unexceptionalparenting

 

Kids only hear half of what their parents say. It’s, like, science.

It doesn’t matter how many times you repeat yourself or how clear you think you have made yourself, on a daily basis your children will reveal that they’ve comprehended about a third of your message.

To keep things really amusing, they have an enormous capacity to fill in the blanks of what they didn’t hear.

The following is a list of scenarios all parents are familiar with that demonstrate the difficulty of attempting to communicate with children. Budding, perceptive, brilliant minds, my a—.

Scenario 1:

You are upstairs, outside or just generally out of earshot but your kid needs to ask you/tell you something urgently. When you hear them*, you say/holler:

“If you need me come upstairs/outside/within earshot because I can’t hear you. I’m in the shower/killing a cockroach/burying something the cat killed!”

They hear:

“Stay exactly where you are and yell really loudly so I can be of assistance. Please make sure the panic in your voice is disproportionate to the matter at hand. For example, if you can’t find your favorite cup, scream like someone has broken into the house and we need to call the Special Victims Unit. However, if your sister has fractured her arm and the bone is protruding at a sickening angle through her skin — and, oh yeah, she has passed out — sit lazily at the bottom of the stairs and call out, ‘Mooooommmm.’”

Scenario 2:

Your child wants to know how to spell a word. Unfortunately, it is not a word you’ve ever heard and you’re not sure it exists. For example:

“Mom, how do you spell ipsbefluffle?”

You: “What word?”

Child repeats unintelligible word.

You: “Use it in a sentence.”

Child: “I sure love ipsbefluffle!”

You say: “I don’t think I’m familiar with that word. I can’t help you.”

They hear: “Repeat it ad nauseam until we both get so frustrated we hate each other.”

Scenario 3:

Your child asks for your help, usually with some impossible and detailed task, while you are very obviously in the middle of doing something else that requires your full concentration.

Child: “Mom, can you untie this knot for me/translate this article into Pashto/assist me in hacking into the city government’s database?”

You say:  “Just a minute, I’m cooking dinner for 20 people/on the phone with a customer service representative after being on hold for 40 minutes/defusing a bomb!”

They hear: “OMG, I’m totally kidding! Ask me again immediately.”

Scenario 4:

Child wants to wear an article of clothing that is in the laundry because she wore it yesterday.

Child: “Where’s my rainbow skirt?”

You: “In the laundry.”

Child: “Why?”

You: “It’s dirty.”

Child: “Why?”

You say:  “Because you wore it yesterday when you face planted in the mud on the playground. Find something else to wear.”

They hear:  “If you ask me again in five minutes I’ll pretend we never had this conversation and suddenly make the desired outfit appear out of thin air.”

Scenario 5:

Your child wants something they absolutely cannot have: a cell phone, a Nintendo DXL, a taser.

You say: “No.”

(Or, if you are me: “Hell no.”)

They hear:  “Talk to me some more about this cell phone, Nintendo device, taser. What are its various features? How will your life be improved upon obtaining this object? List the kids in your class with awesome parents who let them have one. Don’t forget to ask me if we are poor.”

Scenario 6:

Your child is reading the signs along the side of the road as you drive. She comes to a word or a series of words she doesn’t know and asks for your help. As much as you would love to help her, you have no idea which sign she is looking at and can’t investigate further because you are driving. A f—king car.

You say: “I can’t really help you right now because I’m driving.”

They hear: “Point rigorously at the sign in question and I will figure out which word you are talking about even though I am operating a large death machine and then we will all laugh and be merry.”

Scenario 7:

One of your children is doing something to annoy the other. Unfortunately, it’s not exactly a punishable offense. For example:

Child 1: “Child 2 is bothering me!”

You: “What is she doing?”

Child 1: “Looking at me!”

You say: “Ignore her.”

They hear: “Go into more detail about this injustice. How does it make you feel? Is it making it difficult to exist with any sense of security? Please list any and all things in living memory your sister has done to irritate you. Use complete and long sentences. Don’t forget the pointless details!”

Scenario 8:

Your child has been at school all day, learning exciting new things and interacting with friends and you would love to hear all about it.

You say: “What did you do at school today?”

They hear: “If you answer with more than one word, something terrible will happen to someone you love.”

Scenario 9:

Your child has an impossible wish, to be instantly four inches taller, or three years older, or — in the case of my son — a brunette.

You say: “I’m sorry. I wish I could help you but I can’t.”

Or even: “Your hair is lovely. But if you want to change it when you are older you can.”

They hear: “Tell me again and I’ll think up some way to stretch out your bones, speed up time, remake your genetic code. The whinier you get, the happier I will be to assist you.”

Scenario 10:

Your child is unable to locate a random and pointless object, so they try to recruit you for help even though there is no reason why you would know where it is.

Child: “Mom, where’s that gas station receipt?”

You say: “Where did you leave it?”

This is probably one of the most utilized answers in our household. The children (and my spouse) are constantly asking me where their things are, as if I run around snatching up objects and hiding them in random places like some sort of demented elf from a Bavarian fairy tale.

In reality, I have no idea where they put their stuff unless I happen to trip over it. By asking, “Where did you leave it?” I am both giving them a good starting point for their search and making the passive-aggressive point that they need to keep track of their things.

Unfortunately, they hear:

“Ha ha! I totally know where it is and once you are in bed I will take it out and enjoy its use. However, if you ask me 5,000 more times and berate me for losing something that belongs to you, I will divulge its location.”

Scenario 11:

You are conversing with one or more other people when your child desperately needs to speak with you. (If your children are like mine, they never actually need to speak with you until you are speaking with someone else. Then it’s a verbal pile on.)

You say: “I am speaking with someone right now but if you hold on a few minutes I will be able to assist you.”

They hear: “Exclaim ‘Mom! Mom! Mom!’ repeatedly. Be persistent! I really do not want to be talking to this person. Don’t forget to keep your voice at that irritating monotone you never use otherwise.”

Scenario 12:

You child asks you a question that would stump Confucius. For example, “Why is rain wet?”

Now, you can either start out at “That’s a good question. I don’t know.” Or you could go into a long and detailed explanation about accumulation and precipitation, only for them to reply that’s not what they were asking, and eventually end up at “I don’t know.”

Either way, your child won’t be satisfied. Because when you say “I don’t know,” they hear “I do know. I know exactly what you mean and what you’re asking and I understand all the complex philosophical thoughts going through your sweet head but I will withhold any answers because it gives me a supreme sense of satisfaction to keep you ignorant. However, if you ask me 5,000 more times I will eventually give in and let you partake of the wisdom.”

 

*I’m using “them” instead of “him” or “her” just to keep this simple, even though it’s technically incorrect. Sue me.

 

To my lovely family,

It has come to my attention that you all have a major concern about drought in the area. Or that you all suffer swift and devastating short-term memory loss immediately after having evacuated your bladders and/or bowels. Or worse, that you believe the horrible Toilet Monster — a Kindestod-type character that could have come straight out of the Grimm brothers had indoor plumbing been their contemporary — will rear up and visit havoc upon our household should you part with your bodily waste.

Well, as a representative of the management in this establishment, I am here to confidently assure you that you can rejoice and rest easy: Nothing bad will happen should you choose to flush the toilet after using it.

Seriously, trust me on this.

I know, I know: It can be a bit intimidating to push that handle, what with the barely audible noise it makes as it performs its essential function. It can be difficult to say good-bye to a substance to which you have absolutely no emotional attachment.

But believe me, it’s better in the long run.

And despite what you seem to think, I will NOT be angry at you if you flush. Let’s just clarify that right now. Nothing would delight me more than to use a toilet that hasn’t already been “marked,” or to live in a house that doesn’t have the vague and constant whiff of a port-a-potty.

While we’re on the topic of actions that would not make me angry, let me add that there is absolutely nothing wrong with bringing your used dishes to the sink. It’s crazy but true. The kitchen table will not suddenly collapse should it be freed of its burden. After all, it’s the legs that keep it standing, not the peanut butter smeared, crumb littered plates resting on its surface.

The sink will not open up and swallow you whole should you choose to place your dirty dishes therein. The sink LOVES dirty dishes. In fact, you can hear it sobbing gently every night after I have whisked the dirty dishes from its maw and deposited them in the dishwasher to be rocked and scrubbed to sleep.

It misses those dishes. Don’t make it sadder than it needs to be.

Also, every time you grab my shirt and use it as a handkerchief and/or hand towel, my soul dies a little bit. Just so you know.

If we’re out of something that you use but I don’t — shredded wheat, blue cheese, chia seeds — it is perfectly acceptable to tell me. It would not make me feel inadequate to find out I didn’t guess this. In fact, I would prefer to know you need more of a certain item BEFORE I go to the store than to hear you ask if I picked up said item AFTER I get home. As efficient as it would be for me to perform a complete inventory of the fridge, freezer and cupboard every single time I go to the grocery store, I don’t. Instead I rely on the GROCERY LIST I place IN PLAIN SIGHT on the KITCHEN COUNTER to determine what we need. No special password is required to make entries on this list. Simply pick up the giant novelty pen with feathers on top for easy location and jot away.

Speaking of food, if you are standing in front of the fridge, door open, head inserted, looking for something, and I am engaged in an activity in a different room or on a different floor of the house, you will probably have better luck locating said item than I will. Contrary to popular belief, being born without man junk does not give one a photographic memory or the ability to recall at will the location of every item in the fridge, freezer, pantry or someone else’s sock drawer with pinpoint accuracy.

At the very least, try moving some items around and looking for longer than 10 seconds before asking me to solve the Mystery of the Missing Mustard while I am upstairs attempting to unclog a toilet that hasn’t been flushed in 24 hours.

And so help me, if you use the last of the mustard, don’t put “Mustard” on the list and then ask if we are out of mustard, I will cut you.

Don’t get me wrong family, I love you. Usually. It is only by having frank discussions about these things that we will keep our sanity. Or what passes for it.

1. Notice an ad for a live theater production aimed at children.
2. Feel immediate guilt. You don’t do cultural stuff like this nearly as much as you should and your children need to, like, get intellectualized and stuff. Also, what else are you going to do on a Sunday afternoon at 1 p.m.?
3. Visit the show’s website. Read testimonials from parents about how amaze balls the production was. Doubt that little Connor instantly became a math prodigy after watching dinosaur puppets, but still reckon the show might kill a few hours.
4. Click on the “Buy Tickets” button.
5. Recover from aneurysm induced by ticket prices and scroll down, looking for seats that won’t cost the equivalent of a new set of tires.
6. Discover that the only somewhat affordable seats will place you in the back of the highest balcony or so far to the left or right of the stage you will have an obstructed view. Ponder if your children will even notice.
7. Feel immediate guilt and scroll back up until you find a happy medium. Back row of the orchestra section is perfectly acceptable.
8. Click on tickets. When the computer asks if you want to donate money so an underprivileged child can go see the production automatically click on “Yes.” Wonder if there’s any way you could actually take the underprivileged child yourself, since you can already tell by the fact you are spending so much money that your children will hate the show.
9. Recover from second aneurysm induced by final total. Taxes and “occupancy fees” — whatever the hell those are — have added an extra $50. Wonder if it’s worth it.
10. Feel immediate guilt. You caught your youngest trying to stick a pencil in the cat’s ear the other day. You need to get these kids some culture, stat.
11. Buy the tickets.
12. Feel immediate guilt for spending so much money.
13. Tell your spouse about the event but do it in code so the children don’t pick up on it. Children are programmed to think everything is about to start five minutes after they learn about it, so if you mention it now they will lose their s—t and ask you every hour when the show starts. Even if you say “Next April,” they will persist.
14. The day of the event, 10 minutes before you are scheduled to leave, tell your children about the show. Your children will announce they don’t want to go, no matter how well you play up the event in question. (“It features live dinosaurs!” “I hate dinosaurs.” “You love them.” “I’d rather just stay here.” “And do what?” “Roll around on this exercise ball.” “It’s LIVE motherf—king dinosaurs!”)
15. Force march everyone to the car and then into the theater.
16. Look around the audience and wonder where the underprivileged kids are. These children all look distinctly privileged (yours included). Note that some of the little girls are wearing outfits that cost more than your monthly car payment.
17. Explain to the children why you aren’t sitting closer to the stage.
18. Enjoy the first 10 minutes of the show, when the puppeteers bring out baby dinosaurs. Pat yourself on the back for a job well done.
19. Explain to your children that, even though they have raised their hands whenever the narrator asks for volunteers, it doesn’t mean they will get the chance to go onstage.
20. Comfort your children when a giant prehistoric dragonfly puppet gets too close to them.
21. Point out the legs of the puppeteer moving the triceratops that just lumbered onstage, because it is kinda big and your kids are starting to lose their s—t.
22. Clutch your screaming, sobbing children and escort them to the exit when the giant T-Rex puppet crashes through the scenery and roars at the crowd, prompting roughly half of the audience to erupt in terrified tears and more than a few patrons to soil themselves.
23. Wonder how the show’s producers sleep at night knowing that they have literally scared the crap out of a bunch of toddlers.
24. Vow not to try another trip to the theater for a long time.
25. Smack your forehead when your son spies a poster in the lobby for the theater’s upcoming double bill Cavalleria Rusticana/Pagliacci and asks, “Can we go see this?”
26. Remind him that he called your Gilbert and Sullivan CDs “garbage” and explain that real opera is a million times worse.
27. Feel immediate guilt for dissing opera.
28. Go home and let your children roll around on an exercise ball.

By now you’ve probably seen the clip shared ‘round the world of Professor Robert Kelly being interrupted mid-Skype interview with the BBC by his two adorable children:

Kelly, an associate professor of international relations at South Korea’s Pusan National University, has been commended for keeping his cool during the whole affair. He neither broke contact with the camera nor smacked the child with a brick, as some might have done. The children have been praised for being so darn freaking cute.

But I think we are missing the true hero of this entire episode and that is the frantic mother who comes slamming into the room and hustles the kids out with the speed and dexterity of a special ops commando.

This moment, now forever cemented into our hearts and YouTube viewing histories, is pure gold because it perfectly and silently sums up parenthood.

While the rest of the world is busy being articulate, well-groomed and capable of discussing weighty matters such as the geopolitical ramifications of leadership change in South Korea, parents are a bunch of lumbering, frantic maniacs scrambling about on what amounts to a never-ending suicide watch over creatures who have the speed and determination of pumas but the common sense of dog turds.

(At least one commentator has already described the scene as the “patriarchy in a nutshell,” but honestly, I can just as easily see a mother in the interview seat while a beleaguered dad scampers after the tiny offenders in the background.)

Any parent watching that scene can hear her inner monologue:

“S—t, s—t, s—t! I turn my back for one minute to clean up the cat barf the toddler was using to finger paint the baby and she runs in and interrupts what was probably the most important analysis to take place of Park Geunhye’s ousting EVER. Crap, crap. Am I still in the shot? I’m still in the f—king shot. Just. Gotta. Get. This. Door. Shut.”

This woman is a maternal goddess in my book. Some might deduct points for the fact she “let” the kids slip past her to get into Dad’s interview den, but in my opinion those people are heartless douche bags who can go eff themselves.

Kids are slippery, stealthy, crafty little Houdinis at that age. For all we know that adorable toddler hamming it up over Dad’s left shoulder just undid five “child-proof” locks and drugged the dog before creeping into that room.

The fact that Mom caught them in the act at all makes her a g-dd—n hero, in my opinion. My kids would have managed to pop the top on a value-sized bottle of aspirin and waggle their naked butts at the camera before I caught on that they weren’t, in fact, watching Backyardigans in the living room like I thought.

Hell, even her form is impressive. The speed that sends her practically sliding across the floor, the skill that allows her to corral the toddler and yank the baby’s walker out of the shot, the physical strength that allows her to crawl practically combat style back to the door to yank it shut?

If retrieving interview-destroying little people from Dad’s study were an Olympic sport, this woman would win mad gold, y’all.

What is even more impressive is that she accomplished it on four hours sleep, tops. She has the deadly toddler-baby combo on her hands, which means she is on call round-the-clock, dealing with the demands of two insatiable — but adorable — little maniacs.

Pair that with the fact that Dad was probably sweating bullets over his appearance on the BBC, she’d probably been on high alert all morning. No doubt she helped him pick out his suit, gave him a pep talk, tidied the bed and neatly stacked the books in the background — all without having showered or eaten — before assuming kid duty so Dad could get his brain on in a live international broadcast.

Even if she is, as some have suggested, a nanny, she is AWESOME. I adore her. If I ever get to meet her I’m buying her the biggest box of Chardonnay Rite Aid sells.