Tips from the Trenches: A Guide to Practical Parenting

So, I was talking to my son's first grade room mother (no, it's not a legally binding relationship) about the upcoming class' Holiday-Mas party on the last day of school before the Winter-Mas Break (tomorrow at the time of this writing).

I was volunteering to do my part and in a flight of whimsy about classroom parties of my youth said, "it should be fun. At least, I hope they have more fun than the Halloween Fall party. Party days were so fun at school!"
To which she replied, "what do you mean?"
And I said, "well, they all just sat in their chairs and had to be quiet." (They had a sub that day, so I thought that was the reason why it was dull.)
To which she said, "They have to sit down or they will get in trouble."
Me: "Huh?"
She: "It would be dangerous and disrespectful for them to be out of their chairs. Someone would come and tell them to sit down."
Me: "Huh!? That's ridiculous. They should play some games. They are old enough to be told that they have to play at an appropriate level."
She: "Oh, no. They can't take that risk."

Not only that, but there is nary a speck of sugar on the list of food items being brought in for the party!!!!!!

For those of you who know me, you have probably figured out that I don't predict results particularly well. I'm habitually clumsy and am often surprised when disaster rears its ugly, vicious, fire breathing head. I've even, through extensive research, scientifically determined that in an emergency, I most likely would go out in a panicked blaze of unpreparedness.

Which brings me to a "quiet" morning (about 6 weeks ago) at the top of my stairs. I was listening to the kids peacefully discuss whose fault it was that the walls got accidentally painted in green Crayola paint while thinking about a lovely dream I'd had the night before where I was on a plane crashing in to the North Pole (must be thinking about Christmas shopping already). I'd just arranged to drop my kids with my MIL so I could get some errands done at lightening speed in preparation for our 2-week beach vacation in three days which also happen to coincide with my son's sixth birthday. (The numbers alone are staggering.)

It was then that I started my tenth leisurely stroll that morning down the stairs. I didn't think I was unusually distracted, but that's what I get for thinking, I guess. The next thing I remember was a nasty popping, cracking sound accompanied by a wrenching, ripping, popping sensation and MEGA PAIN! I was lying on the floor at the bottom of the stairs calmly reviewing my emergency preparedness plan while screaming some of my long lost-to-parenting favorite words.

It took a couple of seconds before I realized that my kids were standing in the doorway looking a little worried. The problem was I was alone with 2 young children and I was totally out of my mind in pain.

Lucky me, I'd fallen near my handbag. I was able to extract my newly acquired iPhone and began to call by EMT brother for advice. I was pretty sure I'd broken my leg in half, but I very reasonably wanted to check with him first. (I was very calm, you see.) When he didn't answer, I called just about everyone else in my phone. No one was answering. I was starting to sweat because of the pain. The only thing I could think of was that I didn't want to call my sister-in-law because she just started her job and it would not be good if she had to leave unexpectedly.

After not being able to reach my husband who was a 2-hour drive away, I decided that calling my SIL was the only option. Of course, she answered on the first ring. And, of course, immediately came to help. She was able to get in touch with my EMT brother who told me to call an ambulance. Which I did.

Then, I realized it was time for a little damage control. I smiled bewitchingly at my children, explained that I had fallen down the stairs (duh!), that I thought I'd broken my leg (duh!), and that they were not to worry because I'd called an ambulance and both Uncle Hugh and "Tato" were coming to help. I also slipped in a mention that they were not to repeat any of the new words they might have learned that morning.

It was at this point that I realized my front door is both locked and ridiculously hard for me to open. All at once, I knew that I couldn't do it and it would be almost impossible for my son. I was imagining the fire department showing up and breaking down the door to get to me lying gracelessly at the bottom of the stairs surrounded in packing materials from our move a few days earlier.

Fortunately, my son understood the importance of what he needed to do. (After I explained it, of course, in response to the "but I can't" complaints.) Just in time, he was able to turn the key and yank the door open as the ambulance, my brother, and his wife pulled up.

It turned out that the paramedics didn't think it was majorly broken and they were able to wheel me down the front steps to my brother's car in an odd wheel chair contraption so he could take me to the ER and they could get on with helping people who really needed it. After a surprisingly quick ER trip, I was booted, crutched, and returned to the ever patient hands of my children who were none the worse for wear. (Except a near paralyzing fear of the stairs, that is.)

To make a short story even longer, here's the moral. Plan a little. Even a teeny, tiny bit. Many of us, especially if you are a military spouse, spend enormous amounts of time alone for extended periods (days, weeks, even months). Prepare yourself and your kids for when something "out of the ordinary" happens. Explain what they would have to do if an ambulance arrived at your house one day. Let them know that an "official" (Child and Family Services) might be responsible for getting them to a family member safely if you cannot drive them there yourself. Show them where the phone is. Discuss your emergency plan with people upon whom you expect to rely for help. And, above all, remind them that they should always wear clean underwear and mind their manners.

Conversation with my nearly 6-year old son...

ME: You can't put the end of the snorkel tube under the water. Water will get in and you could choke on it.
HIM: Austin knows all about this and he said you can.
ME: Who do you think knows more...me or Austin?
HIM: (Pause for thinking) I don't know.

And he's not even a teenager yet!

When parenting on a military base, there are so many typically undesirable child rearing obstacles that appear every day. Knowing what to say when you first encounter such obstacles is often hard, so I've prepared a list of things you can say (and I have road tested) to manage some of the more common occurrences:

• Don't touch the razor wire by the playground. You could cut your fingers off.
• No, that gun is not a toy. No, I don't know where he got it.
• Look at the sniper practicing behind the preschool. No, he wouldn't really shoot if kids were there.
• Oh, you found bullet casings. Next to the school bus? Interesting.
• They are just practicing taking care of pretend wounded in the hospital parking lot. Look at those doctors run!
• Did you hear them say the word "exercise" before the gas attack? That means it is pretend. We only have the gas masks for the real attacks.
• Today we have to do a safety practice in case we need to leave the country in a hurry. It should be fun. Grab your gas mask and your suitcase. Don't forget your lovey. We'll have the neighbors feed the fish.
• We can't leave the BX until the man with the gun tells us it's OK.
• It's not polite to tell your friend that Daddy could bomb his house even if he is mean to you.
• Quick, ear plugs! Why are those U2s so darn loud?
• It's an AMRAM, not a SCUD.

As always, I hope this makes your job a little easier. We've got to help each other in this crazy world.