Do You Have Toddleritis?

Posted on January 13, 2014 by Lorne Jaffe

Have you been popping Advil like E.T. with a sackful of Reeses Pieces? Have you been reduced to a quivering ball of stress after finally wishing your child goodnight? Do you have a sudden thought that you want your kid gone…just gone…coupled with a crippling guilt at even thinking such a thing? Then perhaps you’re suffering from Toddleritis, a very real but treatable and curable mental exhaustion created by a myriad of both exotic and commonplace actions and behaviors.

Possible Todderitis causes include:

Your toddler purposely pouring a bowl filled to the brim with milk and cereal on to herself, her high chair and the floor forcing you to clean her up, do a load of laundry, scrub the floor and vacuum the carpet all while she wails to the point where it sounds like she’s barking like a seal
Your toddler refuses to eat lunch for some unknown reason, pushing away all food and utensils and crying as if you’d threatened to never let her see the clip of “Let It Go” from Frozen again
Your toddler decides not to nap and instead sits in her crib intermittently whimpering and talking to herself as you try to read or watch a television program or get some work done
Your toddler poops during nap-time and because she’s rebuffed sleep, her inability to stay still allow the poop to seep through her diaper all over her clothes, sleep sack, sheets and stuffed animals forcing you once again to the laundry room
Your toddler keeps climbing on bookcases, tables and anything she can reach despite the amount of times you’ve asked/told her not to do so because it’s dangerous
Your toddler decides mac and cheese, vegetables, grapes, etc. aren’t good enough for dinner; all she wants are “Puffs!” and she’ll scream unless she gets them
Your toddler wakes up in the middle of the night screaming for Daddy and after you wait the required 5 minutes to see if she’ll fall back asleep, you go in, hold her, sing to her, rock her until she falls asleep in your arms looking precious – so precious – but a half hour later when you try to put her back in her crib, she reawakens and starts crying forcing you to do everything all over again and wonder if you’ll ever get back to your own bed

And it’s very possible all of these things have happened on the same day!

Toddleritis symptoms may include:

Extreme physical, emotional and mental fatigue
A wish to tear your hair out and run down the hallway yelling incomprehensible words and phrases
Severe pain from wrenching your back while preventing your toddler from grabbing something she’s not supposed to touch
An inability to sleep or at least sleep well enough to function
As reported above, a desire for your toddler to disappear instantly followed by oppressive guilt
An urge to strangle Elmo (though that could also be an ordinary feeling)
In your mind, your toddler has morphed into this:

The good news is that Toddleritis symptoms can be treated and the disease has numerous cures. Perhaps a loved one is willing to take your toddler off your hands for a night or even a few hours allowing you much needed alone, sleep and/or spousal time. It’s possible your spouse will “give you a day a off” allowing you to meet up with some friends, watch something like The Wolf of Wall Street and then debate Matthew Perry preparing to write and play Oscar Madison in a remake of the beloved sitcom, The Odd Couple (as Darth Vader so famously said, “NOOOOOOOOO!!!!”). If no loved ones are around, you can maybe pay a babysitter an exorbitant, yet well-deserved wad of bills so you and your spouse can have a wonderful date night. All of these can act as treatments and/or cures, but the best and most effective are the following:

Your toddler does something hilarious like finally answering “Braaains!” along with a throaty laugh when asked what a zombie says (ok, I’m weird)
Your toddler runs into your arms and gives you a warm hug
Your toddler gives you a look that melts your heart
Your toddler smiles, jumps up and down and says, “Daddy!” when you walk through the door

Toddleritis can be a serious condition, but rest assured, it won’t last forever because at any moment your toddler might exhibit such glorious glee at the most run-of-the-mill thing that your body swells with pride and love. In essence, your toddler might all of a sudden look like this:

And how could you feel anything but enchantment when faced with a moment like that?

Just A Spoonful of Sugar Near Bedtime Can Turn Your Toddler Demonic

Posted on January 2, 2014 by Lorne Jaffe

It was 10 pm and boy did we know where our child was. She was in her room screaming, nay screeching, for more than 45 minutes. We’d put her down about an hour before, but then suddenly it sounded as if some medieval torturer was there in the darkness of her bedroom flaying Sienna’s skin. Elaine was the first to go and check and reported back that Sienna was out of control, repeatedly yelling some word that Elaine couldn’t understand, not just pulling away from my wife’s comforting arms, but tearing herself from her grip and then cowering in the corner of her crib. I went in and she did the same with me, flinging herself out of my arms with a piercing yell as if my hands were balls of fire. She’d then stand up and hiccup some unintelligible word, incomprehensible because she’d reached that panic mode of crying where her breaths were coming so fast that they mixed were her voice.

Finally we understood:. “OUT! OUT! OUT! OUT!”

It was just a few hours earlier that Elaine, Sienna, my parents and I sat in an Italian restaurant enjoying good food and good times. It was just a few hours earlier that my parents gave Sienna a little bit of ice cream while Elaine and I looked at each other across the table and telepathically thought:

“This is a bad idea, isn’t it?”

“Terrible idea, but what can we say?”

“We can say, ‘No!'”

“But they’re grandparents and they just want to spoil Sienna a bit – see that spark of ecstasy in her eyes when she tastes that ice cream, watch her strain the belt of her high chair as she begs for more.”

“She’ll just have a little. It’s ok.”

“Ok. Just a little. Besides, we so rarely give her sugar, and it’s New Year’s Day.”

And that’s how a wee bit of this:

Turned this:

Into this:

We hadn’t realized just how close to bedtime it was. That was mistake number one. We didn’t have the backbone to tell my parents we didn’t want them giving Sienna any sugar. That was mistake number two. Now Elaine, Sienna and I were all paying for it.

Back in her room I kept trying to grab Sienna so we could hold and soothe her, but it was like trying to capture a greased pig. Finally I got a hold of her sleep sack and yanked her out. She squirmed out of my arms and flopped on the floor. Then she got up, took a washcloth, and walked around and around the room “cleaning” things only to suddenly drop it, bend over and screech.

“Do you want a book?” I asked.

“Book!”

I picked up a book, sat down in her rocking chair and pulled her to me. She squealed and wriggled away. Then she told me to get out of the chair. She wanted Mommy in the chair, but still she wouldn’t calm down. No book. Back to walking around with that washcloth only to drop it and howl and stamp her feet. It was like something out of Paranormal Activity.

“Do you want your cow? Your lion? Bert and Ernie?”

“HURTS! HURTS! HURTS! HURTS!”

Elaine and I looked at each other. We were both terrified and I’m so thankful Elaine was there because if I were alone, my anxiety would have taken control and had me bawling.

“What hurts? Your belly? Foot? Head? Hands?”

“HURTS! HURTS! HURTS! HURTS!”

I don’t know how much time passed before Sienna finally crawled into Elaine’s lap and started sucking her thumb. I turned on Sienna’s lightning bug which spreads stars across the ceiling and plays peaceful music.

“Do you want to count the stars?” I asked, and counted out loud.

Soon enough Sienna lay down next to me and joined in. Then she asked for Mommy to lie down too and all three of us looked up at the blue nightscape and counted the stars. Finally Sienna let us put her in her crib and she lay down. She fell asleep well past 11 pm.

Elaine and I, shaken and stirred, retreated to our bedroom. I texted my mom about further limiting Sienna’s sugar intake, especially during the evening. She agreed to follow out instructions. We are, after all, Sienna’s parents. I know grandparents want to spoil their grandkids. I completely get the joy they feel in doing so and I assign my parents zero blame. We’d never experienced anything like what happened last night, so who knew a couple of tiny spoonfuls of ice cream that close to bedtime would be so disastrous.

Don’t be afraid to tell grandparents when we feel they should stop. And never, ever, under any circumstances, give your toddler sugar even remotely close to night-night.

Consider these lessons learned.

I Learned It From Watching You!

Posted on December 9, 2013 by Lorne Jaffe

Last week, when my mom was babysitting while I was at session, our cat, Gleeb, had a bit of a hairball. Now, I know this sounds mundane, but it was actually quite an event. According to my mom Sienna was in her room on the changing table when she heard these wheezing noises coming from the living room.

“What’s that?! What’s that?!” she asked excitedly with a hint of concern to which my mom proceeded to explain what was happening.

“Geeb!! Geeb!!” Sienna yelled, “E okay?? E okay??”

“He’s ok,” my mom said, letting Sienna down from the table. Apparently Sienna then ran out of her room and straight to Gleeb who had by then recovered (thankfully he didn’t spit anything up!). She then hugged and kissed and pet him all the while shouting, “Geeb!! Geeb!! E okay?? E okay??” to which my mom kept reassuring her that indeed he was.

This happened about 10 minutes before I came home and when I walked through the door I was greeted by my daughter pointing at Gleeb and repeating her refrain, “Geeb!! Geeb!! E okay?? E okay??” Then she’d hug and kiss and pet him until he walked away to which she’d yell, “E goes!” and then run after him to start it all over again.

Sounds like nothing, right? But there are a few significant things about it. This was the first time Sienna called Gleeb by name (she’d been saying “Ginky” or “Dinky” when referring to our other cat, Minky, for months). That one I was smart enough to figure out myself. It was also weird that it would happen shortly after I’d blogged about dealing with the loss of a pet now that I’m parent. The other thing I learned when I relayed the story to Elaine later that evening and she teared up.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“It’s bittersweet,” she said, dabbing away tears. “I missed it, but it also shows she’s watching and learning from us.”

Elaine was right. Sienna watches us treat not just Gleeb and Minky, but each other with love and care. Elaine and I are especially affectionate if one or the other of us is in turmoil. If I’m the verge of an anxiety attack, Elaine hugs me immediately. I do the same for her if she’s struggling. We kiss each other in front of Sienna. We hold hands. Our daughter’s absorbing this and it clearly came out when she worried over Gleeb.

Both Elaine and I grew up in families that lacked physical affection. In my family, for instance, the men never hugged. I remember one time when we were talking about this during a family gathering and my uncle went to hug my late grandfather. My grandfather went rigid, blushed and chuckled nervously. All of us were laughing at how ridiculous my grandfather looked, but thinking back, it’s sad.

My father too has trouble showing affection. As I’ve written before, it came out in therapy that he stopped hugging me when I was around 4, which is most likely when his father stopped hugging him. My uncle, having married my dad’s sister, has an easier time with it, but growing up I’d always shake his hand because that’s what I thought males were supposed to do. Inside, though starving for physical affection, I became uncomfortable hugging anyone in my family, male or female, especially my father. When I yelled that my dad owed me 30+ years of hugs during a family therapy session after my nervous breakdown, I was dead serious, and to his credit, he’s been so much better at it (though we’re also both still a little awkward when doing it). I’m proud of him.

I also don’t remember my parents being physically affectionate towards each other. Elaine has the same memories of her parents. In fact, Elaine didn’t know what to do when I’d have emotional trouble when we first started dating. I had to teach her that I needed to be hugged and though it took awhile, now it’s instinctual. Thus we decided long ago that we’d never stop hugging each other and that when it came to Sienna, we’d emulate the Keatons from “Family Ties”: we would be those annoying parents whose teenage children would come into a room, find their parental units holding hands and kissing, roll their eyes and go, “Ugh! They’re at it again!”

Nearly 21-months after Sienna’s birth, we’re still going strong in how we treat each other. With love. With caring. With respect. With hugs and kisses. And as I said before that affection extends to Gleeb and Minky and of course, Sienna, who receives so many hugs and kisses it’s impossible to count and who gives them right back to Elaine and I.

“Geeb!! Geeb!! E okay?? E okay??” *Kiss* *Hug*

Sha-la-la-la

Sienna watching carefully over Gleeb

An Amazing Response To A Bully

Posted on December 5, 2013 by Lorne Jaffe

I’ve written about bullying for a long time. How I was bullied by so many people for much of my life. How my father’s bias against overweight people in general and his sarcastic comments in specific (“You’re gonna be as big as a house” or “Overweight people can’t be beautiful” despite both his wife and son being on the heavy side) helped prevent any sense of my own self-worth from forming. I also want to repeat that my father is NO LONGER that person and each time I bring up things like this, it makes both of us feel extraordinarily guilty, but it’s important information for parents to know and for people to have in order to understand the near-40-year-old I’ve become.

I’m talking about it today because my wife showed me an incredible video. I don’t know how long it’s been around, but I suggest everyone watch it and learn from it. The video is an editorial response by a journalist to a letter she’d received remarking about her weight and how as a person in the public eye, she needs to do a better job of promoting a healthier lifestyle, especially for girls.

As the father of a 20-month-old girl, I will be sure to bookmark this video and show it to her when she’s ready to understand it, both to prevent her from ever becoming a bully and to understand how to respond to a bully.

And as I said, every parent should watch it. I urge you to watch this amazing video

“Family Guy” Kills Off Beloved Pet; How Will I Handle the Loss of a Pet Now That I’m a Parent?

Posted on November 26, 2013 by Lorne Jaffe

I haven’t watched Family Guy in years, but when I read that this past Sunday’s episode included the death of Brian, the Griffin family’s much loved talking dog, the show succeeded in getting me to ponder how I’ll deal with such a crisis now that I’m a parent and how I’ll explain the death of a pet to Sienna.

If you’re an animal lover, especially of cats and dogs, pets become members of the family and thus their deaths can be brutal. I remember a girl in elementary school coming in positively grief-stricken because her cat had been hit by a car. Yesterday she happened to post a picture of her latest cat who had died the previous year. Elaine got a cat tattoo when, while in college, she learned of her pet’s death. She said she cried for days. She then followed that up with another tattoo, this one of the cat’s name, Sam.

I grew up in home filled with animals (not all at the same time) – a dog, cats, gerbils, hamsters, salamanders, lizards, turtles, fish, birds, a guinea pig (pray that you never have to hear the blood-curdling screeches of a guinea pig having a stroke), even a fiddler crab that decided to climb out of its tank and somehow made it down the stairs before realizing it was a fiddler crab and needed to be in water. There was a lot of death, but none so impactful as the loss of our dog and our cats. Peanuts, our only dog, was adopted before I was born and lived 13 years. I think she died when I was 10 or so. I remember my mom bawling outside the vet’s office when we put her to sleep, but I cannot recall how she explained it to me. My dad misses her every day (he’s not a cat person).

We adopted our first cat when I was around 4. I named him Twinkles. (Hey! I told you was 4! Besides, he was rechristened “Fat” because as an indoor/outdoor cat, he decided to go down the street for food and then come home and eat some more. He weighed more than 30 pounds!). I don’t remember how long he lived, but I was hysterical when he was found dead near our neighbor’s house. Timothy, our next next cat, lived about 13 years and into my 20s. He developed kidney failure and we kept him going on IVs for months because he wasn’t in pain. My mom still keeps pictures of Timothy and her next cat, the late Ferris, on the fridge.

For me, the sudden death of my cat, Zeeb, at age 9, was completely traumatic. I was in my mid-30s when it happened. He was diagnosed with cancer and went within weeks. Overnight he went blind and the awful wails when he tried to jump on the bed but jumped in the wrong direction and missed still ring in my ears at times. It took me a month to throw out his chair and after doing so I developed unexplained migraines. They went away when Elaine mentioned the connection between their onset and me throwing out the chair, but it wasn’t long after that that I had my severe nervous breakdown. You see, Zeeb was intuitive and got me through some terrible times. He knew when I was feeling down. He’d climb on me and purr almost immediately. That type of unconditional love is amazing and I guess his death pushed me to the psychological brink. I didn’t break until a little while later, but that’s not relevant to this blog.

Sienna’s growing up with two cats – Zeeb’s brother, Gleeb (14) and Minky (4). Cats can live 20 years or more so it’s possible Gleeb will be around when Sienna’s 6 or 7. Minky, who shares the same intuition Zeeb possessed, will hopefully live a lot longer. I have no idea how I’ll explain their deaths (or my own devastation) to Sienna. I guess a lot will depend on her age. Do I go the “we took him to a farm” route? Do I explain life and death to her? Do we hold a formal funeral like they did on The Cosby Show when Rudy’s goldfish died? Will Sienna forget quickly or cry for days? Will Elaine and I cry for days? I guess we’ll face it as a family when the time comes. For now it’s all about teaching Sienna how to treat, love and play with Gleeb and Minky. For now it’s all about their being a big part of our little family.

One thing I do know – there will be no sitcom-style “must find an identical replacement” antics.

Sienna playing with Minky