. Obviously, you adjust what you choose to share with your kids as they get older and more mature. My kids are 7 and 10, and by this point I’d say 99.9% of the time, I tell my children the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. They both know where babies come from. They both know that nobody lives forever. And they both know Mommy’s hair doesn’t necessarily grow out of her head this color.
The lie one chooses to tell, ultimately depends on one’s motivation. More often not, we fib to either keep our kids safe (“If you go outside with wet hair, you will catch cold,”) or to simplify a complicated situation (“The mechanical horsey is broken,” when you have one quarter but two children). Below are some of the various lies, half-truths, fabrications, and otherwise un-true things I have told my children at some point during their relatively short lives. Sadly, I can no longer get away with most of these.
I have lied in the best interests of my children:
- The car engine won’t turn on until your seatbelt is buckled.
- Eating spinach will give you big muscles.
- College is mandatory by law.
- You’ll love this new kind of chicken (otherwise knows as Tilapia).
I have lied to save my children’s feelings:
- Yours was the best pinch pot in the whole class.
- The shot will only hurt for a second.
- That bunny in the road is just sleeping.
- That is a hilarious knock-knock joke.
Then, there are the lies I’ve told for completely and utterly self-serving reasons.
- Only one Reeses peanut butter cup comes in a pack.
- Santa won’t come until you’re asleep.
- We’re out of batteries.
- Mommy and Daddy are taking a nap.
Of course, there are the societal and seasonal lies (think: holiday friends and dental darlings). These are things we tell our kids in the spirit of preserving their innocence and creating a sense of magic. The adult world is appallingly un-magical and since they have the rest of their lives to live in it, I feel no guilt whatsoever in inventing a bit of wonder and joy while they are young enough to believe. Besides, these lies have an internal expiration date (usually between six and ten, depending on older siblings and know-it-all classmates). I believe these are victimless lies and very rarely do they cause a child to feel betrayed when the truth eventually comes out. In fact, most kids play along long after they’ve stopped believing because they enjoy the charade so much.
Undoubtedly, there are some parents out there who never, ever tell their kids even the smallest of fibs. (They are probably the same people who use cloth diapers, eat only organic foods, and drive electric cars.) If you are one of these parents, then good for you. I admire your resolve, your integrity, and your discipline. But for the less virtuous among us, there are some instances when stretching the truth – or circumventing it entirely -can sure come in handy. Believe me. (Or maybe not, given what I’ve just confessed.)
