Author: the outside lane

Happy. That about covers it.
parenting

Just Say NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

the outside lane

 “It is hard to spend all day with a 2-year-old, and they don’t really want to spend all day with you anyway.”  Harvey Karp, pediatrician and author of Happiest Baby on the Block a/k/a Lane’s Early Parenting Bible.

I love the recent wave of articles and comedy stemming from toddler tantrums.  I’ve had a toddler, and he had his tantrums, and while some of them made me laugh (freaking out because I cut his cereal bar into bite-sized bits), some of them made me want to tear out my hair (freaking out because I cut his cereal bar into bite-sized bits–yes, I know it’s the same tantrum.  What is funny the first time is crazy-making the 35th time.)

Like any parent, I wanted to be absolved of a) responsibility for the child’s behavior when it did not mirror my desires, b) guilt for wanting to turn the child upside down, dip the top part of his head into the toilet bowl, and flush, and c) the need to discipline my little cave man.  However, if done, then my child grows up to be some wretched, entitled moron who cuts you off in traffic and gives you the finger for daring to be on the road–can’t have that.  Also can’t have CPS coming to take my child away because of the swirlies.

What was most important to me was to remember that I was dealing with a toddler who barely spoke English, who couldn’t reach anything he wanted to have, who lived in a world full of No, and who wasn’t even allowed to do what he wanted with his own bodily functions.  I tried to remember how frustrating life was for him, and how often I would like to throw myself on the ground and scream bloody murder.  My job was to get him from the point A of doing exactly what felt right, to the point B of controlling himself and channeling his emotions into something that wouldn’t get him arrested later down the road.

While I had days of miserable failure, B and I were both always very aware and careful not to subject the general population to Thor’s worst moments.  Toddlers are going to tantrum, just like haters gonna hate, but meltdowns can be avoided or curtailed, or at least removed from earshot.  So, here are my top bits of advice for anyone with a howler of his or her very own:

  1. Always have some kind of healthy, toddler approved snack available (it helps to trick them into liking healthy things early on by not giving them any other choices.  If they believe apples are the only snack in the world, they will covet the Golden Delicious.  Babies are insanely easy to fool, given they have no idea what all is out there.  I would strongly advise against just springing celery on a kid who has cut his teeth on pop rocks and pixie stix, though.  You think he’s mad now…)  It’s hard to howl with your mouth full.  I know food isn’t a solution, and we don’t want to make our kids associate eating with anything other than hunger, but hunger is frequently part of the problem.  Growing kiddos have different hunger cycles than we do, and having something on hand to fill the belly can help.  That’s also why I advocate for healthy.  You don’t want to hand Junior a Snicker bar every half hour, but a small piece of cheese, or fruit, or a carrot stick–not going to hurt him.
  2. Snacks don’t always work, though, so I kept a rotation of toys in Thor’s diaper bag, and later in my purse.  He loved cars, so I always had at least 3 of them.  When I thought about it, I would grab a $0.97 car and keep it in its packaging.  Then, if he was showing signs of meltdown (for him, it was eye rubbing, snuffling, and scowling–and God forbid I mistook those for sleepy signs!) I would whip out the new toy and he would forget he was upset.  Babies have very limited short term memory.  Kind of like me.  Shiny!  Ooh!
  3. Thor liked pictures of himself and mirrors (also like me.  Dang.)  So I carried a small, soft photo album with pictures of him in action, of him with his daycare teachers, and of him with us.  If I could distract him with the photo album, we could head off a meltdown.  If he was mid-meltdown, I would pull out a mirror and he would be fascinated by the sight of himself.  The wail would trail off into sniffles–until he tried to eat the mirror, then it started all over again.
  4. I also carried finger puppets.  I’m sure that needs no explanation.
  5. Sometimes, nothing is going to work, and you are just going to have to leave the restaurant, your grocery cart, the line at Ross, or the theater and take your kid out of gen pop.  Maybe this is my best meltdown advice.  Here’s why:  Other people will appreciate that you aren’t letting your little air raid siren pierce their eardrums is a biggie, but also, remembering that Suzy doesn’t process stimulation the same way we do will help us understand that being in the middle of a restaurant for her is like standing in the middle of a superhighway for us.  It is loud, unfamiliar, intimidating, and can be frightening.  Once that meltdown has taken hold, getting her to a quiet place can help her focus enough to calm down.  Thor used to freak out when we would go to Chili’s.  It’s one of his favorites now, but we could absolutely guarantee he was going to cry at the table there.  That place was just overwhelming for him.
  6. There will also be times when all-else-fails, and when you are so frazzled and raw that you are having a hard time focusing.  Right at that moment, it’s going to be hard to remember to be a good parent.  Put the child down somewhere safe, and walk away.  If you have a parenting partner, give the child to them and get out of earshot.  If you are a single parent without help, pick a safe place (like you would for a tornado–drill if you must!) to put down Johnny and step away.  It would be better for him to sit in the bathroom and eat toilet paper than for you to do something you’d regret for the rest of your life*. 
  7. Read Happiest Baby on the Block, and Happiest Toddler on the Block, or watch the DVDs.  I swear on these.  They will help you understand where your baby is coming from, and why your toddler is Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and give you tools to combat the desire to just let Darwinism take its course.

Above all, stay calm and don’t escalate (oh how easy to say and hard to do!)  Don’t negotiate with the little terrorist if the meltdown is in full swing, just get him into a quiet place, love him, and let him know that while it is safe to express himself with you (because it needs to be if you want him to talk to you when he’s 17), he needs to find ways to do it without biting (because that hurts.)  Help him channel the feelings he is having.  Love him, love him, love him, and understand he’s just doing his job. 

I used to tell Thor that out loud.  “I know you are just doing your job being a baby, but let’s work to get you promoted, okay?”  He had no idea what I was talking about, but it helped me keep perspective, helped me keep my sense of humor, and sometimes confused him enough to stop crying for three seconds–long enough for me to distract him with something shiny.

Good luck.  Lots and lots of good luck to you.  If you make it through the toddler years, you’ll have a lot of great stories to tell your kid’s prom date and future grandchildren.

*Bonus:  We’ve all been there.  There is no shame in feeling like you want to do something awful.  You should be ashamed if you have done something awful, and you should seek help so that it never happens again.  If nothing else, or if you can’t afford anything else, go to one of those Safe Place places and tell them you need help–they’ll know how to get you to the necessary resources. 

Bonus Bonus:  If you know a parent who needs help to avoid doing the awful, go help them.  Imagine it’s you and act accordingly.

Advice, Diet, Food, Health

Water Logged: A cautionary tale

the outside lane

As part of an ongoing, uphill battle in the care and feeding of my lazy, pizza-loving bones, last week I made a serious commitment to drinking more water.  I bought a pitcher and a boat load of fruit, and started dressing up the tap with orange and grapefruit slices.  Because I am frequently guilty of acting first and thinking later, I decided to set a water goal of 3 pitchers full. 

Day One, I drank 3 pitchers full of water, and I did not feel great.  On the plus side, I also did not want any pizza.  Or anything else, for that matter. 

Day Two, I drank 2.5 pitchers full of water, and I did not feel great.  I also had a massive headache.

Day Three, I drank 2 pitchers full of water and then started wondering exactly how much water I was drinking.  There was no measurement information on the bottom of the pitcher, so I guesstimated that I was putting about 2.5 bottles of water into the pitcher, and I thought those bottles had about 12 ounces in them.  I decided 2 pitchers was probably the most I should drink.

Days Four and Five I drank about 2 pitchers, and ate Tylenol because my head was so hurty!

I skipped the pitcher over the weekend and just drank normally, and felt better.  Hmm.

So, today I actually measured.  My pitcher holds, including the fruit slices, 3.5 bottles of water, and those bottles of water hold 16.9 ounces each.  I’ve been filling this thing to the brim, meaning on Day One, I drank 177.5 ounces of water PLUS a few cups of coffee.  No wonder my head started feeling like a cement balloon.

The Mayo Clinic would like you to know that while the amount of water a person should drink varies, most women do well with 1.9 to 2.2 liters of fluid per day–water or other liquids.  More than that is overkill.

If you don’t count the coffee, on Day One I drank 5.25 liters of water.

Days 2–5, I drank somewhere between 3.5 and 4.375 liters of water.

Go big, or go home.

I think I’ll be dialing it back a few notches.  Like 2 notches.  1 pitcher of water a day is plenty enough.  I’d hate for you to have to wring out my sodden corpse after I collapse from Water Intoxication.  Although, it does explain the headaches.

A Day in the Life, Explaining the Strange Behavior, Family, parenting, School

Some Days Start Badly

the outside lane

You know, I very rarely just make one mistake.  Usually, when I goof something up, it is a snowball effect of doom as I go into overdrive to try to correct the first error and end up destroying the space around me in true sitcom style.  Just ask Jamie and Wes, whose brand new beige sofa, barstools, and light colored walls I baptized with a large coffee.

I can’t even remember what triggered it, but I sloshed my coffee, and in scrambling to keep it from getting on anything, I splashed it out of the cup, slipped on what I had splashed, managed to toss the cup up in the air and somehow catch it by the handle as I swung in an arc around the living room that slung coffee from the breakfast bar, all the way across their new sectional.  Coffee in the floor.  Coffee on the cloth barstool seats.  Coffee on the sectional.  Coffee in my hair.  Coffee all over the place.  If I’d just stood still, there would only have been a small mess.

This morning, at 7:44, I realized I had missed the special parent/teacher conference that Thor’s teacher had asked us to attend at 7:15.  I panicked.  I waited until I got to a red light, then fired off an email apologizing and asking to reschedule.  The teacher wrote back and I couldn’t really read the whole email as I was driving, but some words popped out at me, including the words “field trip.”  I panicked again.

“Today is Thor’s field trip!” I yelled aloud at myself.  “And you didn’t pack his lunch!  AUGH!!!”

What could I do?  I was halfway to work, it was 7:55, and I couldn’t get back to his school with a lunch in time to beat the busses leaving.  I called the school and talked to the secretary, sounding like a crazy woman.  She assured me that they would send him down to the cafeteria to buy a lunch, and that they wouldn’t let him miss the field trip.

I hung up, starting to cry because a) I had forgotten my son’s p/t conference and I feel awful about that, b) I was afraid he was going to feel thrown away because I had forgotten to pack him a lunch, c) I was afraid he would feel weird because the field trip bus was waiting for him, and d) because my mistake had delayed an entire school full of 2nd graders.  I mean, that’s 100 kids on busses who are delayed because one mother forgot a lunch.  Have you ever been on a bus with a 7 year old?  Have you ever been a 7 year old on a bus?

I was just getting to the point of really worrying about my mascara when my phone rang.  It was the school.  The wonderful secretary had called to tell me she had spoken with Thor’s teacher, and the field trip is not until Thursday, so I hadn’t missed the boat entirely.  I laughed a crazy person.  She laughed like a concerned person.  I said, “Thank goodness!  At least I’m not THE worst mother in the world.”  She laughed again, uncomfortably, and we said our goodbyes.

Then, I was laughing and crying at the same time, and making like Alice Cooper with the mascara.  I crazy laughed for a solid minute before shaking out of it (when I missed my exit.)  So, while Thor might not know how close he came to 2nd Grade level trauma, his teacher absolutely, 100%, without any question knows where all of his shortcomings originate.  Maybe we don’t need a conference at all now?  Maybe she’ll just look at his tendency to forget things and feel sorry for him, given that it is a genetic flaw.

The kid doesn’t have ADD.  He has Related to Me.

Uncategorized

The Wayback Machine: The Cutting Edge

the outside lane

I stayed up late, the other night, watching The Cutting Edge.  It’s one of those movies that always makes me smile, and while there is plenty of the actual movie worth a giggle, it’s more the memory of who I was when I first saw the movie.  It came out in 1992, when I was 21.  That movie brings to mind my Contempo Casuals and Judy’s fashion choices, clouds of Poison and Giorgio (I hung on to that fragrance longer than I should have), and the feeling that my entire life was ahead of me and that I was on top of the world.  I loved college.

My favorite outfit was a black, sleeveless catsuit with a bateau neckline, that zipped up the back and fit snug to the ankles.  I wore it under crocheted sweaters, oversized sweatshirts, blazers, and a favorite rust colored anorak in a shiny fabric from Esprit.  Sam & Libby maryjanes completed the look.  I wore the seams out of that catsuit.  Now, even though I am something like 80lbs heavier than I was, I’d still wear that thing!  That was the best made, most flattering silhouette.  It had to do with how the hips and thighs were cut.  I’ve never seen another like it.  If I had a time machine, I’d go back and buy one in every size available.  This is reason number 11 I shouldn’t be given a time machine*.

1992. What a great year! Also the year I discovered liquid eyeliner.
1992. What a great year! Also the year I discovered liquid eyeliner.

My second favorite outfit, a sliver of which you can see above, was a black and white striped shirt worn over black cigarette trousers with the Sam & Libby maryjanes.  Those shoes were pretty much my go to footwear.  I might also misuse my time machine to go buy some more of those.  I loved those shoes.

The Cutting Edge is still great viewing, and even though it is trope tripping over trope, D.B. Sweeney and Moira Kelly were likable enough to make it feel fresh.  They had great chemistry.  It was like a junior version of Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner.

Romantic Comedies seemed kinder 20 years ago.  In a way, everything did.

In 1992, I was listening to a lot of Then Jericho, Erasure, Nine Inch Nails, Live, The The, Duran Duran, TLC, En Vogue, Bel Biv Devoe, and Billie Holiday. If you’d broken into my car, those are the tapes you could have stolen.  No one ever broke into my car.  Go figure.

When I went out, it was down to Deep Ellum, where I spent many evenings at the Video Bar in sober pursuit of 1. a better grasp on my Greek vocabulary, 2. a place to dance, 3. that hot bartender (who thought I was adorable and needed to go home), and 4. respect from the girl I idolized.

I learned to use liquid eyeliner when my friend S gave me a pot of her Chanel liner that she disliked.

I went to Manhattan by myself to stay with a pen pal–the first trip I had ever taken that did not involve a family member.

I was wrestling with changing majors.

I was wrestling with the Campus Crusade group, who had (hilariously) put me in charge of a few things even though I was not yet even One of Them.

I was offered a job with Capitol records, by an LA headhunter who had found me through the college newspaper and reviews I had done of their artists, and not only did I say no on the spot, I laughed.  About two weeks later I realized what I had done.  I also threw up.

Yeah, a time machine could come in handy.  Only, I wouldn’t trade any what-if for the what now.  It’s fun to think about, though.

 

*Reasons 1–10

  1. There is no reason for me to have drinks with Lord Byron.
  2. Nothing good could come of drinks with Voltaire.
  3. Drinks with Camille Desmoulins would only end badly.
  4. Drinks with Rupert Everett while he was still in his liking-girls phase–which has potential to speed up the end of this phase, if a lot of my high school dating is any indication.
  5. Drinks with Shakespeare (see 2)
  6. It appears I would abuse the time machine in order to try to make time with a bunch of dead men.
  7. I love Elizabeth Taylor and would hate for her to catch me having drinks with Richard Burton.
  8. Using the time machine to find and slap the man who wrote Beowulf.
  9. Using time machine to lecture self about the vending machine in the motor bank, and reasons to avoid it during times of romantic distress.
  10. Using time machine to go get my dog Frosty and bring her back into the present for furry snuggles.

 

Uncategorized

Updated: Want to Help West?

the outside lane

I am updating this entry because based on word from West itself, our plans have changed:

This request comes from the Mayor of West. All the goods donated are wonderful but we have received so much, it has become a problem. At this time there are no real material needs for supplies. What will make the BIGGEST affect, is donate money to the relief at Point West Bank & Trust (254) 826-5333 or State National Bank (254) 826-3741.
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We’ve had a sad few days, haven’t we?

B and I are planning to drive some supplies down to West this weekend, to help in the aftermath of their plant explosion.  They’ve been a frequent stop for us on road trips, and I have a real soft spot for that little town.  I’d be happy to take a box of things down for you, if you are local.  You can email me at lane.theoutsidelane@gmail.com for info.

If we have to change our plans, or we run out of room in our car, I’ll direct you to a local drop off site.

People are asking for the following:

  • Bottled water
  • Toiletries
  • Clothes
  • Blankets
  • Diapers
  • Formula
  • Bottles
  • Toys
  • Adult Diapers (over 100 elderly had to be evacuated from their homes in an elderly care facility)
  • Peroxide
  • Alcohol
  • Gauze
  • Medical supplies
  • Cots
  • Air Mattresses
  • Pillows
  • Dog food
  • Cat food
  • Pet crates/carriers

My grandparents lost their home to arson when I was small.  They were visiting our house when burglars broke in, stole what they wanted, ate what they wanted out of the refrigerator, then set fire to the mattresses in every bedroom.  They lost nearly everything.  I will never forget the look on my grandfather’s face.  I will never forget how it affected them.  I will also never forget that people shared what they had to help them.

Even if you aren’t anywhere near Boston or West, somewhere close, there is a family who needs help.  I encourage you to share what you can.  You could make a lasting impression on a little girl who will grow up to try to emulate your kindness–and that will help change the world for the better.