Strong brew for raising a brood

We all know that texting (or web surfing, or doing anything on social media) while parenting isn’t the brightest idea. It’s really best to keep your mind on your kids. And I know I’m not alone when I confess: I’m guilty, at times, of wanting to escape to the safe writing haven my computer,  or the social circle of my smartphone to get away from my kids. That’s not so good.

But those tech gadgets can totally come in handy, and help you be a better parent. For real.

My Boy Two is a strong, strong-willed child. He’s made great strides in the last year (and frankly, so have I) but he is still intense, built like a linebacker, and with tantrums to match his physique. The kind of tantrums that are visceral. The kind you can feel in your bones, make his face red, and my ears ring. His typical method is to thrust his face within a few inches of mine – and let me have it.

And it’s sometimes all I can do to not let him have it back.

In the past, I’ve hauled him up to his room, but I can’t do that so much anymore. It’s kind of hurting my body. (Did I mention he’s big?) Daddy and I have worked with him on his temper and his self-control, but there are some moments NOTHING makes it better. Some moments that any kind of interaction – a word, even a hug, makes it worse.

1. When your child angry, and ignoring him is the only option you have.

At those times, ignoring him is the best thing I can do. For him, and for me.

2. When you’re angry, and the best way to deflect your anger, is to concentrate on something else.

And the best way to do that, is to have something else for me to do. Right there – while he’s screaming at me.

So one day, I planted myself at my computer, and started getting work done. Another time, I put my feet up on the couch with my phone, and read emails. I scrolled through my Twitter feed, and found things to retweet on behalf of a client. I got a few meal ideas from Pinterest and clipped them onto my Evernote. I caught up on my friends’ Facebook statuses.

I felt guilty for about a minute. And then I didn’t.

3. When you still need to be in your child’s presence, to make sure he’s safe. 

I got focused on something else, and I knew he was safe and okay (because he was still screaming beside me), it worked. Not for him, at first. He went on for awhile. But it worked for me. I directed my attention to a world outside of my house. I stayed calme. And he eventually got calm.

And so then we could talk. And digress. And hug.

When your child has lost his temper, what keeps you from losing yours? 

Flickr photo by cogdogblog (Boy, how I wish I had a beach to see from my laptop. That would help me stay calm. I think.)

Sleep deprivation. Diaper changes. A shelf full of ridiculously-unhelpful parenting books. Spitup. Wails, screams, cries. Sibling rivalries, school fundraisers, sass.

Motherhood, parenthood, isn’t for the faint of heart, but it will make you feel lightheaded at times (kind of the opposite of the feeling you got when you first fell in love).

This raising kids thing is serious business, but not every minute has to be taken too seriously. A truth that, if not yet universally acknowledged, is acknowledged quite hilariously in Lela Davidson’s book of essays, Blacklisted from the PTA.

So go ahead and laugh it up.

When you’re toddler is throwing a tantrum—along a few pairs of sneakers—in the local shoe store, comfort yourself with the truth that you are allowed to have a mommy meltdown.

Lela did, and she’s not ashamed to admit it.

When you’re exhausted and secretly want (just for a day), the be the parent who puts her feet up and lets the kids fend for themselves while grazing on pantry food, remember that Lela introduced her kids to the wonders of The Delivered Pizza—and Pop Tarts.

Lela opens up the humorous family scenarios from her own life, baring more than just a great pair of legs in a shopping cart. She offers up her soul—admitting a love affair with disposable diapers, and demonstrating disdain for Barbie dolls dressed like, um, ladies of the night.

She admits to using a housekeeper (ah ha!), and even makes date night at Sam’s Club look good.

So laugh. And if you can’t laugh at your own manic motherhood moments, go ahead and laugh at hers.

Laugh because it might keep an ugly situation from getting worse.

Laugh because it’s healthy, because it’s better than getting mad, it melts stress, and opens your eyes to the joys and outrageous miracles our children are.

Laugh because on some days, it is the only thing that will Keep. You. Sane.

So get a copy of Blacklisted, and store it on the shelf with all those other parenting books. Fair warning: once you start reading, you’ll be hooked.

When you realize an hour has passed, and you haven’t checked on the children, go check the pantry.

Lela is celebrating Blacklisted from the PTA’s first birthday! And so am I.  I’m giving away a copy of her book to one of my friends/blog readers/fellow parents. For a chance to win a personalized copy, comment here and tell me the kinds of thing that really makes you laugh—the totally all-consuming, de-stressing kind of laughter (whether or not it has anything to do with your kids).

Leave your comment by Saturday, August 4, at midnight CST. I’ll choose a random winner (U.S. only, please), and Lela will ship out a book to you the second week of August.

If you don’t win, don’t worry. You can purchase your own copy of Blacklisted in paperback, or get all techy and download it on Kindle.

And for more laughs, follow Lela on Twitter, and find her on Facebook.  She’s everybody’s friend. 

Remember all of those cool things you learned how to make with paper back in the day? You know, during inside recess and waiting on the end-of-school bell to ring?

I do.

This week, on spring break, my husband and I reached a new level of cool with our kids. (I’m not sure how cool we were to them before).

I showed my children how to make a fortune teller –  the paper things we made in school to find out who we liked and what we were going to be when we grew up. We did some together.

Boy One thought my skills were like, “AWESOME” (a word that he has used prolifically since starting Kindergarten). Of course my sons are very young, and I haven’t yet lost my ability to be awesome  in their eyes.

I drew eyes on the paper creations and called them puppets.

They drew teeth, and called them monsters.

At some point, the contraptions became fighter-thingys and they all went running around the house.  Good times.

The next day, Daddy made paper airplanes. Even more awesome.

Never knew those skills I learned from peers in elementary school would come in so handy for future kid entertainment. It’s a really fun (dare I say awesome) thing to watch my children enamored with skills we learned as children.

The fortune tellers I made never revealed that.

flickr photo by vivekkhurana