10 Things You Learn When You Have a Big Family

I have 6 children, a fact that lands like an atom bomb when routine small talk prompts the question "Do you have kids?" 

People usually respond in one of two ways: either they dust themselves off and change the subject like nothing ever happened, or they stammer something like "What... How?! I mean — I'm sorry, did you say SIX?"

I think they mean it as a compliment.

I think they also mean "What in the world is your life like? Because I certainly can't envision it, not even for a moment."

Drawing a family portrait on the driveway requires a full box of chalk and a nap.

And so for the folks who find themselves unable to string together the coherent question they probably want to ask, I'd like to share 10 things I've learned from parenting my large brood:

1. Some things just don't matter. Who cares if the baby wears pajamas all day, or whether those pajamas coincide with their gender? Who has time to argue with a toddler who wants to wear their pants backward or carry a potato around in public like it's a stuffed animal? Out of necessity, parents with a lot of kids have figured out what's ultimately not that important, and like Elsa, have let it go.

2. You can't actually die from repeating yourself a million times. Even if I say the same thing six times, I've still only told everyone once. (And for the record, the number of times my kids have remembered something the first time they're told is zero.) With a big family, you spend all day dispensing information on an infinite loop and someone still ends up going "WHAT?? WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME?!"

3. You've only got things figured out until you have a kid who proves you wrong. It's easy to luck out and have one or two kids with "easy" personalities, sleeping habits, eating preferences, or health profiles. But your likelihood of having these magical unicorn children decreases with every baby you have, and sooner or later you'll be forced to admit that your stellar parenting had less to do with it than you originally thought.

4. It's possible to raise a baby (or two or three) in a minivan. Once you have multiple big kids involved in multiple activities, you don't schedule around your little kid's naptimes. Their "crib" has a 5-point harness now, and naptime is whenever you're commuting from dance practice to play rehearsal and back to catch the last 30 minutes of the junior high basketball game.

5. Kids are more capable than you think. It surprised me the first time my 3-year-old crawled up on the counter and made himself a sandwich because I was busy. After that, I came to depend on it.

6. It's usually a phase. Most things that I worried about when my kids were little ended up resolving themselves without developing into lifelong problems. By all means, keep an eye on it if you notice something unusual about your kid — but don't freak out. They'll probably grow out of it.

7. Even if you look like you know what you're doing, you probably don't. By virtue of having 6 kids who aren't yet in juvenile prison, people honestly seem to believe I have it all together, saying things like "I don't know how you do it, I can barely handle my two!" Considering that I feel like a complete dumpster fire 95% of the time, their admiration may be a little misplaced.

8. If you can teach multiple teenagers to drive, you can do anything. You no longer fear death. In fact, you regularly stare it down as you get in the passenger's seat and unflinchingly hand the keys to someone you remember teaching how to use a spoon.

9. Teamwork makes the dream work. The disaster regularly produced by 8 people living together can best be expressed by a quote from the venerable Dr. Seuss: "This mess is so big and so deep and so tall, we cannot pick it up; there is no way at all." When I mobilize the troops, though, it's amazing how fast we can whip the place back into shape.

10.  It's all about the fighting-to-playing ratio. Big families spend a lot of time together, and it's a truth of life that kids who play together are also going to step on each others' toes. I think my kids get along really well, but that's not to say they don't also argue like they're going for an Olympic medal sometimes. (Side note: watching your kids play together is pure heaven on earth, and there's simply no love like sibling love.)

Whether you're seriously interested in my large family or just gawking like those drivers who slow down to check out accidents on the freeway, I hope this list is helpful. Now you can picture a little bit better what life is like in a big family!

(I didn't mention the laundry, but that's probably for the best. You don't want to know.)

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30 Things You Learn in 18 Years of Parenting

I've done it. I've sent my first child to college.

That means I've successfully kept alive, fed, and clothed a whole other human for 18 years. This is huge for me, as I can't even handle houseplants.

And just like I've done a few posts musing on the things I've learned after 10 years and 15 years of parenting, this seems like a good milestone year to write another chapter.

If Phillip and I look tired in this picture, it's because we are.

1. Never judge anyone's parenting whose kids are older than yours. You have no idea.

2. People will say you'll have more free time once your kids reach [insert stage of life here]. They're lying.

3. Big kids are every bit as messy as little ones. Actually, they're worse, because you can't even begin nagging them to clean up until after their 3,000 extra-curricular activities.

4. Kids will forget almost all the things you did with them when they were younger, but they'll remember your family traditions with a Norman Rockwell-like nostalgia.

5. Wait as long as you possibly can before giving your kids smartphones.

6. If you don't specifically ask them to take care of the the toilet paper tube on the bathroom counter, they'll just adapt and it becomes a permanent fixture of the house.

This is our overflowing cardboard recycling bin. And it's overflowing because a child flattened a cardboard box, laid it on top of the empty bin, and piled everything else on top of it for a week.

7. It's really humbling when your kids get old enough to realize you're not perfect.

8. Occasionally asking your children to make sacrifices or go without something they want is nothing to feel guilty about. In fact, it's critical to their well-being.

9. Sharing your favorite shows and movies with your kids when they're old enough is magical. 

10. Even the best teenagers are super-frustrating sometimes.

11. The car is a great place to initiate serious talks with your older kids: you don't have to make eye contact, and they can't escape.

12. Eventually, kids will choose their own interests and preferences. They're usually not what you would've chosen for them, and this is surprisingly hard.

One of our children decided her passion was horseback riding; we later discovered she was allergic to horses.

13. When teenagers inconvenience you by throwing things together at the last minute, it isn't because they're inconsiderate. They genuinely don't realize that everyone else in the whole world (except other teenagers) plans ahead.

14. Frankly, it doesn't matter very much what your style of parenting is, as long as it communicates to your kids that you love them.

15. Making a perfectly reasonable request in your calmest and most pleasant demeanor can still be interpreted by your child as "yelling at them."

16a. The saying "little kids, little problems; big kids, big problems" is absolutely true. 

16b. When you're the parent dealing with your big kid's big problems, you desperately need support that you're unable to get because it would breech your teen's privacy. Sorry. 

17. Appreciate the years when your kid goes to bed early and you're off-duty at 8 PM every night.

18. Be home for your big kids as much as possible. Even when they don't depend on you for their minute-to-minute physical survival anymore, they thrive on the stability of your presence. 

19. Kids love few things more than they love leaving every light in the house on.

20. When giving your older child guidance, never end a sentence with a period. Just ask questions until they arrive at the conclusion you hoped they'd reach, and hopefully they'll take their own advice.

21. Teach your kids life skills. For one thing, they actually start being helpful when they're older, and for another, they'll be ready to leave home one day without being overwhelmed by adulting.

Eight years later, this is finally paying off.

22. You will, because of your older kids' large statures and self-assured attitudes, forget that they're still just kids. But don't worry, they'll do something to remind you soon enough.

23. People aren't exaggerating when they say teenage boys smell and will eat everything in sight. If anything, they're understating it.

24. Moodiness is normal, but if you honestly think your teen dislikes you or is chronically disrespectful to your face, your relationship needs help. (Here's a fantastic book about that.)

25. It's really irritating to be the driver for someone who has earbuds shoved in their ears.

26. Older kids refuse to sleep with a flat sheet. No one knows why.

Younger ones will choose to sleep on the floor in between the wall and the perfectly serviceable bed you bought them.

27. Potty training a toddler is a carefree frolic through the meadow compared to teaching a teenager to drive.

28. Everyone starts out thinking they'll be a chill parent, but sooner or later, they'll be threatening to burn down the house if they find one more empty box in the pantry like the rest of us.

29. It doesn't matter what's in the fridge, your kids will look in it and declare that there's "no food." And then they'll leave the door open.

30. Parenting is easier if you don't take yourself too seriously.

The thing that becomes clearest as you raise a child to young adulthood is that actually, you know nothing. Just do the best you can and never stop trying. With any luck, one day you'll have grandchildren to enjoy while your kids go gray trying to figure this stuff out for themselves.

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Alphabetical Advice for Surviving the Teen Years

It's alarming when your child wakes up one morning 6 inches taller, capable of eating his/her own body weight in cereal and speaking a new language composed mainly of monosyllabic grunts. But don't worry, this condition is known as 'adolescence' and is completely temporary. 

You've cruised through many ages and stages before, but this one... well, take these ABCs of parenting teenagers, buckle up, and enjoy the ride. 

As much as you can, anyway, while you're sitting in the passenger seat stomping on an imaginary brake pedal. (An image which is both literal and metaphorical.)

A is for Asking. Giving orders is the adolescent equivalent of waving a red flag at a bull, so instead of saying "Go do your homework" you should play dumb and ask "So what's your plan for finishing your history project?" Even though it's 10:55 PM the night before it's due and there's clearly zero plan.

B is for Be available. But not, like, too available. Provide structure and direction, but also allow your teenager to experience failure at the same time. You won't always know when your teenager needs you to step back and when they need you to step in, but at least you can be reasonably sure you're doing it wrong.

C is for Cry. For goodness' sake, your baby is going to be leaving you in just a few years and IF I EVER AGAIN HEAR THAT SAD SONG FROM TOY STORY 2 IT WILL BE TOO SOON.

D is for Date nights. Say, do you remember that person you made your teenager with? You're about to be spending a lot more time alone together so this is probably a good time to check in and see how they've been doing for the last 10-15 years. 

E is for Eyerolls. Fifteen-year-old me had no idea that every time I rolled my eyes at my mother, she was dislocating her sockets right back at me after I turned around.

F is for Food. Teenagers love food. A great way to build goodwill with your teen is to show up, give them food for no reason, and back away without saying anything. Try to avoid doing anything embarrassing on the way out.

G is for God. You'll need to pray a lot at this time in your life. Trust me.

H is for Humor. If you have to remind/threaten/cajole teens to do something, do it with humor (i.e: "Come quick! It looks like there's been a struggle in the mudroom! Someone broke in and threw your shoes and school stuff all over the place!") If you do it right, they'll clean up while thinking you're a dork instead of a nag.

I is for Insurance premiums going up. If you thought driver's ed was expensive, you had no idea.

J is for Job. Not only is it good for teenagers to learn to earn, save, and manage their own money, it's also good for them to have an adult who isn't you telling them what to do for once. Seriously, let their manager at Burger King teach the life lessons and absorb the eyerolls for a few hours a week. It takes a village.

K is for Knock before entering their room.

L is for Lower your expectations. Your child doesn't have to be running a Fortune 500 company by age 35. In fact, if they're not in jail or still living at home when they're 35, you should be thrilled. It means you did a good job.

M is for Magnitude. Teenagers can be (and often are) delightful, but their problems are of a completely different order of magnitude from when they were little. You'll feel crushing self-doubt you never knew existed, and that's saying something because you were once in a new mom group on Facebook.

From 4BoysMother Melissa Fenton.

N is for Noticing the good stuff. It might not seem like it, but your teen needs positive reinforcement now just as much as they did when they were potty-training. Give lots of compliments, but always make your praise specific and sincere ("Your essay thesis was really insightful" vs. "You're so smart!") Even if you can't think of anything, at least they're not still peeing on the couch.

O is for Opinions. Teenagers love being sought out for their opinion on anything from current events to what shoes you should wear with your outfit. Ask what they think about a topic, any topic. It's even okay to disagree, as long as you're as polite about it as you would be to a friend with different views than you.

P is for Perfection. Don't expect it. Teenagers will fool you into thinking they're almost adults with their giant shoes and driver's licenses and mature stances on foreign policy, but it's a lie. They'll get the entire house sopping wet giving the dog a bath like they were 6 years old.

Q is for Quiet. When your gut reaction is to freak out, err on the side of silence. Toddlers and pets need immediate correction for bad behavior, but teenagers will be okay if a few hours or days go by while you think about how to respond.

R is for Respect. Talk to your teen like an adult you'd meet in polite society, and expect them to do the same for you. That means you can't scream "When are you going to get your #%$^ together?!" and if they criticize you in a mean way you should absolutely say "I don't like to be talked to like that" and leave. It goes both ways.

S is for Screaming into a pillow from time to time. Some things are best left unsaid, or at least muffled behind a closed door.

T is for Try not to take it personally when they come home from school grumpy, ask for help and then get mad at you for trying to help, then come alive for their friends with a million-watt smile. Although it feels pretty personal when someone you love more than life itself is twisting a dagger in your heart, it's weirdly not.

U is for Unconditional love. Don't forget to enjoy spending time with the marvelous person that towers over you but still calls you "Mom." Your teenager is pretty awesome — not because of their accomplishments or talents, but just because they're yours.

V is for Very scary. I once read it's actually a good thing if your teenager tells you scary things. I used to think that only meant confessing terrible misdeeds, but now I know it can mean anything from being honest about things kids their age are doing to confiding in you about a mental health issue you never saw coming. Hard to see that as a positive when what you really want to do is peel yourself out of your skin and run away, but you can try.

W is for Well, it's their life. Repeat that over and over to yourself: Well, it's their life. With a few important exceptions, you shouldn't be more invested in any given aspect of your teenager's life than s/he is.

X is for the Xtremes you'll go through. You can be actually sobbing with pride over some amazing accomplishment of your child, and not even 5 minutes later s/he will do something so dumb you can only shake your head and think, "That kid is never going to make it."

Y is for yelling. Yelling, like name-calling, is a good idea precisely never. (See 'R.')

Z is for Zillions. When the time finally comes for your teen to move out of the house, you'll realize with horror the zillions of things you're not sure you taught them. Do they know how to register to vote? Will they remember not to wash their red clothes with their whites? Have they got enough confidence to stand up for themselves when they need to? You'll panic over all these things and more, but luckily you've had a lot of practice biting your tongue over the last several years. Even if your child didn't have Google for all that, and even if you weren't permanently available on a consulting basis, things would still turn out okay. Hug your grown child tight and relax: you raised a young adult who's capable enough to figure it out. 

Probably.

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A Gallery Exhibition of Artwork by My Children

Welcome to FOUND ART! 

Found Art is a virtual exhibition highlighting work from six accomplished artists, ages 2 through 14, who I happen to have birthed and raised. 

The pieces in this collection employ a variety of materials and styles, but they are all what French-American sculptor and painter Marcel Duchamp called "found art." 

Found art challenges assumptions of what constitutes fine art, and the six artists featured in this exhibition love to do nothing more than challenge. 

As the head curator of this collection, I sincerely hope you enjoy viewing their work.

 

Wall Motif #1 

Wax crayon on drywall

Free-flowing circular lines evoke a feeling of urgency in this monochromatic work. The shades of green represent the regenerative power of art, while the concentric circles hint at the artist's relentless drive to create wherever and whenever the muse strikes.

Upon the Minivan Floor: A Meditation 

Mixed media

Half archaeological dig, half treatise on the chaos of domestic life, Meditation features a long line of child-centric debris that eventually disappears from view into the No Man's Land that is the minivan's third row of seats. Note the artist's deliberate use of multiples — jackets, water bottles, baby dolls — to highlight the excesses of modern childhood.

Across a Driveway 

Plastic on asphalt

The glee evoked by the vibrant reds and cool blues of the ride-on toys in this colorful panorama is offset by the unnatural stillness of the scene. A dramatic shadow hovers over half of the abandoned toys, symbolizing the yin and yang of existence and calling into question exactly who is going to drag them all back into the garage before it rains. 

Digital Art 2.0

Graphite on computer monitor

People have been creating computer generated art for decades, but what if you just drew directly on the monitor instead? This piece is a conversation about reimagining digital art as we know it — and as suggested by the visual imbalance of negative space in the top left corner, the dialogue remains unfinished.

Sunday Morning Breakfast 

2% milk on wood veneer table, upholstery, and hardwood

The artist has obviously served himself breakfast without assistance, as indicated by the Rorschach-like patterns created by the blobs of pasteurized milk dripping from the table and chair in the foreground. Thoughtful and enigmatic, this psychological work reminds viewers with children why they should never, ever sit down without looking first.

Discarded Clothing 

Poly-cotton blend, faux leather on floor

Liminal space represents an area of physical or metaphorical transition from one place to another. With iconic efficiency, the artist recreates the essence of liminal space by leaving 100% of her dirty clothing on the floor in a way that almost resembles a living body. One practically expects it to get up and walk to the dirty hamper of its own accord... but it never does.

Afternoon Snack 

Stick of butter in wax paper

It remains somewhat ambiguous whether the artist has (1) inexplicably started buttering toast from the middle of the stick, or (2) simply grabbed it with both hands and started devouring it like a salted ear of corn on the cob. Either way, undertones of anarchy are woven into this gritty visual narrative that breaks down some of our most basic social norms.

Home From School 

Backpacks, shoes, and coats in mudroom

This vignette of after-school pandemonium shows bookbags and outerwear flung haphazardly throughout the communal space nearest to the door. Upon closer examination, we can discern that each object was dropped precisely where the artist removed it from his/her person; absolutely no attempt was made to put anything away in its designated place.

A Kitchen Helper

Unbleached all-purpose flour on everything

With humor and whimsy, this piece analyzes the true cost of baking with children. Its composition leads the viewer's gaze from the broad flour strokes on the counter to the abstract splatter on the trash can, then down to the spectral handprints which suggest that our artist is at this very moment running through the house covered in flour.

The Changing of the Roll  

Charmin with repurposed toilet paper roll holder

Part of a recurring installation in our bathroom, this work pushes the boundaries between innovative genius and lazy slob. What really qualifies as changing the toilet paper, anyway? The nonsensical scene is reminiscent of surrealism, a 20th century artistic movement featuring the irrational juxtaposition of images such as this stupid toilet paper shelf we seem to have now.

A Bookshelf 

Bound paper (hardback and paperback)

In this bird's eye depiction of toddler life, the focal point is the empty second shelf that has been unburdened of all its books. After removing each volume at eye level and thrusting it aggressively to the floor, the artist has arranged it in the format of a seemingly random collage. 

Reflections 

Broken glass on tile

Reflections is an allegorical piece that discusses the existence of transcendental beauty in a broken world. Using reflected light and fragmented lines as a commentary on love and loss, this evocative work is the reason I still wear shoes whenever I walk around in this room.

Empty Cream Cheese Wrapper 

Tin foil in refrigerator

With photographic realism, this piece captures the rage-inducing moment yet another empty container is discovered in the refrigerator. It's simultaneously infuriating and perplexing: why would the artist bother walking across the kitchen to return the foil to the refrigerator instead of throwing it away? WHY?

—   —   —   —

For more information on the exhibition, its curator, or its contributing artists, please visit www.UnremarkableFiles.com or follow Unremarkable Files on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, or Pinterest.

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New Words We Need to Describe the Ridiculousness That Is Parenting

Soon after you give birth, adopt, or find a wicker basket on your doorstep containing a baby, you'll see that the English language is woefully inadequate to describe your life as a parent.

Parenting requires a bunch of new words to describe the ridiculousness that is raising a tiny human, and here are just a few of them that should be added to the dictionary immediately.

(Please keep this glossary in a safe place for your reference, which for most parents is a place they'll never again be able to find even though they sincerely believed they'd remember at the time.)

sass·tery  noun  What children mutter under their breath when a parent is done disciplining them.  I was almost out of the room when my son's sasstery reached my ears.

pe·dal·li·ance  noun  A delay caused by your child waiting until you're going out the door to inform you that his shoes are too small and/or have been lost for three days.  My son's pedalliance was upsetting, but unfortunately, not entirely out of character.

tween·o·ci·dal  adjective  How you feel when your 11-year-old rolls their eyes and says "I KNOW!" before you've even finished your sentence.  Rage-eating, rage-cleaning, or getting a puppy who can't talk back are a few ways parents deal with their tweenocidal feelings.

son de la mère  noun  When something comes out of your mouth your own mom would say. Origin: French; literally 'sound of the mother.'  The second I said "Just wait until your father gets home" I felt an overwhelming sense of son de la mère.

mac·ro·bib·li·o·pho·bi·a  noun  The deep-seated fear that your kid will pull out the long bedtime story to read.  My husband's severe macrobibliophobia was the reason for removing all the Dr. Seuss books from our toddler's bedroom.

re·fer·rupt  verb  When one of your kids butts in and attempts to correct or otherwise parent his/her siblings.  I'm the parent here, please stop referrupting your sister!

mi·si·o·logue  noun  Mentally cataloging your shortcomings as a mother, usually when you're supposed to be sleeping.  All the yelling I did today is sure to feature prominently in tonight's misiologue!

drudg·e·mo·ny  noun  The feeling you get when you're washing dishes and people keep walking by and putting dirty plates in the sink.  The drudgemony of it all is so strong, I could rinse these dishes with my tears.

gi·ga·sec  noun  The period of time, inversely proportional to how late you are, that it takes a small child to leave the house.  Macy is just zipping up her own jacket, be there in a gigasec!

dis·tro·per·i·ty  noun  Realizing you can't do fourth grade math.  Nothing increases your distroperity more than homeschooling your kid through a fractions unit.

kid·ver·sa·tion  noun  Conversation that keeps coming back to the children despite your best efforts to talk about literally anything else.  When you're married, date nights are mostly one long kidversation.

hy·per·spec·u·lance  noun  A grossly exaggerated watching behavior.  My daughter said "watch this" and I averted my eyes for .02 seconds, which fell short of her demand for hyperspeculance. 

pseu·do·com·pe·tence  noun  The appearance of having it all together, which is a complete and total lie.  From one mother to another, I'm as impressed at your pseudocompetence as you probably are at mine!

fil·tra·ture  noun  The belief that your funny-looking newborn is the most beautiful creature that ever existed.  Looking back at his baby pictures, our filtrature as new parents was pretty obvious.

gram·biv·il·a·tude  noun  When you're thankful for your parents' help babysitting but also frustrated that you'll have to retrain the kids because they're feral now.  When the kids came back from Grandma's overtired and high on sugar, a wave of grambivilatude washed over me.

trund·logged  adjective  Haggard from late-night trips to the store to buy supplies for school projects due the next day.  I always feel so trundlogged by the end of science fair season, I'm more over it than my kids are.

do·tir·a·cy  noun  Exhaustion-induced act of stupidity.  In my latest dotiracy, I emailed the principal about Mrs. Miller disciplining Maddie for saying "penis" in class and accidentally CC'd the entire school.

glit·ter·ine  adjective  Excessively sweet and over-the-top; describes the voice used by moms who are this close to losing it but desperately trying not to.  When my kids hear my glitterine voice, they have 5 minutes to start behaving before I drop them all off at the fire station.

o·le·cap·ti·phi·li·a  noun  The compulsion to sniff a baby's head.  Visiting my newborn niece, I suffered an intense bout of olecaptiphilia that didn't go away for hours.

pro·sol·i·fac·tion  noun  Looking forward to being alone after the kids' bedtime.  By 5 P.M., it's only sneaking chocolate chips from the pantry and prosolifaction keeping me going.  See also: parensomnia.

par·en·som·ni·a  noun  Being unwilling to go to sleep and forfeit your kid-free time, but also too tired to do anything particularly productive or enjoyable.  I've had parensomnia for so long, I look like a backup dancer from 'Thriller.'

dis·sum·bled  adjective  Disorientation caused by the first day of school after the kids have been crawling on your head every day of summer vacation.  With no one barging in on me in the bathroom for the first time in three months, September had me feeling pretty dissumbled.

eu·phor·i·fused  adjective  Puzzled and overjoyed at seeing a freshly replaced toilet paper roll in the bathroom that you had nothing to do with.  She was so euphorifused she thought she'd accidentally walked into the neighbor's bathroom instead of her own!

re·nume  verb  Calculating how much sleep you'll get if you fall asleep right now... or now... or now.  My math has really improved from all the renuming I do every night.

zy·go·cly·sm  noun  The result of siblings who join forces to create a super-mess.  No baby book warns you about the zygoclysm three kids can produce during a 20-minute shower.

ger·i·a·tray·al  noun  Realizing your teen heartthrobs look like grandpas now.  Seeing Luke Perry on the cover of AARP magazine was the ultimate geriatrayal.

suf·flight  noun  Something your child says or does that abruptly melts your heart when they've spent all day being exasperating.  Earlier today I was looking into the rules about selling children on Facebook Marketplace, but that sufflight changed my mind.

leth·id·ness  noun  The special dread reserved for parents visiting a port-a-potty with a young child who touches everything with wild abandon.  Preschooler in hand, I approached the biffy at the park with lethidness.

sen·si·bi·ate  verb  To envy another parent's practical items.  I once swore I'd never drive a minivan, and now I'm sensibiating over ones with more cargo space than mine.

night·ghast  noun  When you wake up at 2 A.M. and your kid is standing at your bedside staring at you.  A nightghast from my kindergartner has everything from the 'Halloween' franchise except a hockey mask.

con·flear  verb  To make accidental eye contact with a child.  The baby was almost asleep and then I confleared and broke the spell.

quest·il·it·y  noun  Infinite love for someone coupled with the need to hide from them in the moment.  No one's questility is greater than the parent of a 3-year-old who won't stop asking 'why.'

re·cip·ro·quence  noun  A punishment that is more painful for the parent than for the child.  Reciproquences like revoked screen time privileges are often given out by the parent who won't be around to deal with the fallout the next day.

sup·peal  verb  When your kid calls a sibling to dinner by standing right where they are and yelling the sibling's name right next to your ear.  I can suppeal as well as you can, so that's not what I meant by "go get your brother for dinner!"

so·lode  noun  A solo bathroom trip. As a stay-at-home mom, a solode every once in a while is like a vacation in the freaking Bahamas.

cog·ni·pe·di·a  noun  The feeling that you left a kid behind. We left in such a hurry no one noticed Claire wasn't with us, but we didn't get far before my cognipedia kicked in.

dis·rup·tar·ious  adjective  Causing concealed laughter; of or pertaining to child behavior that is bad but also hilarious.  It was disruptarious when Jackson looked at his elephant coloring page and told the preschool teacher he "didn't have time for this *%&#."

tra·vail  noun  Not a made-up word, but a repurposed collective noun for a group of moms.  A travail of mothers arrived at book club, so excited to be out of the house without kids it hardly mattered that none of them had read the book.  See also: laundering (of mothers.) Colloquial: hot mess (of moms.)

Just like the Eskimo have 42 words for snow, parents need their own specialized vocabulary to describe their unique experience. I hope this glossary gives us a place to start that conversation. 

As your children grow, your patience dwindles, and you slowly become a mix of your parents and a more tired, broke version of yourself, I sincerely hope these new words come in handy.

Feel free to comment below with the parenting phenomenon you think needs its own word!

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If Reality Shows Were Made for Parents

Why is every reality show about dating or wilderness survival? Talk about things that have zero relevance to my actual life.

The last date I can remember was that time my husband and I left the kids at home and took the old sofa from the basement to the dump.

What I'm saying is that the parent demographic is being sadly neglected. Networks, if really want ordinary moms and dads to become loyal viewers, please consider the following parenting-themed reality shows:

Just Desserts

Grandma and Grandpa think  they're having the kids over for the day, but after they've gotten them thoroughly sugared-up and spoiled they learn that Mom and Dad are actually out of town for the whole weekend! How will the grandparents deal with the hyperactive, overtired monsters they've created?

So Help Me

How long will it take the average high schooler to call for help escaping when locked in a room containing nothing but a rotary phone?

Mom Seeking Mom

In the style of The Bachelor, moms attempt to make new (platonic) connections at the park. You only have 'til naptime to trade contact information with another mom whose kids are similar ages and genders as yours — don't forget to watch out for decoys like nannies and babysitters!

Road Trip Survivor

Four families embark on a cross-country trek in their minivans, racing to arrive at their destination with the fewest potty stops along the way.

Get Up and Clean This Pigsty 

You may know him as the fiery-tempered host of Hell's Kitchen, but this time Gordon Ramsay is coming to a neighborhood near you to inspire unmotivated teenagers to clean their rooms!

Like Swiss Army Knives 

Faced with parenting situations from ridiculous to disastrous, moms need to manage the chaos with only one tool at their disposal: a package of baby wipes.

The '90s Were the Bomb

There's no crying in baseball! Help me help you! Ugh, as if! It's the game show where parents like you have 90 minutes to answer as many of their kids' questions as they can with '90s movie references!

Chopped: Toddler Edition

The cooking reality competition where moms invite judgmental people over to somehow create a nutritious meal out of the 3 foods their picky kid will eat!

Cops: Grocery Store Edition

How long could you last in a crowded grocery store with a hatless infant before a stranger tells you the baby is cold?

Short Story

With the clock ticking and their patience running thin, parents compete to see who can condense a child's bedtime story to as few words as possible without the kids noticing.

The Damage Report

If you loved The Price is Right when you were a kid, you're going to love The Damage Report. Contestants try to guess how much it will cost to repair or replace something their kid destroyed, and whoever gets closest without going over has it paid for by the show!


If any network added these shows to their lineup, moms across the country would be parked on the sofa in their stained sweatpants and three-day old messy buns to watch them.

Oh, and one more important note for the networks: air these shows after 8 PM, so we can bring out the good snacks we hide from the kids.

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Zoom Features I Wish I Could Apply to My Life

Before COVID-19, I had no idea how many things could be done virtually.

School, music lessons, church... my son's Gymnastic Ninja class has moved to Zoom, people.

I'll let that sink in.

At first I may have underestimated the power of Zoom, but now that I'm a believer here are 7 features of the videoconferencing app that I'd love to incorporate into my daily life:

1. Muting People

Nothing would revolutionize parenting more than the addition of a "mute participants" button. This is hands-down the #1 feature I would transfer from Zoom to my real life if I could.

Just think of it: no more stories about video games. No more plot summaries of animated movies that are longer than the actual movie.  No more made-up songs where 80% of the lyrics are the word "butt."

I'm getting a little teary-eyed just thinking about it.

2. Waiting Room

If life were a Zoom call and I was the host, I could send the participants to a waiting room until I was ready.

This would obviously be useful in a lot of situations, but probably most of all 5 AM when the kids are at my bedside trying to pry my eyelids open and asking for cereal.

I could also use a waiting room when they're literally lined up behind me waiting for help with tangled shoelaces, minor wounds, and errant mobile devices. Or when someone is going ballistic outside the bathroom door because I've been in there for 10 seconds and they need a cheese stick.

3. Change Your Background

Do you know what could really boost my morale when I'm hunched over the washing machine doing an infinity's worth of laundry? A change of scenery.

My neighbor sets her Zoom background to one of her latest vacation photos, and that sounds pretty good to me.

A white sand beach with some palm trees instead of a floor littered with sofa cushions and a pair of underwear someone tossed on the mantel three days ago would be a nice change of pace.

4. Turn Off Your Video

When I drop the kids off at school, fate ensures I don't see anyone on the mornings when I'm wearing real clothes and am reasonably well-groomed.

It's only when I look like Nick Nolte's mug shot that I have to get out of the car and end up trapped in a conversation about the upcoming PTA fundraiser.

What I wouldn't give for the "turn off video" option at moments like these. If I could've chosen for everyone not to see me looking like a bridge troll, I 100% would have.

5. Automatically Record a Meeting

In our family, we like to sit down with the kids for periodic family meetings. The meeting agenda goes like this: "Mom's about to lose her freaking mind and this is what you guys have to start doing ASAP unless you want me to drop you all off at the fire station."

The kids are contrite. Of course we'll start cleaning up after ourselves, Mother! Of course we'll help out more around the house! We had no idea we were causing you such distress. Never fear, our constant bickering will cease this instant! 

What I really need, though, is for those family meetings to be automatically recorded because 15 minutes later the kids have completely forgotten they ever happened.

6. Screen Sharing

During meetings with his coworkers, my husband finds it helpful to illustrate his points by sharing screenshots and diagrams. This is a feature I could really use with our kids, to be honest.

There are certain seemingly simple concepts that no amount of nagging, lecturing, or explaining can help them understand, like how to flush the toilet or stay seated in a chair during a meal. I think they need a visual.

Would it help if I could share an infographic on bathroom etiquette or the importance of not running around smearing peanut butter all over the house during lunch? I don't know for sure. But I'd love to be able to try.

7. Touch Up My Appearance

I recently learned there's a box on Zoom that says "touch up my appearance." When checked, it applies a skin-smoothing filter to your camera so you look better than you actually do.

I don't generally think of myself as a vain person, but I could totally use this feature in my real life. Especially during that postpartum period when you feel like a shapeless blob and have no time to sleep or shower. (FYI to new moms, this period lasts until your child is about 10 so you're in this for the long haul.)

—  —  —  —

Everything is done through videoconferencing these days, and now that my favorite Zoom features have become such a big part of my life, it's easy to see places where I'd love to incorporate them offline.

Is that realistic or even possible? I'm not sure, but after this whole Coronavirus lockdown one thing is for sure: I wouldn't be surprised by anything anymore.

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How to Turn 38

I'm going to be 38 years old on Friday, and let me tell you, I'm pretty excited.

If Pinterest has taught me anything, it's that doing something for the first time qualifies you to write a definitive how-to guide for the public. So I hope you all enjoy today's step-by-step tutorial on how to turn 38!

Step 1: Be born.

Step 2: Spend the next 3-5 years narrowly avoiding disaster. Attempt to eat inedible objects and fall off things whenever possible.

Step 3: Continue growing until your head is a reasonably proportionate size for your body.

Step 4: Become an awkward puberty-monster whose body is no longer correctly proportioned. Get embarrassed by everything. Giggle and/or cry for no reason.

Step 5: Know more than everyone, especially your parents.

Step 6: Graduate from high school. Or don't. A diploma will make your life easier, but the main thing here is to be alive at age 18.

Step 7: Become an adult. Sort of. You eat meals that require 3 minutes of prep time and sleep on a futon, but at least you can sign your own paperwork.

Step 8: Realize you know nothing and that your parents are actually quite wise.

Step 9: Wear your seat belt. Be generally responsible. Don't do dangerous things for a selfie. All these things result in a life expectancy equal to or greater than 38.

Step 10: Find someone you like and marry them. Like Step 4, this is purely optional, but it helps in that you start acquiring real furniture. This, in turn, heightens your sense of being an actual adult who could conceivably be old one day.

Step 11: Have children. Again, this is a matter of personal preference, but it helps pass the time. They say the days are long but the years are short.

Step 12: Spend your 30th birthday mourning the loss of your youth. Wallow in existential despair.

Step 13: Realize you were being melodramatic. Postpone further contemplation of your mortality.

Step 14: Learn life lessons.

Step 15: Amass wisdom.

Step 16: Pretend not to notice your skin losing its elasticity.

Step 17: If you have them, look at your teenage children and imagine the things you were doing at their age. Try not to imagine that anymore.

Step 18: Start to be interested in old people things, like orthotic insoles and birdwatching.

Step 19: Forget it's almost your 38th birthday until someone asks what gift you want. Request something practical*.

Step 20: Listen to your family sing 'Happy Birthday.' Blow out your candles. Eat cake.

That's it! Congratulations, you did it! You're 38.

*If you'd like to get me something for my birthday, please sign up for email updates when I post something new here on Unremarkable Files! It's the most practical gift of all and you'd make my day.

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