The Stay At Homer

How to: Parenting

Russ — Tue, 21 Feb 2012 18:58:08 +0000

I’ve read a great many books on the mystery, the joy, the way of parenting. How to parent a child the right way is a constant struggle that we go through at our house. What I’ve come to learn in my studies is that it doesn’t matter what choices you make, what parenting style you adopt, or how you parent your child; it will be wrong according to someone. And above all else, your child will be messed up in some way. So what is a parent to do?

Fortunately, I’ve learned some things that have worked for our family, and I will share them with you now. These are tried and true parenting tips that we have implemented and that do NOT include phrases like “consequence cushion” and “hug huddle.”

Bathe the raisin: Check!

NUMBER 1- First thing’s first: keep the kid alive. It’s the main thing that is required of you as you leave the hospital. You do this with love and booby milk (or formula, depending on your situation), and NASA style car seats. Most people like to keep their new baby clean, so baths and lotions are good for that. Do this for a year or so and you’ll be fine. Stop asking me about sleep, they get to have it whenever they want. But it’s not in the cards for you anymore. Just get used to it. Learn to be a good person on no sleep. This is probably the biggest challenge. I don’t know about you, but when I have no sleep and I get a bunch of whining in my ear, I get cranky. And that’s just my wife! *rimshot*

Wonder what soft, sweet words could be coming from him?

NUMBER 2 – Listen to what your child needs, not what they say. ”You never play with me and you hate me the most!” This seems pretty harsh. My son has shared these words with me. My initial thought is to call him a liar, point out the facts, and then give him a nasty consequence. But if I listen to what’s behind the words, he’s pretty much saying that in that moment he feels like I’m rejecting him and that if I reject him then I must hate him because he’s not worth playing with. It’s a total load of bulls*&^&, but that is how the little man feels, so how to parent this situation would be to respect his feelings and address them, not his words. I normally handle this situation by calling him a liar, pointing out the facts, and then I pretend my feelings are really hurt. I do this by curling up into a fetal ball and crying like I’m trying out for The Actor’s Studio. If a guilt inducing performance doesn’t work, then I would just be firm about what is and is not allowed as far what the kid can say to the parent. My kids aren’t allowed to say they hate me. They can go on and on about how unfair I am, or how frustrated I make them. Skies the limit with that crap. Just no hating.

Concepts like gravity, danger, or worst case scenario don't exist at his age.

NUMBER 3 – Understand that a child’s brain is small and doesn’t comprehend in the way that we adults comprehend. This is why children pee on electric fences and why we parents smack our foreheads and ask the heavens why our child was cursed with stupidity of epic proportions. It helps to roll our eyes for a majority of these “achievements.” Get used to saying things like “What were you thinking?!” And then get used to answers that resemble “I wasn’t.” For some odd reason the Maker of People thought it was a good idea to keep the smart decision making part of the brain absent until the late twenties. Or forever, if you are a male.

NUMBER 4 – Children are curious. Nurture that. Sometimes this means going with the flow and digging out scraps of wood because your 5 year old wants to build a boat. Just know that the formula goes: Curiosity x Supplies = God Awful Mess. It is such a glorious thing, the curiosity of a child. Check out this video of Alistair, and his powerful and loud interest in what makes the world “tick.” I’m not sure where he heard these words, but wifey and I are both pointing a finger at each other.

Follow these simple steps and you will raise a child. I am not going to put an adjective in front of the word child; like good, or well rounded, or disciplined, or well behaved. Because it doesn’t matter if you follow my advice. Your child is going to be screwed up somehow. You just want them to be less screwed up than the rest. In the meantime, in between the screams, the yells, the whining, the crying, the frustrations, the headaches, the torture, the god awful indoor noise, the wrecking of your stuff, and the worry…take many pictures like this:

Great photo. Great memory. What you don't see is that 10 seconds later he tried to ninja neck snap me. But I won't remember that in 20 years when I look at the photo.

And it will remind you why you love being a parent.

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Just Following Orders

Roy Jenkins — Fri, 10 Feb 2012 17:37:15 +0000

I think of myself as a reasonably assertive guy. But fatherhood has taught me who really wields the power in our family and it ain’t me. When any decision regarding my two sons has to be made my status is only a tick higher than theirs–we all take it to the Ultimate Authority: Mom.

I’ve heard that good movie directors know that they must always give definitive answers, even when they don’t really have one: “The red chair or the blue chair?” Just give an answer and make it seem like it’s the only one possible: “Definitely the blue chair. Burn the red one.” Everybody wants to think that their director knows that he or she is in total control. So I don’t know if my wife is just being a good director or if everything truly is that apparent to her. I’m just part of the crew. Q. How long should I practice piano each day? A. Five minutes. Q. Can I play on the DS? A. “Technology Time” is from 5-6. Q. How much more of my dinner to I have to each to get dessert? A. Four more bites.

Sometimes, if Mom isn’t around, they’ll come to me, but I can tell they’re inwardly rolling their eyes: “Oh, this should be good.” I’ll try to give them an answer, but it’s not the boys who are afraid of a “wrong” answer, it’s me. You know you’re not setting the right sort of red chair/blue chair tone when your final judgment sounds like a question. “Dad, can we play with the Super Soakers?” “Yes?” Now they’ve got cover, but do I?

My wife’s parenting is a lot like a Mac computer–it’s so good that you take it as it is. I don’t tinker with it, both because I’m not smart enough to know what to change, and because for the most part I’m a satisfied customer. She’s bewilderingly competent and I wonder why. We became parents at exactly the same time, but she’s lapped me about fifty times. At this point it’d be like jumping into the third season of “Lost” if I tried to get up to speed. I’m just hoping that my boys don’t remember things as they actually were: Mom made all the decisions and Dad was just along for the ride to add things like “You heard your mom, now get going!” or “You can open one gift on Christmas Eve, right hon?”

Anyway, my boys love me, and I love them, and it’s nice to think that when they wind up in prison or on the streets I’ll be able to turn to my wife and say: “You should’ve picked the red chair.”

Roy Jenkins is one of the funnier gentlemen I’ve had the pleasure to know and learn from. He can currently be seen every Wednesday night as a member of The Crazy Uncle Joe Show at the famous Groundlings Theater.

Dealing With The Inner Monster: A Book Review

Russ Jones — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 19:46:26 +0000

It’s nice when I get contacted and asked if I could review a book. I like free books. I do make sure to let them know that if I think it’s garbage, then I won’t write a review about it and will happily mail it back to them so they can ship it off to somebody else. But not this time. This time I’m keeping the book! No, it’s not just because the Dalai Llama likes it, because he does. He endorsed it, and he’s no dummy. No, it’s because I actually enjoyed it!

But it’s not about me, is it. It’s a children’s book, so I need to test it out on a child to get an honest review. The book is from the ”Now I Know…” series written by Sally Devorgine. The book I was given is called “Now I know..That’s It’s Better To Face My Monsters!!” It’s available at Chocolate Sauce Books.

It’s the story of crazy little Timmo, who acts up and behaves naughty because, as he finds out from the help of his teacher, there is a monster living in him that keeps wanting to get out. Timmo learns that instead of repressing his monster, which in turn causes him to be unleashed in naughty behavior, it may be better to face his monster.

The message is pretty neat. It’s a very Buddhist way of thinking. To me, it shows us that accepting the inner turmoil that is going on, and putting our impartial focus on it like a Jedi, causes it to dissipate. Instead of reacting to the feeling, you know like punching a hole in a wall or killing an alligator, we should accept that it’s happening, and pay attention to it. And that is the moral of this book. When Timmo greets his “monster” it loses it’s power.

The only problem I see with this book is that it doesn’t seem to be right for a 5 year old. Their target is actually children 6-9, and that seems to be the perfect age for this book. We gave it a shot, though. But I think the message is a little above his head, and Noble is a smart little dude. How do I know this? Well let’s look at two examples:

Example 1 – I asked Noble at the end of the book if he had a monster inside himself. He declared, “No! Because then it would rip out of my belly and I’d be dead.” Technically, he’s right. Unfortunately, in the book, the description of Timmo’s monster coming out is illustrated by a picture of an actual monster flying out of Timmo’s open chest. It reminded me of Kuato from the movie “Total Recall”. So yeah, artistic metaphor aside, a monster jumping from your belly will, indeed, be the last thing that happens to you. So while Noble didn’t quite grasp the meaning, it DID allow me to attempt to explain something to him, and also high five him for understanding how the human body works.

Example 2 – There is a really cool questionnaire at the end of the book. This is great because it helps provide talking points for the complicated topic. The very first question says

Look at the front cover of the book. [...]Who do you think has the most power in this picture, Timmo or his monster?

Here’s a picture of the front cover of the book:

"Now I Know...That It's Better to Face My Monsters!!" by Sally Devorgine

Noble’s reply was that the monster was obviously more powerful because, if you’ll notice, the monster is bashing Timmo in the head with a powerful punch. I tried, using Noble language, to explain that Timmo is bowing to show an acceptance to the monster. This creates a massive shield around his head, and while the monster’s fist shatters from the protective rays of the shield, Timmo uses his Heartpoon to nail the monster in the chest with the power of love. Sadly, Noble could not see past the intense power of the monster’s punch, and didn’t think that the bowing head shield would protect Timmo. In Noble’s eyes, this monster is WAY more powerful.

There was also a question that asked the reader to draw a picture of what they think their monster looks like. Noble refused to participate in this exercise, but I think that it, along with the other questions at the end of the book, were really neat, and a great way to open a dialogue with your kid. Since Noble didn’t want to partake, I thought I would participate and draw the monster that lives inside of me. Here’s my inner monster:

Lance Loosewhistle...my monster.

His name is Lance Loosewhistle and he’s not so much of an angry monster as a river dancing, passive aggressive nagster. He does a lot of irking as opposed to crazy terrorizing. Still, he’s VERY annoying. And his tap shoes are loud and obnoxious. He also has a banana hat that smells funny and he shows up anytime Gayle asks me to do a chore around the house. Especially on the weekends!

My final analysis is that I think this book is right on in the message. It is a message that adults need to hear, as well as children. I believe it to be too complicated for a 5 year old. But I would bet that in a year or two, Noble will be able to grasp it’s meaning, and I’ll be reading it to him then to see. Actually, I take that back…I will be having him read it to me!

Thank you to Dana Humphrey at Whitegate PR for sending the book!
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Raising a Two Year Old

Russ Jones — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 19:07:41 +0000

I can’t tell you how many times I have been stopped on the street and asked, “Hey Russ! What’s it like raising a two year old?” Actually I can tell you. It’s never happened. But I think that’s just because I put off an unapproachable vibe when I’m on the street. I wear a shirt that says, “If you are close enough to read this, then I’m probably about to mace you.” So maybe it’s me. But I wish you’d approach me more often. I like you. And I like your question.

So what IS it like raising a two year old? This is a really difficult question to answer. So I thought I would give you a day in the life kind of pictorial thingy. So, without further ado, here’s my interpretation of a day in the life with a two year old:

Good Morning. What a lovely way to wake up at 5:30am. Thank you, little rooster from hell!

Hey there little smiley fun guy!

Wait, what just happened?!

Oh, got it. Didn't realize you wanted to wear shades. I should have known better. My bad. I'll be a MINDREADER NEXT TIME!

You're funny!

You're cute.

You're a faker.

You're a slob!

You're crying again.

and again...

and again...come on, dude, I'm losing empathy!

Oh great, tears! Here comes the guilt! Dang it! I'm a horrible father!

Are we happy now? I'm so scared I'm going to ruin it...

Head stuck in the photo wall....yep, totally ruined!

But wait! A father and son bonding moment! Cherishing...Cherishing...

...GONE! Welcome back tears, we were expecting you.

Oh my god is this really happening?! Get the camera! I can now lie to people and tell them my children cuddle all the time and read books! GO GO GO! I have 10 seconds before he book-slaps Noble in the face!

Ok, finally! It's bedtime...why are you smiling? You must not have heard me, I said, "It's BED TIME."

That's more like it. Now if you could just keep this up for the next 30 minutes, that would be great. You will?! Wonderful!

No noise. No crying. Ahhh. Perfect little angel....until 5:30am.

I hope this gives you an idea as to a typical day with a two year old. It’s a lot of ups and downs, lefts and rights. You’ll think they are happy, and then you suddenly realize that you totally screwed them over by touching, or not touching, standing too close or too far, or looking at something incorrectly. You cannot win. It is impossible to win. The game is rigged so that no matter what you do, you will lose. This is the way of the two year old.

Are you dealing with a two year old? What are some of your tantrum horror stories?

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When And How To Potty Train

Russ Jones — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 20:36:13 +0000

How many methods are there again for how to potty train your child? 550? Is it more now? There’s the one where you spend a weekend filling them full of salt and liquids so they pee 40 times a day. There’s the one where you start potty training them as soon as they exit the womb. There’s the one where you wait until they are teenagers and can’t get a date because they smell like poop, and they kinda sorta figure it out on their own. And there’s the one where you tie an alligator to the pedestal sink to block the exit of the bathroom, and tell your child that you won’t remove the hungry gator until they poop in the toilet. There’s really just so many great, wonderful methods to try. So which one did we do?

In the running was the method where you sit them on the toilet and scream “POOP! POOP NOW!” like a drill sergeant until they “release,” but I think that’s illegal now. So we did the same thing with Alistair that we did with Noble. We waited first until they telegraphed their poops. You are probably familiar with this. They will be having fun and then all of a sudden they stop. And with a shocked look like when somebody in a horror movie sees a “thing” explode out of their chest, they hustle off to their special place. Alistair had two places he would retreat to in order to make a poop (that’s dumb, nobody “makes” a poop, I don’t know why I said that, and I don’t have a proper delete key so there’s no going back now. People don’t “make” poops, they are already made….it just needs to be freed, I guess.). Anyway, where was I? Reading back what I typed….oh, yeah, he had two places where he would do his disengaging : His bedroom closet, or, if he was outside, under the play structure.

We knew it was time when we could carry on a conversation with him that went something like, “I know where you are going. You are going into the closet to poop, aren’t you? Yes you are. You want to go on the toilet? Let’s go on the toilet. Come on! YES! COME ON! PLEEEASE!!! Pretty please? You can’t crap in the closet! Oh forget it.” And then he would poop in his diaper in the closet. Phase one of potty training: complete!

Sit ON the potty, stand IN the potty....we have to start somewhere.

Phase two was getting him to sit on the toilet. This phase was just a random hodge podge of attempts. Getting him to actually sit on the damn thing was the trick. But we kept annoying him, taking him to the potty ever 45 minutes, or hour, or 3 hours, just depended on how good my memory was that day. We kept him in pull ups this entire time, though. I don’t care what the “smarty fartys” say about potty training, taking a kid who is learning how to potty train out on an errand, in regular underwear, is like saying, “Dear Lord, please make my kid have explosive diarrhea in the mall. And let it run down his leg and leave a trail 10 yards long before I notice it.” God ALWAYS answers those prayers. You have been warned.

For us, it was repetition. And reward. Yes, we totally rewarded our child for pooping on the potty. It is such a monumental victory, such a HUGE step in their lives, and it should be celebrated like they just won a gold medal in the olympics. We high five, we scream, and we give chocolate chips. And we give chocolate chips to the support staff (Noble Jones) who hangs out and claps, even though it’s just because he’s trying to score some chocolate. But I love it! I’ve heard many places that you shouldn’t do this, because it’s bribery and that’s wrong. Also, if you do it then your children will grow up to be constipated unless someone waves a Snickers bar in front of their nose. Also, because it’s candy and that’s just bad nutrition. Also, because it’s pooping and it should just be pooping and not treated like blah blah blah something scientific or something. I can’t tell you whether or not this is the case, but Noble’s five now, and he doesn’t get a reward for pooping on the potty. For him, the reward is my screaming, “FLUSH THE TOILET! GEEZ!” And I usually follow that up with the treat of ”Did you wash your hands?” And then I follow THAT up with a delicious taste of “Come on! Go back and wash your hands!”

Sometimes role modeling is a dirty, invasive job. It's all a part of the big brother contract, though.

The bottom line is that Alistair is now considered “trained.” He wears underwear now, and that’s a big deal. There are still times when we have to be extra prepared. When he announces that he has to go pee, it means that he has to go pee…NOW. This doesn’t go over very well when we are in the car. For some reason toddlers don’t respond well to “We’ll be home in 15 minutes. We’re not stopping! Just hold it.” We have this cheap little fold out travel potty thing that has actually saved us on more than one occasion. I HIGHLY recommend!

The face of victory!

Potty training is a big deal, and there’s a ton of ways to do it. We have done it twice in our house so that kind of makes us seasoned experts. Seriously, I should get to put a Ph.D in my name now. I think I’m going to, regardless of whether I “can” or “can’t.” It’s my name, and I can write it however I want. If you have any extra questions, or would like to share how you potty trained your child, leave it in the comments section below. I would love to hear your story. Yes, poop talk is funtastic! Let’s hash this sucker out!

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Thanks for reading. Love,

Dr. Russell Jones Ph.D

How To Get Your Kids To Eat Vegetables

Russ Jones — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 07:47:48 +0000

I’m on a quest. I don’t know how to get my kids to eat vegetables. I need to find the answer. They aren’t in any immediate danger, except to drive me crazy telling me they won’t eat the vegetables. And, as a human being with a somewhat basic knowledge of eating, I know that a vegetable is something that’s good to eat. At least this is what I’ve heard. And so I have been experimenting with my kids to see if I can coerce, trick, sneak, beg, or force them to eat the veggie goodness. I failed miserable with the crispy kale chips. But when I saw a facebook post from a high school friend, Amy Dykes Dohner, mentioning an awesome smoothie she makes that her children love (that has SPINACH in it!) I thought this is definitely worth a go! Without further ado…the recipe:

How to Make “The Vegetable Smoothie Your Kids WILL Drink”:

1 cup milk

1/2 cup vanilla Greek yogurt

1 TBS peanut butter

1 cut up banana

3 cups spinach leaves

Put it all in the blender and turn that green vegetable into a super awesome smoothie! Bet you want to know how it turned out. Did Alistair love it? …drum roll!

Sure dad, Peanut Butter Candy Treaty Sippy Slammer Smoothie sounds GREAT! (I draw them in with a delicious sounding name)

Mmmm, I'm sensing something here, what is this strange flavor...it's...it's...

EWW! It's like sandy seaweed!

Oh god I think I'm going to....

Yep, it wants back out!

This is eating my face apart! The milk I drank from the "god knows how long that's been hiding under the couch" sippy cup tasted better than this!

Get it away from me you horrible father!

So yeah, he didn’t go for it. Bummer, too, because I had high hopes!

I experimented with Noble as well, but he refused to let me take a picture of him. I can sadly report that he tried it, ran to the sink, and spit it out. Me, personally, I enjoyed it. I will make it for myself again. But something odd happened as a result of this experiment; Noble wanted to make his own smoothie! Why not, right? It’s something to do, so we rinsed out the devil juice and started all over again. Here is what Noble HAPPILY placed in his smoothie:

1 banana

8 strawberries

Yogurt

Millk

Apple Juice

approx 15 baby carrots

SPINACH!! About two cups worth

KALE! leftover fresh kale from the last experiment

2 cucumber slices.

We enjoyed blending the mixture together, and rejoiced as we poured it into large cups. And OH HOW HE LOVED IT! What did it taste like? It tasted like a mixture between strawberies and tile grout. But he drank it with pride. Alistair took a glass but joyfully refused to drink. He was just happy to be hanging out. Here’s what I learned from this experience:

#1 – It tastes better when Noble makes it himself

#2 – Alistair will never trust me again.

But just so you don’t think I’m a food torturer, this is Alistair two minutes after he thought his mouth was going to be permanently damaged:

He’s all good! And Amy, I do not blame you for this horrid reaction. I, personally, thoroughly enjoyed the smoothie, and would recommend it to anybody who has good, upstanding, flavor loving, normal children.

This is now where you readers come in. Do you have any suggestions for me for getting my kids to eat their vegetables? A method, a recipe, anything! Leave your suggestion in the comment section below! And if you want to be kept up to date, and hopefully some day see pictures of my children ENJOYING food, you can do so by liking our Facebook page!

The Crispy Kale Chips Recipe Experiment

Russ Jones — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 16:51:59 +0000

There I was, researching about stay at home dads, and I come across an episode of the Martha Stewart show that was all about the stay at home dad. For the most part, it was dads sharing their little crafty projects that they do with their kids. There was even a silly video that showed this one dad’s daily routine. Every part of this dad’s day, with four kids by the way, was fun filled and seemingly smooth. Total BS. I did, however, see a dad discuss making kale chips for his kids. They love it, apparently. And it’s healthy! So I decided that because it was such an easy recipe, I would experiment and see if my kids would love it as much as the show says. Plus some of you told me how much your kids love it, so I just had to try.

For those that don’t know, here’s the recipe:

1) Kale

2) 1 TBSP Olive Oil

3) Heat oven to 300 degrees. Rip Kale into bite sized chunks. Mix in olive oil so that all the leaves are covered. Put on a baking sheet and bake for about 30 minutes or until cripsy.

4) Season to taste!

Pretty easy. So I did it. And the results are in!

MY KIDS LOVE IT! They can’t get enough of it! Just look:

As a fine dining expert, Noble enjoys the aroma of the delicacy he's about to enjoy! Personally, I'm too busy wondering who's damn fingerprints are all over my tv.

Noble's initial reaction to the flavor couldn't be more positive! So happy he loves it!

Go ahead Alistair, keep savoring it on your tongue! Take your time! ENJOY! I couldn't be more proud that my kids are delighting in this snack!

Just so you know, that is NOT a dry heave...he's actually trying to get more kale chips in his mouth, he loves them THAT much!

Isn't he looking at me like I betrayed him somehow? So cute. Almost like he's plotting a violent revenge against me. I could just pinch those cute little cheeks.

So there you have it! My children had such a fantastic Kale chip experience. I’m so glad I watched that Martha Stewart video and listened to those of you who posted on my facebook page! THANK YOU! I should run now, I’m already late for my therapy appointment….apparently I have issues with denial. Not sure what I’m denying, but apparently I am in a state of denial. Guess we’ll find out in therapy.

Do you guys have any other snacks you could recommend? Things that are QUICK, EASY, something that a horrible cook could make? Post a link in the comments or just tell me what it is and I’ll google it! Thanks!

Don’t Yell Around Your Kids!

Russ Jones — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 20:24:40 +0000

How dare you?! STOP YELLING AROUND YOUR KIDS!

They just might see what it’s like being a real adult in the real world. We need to shelter them from the realities of human conflict so that when they grow up, and someone yells around them, they can spiral into a confusion coma because they have no idea why someone doesn’t love someone else, unconditionally, all the time….no matter what….even if they screw up…..

Come on! Seriously, though. Come on! Yelling is real. It’s just a not-so-fun way to refer to someone being “passionate about their opinion.” And when two people share a similarly sized passion for opposite ends of that opinion, it’s a very natural and poetic arc of volume that erupts forth. How else is a person going to get their opinion heard? It must rattle the ear drums to such an extent that the listening receptacles of the other party cannot mistake it for anything but the truth. Or so the theory goes.

Heated arguing happens. I love that wife of mine dearly, but if I’m being honest then I should share with the world that we most certainly argue. And sometimes those arguments have a bit of volume on them. It’s not as if we DESIRE to argue in front of the kids. But there are inopportune times when we are both passionately correct….and that is the vinegar and baking soda of marriage.

It’s not our job as parents to shelter our kids from every damn thing in the world. Try as we might, it’s impossible. But as far as getting into arguments with my wife, it’s not always possible to put off the rage until later. Neither of us are too keen on saying, “I’m so pissed at you right now, but let’s pretend nothing is wrong while the kids are awake, and then, when they are sound asleep, you are IN FOR IT!” Mostly because that’s when we watch New Girl, or X Factor, or possibly take in a movie onDemand. That’s “us” time. But why shouldn’t we resolve our problem when our problem arises? The correct answer is that we should!

Yes, even we, the perfect loving family get into huge arguments. In fact, they call me "Dr. ME!ME!ME!" Gayle is known as "The Bulldog" Noble goes by "Drama Drama," and Alistair is "Smack Yo Face."

Gayle and I don’t sit down and come up with a list of ways to handle arguing around our children; so that when it happens, we can refer to some ridiculous “chart of appropriateness” or something. We do what feels right in the moment. Because we both know that we have the best interest of our kids at the top of our list. And getting in an argument around the kids, while not ideal, is still OK. If you find yourself getting into a verbal argument around the kids, then here are some suggestions on how to handle it without causing irreparable damage to the development of your kids blah blah blah oh who knows for sure anyway….

1) If they come into the room where you are arguing with your spouse, take a second to explain to the kid that you love each other and are just having a disagreement. Every once in awhile your 5 year old will surprise you and give you sound advice on conflict resolution…something you probably told him to do at one point. The other 9 times out of 10 he will probably just ask you to use your indoor voice and shut the hell up about it already. He’s right. Now, if he actually says, “Shut the hell up about it already,” then you have a more immediate behavioral issue with your child to deal with…so deal with THAT, and then get back to your argument.

2) Don’t swear. You might be angry, but you have a responsibility to have tact. Unless you want your kid’s teacher to ask you why your son thinks “dad is a total fucking moron” or why “mom is an irrational bitch.” Gayle and I are very particular about not swearing around the kids, especially during a heated argument. Even though sometimes I have chewed a hole in my lip from biting it.

3) Don’t throw, or punch, furniture. I know some people just need to smash things to get their “sound” opinion heard. Also breaking knuckles through walls has been known to make a good point. I’m not 100% sure what those points are, but I think we can all agree that this kind of behavior has no place around a child. UNLESS of course you would like your child to come home from school with a note saying, “When your son disagreed in the class debate, he threw his desk out the window. You owe the school $1475.00.”

4) Let the other person finish their entire stupid point, all the way, even though you have a valid reason to interrupt, correct, and clarify probably 15 times before they are finished. The quickest way for an argument to escalate is to cut somebody off and turn the argument into a “No, YOU are an asshole for cutting ME off first!” When kids are around, you kinda sorta should really sorta work at kinda having an argument the way that you would want them to have an argument. Actually scratch this one, I don’t know what I’m thinking. I’m basically telling you that you should do something that is impossible. Let’s just look at this one as a happy little ideal situation!

5) Resolve your argument. Stewing around angry doesn’t work well with kids. For some reason they don’t like being around a tight lipped ogre of rage. At the very least, resolve it enough that you can go over to your kid and say, “See! Look! We figured it out.” 9 times out of 10 he really won’t care. He will just be glad that you can now start working on dinner. Scientists will probably tell you that the argument has impacted them greatly and that they care at a really deep level, and when they are in their 20′s they will probably seek out therapy because of that very argument. Scientists aren’t raising your kid, you are. So you be the judge of that.

7) Make Macaroni and Cheese for dinner…or pizza, depending on what type of kid you have. They will instantly forget everything they saw and feel fully loved by all. It will be like that thing that erases people’s memories in the movie Men In Black. It’s a fail safe.

I hope I’ve helped you to successfully yell at your spouse without harming your little lab rats, er, I mean beautiful children.

The Science Of Parenting Is Dumb…And So Is Meth

Russ Jones — Sat, 17 Dec 2011 05:25:22 +0000

It’s a statistical factuality, based on a large number of highly scientific case studies that indeed the science of parenting is dumb. Unfortunately for you animal rights lovers, some of those studies included rats. But please be assured, they weren’t harmed. They were just told how awful their parenting styles were, and how everything they are doing is causing irreparable harm to the brain developments of their tiny little baby rats. Then, the educated scientists watched as the tiny little baby rats grew into mentally and emotionally damaged adolescent rats who then turned to Meth. Meth rats. Not a good sign for the youth of humans…if we are to draw conclusions from these professional rat studies.

I fear for the future of our children. Not just because the world is supposed to end in 2012. And not just because if it doesn’t end in 2012, then cyborgs will most certainly destroy the human race a short time thereafter. And not just because if THAT doesn’t happen, then the sun will probably burn out early or something. It’s because we are getting so impossibly specific with the science of how we raise our kids. We treat them just like little rats, and we dissect them (not literally….I hope) and make big assumptions based on some good ol’ science.

There’s science that says that if you let a kid cry it out, you are damaging his brain. There’s science that says that a kid NOT getting proper sleep will damage his brain. There’s science about how glorious breastmilk is, and there’s science that says that formula is great for the baby’s development. There’s science about vitamins. There’s science about spanking, about time outs, about yelling, about art, about teething, eating, praising a kid who craps in the toilet for the first time, licking frozen telephone poles, global warming, diarrhea, gatorade, and I’ve even seen science about the science of science.

It’s too much. It’s too overwhelming. And really, actually factually according to my personal pie charts… it’s dumb. I have a high school education with one year of community college under my belt. So clearly I know what I’m talking about. If you look back in this post, I used some pretty awesome words, like “irreparable”, “cyborgs” and I even spelled diarrhea right. So I MUST know what I’m talking about.

Here’s my personal science: do whatever you want, read everything, study your ass off about children, and in the end, no matter what you do, you WILL screw your kids up. Love them too much, you’ll ruin them. Be too hard on them, you’ll ruin them. Don’t feed them….well, they die. So let’s make sure we feed them. And above all else, for the love of god, keep them away from Meth!

Honestly, so what if they lost two neurons because they cried at night for a few days? Did they need those two neurons? They are going to butcher a few million when they get into college, that’s for sure. What if that crying and self soothing made them stronger, more independant, and ONLY because of that, when they were in 7th grade, they chose not to do Meth in that one kid’s garage that one night when everybody else’s kids did. And those kids all wound up thinking they were dragon slayers and now permanently see everything in various shades of red. When that article comes out, we’ll all be letting our babies cry it out, believe you me!

Or what if they became highly bonded to their parents because they co-slept all those years? No cry it out for them! And that loving bond was what ultimately built massive self esteem in the child, and ONLY because of that self esteem and self worth was he able to say no to the kid’s in the garage who were doing Meth because he didn’t need the approval of the Meth heads….unlike the other kids, who were all cry it outters. Unfortunately, in this scenario, the garage boys all felt alone in the world because their parents abandoned them at night and inadvertently forced them to make soothing life choices on their own. Too bad it was a Meth choice.

And let’s not forget Billy, the young boy who was formula fed since birth. Not receiving the purity and loving holiness that is breastmilk, he wound up getting sick quite often as a child. His immune system didn’t receive the glorious intake of colostrum, and so it was that he spent two weeks home from school with back to back viruses. During that two weeks, a gang of organized Meth zombies drove a semi truck into Billy’s school, kidnapping all the children and forcing them into sweat shop labor, making Meth and soccer balls. Guess who got kidnapped? The breastfed kids. The healthy, always at school, breastfed kids. Guess who moved on to a different school and went on to invent the SunGazer, the first pair of sunglasses that allow you to stare directly at the sun for as long as you want, with NO retinal damage? It was Billy…formula kid.

It’s all just a crap shoot really. I really don’t care which method you use, they are all wrong. So which shoot of crap are you gonna send your kids down? Me, I just don’t want my kids doing Meth.

Meth is for dummies! Yeah, I know I got a booger bit hangin from my nose hole. What about it?

So sorry, but I prefer bouncing and my rice cakes to your silly Methy Meth.

The Same Question

Russ Jones — Tue, 13 Dec 2011 18:09:12 +0000

I could go insane. It’s quite possible that the very act of asking me the same question, repeatedly, without care or concern for the validity of the answer, has the ability to send me over the edge. I try not to rage out when Noble asks me “When is Will coming over” for the nine hundredth time. But that is difficult, if not impossible. There’s usually a snapping point. It happens after I’ve exhausted the literal answers, the smart ass answers, and the ‘I don’t care anymore’ answers. Let me see if I can break it down for you. I’d love to give you a glimpse into my headspace….don’t let the roominess fool you…there’s a lot going on in there!

Noble will be represented in bold, my answers will be in italics. Let’s say that Will is coming over for a playdate at 4pm. Here’s the conversation, starting at 2:45pm when I would pick Noble up at school.