Raw Drip

At work today, I bumped into the woman from the 3rd floor that everyone avoids and my 5 minute bio break turned into 30 minutes of my life that I’ll never get back again.  This woman is not particularly offensive in her manner or appearance.  In fact, she’s very nice – too nice – almost obnoxiously glad to see you.  Do you see where I’m going with this? 

I call these people “try-too-hards”.  These are the people (frequently women, I must admit) who want to be everyone’s best friend.  But their outward friendliness belies the fact that they are terribly insecure, needy and clingy.  If the US government ever sought my input on how to make the terrorists talk, I’d suggest locking them in a room with Phyllis from IT Services for an afternoon…  

In addition to being a try-too-hard of the “hijacker” variety, Phyllis suffers from a condition I like to call “stream of consciousness chattering”.  She must talk to everyone she sees about absolutely everything, so her topics end up being mundane and disparate things like her nephew’s cat’s tumor, the role of cow manure in global warming, and the Lean Cuisine panini she ate for dinner last night.   She goes into great detail about her subject matter and just as you’re starting to figure out what she’s chattering about, she does an abrupt topic-shift.  It’s like someone is holding a remote control that keeps flipping through the channels in this woman’s brain.  And forget participating in the conversation, hijacker Phyllis isn’t interested in talking with anyone. 

Another try-too-hard variety I’ve encountered is the “yes person” or the “nodder”.  These are the folks who agree with everything they’ve ever been told because they are so, incredibly desperate for acceptance.   These people nod in agreement with you as you talk, offering an enthusiastic “Yes, yes…”.  Initially they seem easy to be around.  I mean who doesn’t want an agreeable audience, right?  But then you realize that all you have is an audience member and not someone who can actively participate in the conversation.  You can tell this person anything and they’ll agree with you.  Tell them that you’ve heard that the sky is falling next Wednesday and they’ll nod in agreement saying, “Yes – I know.  I read that on the CNN scroll this morning…”  Ironically, the yes people are so desperate for acceptance that they take a pass on an identity of their own, choosing to co-opt the ideas and beliefs of whomever they’re around in any given moment.  This makes them look wishy-washy at best or worse, downright disingenuous, thus further isolating them from the rest of the pack.

The try-too-hards come in about million varieties from the garden variety “slut” – the women who’ll give it up for almost any guy they meet because they’re so desperate for a relationship, to the “spotlight stealer” - the people who absolutely MUST be the center of attention all the time, to the “show stoppers” – the people who, no matter where you’ve been or what you’ve done they’ve done it better, bigger, harder, faster, and longer. 

So, it’s obvious that the try-too-hards amongst us have some serious self-esteem issues.   As a parent, I wonder how I can raise people that are pleasant, polite, respectful and have some grit and backbone, too.  I don’t want my kids to turn into the Phyllis’ of the world.  Dick and I have talked about this a lot and we’ve decided on a few things:

1. We’re going to tell our kids that they’re not always a winner.  Maybe that seems like a harsh dose of reality for little ones but we think the notion of “we’re all winners here” is just grossly inaccurate.  People win & people lose and only the birthday person gets gifts on their birthday.  Life’s not always fair and just and not everyone is going to like you or accept you. 
2. We’re going to praise them for their persistence and fortitude and not just for their smarts.  Everyone is naturally gifted in one way or another, but applying yourself to something you really suck at takes a lot of guts.  Nurturing your weaknesses may never turn them into strengths, but the very act of doing so is an exercise in humility.  Our hope is that praising them for their persistence will better equip them to deal with the positive role of failure in learning.  Because dealing with adversity is important, but equipping kids to deal positively with the possibility of failure in the face of adversity is even more so. 
3. We’re going to teach them the art of being a good conversationalist.  The hijackers are just as awful to talk with as the nodders, but for very different reasons. A good conversationalist knows that listening is as much a part of the dance as talking.   Not only does good listening show respect for other people’s opinions, but it allows you to assert your own opinions strategically.

The world needs fewer try-too-hards, in my opinion.  We don’t need more hijackers, yes people, or spotlight stealers.  We’ve got a lot of crap to do and it’s all going to fall into the laps of our children.  We’re all going to need to do our part to raise people who can cope positively, who understand that compromise involves more backbone than winning, and that it’s more important to listen than it is to talk. 

Ok, I’m climbing down off my soapbox now…

Two weekends ago, as we were leaving the local pancake house, Adam slipped and fell into a door and gave himself a black eye.  Really, he fell into a door.   I swear!!  We didn’t push him, we didn’t distract him, we didn’t have to “tell him twice”, he just did what little inattentive kids with long legs and big feet do – he tripped over himself and fell.  But oh, the shiner on that poor kid…

Fast forward to this past weekend and the uniquely jarring wake-up call of a 2 year old girl asking her brother to, “Peese open dis for me.”  Upon hearing her seemingly innocent request, Dick’s parental alarm clock roused him from his drowsy state and he bolted out of bed just in time to catch Adam in the act of pouring a thick purple substance out of a bottle and onto the kitchen counter. 

To his horror, Adam & Tabitha were playing with cough syrup and children’s decongestant.  The child dosage cups that had been resting over the bottles’ childproof caps were now sitting in puddles of sticky grape syrup; syrup that was smeared all over the counter, dripping into the sink and pooling on the floor.

Immediately Dick yelled for help.  I stumbled into the kitchen and stood there for a moment as the whole terrible scene slowly sunk into my decaffeinated brain.

“Adam, what are you doing?” I asked, calmly.

“We are playing with the medicine, mommy.” 

“Did you drink any medicine?” Dick quizzed.

“Um, no, I don’t drink the medicine.”

“What about your sister?”

“She drink the medicine.” Adam replied, pointing at his wide-eyed, innocent-looking sister.

HOLY CRAP!  Immediately, I scrambled for my cell phone.  As I held the line for the next Poison Control Specialist, Dick threw clothing onto the kids and cleaned up the sticky grape mess covering the entire kitchen sink area.  Finally when Poison Control Specialist, Jackie, came on the line she started to quiz me on specific dosages for each medicine, bottle sizes, timing, etc.  I learned quickly that you shouldn’t clean up the crime scene since having an accurate assessment of the amount of medicine they’ve consumed is helpful.  But in light of our mistake, all she could do was give me the bad news.  We must play it safe and assume that they took some medicine.  She went on to tell me that, IF they drank most of the contents of those bottles they COULD experience seizures, hallucinations, vomiting, hyperactivity or extreme drowsiness.  Oh – and DEATH, too!

HOLY CRAP!  Off we sped to the ER – two screaming, terrified children and two screaming, terrified parents.

As I explained to the admitting nurse what happened, I got the verbal finger-wagging I expected and deserved.

“You must NEVER let your guard down with small children.  Always store medication out of their reach and in a locked box.  That’s just child safety 101.” she said with a note of condescension in her voice.

“Well, I do usually store them far out of their reach. I just happened to forget these two bottles on the counter before I went to bed last night and they used a step stool to climb up and get into them.  I thought child proof caps were supposed to be, well, child proof.  No?”

“Ha!” she laughed.  “I wish! Do you have any idea how many kids we see in here for accidental poisoning?  Every last one of ‘em can open those darn caps.  They’re so easy to open an infant can do it.”

I have to admit that I’m surprised to hear this, as I always assumed the child proof cap was my fallback in case the children did accidently get their hands on a bottle of medicine.  “At least they’ll never be able to get the cap off,” I told myself.   I mean, I can barely get the cap off of these things so how are they going to figure them out?  Have you tried to get children’s’ generic acetaminophen out of its blister packaging, lately?  It’s nearly impossible unless you’ve got a chainsaw and a pair of safety glasses.  And yet, here we stood at 8AM on a Saturday morning because my 3 ½ year old son managed to open not one, but TWO child proof caps!

After enduring several more rather humiliating lectures from other nurses, the doctor came in to examine the children.  Since their vitals were stable and they seemed fine, it was decided that they’d be monitored several times per hour for the next 4 to 6 hours to see if they showed any signs of overdose. 

As the doctor leaned in and examined Adam’s pupils, she pointed out the healing, but still brutally yellow & purple bruise around his left eye. 

“How’d you get that boo-boo on your eye, little guy?” she asked.

I knew exactly what she was getting at.  And, honestly, I couldn’t blame her.  I’d be suspicious, too, if I was seeing a kid who was covered in bruises (Adam, like most boys his age, is a walking bruise collection), sporting a wicked black eye, and currently being treated for a possible chemical overdose.  I’m sure it’s her responsibility to ask such heartbreaking questions of children and to make those kinds of logic leaps when all the necessary components of abuse or neglect are present. 

But it made my stomach twist in agony to think of it.  At best, Dick and I looked like lazy or irresponsible parents.  I couldn’t bear to think of the worst case scenario – that this medical professional interpreted the situation as child endangerment and looked upon us as the kind of monsters who would beat and/or neglect their children.

***

Thankfully, during our many hours spent waiting in the ER, the children showed no signs of overdose.  In all likelihood the kids never drank any cold medicine.  Disaster was narrowly diverted.

So, all you loyal Drips (all 10 of you!) please learn from my mistakes.  It’s impossible to stay fully attentive 100% of the time – we’re human beings so we’re going to let our guard down from time to time and errors in judgement are going to happen.  But there are some things you can do to avoid becoming, like me, another story swapped by ER nurses.  Share these tips (some from me and some from the Poison Control web site) with other parents: 

1. Child proof caps are really just adult proof.  Apparently kids get into child proof packaging all the time.  Don’t rely on them – even as a back-up deterrent. 
2. Replace the cap tightly after using a product.  If the cap isn’t on properly, not only will the medicine be improperly stored, but it could render the child proof cap totally ineffective. 
3. Talk about the dangers of medicine with your children in a serious/no-nonsense tone of voice.  Back in my day, medicine tasted pretty awful.  These days with all the flavoring agents we’re able to add, it makes it easier for kids to take but also blurs the line between medicine and candy with its sweet flavor.  Don’t let them confuse medicine for candy.  Be VERY clear on how serious/dangerous medicine can be.
4. Store medicines in their original containers.
5. Lock medicines and household products where children cannot see or reach them.  If possible, don’t even let the children see you put medicine away so they won’t know where it’s kept.
6. Read the label before taking or giving medicine — every time.
7. If your child gets into medicine, call Poison Control immediately and leave the remaining contents of the bottle or package intact so you can get a more accurate measurement of the quantity of medicine the child may have consumed.
8. Make peace with the fact that you’re going to be lectured if you find yourself in my shoes.  There’s no avoiding it and it’s best to take it as a reminder about the importance of never underestimating our children or allowing yourself to get too complacent about household safety. 

Dick is  a la-dee-da driver.  What’s a la-dee-da driver, you ask?  Let me put it like this:  with Dick at the wheel we routinely cruise past highway exits, through red lights, and right by our intended destination.  This is because the la-dee-da driver possesses an uncanny ability to slip into a zen-like state of semi-consciousness where theirs is the only car on the road and space & time lose all significance. 

How often do you arrive at work and can’t remember any specifics of your commute?  From time to time we all find ourselves zone-driving.  It’s the monotony of our daily grind - home to work, work to home, on and on, day in and day out - that becomes such a routine our brain’s auto-pilot kicks in to save us from ourselves.   But the la-dee-da driver acts as if every outing were following a routine.  It’s as if the la-de-daa’s auto-pilot never disengages. 

Any suburban mom will tell you:  Planning is key to successfully navigating any shopping trip.  And since planning is what I spend all my free time doing these days,  I find it particularly annoying when la-dee-da Dick misses the first left into our local shopping center, thus causing us to have to cue up behind all the other drivers who are stuck waiting to get past the busy grocery store spewing out an endless stream of elderly shoppers.  When this happens (and it happens a lot), I like to point out that if he’d been paying attention and we’d gone my way we’d already be safely parked, in the store, running our errands.  This point gets the kind of enthusiastic response one would expect -typically a, “Yes, dear*” in a tone of voice sure to strip me of any sense of satisfaction.

*For the record, anytime a husband refers to his spouse as “dear” I can assure you that the spouse in question probably isn’t being viewed as particularly “dear” in that moment. 

More offensive to my la-dee-da driver than my condescending remarks are my occasional assaults on his deadened senses.  You see, if you have a la-dee-driver in your life, much like sleepwalkers, it’s best not startle them when they’re in their zone.  Dick gets really angry when I warn him of potential road hazards by screaming.  

I don’t know about the rest of you, but I find it difficult to sit idly by while the spectre of imminent death looms ahead and my la-dee-da driver seems oblivious to its presence.  So when my own invisible brake fails to stop us and finger-pointing accompanied by high-pitched squeals of “daht-daht-daht!!” fail to engender a response, I am forced to scream.  In the past my screams were of the horror movie “I’m-about-to-be-slaughtered” variety which usually resulted in the following conversation: 

Dick (angry): “What’s up with the screaming?  You nearly caused us to have an accident!”

Me: ”I almost caused an accident?  What about the one I saved us from having?  You would’ve driven straight into that car if it hadn’t been for me.  My ’screaming’, as you call it, was actually the warning you needed to wake up and pay attention to the road!”

Dick: “I have no idea what you’re talking about.  Everything was under control.  You know what was more dangerous than that car?  YOU!  You startled me and caused me to lose focus.  In the future, if you see a road hazard, warn me in a calm tone of voice so I can react appropriately.”

Me: “Are you insane?  I startled you?  What person when faced with death is going to sit back and calmly say, “Pardon me, darling, but are you aware of that large truck ahead who’s mysteriously come to a complete stop in front of us?  Hm. Perhaps a gentle application of the brakes would be in order?”

Dick: ”No need for sarcasm, dear (there it is again), I understand that you were frightened, but screaming is hardly going to provide me with the necessary information to deploy evasive maneuvers effectively.  Use your words, please.”

Ouch.  His comebacks are always so much sharper than mine.  When my behavior can be summed up with a common refrain we both use to coach our children, I can’t help but to pay attention. 

So despite how annoying I find his assertion that my screaming is more dangerous than his ignorance of his surroundings, we’ve managed to reach a compromise, of sorts.  I’ve promised to try to reign in my instinct for self-preservation and form words that will specifically warn him of the nature of the road hazard.  Now when faced with the spectre of imminent death or dismemberment, I’m able to sputter out something less scream-like and more substantive like, “Car…left! Red….light! STAHP!!!” 

For his part, Dick’s acknowledged his la-dee-da driving tendencies and allows me to tease him about it, relentlessly.