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Wednesday 22 February 2012

LIFE IN FOUR PARAGRAPHS


There was an obituary that ran in a Florida paper recently regarding a 94-year-old woman, Josie Anello, who recently died. There was nothing unusual to report in terms of her life; she was married for sixty-four years – damn impressive – had three children, and from the sounds of it, was a generous kindhearted woman that was loved by many.

The funny part is, or sad, depending on how you look at it, was the wording in the obit when it came to her children. It stated that, “she was survived by her son, AJ, who loved and cared for her; Daughter ‘Ninfa’ (I’m assuming that’s a typo, otherwise, I’m not even sure how to pronounce that), who betrayed her trust, and her son ‘Peter’ who broke her heart." 
How much money shall we put on it that AJ was the author of this very pointed obituary?

It got me thinking about obituaries, and how they almost read like resumes (or CV’s for you Brits) in terms of our lifespan. In short, how they use far too few words to encapsulate, embellish, sugar coat and sometimes even - ahem - fabricate about the lives we lead (although not in the case of Josie of course; that one seemed pretty spot on). Now, of course we all want to be remembered in the kindest ways as possible. None of us want to have an obituary that talks about our stingy nature, our bad temper, and horrible breath. That would just be mean; so I suppose why not focus on all our good traits, seems fitting enough for our official send off. 

In the case of Ms. Anello, I suppose there is something refreshing about an obituary that somehow captured the truth of our lives, warts and all, just for the sheer humanity of it. Imagine the obituaries you'd stumble over, they'd be far more entertaining that's for sure...'yes, she was loved by her family – whom she often pissed off – survived by her son, whom she doted on and often smothered too much, and was married to her partner for twenty six years, ten of which wanted to kill her for always complaining he didn’t do enough cleaning around the house.' I'm sure some would get much more colorful than that, considering what humans can do to one another throughout a lifetime.

I’m sure it was heartbreaking for Ms. Anello to know that two of her children did not hold her in high enough regard to treat her right while she was alive (obviously, we’re going on AJ’s opinions in his word usage, but something tells me he had his reasons). And of course, I’m hoping that her two children, who broke her heart and betrayed her trust, took pause when they read their mother’s obituary. I suppose that is something we'd all want people to do when they read an all too brief summation of our lives.

Me, I think obituaries, should be a bit longer, more colorful even. Hell, why not a power point presentation with pictures, pie charts and a soundtrack. We put enough blood, sweat and tears into life, I want more than a couple of paragraphs about how I touched people’s hearts and loved to knit (I don’t knit, but maybe I’ll start in my later years. It’s either that or golf).  Maybe I’ll start grooming the King now to choose his vocabulary very wisely when it comes to his dear old…ahem, young and vibrant, mother. “My Mom was the most generous, beautiful, fun mom in the world, and she had great hair too.” [The King loves my hair, and detests when I have it up. Seriously, the kid is very particular and will come over to me and take it down and tousle it about. It’s pretty funny].

Then again, if we’re talking about being truthful, I’m sure he’ll have to include that I was an insomniac who could get really grumpy (especially towards Daddy) without sleep, who ate far too many raisins and insisted that he eat his vegetables the whole time. I suppose I can live with that description.


Monday 20 February 2012

CLAP CLAP GROWL


When it comes to having a toddler, parents can become utterly desperate when their once sweet, agreeable offspring hits that stage when they start to resemble a stubborn, tantrum throwing cave dweller (no, I'm not talking about teenagers). You hear about this stage all the time from parents that have survived it (they all have that look in their eye, like, ‘god help you’). You tell yourself that your child will pass through it with flying colors and you and your partner won’t have a kid that chucks himself on the ground at the supermarket; and yet there is that little voice in the back of your head that is laughing OH SO loudly at your naiveté.

In our case, the King has indeed hit that willful stage of ‘I will do what I want, just you try and stop me.’ So like any parents looking for answers, we talked to those that have been in the trenches and went on the Internet in search of book suggestions for weathering the storm. Admittedly, I found a book that pledged to turn my obstinate wee one into the ‘happiest toddler on the block’ and meanwhile, turn me into the toddler whisperer. Bingo, sign me up (total sucker)! As a pediatrician wrote the book, I figured that he must know his way around toddlers. Not to mention, the reviews were glowing, ‘my little Tommy after ten seconds stopped having tantrums and is now an utter dream.’ (I am currently smacking myself for my moment of weakness).

So the premise of the book is to apply this Doctor’s method, which incorporates his Fast Food Rule (or FFR) of communication, whilst using a special language he calls ‘toddler-ese.’ In short, he believes that when you’re dealing with people who are upset you treat them like a drive thru person at a fast food joint would (burger and fries with your rage?); In short, you let them do all their talking first, or in the case of our toddler – mad, angry babbling; then you repeat what they have said back to you, so they really know you understand and they feel validated (not sure how one does this when one’s toddlers main words are Bub bub and badaabaa baaaa) and then finally, you use toddler-ese to get your point across (think, short, staccato sentences that toddlers will understand); and you must do this he says, in the same emotive quality that they do. So you really let them know that you emphasize with their pain.

Do you want an example of this?? You know you do…okay, picture this, the King and I are out in public and he flips his lid because he doesn’t want to share his car with a boy at the park. And he’s screaming his head off, holding onto the car in question as if his life depends on it. Doctor Toddler Whisperer claims this is what I do….I get down to the King’s level and I say in short, bursts of emotive language: “The King is mad. Mad Mad, want car. Car car mine, King want car!!!” By now the entire park is most likely watching me, thinking I’m a deranged idiot. This is supposed to stop him in mid tantrum due to my overwhelming empathy for his plight. Then I’m supposed to use this moment of calm to explain that he must share his toys in short sentences: 'Sharing, good. tantrums, bad. Me, Cave Mother.' 
And this apparently my friends, is how to stop a tantrum in its tracks.

But wait, I’m not finished yet…and you thought you couldn’t look more like an idiot. OH, but you can. To solidify that you are totally certifiable, he suggests that you institute a scolding method when your child exhibits 'red light' behavior, that includes clapping loudly whilst growling at your child. Yes, you heard me, GROWLING. When I told my partner this we both started laughing so hard at the mere vision of me at the museum chasing after the King clapping and growling like some deranged lion as I hollered the words, “King mad, no no, King want juice, now-mad-juice!”

And yes, just to give this doctor the benefit of the doubt, I did try this whole method (okay I was laughing during the entire process, which I’m sure is not his idea of proper execution) because I know he did a great amount of research and I was trying to be respectful of that…So, anyway, I looked at the King and said, ‘King mad, no shoes on, shoes bad, no shoes.’ He looked at me as if I was totally nuts, but to the doctor’s credit he did stop crying for a second (probably cause he was trying to figure out where his mother went). Then later, when he threw his car at my head, I clapped loudly and growled. What did the King do, when I growled? But growl back at me of course with the biggest smile on his face he could muster. He thought it was the best game ever.

Toddler whisperer I am clearly NOT.
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