Six Simple Steps for Never Spending a Cent in Disney World Again!

Disney World is known as the "happiest place on earth." And that's lovely, and all, but I imagine it's only the happiest place on earth if going there doesn't force you into foreclosure and untold debt. Sure, wearing sparkly Mickey ears and watching magical light parades and fireworks may be fun in the moment, but not when you end up having to pawn those Mickey ears in order to feed your now poverty-stricken family. Obviously, for many people, simple financial planning, a system of saving, and a little penny pinching here and there will go a long way to getting you on the Disney vacation of their dreams. Or maybe you already have boatloads of cash. Good for you! Get that week-long package deal with first class plane tickets, deluxe resort accommodations, high-end champagne and caviar dining packages, and a cadre of Disney-themed servant monkeys, or whatever it is you wealthy people do on vacation.

Watching the balloon go up and down. This
is free, so pretend it is fun.

But the rest of us still seek the silver bullet of going to Orlando on the cheap, and my friends, I have found it. My family went to Orlando this past week. We were less than 10 minutes away from the happiest place on earth. Our children emerged happy and delighted at the outcome of our vacation.

And we didn't spend a single cent on theme park tickets.

Yup. Not a cent. And I'll tell you our magical secret.

We have our children convinced that they do not want to go.

That's right. We have two little girls who grew up on a steady diet of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and Disney Princesses who have no desire to go to Disney World. These children, who treat the movie Frozen like it's their religion, did not once beg us to allow them access to the Magic Kingdom. How? Well, we're just about the smartest parents ever, that's how. And now I will share our trick with you.

1) Raise children with low tolerance for extreme temperatures, especially heat. Live in a place like Michigan. Experience a polar vortex or two. Your children will feel confused and betrayed by extreme heat. Sweat will terrify them. They will be convinced that they need to either go inside or die immediately. Encourage this. It will pay off later.

Convince your kids that when the sign says
that Disney World is "Where Dreams Come True,"
what it actually means by "dreams" is sweat-soaked,
agoraphobic nightmares. 

2) Create impatient children. In the age of technology and immediate gratification, this shouldn't be too hard. But just to be sure, make sure at least you or your spouse has an impatient temperament. You're sure to pass of this genetic predisposition to at least one of your children. I have enough impatience for the whole Morton clan, but the Anarchist also got her fair share.

3) Raise lazy children who hate moving around. I suggest video games and television, but you do whatever works for you and your family.

4) When you first enter the Orlando area, walk a long time and wait in a long line for something relatively boring.

5) When your dear offspring complain about how awful and unbearable the heat is, and how they're probably going to die from all the walking and standing, and how they are entitled to somehow never, ever have to wait in lines, say this:

"I don't think you'd like Disney World very much, then. The lines are even longer than this, you have to walk everywhere, and it's SO HOT."

TIP: Don't mention the various forms of transportation, Fast Pass access, or indoor attractions at Disney. What they don't know won't hurt them.

6) Pray that your child responds like my Dictator did:

"Yeah. You're right. That sounds awful. I don't think I would like Disney World very much. Maybe when I'm older."

And then just take advantage of your hotel pool, which my kids claimed was the most fun thing they'd ever done in their lives. Yup.  Free swimming. I am like, the most brilliant cheapskate mom, ever.

Have a "character meet and greet" with the
Seven Dwarfs (statues outside of the Lego Store).
Or maybe pretend this is a sort of mine ride. Have
your kids jump up and down to simulate the
vertical motion of a roller coaster. Neato.

"But why on earth would you go to Orlando, if you weren't going to a theme park?" you ask. Well, our family went for a dance convention. I don't know why you would do such a thing, it sounds kind of insane to me, but if you find yourself stuck in Orlando with no money (maybe you're there for the National Kung Fu Convention? No. For real, they have those*), I really think you should try convincing your kids that they would hate Disney World.

Mine sure hate it. And they've never even been there. But I'll tell you one more thing, when I finally get a big-kid job, my first order of business is to plan the most funnest of all times Disney World vacations. Because I know how magical it is, and I so badly want a pair of those sparkly Mickey ears. And maybe I'll even splurge on some servant monkeys.



BACKUP PLAN: If your kids are very young, or very naive, maybe you can convince them that Downtown Disney is a theme park. Buy them some mouse ears, stand around watching the hot air balloon go up and down, maybe splurge on a carousel ride, and have lunch at a themed restaurant. We went to T-Rex and had a great time. We probably could have convinced the kids that it was "Prehistoric Land" or something, but that just didn't seem honest. And we're nothing if not honest.

The Dictator and I enjoy a meal
at what shall henceforth be known as
"Prehistoric Land," the newest (fake)
Disney theme park.

*The ambulance was at our hotel multiple times. I'm convinced that this was because people were Kung Fu-ing each other to death. They carry around real live weapons! In a resort! Hard core.

How To Be The Bestest Dance Mom EVER

By now, you've all at least heard of the TV reality show about dance moms, with its horrifically insulting teacher and its pushy, emotional dance moms. If you have little dancers at home, you might have also noticed the dance world's response to this portrayal of dance studios, dancers, and their parents. "Real dance moms aren't anything like that!" insist the rest of us. This horrible show is giving real, supportive, nurturing parents who happen to be raising little dancers a bad name.

"Oh, Mom! You're so
calm and stress-free!"
says the Dictator, never.

As someone who has just emerged from almost a week surrounded by exclusively dance moms, I can promise you that this is true. The vast majority of dance moms are kind, mature, supportive, friendly, helpful, and not too aggressively obsessed with their sons' or daughters' dance skills, scores, or status. But, as someone who has just emerged from almost a week surrounded by exclusively dance moms, I can also promise you that a tiny, little, minuscule bit of icky, bad, nasty dance mom probably exists somewhere in the darkest, most shadowy recesses of most of us, just waiting to claw its unwelcome self out at our most vulnerable, stress-filled moments.* These are the moments when we can point to the exploitative reality show and say, with great relief, "Well, at least I'm not as bad as those dance moms."

Nevertheless, most of us would prefer that this ugly dance-mom demon never once rears its ugly head. The trick, of course is to remain invulnerable and utterly stress-free. Which, of course, is like, the easiest thing in the world for yours truly. Having achieved a constant Zen-like state of meditative calm, and a transcendent selflessness that allows me to feel nothing but good thoughts for all of humanity, pretty much all of the time, especially in traffic, I am clearly the one to provide sage wisdom to all other dance moms. Especially when you consider my whopping three whole years of navigating the competitive dance world. Yeah. I'm your guy. Prepare to be blown away, people. I am here to de-Dance Mom-ify you us. You're welcome.*

1) Be kind to everyone. The dance moms on TV are really only nice to each other when they want something. Which isn't very nice at all. When we spend so much time with the same people under stressful conditions, sometimes the stressed-out unkindness wants to slip out, whether it be to the little hooligan who just body-slammed your precious ballerina, the other dance mom who wants to remind you about how fantastic her child is, or the teacher who doesn't seem to be giving your kid adequate attention. But I've found I regret about 99% of the unkindness that I have ever let slip. Because little hooligan body-slammer might very well have been provoked by precious ballerina, other braggy dance mom is probably just relieved, proud, and excited (which is wonderful, right?), and how the heck do I know how much attention my kid is/isn't getting (unless I'm peering sideways through the slats of the blinds on the dance room, which I'm totally not...I swear)? Plus, if there's one thing this world needs more of, it's kindness. And also narwhals. The world needs more of those, too.

The Bureaucrat:
an awe-inspiring dance dad.

2) Be like the dance dads. There are so many amazing dance dads out there. We have one at our studio who keeps bobby pins in his wallet. I can only aspire to be like him. The best thing about dance dads (besides their awe-inspiring dads' dances) is that they are always there when their kids need them, and completely out of the way when they don't. They don't hover, fuss, worry, stress, complain, push, give helpful dance advice, direct the teachers, or take things personally. Now hovering, fussing, worrying, stressing, and the like are inherent to who we moms are. We can't help it. We just care so much. But maybe we can tone it down a bit. Because if there's one piece of advice that my darling Dictator gave me over the weekend that I can share with you all it's, "Mo-om! I know! Just go away!"

"Great, Dictator! Now hold your head up.
Realign those hips. Pull that leg up. Smile!
No! Don't roll your eyes...how am I going to
get an impressive picture if you're rolling your
eyes? NO! Don't walk away in a huff!
I'm not done yet! I need to post this picture
on social media to get a thousand likes and
boost my self-esteem! Dictator! Come back!"

3) It's not about you. It's about them. We dance moms love to say this, "It's not about us. It's about them. We're here for the kids." But let's be realistic, it's at least a little bit about us. We mostly say this to make it true through the saying of it, like a mantra. We so badly want it to be true, but if we are being realistic, we are spending bajillions of dollars on dance/costumes/competitions/make-up/shoes. This is an investment. And we want it to be worth it. It's not unfair that we have some personal stake in how hard our kids work, how much fun they have, and whether or not they succeed. Also, we care about our children so much that we often identify with them. This is super maternal of us, and is therefore okay and natural...mostly.

The problem is, it's hard for us to step back, draw a neat line at a rational point between where our interests end and theirs begin. We tend to get all bound up, not only in their successes, but their status, their social lives, and the million other things that
happen when we start living vicariously through our children. For example, I need to stop caring about if the other moms like me. It doesn't matter. I'm there for the Dictator. (But maybe I can make them all like me, anyway? That would be so pleasant....I'm very nice. And also maybe if the Dictator could just push herself a little harder and get her splits. And honestly, why does she keep sickling her foot? Dear heavens, what is that about?!  But it's not about me. It's about her. Obviously.)

The Dictator puts on the
shoes I totally remembered to
pack for recital. Stand in awe of
my remembery-ness.

4) Never forget anything. Ever. Not a single bobby pin, not a can of hairspray, not one pair of tights, not a sparkly hairpiece. Nothing. Ever. Not even if you have ten billion costumes and no organizational method aside from a series of plastic baggies and a giant plastic bin (it works, I swear!). Not even then. Super easy. You can totally do it.

5) If you fail to execute tip number 4, please see tip number 1. Hopefully, you have flawlessly executed tip number 1, so that you have created a culture of kindness in which there are numerous lovely souls from whom you can beg/borrow/steal that extra safety pin/mascara. If both tip number 4 and tip number 1 have proven themselves problematic, please see tip number 2. Find the nearest dance dad and send him to the drugstore for some mascara ASAP.

6) Be a model of good performance etiquette. Lead by example.

I'm still adjusting from a strict upbringing of hyper-sophisticated performance etiquette regulations: Don't cough. Don't rustle your program. Don't breathe. Don't. Move. A. Muscle. I do really well in super-serious opera houses, orchestra halls, and the like. I get really upset when ignorant Aunt Mable unwraps her cough drop mid-pas-de-deux.

But I gather that performance etiquette is a bit difference for twelve-hour competitions than it is for real performances. For example, people get up and down, necessarily talk a bit, and occasionally have to check phones for important messages. But this doesn't mean we get to turn into thoughtless idiots. Try not to stand in front of the people behind you for any extended period of time. Clap like a crazy person for every number, even the ones you don't love. Don't shove small children over in an effort to get backstage to help with a costume quick change. Things like that. It's for the good of humanity, I promise. (And I hereby vow not to let the Anarchist make cat noises that are too, too loud during your daughter's quiet and intense lyrical solo...at least, I'll try.)

"Mo-om! I know! Just go away!!"

7) It's not their fault. It's not your fault that I didn't organize my costume pieces adequately and am now missing one zebra print glove. It's not the Dictator's fault that I average four hours of sleep a night, and am now so irritable that the sound of her hair rustling against her neck fills me with rage. And it's no one's fault but my own that I didn't get up early enough to drink my cup of coffee before I left the house for the competition, and now I have a half-filled travel cup of Starbucks, a withdrawal headache, and a brand new coffee stain on the Dictator's sparkly costume. So why am I curt to the nearest innocent bystanders, angry with the Dictator, and complaining bitterly about the person who scheduled her group to dance so early? Because I love scapegoats, that's why. And I suspect that I'm not the only one. So if I accidentally whip a bottle of hair gel at your face in a fit of fury, please know that it's not your fault...and that I'm working on it.

8) Appreciate the dance teachers. Getting one precious child ready stresses me out. Teachers are responsible for multiple dancing people. The hyper ones, the moody ones, the daydreamy ones, the bossy ones, the shy ones. All of the little dancing people. Also, they have deal with all of the dancing people's parents. The hyper ones, the moody ones, the daydreamy ones, the bossy ones, the shy ones...you get the idea. These teachers are saints, I think. Appreciate them, because one day they will see more of your children than you do.

9) Adopt some extreme meditative practice/spiritual discipline that will allow you to transcend/banish all of your stress/fear/tension so that you can achieve the spiritual state of Dance Mom Yogi or somesuch.  That will make all of these other tips happen so easily. You will be able to remember hairnets, say kind things to other people while under extreme duress, give your dancer his/her space without concern for the security of his/her costume, get through the day without so much as a cup of tutu-destroying coffee, etc. Actually, don't do that. If you are that good at being a dance mom, it will be a little creepy. And then we will have a really hard time not being afraid of you. And then you will have caused us to fail at tip number 1. And then you will not be a team player. And you want to be a team player, don't you?

I love mine, too! I haven't even
forced them into indentured servitude, or
fed them questionable apples. Score!

10) Love your dancer. Hooray! Something we already do (unless you are an evil Disney villain stepmother, in which case, maybe this is the tip you can really focus on). And of course, recognize that every other dance mom loves her dancer, too. It just might look a little bit different. Some will be more intense than you. Others will be less intense. Some more organized or on-time. Some less. Some will seem more critical. Others will seem cheerfully oblivious. But, unless you see a dance mom offering her precious dancer a poisoned apple, or making her scrub the floors while wearing rags and singing to rats and birds, it's probably safe to assume that she loves her dancer just as much as you love yours. And so now we can all just link arms and sing Kumbaya and be nothing like those dance moms on TV.

Unless you forgot your bobby pins. Because then you just ruined the whole competition for everyone. And I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to throw a shrill, screaming fit. Probably while weeping. Because that's extra dramatic. And maybe I'll whip a bottle of hair gel at your face. Just for effect. And then maybe they'll put my dramatic self on TV. And I'll be a star! But it's not about me. It's about my dancer. Obviously.**

*For moms, a moment or two of human weakness and irritability is totally normal and nothing to be alarmed about. However, if you ever notice any of your child's dance teachers regularly behaving in the manner of reality show dance teacher, She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named...flee! There are so many good dance teachers out there who are kind and respect their students. Find the nearest one and hand your child over. It's for the good of your dancer the universe. 

**I also neglected to mention the very important tip: have boatloads of money. Even if you have a nice dance studio that keeps costs low (like ours does) boatloads of money are still useful when it comes to paying for costumes, competition entries, pictures, workshops, t-shirts, shoes, tights, makeup, solos, programs, the endless snacks your ravenous dancer will want to consume, crystal-encrusted hairbows, hairspray, etc. If you don't have boatloads of money, become an enthusiastic fundraiser. So far, I have failed at both having boatloads of money and fundraising boatloads of money. I mean, I was an English major, so this is to be expected. Nevertheless, I urge other dance moms out there to do what I cannot, and be super-filthy-rich. Maybe have a yacht or something. It will make you better at this, I promise. Or else really love selling cookie dough door-to-door. I hear that works, too.

A Morton Family Guide to Navigating the Windy City with (Violently Ill) Children

It's the dead of summer. The children have cabin fever. You just want to get out. Everyone and their mom is heading "Up North" for a fun family weekend of clean, crisp air, towering pine trees, immaculate Great Lakes beaches, and wholesome, natural relaxation. So obviously, you don't want to do that. You would be such a follower. "Pure Michigan?" Psssht, whatever. Who needs Gwen Frostic, Petoskey Stones and Mackinac Island fudge (both kinds), when you can have feces-scented trains, endless walking and crowds of rabid museum goers? That's right, folks. I'm talking about Chicago. I know, I know. You've done Chicago before. You've taken the kids to see Sue at the Field Museum, snapped touristy photos at Millennium Park and drained next month's mortgage payment at the American Girl Place. Chicago's old news. So why not spice things up a bit? Why not go to Chicago, but this time do it up right.  This time, why not opt for a fully immersive urban experience and bring along a violently ill child? Like, I'm talking nastiest stomach virus ever. As in, coming out both ends...with reckless abandon. Take that American Girl Place!

A picturesque place to bring the
entire (sick) family.

 Naturally, the Morton's have experience with just such a vacations, so we've prepared a handful of helpful tips to help you to make the most of your family weekend (with a violently ill child) in Chicago. You're welcome.

1. Stay in the suburbs. You can get a fantastic hotel in Schaumburg for about a third of the price of a similar hotel in the city. Not only will you avoid the crowds, but your child will have plenty of commute time into the city in which to work up a really nice bout of nausea. Choose a hotel with a terrible view (ours was of the IKEA). That way, you won't be reminded of all the fun you aren't having. Bonus: you can use all the money you save to pay for your subsequent doctor's bills. 

The Anarchist and the Dictator enjoy
our room with a view...of IKEA.

2. Choose a hotel with the right amenities. If your child is violently ill, she probably won't give a hoot about the heated, saltwater indoor pool (but that might be a fun way to spread that nasty little virus). You will, however find that she has a new-found concern for the softness of her pillows, the availability of complementary plastic laundry bags, the presence of a mini-fridge in which to store the electrolyte water, and access to child-friendly cable channels (although we found that the Weather Channel was okay in a pinch). You will be glad you chose a hotel with a coffee shop and a bar onsite. The Bureaucrat had a fun little run-in with a particularly chatty drunk man in our swanky hotel bar one night while the rest of us slept like (sick little) babies. Nothing like meeting new people to keep vacations fresh!

3. Take advantage of public transportation. Why risk getting vomit all over your own car when you can take the train into town? The combination of fecal-scented seats and lurching/swaying cars is sure to churn your child's already fragile stomach. Let her work it out on the Blue Line and not in your second-hand Saturn. They have people to clean that up, right?

On the train, keep your kids entertained with a rousing game of
"Don't Lose Your Lunch"

4. Take a stroll. Chicago neighborhoods are full of tons of culture. Bust out your running shoes and take to the streets to immerse yourself in all the sights, sounds, and smells of the city. Try getting off the train a few stops before the one closest to your destination. That way you can explore local parks and landmarks really over-exert your weak and nauseated child. Try a photo op at Millennium Park with your ailing family member, and then work up a sweat yourself as you haul your hot, whining child a bajillion and one blocks and up a massive flight of stairs to the Field Museum. Just be sure to save money for physical therapy when you get home! You're going to need it.

5. Be mindful of the time-change. (And then promptly ignore it). If you're a Michigander, you're in for a time-change when you head to Illinois. We found that our children tended to wear out quickly near the end of the day and needed to recharge a lot sooner, especially since the Dictator was so unwell. We handled this situation beautifully by heading to dinner especially late. We recommend you do the same. Choose a nice deep-dish pizza joint for authentic pie and be prepared for a substantial wait as your pizza bakes--about 45 minutes. Don't bother ordering for your kids. They'll fall asleep on the table before the server brings that second round of garlic bread...which is perfect. After all, kids are expensive, and the sick one shouldn't be eating anyway. Plus, you've just bought yourself an entire two hours of blessed whine-free adult conversation time...and a whole extra basket of garlic bread.

6. Hit up the mall. Yes. That mall. The one with the American Girl Place that will eat your soul, your life-savings (if you have any), and your parental dignity. Because otherwise, you don't love your children. Be advised that your sick child will not seem to appreciate this trip nearly as much as she should. Note her ashen-faced blank stare as her doll's hair is detangled for an exorbitant fee, the unresponsive stance she takes as she forces you to buy that stuffed pet cat that costs more than a real, live, prize-winning pure bred Persian. Understand that she can't help her lack of gratitude. She is violently ill, after all. Just know that she really is thankful. And that she's well-aware of how well her sickly state is working in her favor. Poor baby, you think to yourself as you write a check that could have covered her private college tuition, maybe this hundred dollar plastic replica of a chunk of cheese will cheer her up. No? Still frowning? Poor baby. I know, have a five-hundred-dollar photo shoot with your doll. Your pretty green face and glazed-over eyes really capture the spirit of our trip!

Even sick kids will smile when you buy
them their weight in fancy toys.

7. Bring friends. What's the fun of a violently ill vacation if you can't share it with friends? Be sure they're childless. That way, they'll get an exciting glimpse into all the fun of traveling with sick kids, and you'll have a couple extra sets of helping hands to carry vomit-soaked children, dispose of barf-bags and babysit while you and the spouse sneak out to the indoor, heated, saltwater pool or to the skeazy hotel bar full of chatty drunk guys. We didn't take nearly enough advantage of our childless vacation friends. Maybe because they were smart enough to make themselves scarce as soon as we let them know that we had desecrated the museum with nasty chunks of kid puke.

What you will have to do if you don't
make your childless friends carry
your kids for you.

8. Get an education. Chicago is full of fantastic cultural opportunities. From aquariums to planetariums, there are any number of exciting places for your children to learn and vomit. Don't expect to get to them all. Sick kids have a surprising lack of stamina. Instead select your favorite one or two museums and really take time to take in the best exhibits. Don't save the best for last, otherwise you might never make it. Chances are, you'll get asked to leave once your kid manages to be sick all over the Ancient Egypt exhibit. 

The Anarchist recommends the jade
exhibit. She likes jade an unreasonable
amount. Like, we had to physically carry
her out of that place.

9. Make time for photo ops. You'll want to treasure the memories of your adventurous time in the city. Wouldn't Sue the Dinosaur look extra special covered in a layer of your kiddo's projectile vomit? That would be a backdrop to remember! Or find a nice piece of fine art at the Art Institute of Chicago with a color scheme that really complements your child's sickly green complexion. Or why not try documenting the places where you spent most of your time on your trip, like the museum bathrooms, for example? This will make for unique and memorable photos of your family time together.

The Dictator got sick right next to the narwhal exhibit. 

10. Be social. There's nothing people in the city like more than knowing that they are trapped in close proximity to an incredibly nauseated child. Be sure to communicate. We found that our museum/hotel elevator-mates were very responsive to the Anarchist's joyful announcement that, "The Dictator is really sick, but we won't get it unless we touch her throw-up, right?" Really responsive.

11. Make it your own. Every family (of sick people) is different. And every family vacation (with sick kids) should be different. Tailor your family vacation to your sick family. Maybe you want to take your little sicko swimming. That's okay. That's what chlorine is for, right?  Or maybe the American Girl Place just isn't for you. Don't worry. I'm sure your sick child can guilt you into spending unreasonable amounts of money at the Lego Store or any number of other fun locations. Not interested in Millennium Park? What about a nice trip to Navy Pier to ride that giant Ferris Wheel. I wonder what would happen if vomit fell from the top of that thing...d'ya think it would fall with enough velocity to kill someone? Why not find out? And no one says you're restricted to the Field Museum or the Art Institute. I hear that Shedd Aquarium is a very nice place to have lunch lose your lunch. The possibilities are endless. Go out there and create the family vacation that's right for you and your queasy offspring. You won't regret it.*

*Or maybe you will.**

**Yeah. You totally will.***

***But not because of Chicago. Chicago is awesome. I love that place. Even the trains. I love the trains. You'll regret it because sick kids make terrible travel companions. I mean, they're just awful. Plus they're heavy. And they're miserable. And they don't like it when you have to throw out their favorite cardigans at the museum because the cardigans are covered in vomit and you have nothing to carry them home on the train in. They really hate that. Poor things.****

****Also, it turns out the healthy siblings aren't that much fun either. As in, "you don't like me as much as you like her because you're cleaning up her vomit instead of doting on me so I'm actually jealous of her vomit and now refuse to enjoy any part of this vacation" unfun.*****

*****On second thought, just find someone to watch your kids and spend a romantic weekend alone. Just avoid that chatty guy at the hotel bar. He will totally compromise your whole evening. Seriously.

Parenting Tip of the Week: the TV is your friend

Tip #2: Learn to Love the Television

If you're a mom you've heard this from someone, somewhere, perhaps even from lots of people everywhere.  It's the lie we all tell (for real, they did a study): "My kids rarely watch TV."  Maybe you've been the one saying it.  We all like to pretend that our kids watch less TV than they do, or if there's no hope of truly hiding the amount they watch, we like to pretend that we're sincerely worried about their television watching habits.  Admit it, you've done it.

Now, I'm willing to believe there are a few people here and there--the same people that religiously wear their children, make homemade organic baby food from vegetables they grew especially for the purpose, only let their children play with wooden handmade toys, and piped Mozart into their wombs for 9 straight months--who don't actually let their children watch television.  If you are one of these people, kudos to you.  Really.  I'm very impressed.  Your children are going to have lots of brain cells when they grow up.  But can I please let you know that you're missing out on the many benefits that endless hours of television can provide for you and your children?

The Anarchist and the Dictator spend a special day at Aunt Nennie's work entranced by a kids show on the computer screen.  Never mind the fair going on outside with the bouncers, popcorn, bubbles and face-painting.  (To be fair, it was like, 90 degrees out, and they were avoiding sunstroke.  See?  Sometimes TV/TV-alternatives can be useful!)

Benefits of TV Watching

They'll stop moving around so much*

Most of you have already figured this one out.  Sick of tiny whirlwinds of destruction turning your house into a black hole of chaos?  Turn on the TV.  They will sit entranced like happy zombies.  Boo-Ya.  Problem solved.  You're welcome.

You will survive the first 4 months of having a colicky baby

Okay, so even I am sickened by the idea of television for infants.  Confession: we were actually those natural toys/baby wearing/TV-not-having people for a while.  Our TV was hidden in the deep recesses of our home and we pretended to like it that way.  After all, we didn't want it corrupting our precious and fragile gift from heaven.  But it turned out our precious and fragile gift from heaven never slept.  EVER.  And at 4 am it can get very lonely when it's just you and a fitful, screaming Dictator.  So we dragged out the TV, turned it on and tried to stay awake and sane.  Much to our surprise, the glowing blue box seemed to calm the Dictator enough that she would actually sleep for entire 20 minute stretches.  We were sold.   

They'll kill a few braincells

This sounds just awful, but if you've ever met our Dictator, or if you have a child like her, you'll understand.  Some children actually need less brain cells.  That way, even though they are bent on world domination, there's a small chance they might not have the brainpower to follow through on their diabolical plans.  This is a good thing for both your child and the world.** (Note: if your child is neither hyper-neurotic, nor bent on world domination, killing braincells might actually be a bad thing).

They might even learn to read

The Dictator picked up a book in the library one day after 3-Year-Old Story Time and just started to read.  She's been reading ever since.  I'm not saying that it was the steady diet of PBS kids she grew up on, but what I will say is, "Thank you 'Super Readers.'"

 You will get to groom yourself

Are those unintentional dreadlocks you're sporting?  Yeah.  I thought so.  Pop in "Caillou" and start brushing.  You'll be glad you did (and so will everyone who has to look at you).


You might even get to eat 

Shoveling a handful of dried Cheerios into your yaw on the fly is no substitute for a nice, home-cooked bowl of microwaveable instant oatmeal.  Assuaging your unnecessary parenting guilt about 15 minutes of TV time for your 2 year old is not worth self-starvation.  Eat!  For the love of all that is good in the world, eat!  Put some meat on those bones!  You're wasting away!  (I sometimes think I might be possessed by an Italian grandmother...if only she would help me make a decent lasagna!)

You will maintain your sanity (sometimes)

Those of us who let our kids watch the occasional TV show are so tired of lying and posturing to look like supermoms.  'Cause we're not.  I may or may not have caught the Anarchist in the acts of eating sunscreen straight from the tube, standing on her tiptoes on her windowsill,  and sitting on her highchair tray at the ripe old age of 1.  So, yes, not supermom.  But having the television on now and then has kept me sane, and that, my friends, is priceless. 

*I'm a little scared that someday someone is going to call Child Protective Services after reading this blog.  I'm hoping that everyone gets that this is tongue-in-cheek, right?  Right?  I mean, the Dictator hasn't actually staged a military coup in a small Central American country...yet.  And the only thing the Fat Assassin has assassinated is a very small spider, who I think was already missing a few of his legs. And I actually enjoy my children immensely...even when they're moving around.

**If your child does happen to be a budding dictator, be advised that we strongly recommend against any television with commercials.  It will just give them ideas.  Stick with PBS.  You'll be glad you did.  And so will several small, Central American countries.

Parenting Tip of the Week SPECIAL EDITION

Special Edition Tip: Navigating the Mall with Children, Black Friday and Every Day

As many of you will be (idiotically) heading out to do some holiday shopping on Black Friday, and as the bravest (or craziest) of you will have youngsters in tow, the world's greatest parenting guru (yours truly) is here with some sage advice gleaned from recent shopping experiences to get you through the darkest day of the year.

Equipment

Most parents have the wisdom to bring the basics (diapers, wipes, dried Cheerios, fruit snacks, cookies, McDonald's Happy Meal toys that somehow made it into the bottom of your purse, flashlights, discount cards, keys, cell phone, Epi Pens, organic nut-free crackers, collection of board books, collection of Berenstein Bears books with or without their covers intact, umbrellas, crayons, markers, stamps, plastic bags, extra shoes, etc.). But just when you think the ol' diaper bag--or over-sized purse, if you're too cool for a diaper bag--is stuffed to the gills, it's time to make room for a few more essentials.

First of all, you'll never make it through your shopping trip if you have to listen to your kids' incessant whining in addition to irritating hippopotamus-related holiday "music" and the catcalls from various male shoppers who can't resist your stunning good looks. (What? You don't get those? Oh. Must just be me.) This is why I recommend investing in a good pair of earplugs. So you can't hear your kids begging you for food, water, and a bathroom break...isn't that the point?

Next, if any of you have a child like the Anarchist--that is, a "runner"--I highly recommend that you consider purchasing a leash. Yes, yes, I know this sounds cruel and inhumane. But so is letting your kid fling itself headlong into a mall parking lot, or a perfume kiosk, for that matter. And they make adorable stuffed animal-shaped leashes for children, or so I've been told by my trend-savvy sister who has actually spotted the things on hip young things in the Birmingham/Ferndale/Royal Oak area. And if it's happening in Royal Oak, it's probably the new thing to do, so go ahead. You're not barbaric. You're cutting edge.*

Distractions

While shopping with children, it is important to create tactical diversions. That way, they'll forget where they are for a few seconds, and maybe, just maybe, cease whining temporarily. Shock and awe, baby. Here are a few suggestions:

• Choose stores with fun music and loads of empty floor space (they exist, I swear). Initiate a dance party. Please don't worry about the amount of people you will offend or annoy. Remember, your goal is survival at all costs.
• Try on hats. Lots of hats. It's worth the head lice.
• Try having a sing-a-long. The louder the better. You're entertaining your fellow shoppers AND distracting the bitty ones. What could be better?
  

Safety

Always remember to put safety first when shopping with children.

• Avoid shopping on the second floor of the mall whenever possible. While elevators are fun, the risk of your kids catapulting themselves over the balcony in a manic fit is decidedly not. Sorry Gap, Victoria's Secret Body and the coat section of Macy's. We'll have to do without this year.
• If you must shop on the second floor, remember to use the elevator. If you are claustrophobic (more on phobias later), you will have to use the escalator. In this case, be sure to put your children in shoes without laces. I can't believe I even have to say this. What kids have shoes with laces any more? Seriously!
• One more thing to avoid. That guy without kids skulking around near the coin-operated helicopter, race car and ice cream truck (as if ice cream trucks aren't creepy enough as it is).

The Anarchist and the Dictator enjoy a ride on the coin-operated ice cream truck in a skulking-guy-free moment

Shopping and Phobias

If you have one of the bajillion phobias affecting bajillions of Americans these days, you'll have to make extra accommodations for yourself while shopping.

• Claustrophobia-I think we've already covered this one. Avoid the elevators. No shoelaces. Enough said.
• Mysophobia (or germaphobia for those of you not up on your craziness terminology)-Invest in a HazMat suit. Bathe in hand sanitizer when you get home. Glare angrily at anyone attempting to cover a cough with their hands, rather than their forearms.
• Agoraphobia-Don't be agoraphobic. Seriously. It will totally ruin your holiday shopping experience. Having trouble overcoming that pesky fear of crowds? Take my dad's timeless advice: "Just stop it."
• Arachnophobia-You're probably going to be just fine. Avoid the pet store, just in case.

Bribery

Hone your bribery skills before venturing out into the shopping fray. They will prove essential in various circumstances. You will, of course, already be familiar with the usual bribes of rides on the coin-operated truck (as long as skulking guy isn't around), food court "food," and small toys. We've also used rides on the elevator (my claustrophobia is mild) and trips to the in-mall Starbucks as bribes. Do whatever works and be creative. Be advised that bribes may backfire, but sometimes they'll be the only weapons in your arsenal.

The Dictator and the Anarchist can be bribed with Starbucks

It is also useful to keep monetary bribes handy for older children and for your fellow shoppers. When the Anarchist tripped that nice lady in Baby Gap, it sure would have been convenient to be able to slip her a $50 in hopes of warding of litigation. (Please don't sue us, nice Baby Gap lady, please don't sue us).

Finally, you can also bribe your spouse to stay home with the kids so that you might go out shopping all by yourself. Men, ladies like shiny things and back rubs. Women, I'm not going to give specifics, because this is a PG-rated blog, but you know what works. I'm just saying, do what you got to do. (What? You're thinking I'm suggesting something dirty?! Heavens, no! I just meant a nice home-cooked meal. Get your minds out of the gutter!)

Mall-ternatives

Consider doing your shopping some time other than Black Friday. I mean, seriously, is that discount on a cashmere sweater really worth the stampede? Why not try a nice weekday morning? The malls are virtually empty. If you aren't already a stay-at-home-mom/dad, become one for this very purpose. Halving your family's income and the financial hardship resulting therefrom will be well worth your shopping peace-of-mind...if you have any money to spend, of course.

Another savory alternative is shopping online. Of course, if you have squirrely children trying to type "messages" on the keyboard while you are shopping, this could be as frustrating an option as the actual mall.

Don't want to shop at all? Why not make your own clothes? If you're not already sewing-savvy, find a nice elderly lady with loads of free time and patience and make her teach you. You might want to use your new-found bribery skills to convince her that it's worth her while.

However you decide to go about shopping or not shopping this holiday season, remember to be prepared, be safe, and be brave. And, for the love of all that is holy, stay away from that guy skulking around the coin-operated ice cream truck.




*It is important to note that not everyone will consider you cutting edge. Especially if they live somewhere like Plymouth or Canton, which are a little behind the times. I mean, if the Royal Oak area is just now discovering baby-leashes, it means that leashes are probably on their way out on the coasts, but that Plymouth and Canton will still not recognize how insanely cool they are for another half a decade, at least. Note that Plymouth just now got it's first cupcake shop, while Royal Oak has had them for years and the coasts are already on to French Macaroons or some such insanely cool nonsense.

Parenting Tip of the Week: Scapegoats

As I am currently in the running for "Mother of the Year," I thought I would bless you with some useful parenting advice on a regular basis, so that you might have a shot at being a halfway decent parent yourself.

Tip #1: Scapegoats are indispensable

Your children will naturally want to blame you/or each other for every transgression. Is a toy missing? Probably your fault. Did she trip over her own feet? Yes. But maybe if you hadn't given birth to her it never would have happened. Did someone eat that last piece of Halloween candy? Sure. And that someone was most likely you, but do you really want to deal with the consequences of 'fessing up to it?

Sometimes it's important to model mature and ethical behavior and assume responsibility for your actions, accepting whatever the negative outcome may be. And sometimes it's important to preserve your sanity at all costs by picking your battles wisely and blaming a scapegoat.

It is crucial to come up with a scapegoat early on, as most children learn to blame you for things as soon as they learn to accusingly point their chubby, sticky fingers at you and yell "Mama!" or "Dah-ee!" You must not let this last. We found that the cat worked in a pinch for the first couple of years of life. "Who moved my Giggy Bear?" the Dictator would ask with a deadly, vengeful glare. "Oh, that was Kitty," the Bureaucrat would assure her. At which point the Dictator would turn her death stare on the cat, leaving Mommy and Daddy in the clear. Needless to say, the Dictator is not a moron, so this tactic only lasted so long. "It was NOT Kitty! You're just SAYING THAT!" Time for a new scapegoat.

My first mistake was teaching the Dictator how to point.

We found that family friends work nicely. You can orchestrate this, or have it come about serendipitously, it doesn't really matter. The important thing is to encourage it once it happens. If you don't already have a family friend scapegoat, try arranging a post-bedtime soiree at your home. Be sure that it is early enough that your children will hear the guests arriving. When your children wake up in the morning and find something to blame you for (which they invariably will), blame one of the guests from the night before. Because your children know that--unlike the cat--this guest has opposable thumbs and is therefore actually capable of erasing their drawings from the MagnaDoodle, they are very likely to believe you.

Perfect. Now you just have to be consistent. Every time your child flings accusations at you, simply blame the new scapegoat. We actually have the Anarchist believing that our scapegoat lurks around our house in the middle of the night, spilling water, turning off lights and putting away Play-Doh sculptures...and we don't even have to mention him any more. The kid immediately blames him on her own. The system is so perfect, it runs itself. And you never have to be blamed for anything again...by your children.

The scapegoat on the other hand might not be so pleased, and the ethical implications of what you are doing are shady, at best. Eh...so you make a few enemies and potentially sully your immortal soul. Isn't that a small price to pay for parental sanity?

*Note: It is NOT advisable for you to use your spouse as a scapegoat. While he/she is an extremely handy option, and one onto which your children will enthusiastically latch, this choice might potentially be destructive for marital relations. Blame the hubby at your own risk.

The Anarchist is already plotting her revenge against the Fat Assassin (aka "Kitty") for moving her toys.