Singing for Family Fun And Torture

We all know that singing has known therapeutic effects. It's GOOD for you. It increases endorphins and lowers cortisol levels--making one feel exhilarated and decreasing stress.   It helps improve depression.  Oxytocin (a brain chemical involved in breast feeding and  milk let-down and uterine contractions) is released during singing and helps you to bond with the people with whom you are singing. (Or want to breast feed them or extrude them from your uterus).  People who have had a stroke affecting their speech can learn to speak again through singing. Singing helps to improve diaphragmatic control and expands the lungs.  (So does shrieking at your kids.)

In the Carlon/Hereña  family however, singing has multiple roles.

1.) Singing for FUN and family dysfunction:

Take Christmas for example. We massacre Christmas songs just for fun.

We often sing the beloved "Jingle  Bells"  mutation-- "Jingle Bells, Santa Smells , Easter's on its Way."

The Radio City Music Hall singers have a beautiful little tune called "Christmas in New York."  It is a lovely song. There are descriptions of how beautiful New York City is at the Christmas season with lovely voices and good cheer.

We Carlon/Hereña's have changed the lyrics to describe our PERSONAL  experiences of New York City at Christmastime:

 "Muggers are beaming, Children are screaming, Tempers are steaming, It's Christmas in New York!  Car horns are blaring, Tempers are flaring,  People aren't caring, It's Christmas in New York!!  It's Christmas in New York!!!"

In the Carlon family, no dysfunctional holiday was complete without the Christmas fight. We would sit for a lovely meal lubricated with alcohol and the interactions between people who really didn't like each other very much anyway.

The Hereña's are so much nicer to eat with. They are the polar opposites of dysfunctional.  They don't have acrimonious meals.  (That really helps digestion! Who knew?) The Carlon's felt obligated to be together because it was Christmas, dammit. The  Hereña's look FORWARD to seeing each other. Weird.

In the Carlon household, holidays were almost always accompanied by a big brouhaha complete with screaming, yelling, cursing, and gnashing of teeth. One year my sister, my aunt, my mother, and I were hiding out in the kitchen washing and drying the dishes (no dishwasher) when my aunt noticed that we hadn't had our Christmas fight.   To the tune of "Oh Christmas Tree"  she raised her voice with glee and started singing:

"Oh Christmas fight, oh Christmas fight, we haven't had our Christmas fight!"

 I don't remember all of the other verses, but needless to say, this became a yearly staple of the Christmas holidays in the Carlon family.

2.  Singing to irritate your spouse

There are many ways to irritate your spouse by singing--WAY too many to go into here-- but one technique is to sing the wrong words on purpose and insist that they are the correct lyrics.

For example: Take the tune "Home on the Range". This is one of my very favorite shower songs. I sound FABULOUS singing this in the shower. My husband however, to torture me, changed the lyrics to:

"the skies are all cloudy all day."

I sweetly pointed out to him that it's:

"the skies are NOT cloudy all day"

but he said he liked it better the other way and sings it that way every chance he gets. (ARGGGHH!!)

3. Singing to embarrass your children (see previous post on "The Mother's Manual".
One of my favorite things is to put Bruce Springsteen on while driving somewhere with the kids and their friends.  "Born to Run" sung at the top of my lungs in the car ALWAYS SOUNDS AWESOME!  It cracks me up when my children apologize for me. Their friends inevitably say that their parents also sing in the car and a discussion ensues about whose parents are the worst singers or the most embarrassing overall.

(As pointed out in the previous blog it is in the Mother's Manual that as a parent one should take every opportunity to embarrass their children in public by doing completely normal things like singing to a song they like or talking to perfect strangers. The worst is when perfect strangers and parents start singing together. Mortification ensues.)

4.)  Songs to gross people out (OR campfire songs):

I am a gross out song aficionado. "Great green gobs of greasy grimy gophers guts" OR
"Did you ever think when a hearse went by that you might be the next to die?" (Did you know that depending on what area of the country you are from, the lyrics are DIFFERENT? Isn't that Cool?)

  I also love tongue twister songs and ballads--long ones. Oh, and SEA SHANTIES!! I LOVE Sea Shanties.  (My kids HATE them now...I wonder why?) But I digress. 

 Singing in front of your daughter's or son's Scout Troop in front of a roaring campfire sure is fun-- and the grown ups LOVE IT.  The kid's usually hang their heads in shame, but my endorphins and oxytocin are way the hell up there so I don't give a damn what they think 'cause I'm having FUN!

In conclusion, I suggest  that you take full advantage of singing for family fun and torture while your kids are young. Kids grow up so fast these days. Pretty soon they'll be OVER  being embarrassed and will be singing in public WITH you at which point it won't be fun anymore---until they have children of their own to embarrass.  Mawwhaaahhaaaa (Evil laugh).

Michele Carlon

The Mother's Manual

As most of you know, I am a mother and a Doctor.

I have two kids, a 15 and 13 year old son and daughter.  They are in their obnoxious years.

I keep telling them that all of the annoying things that I do are in the Mother's Manual.  For example, I sing in public.  Loudly.  The Mother's Manual says, (and I quote), "It is your solemn responsibility as a mother to routinely embarrass your children in public.  For example, sing loudly, yell across the school parking lot at the top of your lungs that you love them. Kiss them in public. Children cannot grow into responsible adults requiring years of psycho-therapy without these kinds of incidents to talk about to their shrinks."

The Mother's Manual has really helped me through the years.  "Children must play outside and must only be allowed back in the house if they're bleeding or a snake bit them."  It's there.  I swear.

There are handy recipes in there too.  Take for example, the late night "I'm too f*&^ing tired to Cook" recipe called the "Johnny Appleseed Sandwich".  This is especially good for youngsters who can't cook yet.  Take an apple  and cut it up into tiny pieces, put the pieces in a bowl.  Pour raisins in another bowl.  Put out the peanut butter and wonder bread.  Spread a drop cloth on the floor.  Tell them to make their sandwiches by slathering on the peanut butter first, then adding the apples and raisins.  Voila.  Dinner.   When they're done, roll up the drop cloth and pour the mess into the dog's bowl.  Of course this doesn't work if there are peanut allergies in the home.

The Mother's Manual is also very explicit about how to engage your children in helping with the chores.  As soon as they learn their colors, set them to work sorting laundry.
When you're sure they won't drown/fall into the toilet, put a rag into their tiny little hands and teach them how to clean the bathroom.  Dusting is always a good one.  I f(*#ing HATE dusting.  I think it is a giant waste of time.  IT just comes RIGHT BACK the next week.  I only dust for special occasions --like the Pope is coming over for a visit.  So the kids got the swiffer duster technique taught to them.  Once a year.

Okay, so the Mother's Manual never mentioned ASTHMA except under the "When to panic" section. 
When my eldest was 12 or 13, we were at El Mercado on Southport, in Chicago, (an amazingly great South American Grocery store) getting ingredients for a Peruvian dish to surprise my husband.  Suddenly, my son starts wheezing.  I didn't notice, of course, because I was paying for the stuff we'd bought.  Daughter says, "Mom, Tom can't breathe!"
I figure he's faking it and ignore him.  The Mother's Manual says that most of the time, the kids are hypochondriacs and are making shit up.  Daughter becomes more urgent.  "Mom!  He REALLY can't breathe!  I think he's wheezing."  (Being a doctor's child bestows diagnostic skills upon even the youngest).

Sure as shit, the kid wasn't faking!  (I felt just FABULOUS at that moment).  I put my ear on his back and listened and heard loud scary wheezing.  Of course, Tom panics which makes it worse.  We walk slowly back to the car in the humid hot weather, and the CUBS ARE PLAYING and traffic is TERRIBLE.  I'm thinking, "Should I call 911 to come to my car?"

I try the old Mom routine of being calmer than I feel.  Inside I'm screaming, "Holy ^*t" and "What if he dies in the car?  What if he stops breathing?"  He's never had asthma! 
My doctor brain KEEPS TRYING to talk sense into my MOTHER brain and tells it to STOP FREAKING OUT.  I calm him down by joking around and all the time trying to get around the A-HOLES holding up traffic on the way to Swedish Covenant.  DON'T THEY KNOW I'VE GOT A SICK KID IN THE BACK?  Oh yeah, they don't.  I try not to drive like a crazy person.  All this time I'm trying to keep my panic down so Tom doesn't panic and make his asthma attack worse.

I'll admit it.  I pulled the Doctor Card when I hit the ER door.  The Mother's Manual allows for obnoxious behavior in the event of an emergency.  "Do what it takes to get the care you need for your child, short of prostitution and drug running."  (Again, I quote).

Fortunately, the ER doctor saw him right away (the doctor card really helps) and got him started on medication immediately.  He was fine, and now has asthma and we deal with it.  Of course, just like the Mother's Manual said would happen, the sick kid wanted special privileges.  Here, it is very explicit.  You may indulge a sick kid for a day, no longer.  BOYS especially cannot be indulged for too long because they already have the handicap of thinking they are dying when they catch a cold.  Women/girls power through.  Men and boys are convinced they are dying.  Don't start the pattern in childhood and society has a chance of winning this battle against wanting to be pampered as adults."

My daughter keeps asking me, "When do I get to SEE the Mother's Manual?"
"Not until you have children of your own, dear."  I smile.  She is now thirteen.  I wonder how much longer she'll believe me? 

It's the KIDS fault!!!

Hello fellow travelers!  I'm back.  Sort of. 

The holidays were not good for me this year.  I have had all sorts of good intentions, but you know where those lead you.  I have attempted to maintain our habits of menu writing for the week, cooking on the weekend, and not eating out.  For the most part, I've succeeded.  My weight is up a tad but I'm not back up to where I started, and so I consider this a coup. 

The problem is work,  time, weekends and the kid's pushback.  I know that we all have this problem.  Having pre-teens and teenagers with busy schedules on the weekends is a challenge.  I cook and then get crap from the kids  for what I've cooked.  Sound familiar?  Well, there was this GREAT article in the New York Times the other day about a mother who decided her  sons were going to take over cooking two meals a week.  She would have to be present and would be available for consultation, but they had to plan a menu Saturday morning, get her approval (the menu had to be healthy-no deep fried stuff), list the ingredients for her for grocery shopping, and prepare it on the specific day.  They COULD prepare it on the weekend ahead of time and reheat, if so desired, during the week.  They had to prepare it from beginning to end, and serve it.  The parents, then, cleaned up. 

I presented this idea to Tom and El.  Ellie was all over it.  (She's eleven) and Tom, well, not so much.  He's 13.   I left a note for them today, that they have to pick a meal, a full dinner (protein, veggie and starch), and list the ingredients for me so I can shop to a menu. 

If you think about it, this is really great training.  They learn how to prepare meals from beginning to end, learn the value of menu preparation, learn techniques of cooking, and as a bonus, get a healthy meal out of it.  It is a meal they are more likely to eat because THEY prepared it.  Of course YOU, as a parent, have to clean up, but let's face it,  even when the kids clean up, you end up going back and cleaning anyway.  You may have to eat some bad stuff, but it's worth it if they learn how to cook. 

The greatest challenge the mother had, was sitting on her hands while her fifteen year old made mistakes.  I completely agree that this will be difficult.  Tom is in the Boy Scouts.  One of the mantras they have for the parents is to leave the kids alone and let them screw up.  They learn by making mistakes.  It's really hard to watch your kid making mistakes and NOT leap in to help.  Tom is thirteen now and is trying to establish some independence from me.  He's being the typical snarky thirteen year old.  Occasionally I sit on his head and remind him that I'm not his buddy or his friend, and he'd better shape up.  Mostly, though, I'm giving him more rope with which to hang himself.  Ultimately, he comes back and apologizes when he screws up.  It will be a challenge to let him work unimpeded, or at least with less supervision.  I just want all fingers and toes intact at the end of this year!  I don't really mind eating carbonized stuff. 

One of the bigger problems I had last year was the kids push back on all the "healthy stuff" we were eating.  They missed eating out and not having pizza once every week or two.  I think this plan might help alleviate this.  Let's keep our fingers crossed that this works. 

Weird Foods

Weird Food

My kids are at a great age now.  They are interested in experimenting with new and unusual foods.  Until now, I thought it was just that they had open minds and were interested in expanding their palates.  Then the REAL truth came out.  It is the GROSS OUT factor. 
Now don’t get me wrong.  I completely appreciate the “gross out factor”.  One of my favorite songs to teach scouts and other kids is, “Great green gobs of Greasy grimy gophers guts...” and so on.  OR think of the song:

 “Did you ever think when a hearse went by, that you might be the next to die?  They wrap you up in a long white sheet, and lower you down for about 6 feet.  And all goes well for about a week, and then the coffin begins to leak.” 

After that, depending on what part of the country you’re from, the song varies tremendously in the gross things that happen to the body.   Let’s face it, kids love to gross each other out. 

What I’ve discovered is that the kids like to try new and interesting foods so they can one up their friends on the “gross out “ scale. 

Now, never one to miss an opportunity, I’ve discovered the usefulness of this.  When I want the kids to try new foods, I point out how they’ll be able to bring it up at school and disgust their friends.  It almost always works to get them to try what ever food it is. 

Gross foods vary from culture to culture though.  When I was growing up, octopus and squid were gross, brains were super gross, as were turtle soup and snails. 
NOW squid and octopus are normal fare for my kids.  I have to really up the ante to get them to be grossed out.  Fish eye balls, Jelly fish tentacles, beef heart,Crickets on a stick,   etc. 

Sometimes it’s the simple foods that families ate growing up that gross other people out. 
Consider banana and mayonnaise sandwiches on Wonder Bread.  That was one of my Mother’s “go-to” sandwiches when we were out of cold cuts growing up.  You would slather an amazing amount of mayo (not the other stuff) onto Wonder bread.  You then sliced bananas longitudinally, and piled them onto the sandwich.  YUM. 
We also ate bananas and milk for breakfast when we would run out of cereal. 

What odd foods did you have growing up? 

BTW, I passed my Boards Exam!!! whoohooo!

I

Momentum and Shame

Momentum:


mo·men·tum/mōˈmentəm/

Noun:
The quantity of motion of a moving body, measured as a product of its mass and velocity.
The impetus gained by a moving object.

shame/SHām/
Noun:
A painful feeling of humiliation or distress caused by the consciousness of wrong or foolish behavior.
Verb:
(of a person, action, or situation) Make (someone) feel ashamed: "I shamed him into giving some away".
Synonyms:
noun.  disgrace - dishonour - dishonor - ignominy - opprobrium
verb.  disgrace - abash - dishonour - dishonor



I am losing it.  No, I’m not losing my mind, although with Christmas coming up lightning fast and not one iota of shopping done, I should be.  No, I am losing momentum. 
I am having a hard time sticking to my resolve. 
I’ve established my routines of making a menu, shopping to it, and actually preparing the foods.

I am trying really hard to make sure I put all my food and drink into the Weight Watchers points calculator.  That is often a problem.  That is where I’m losing momentum. 

I’m also starting to have difficulty because this is the time of year where patients, specialists, lab representative, physical therapy companies, all drop by with goodies.  Yummy, over the top homemade cookies, shortbread, donuts, chocolates.  I do really well until someone TELLS me there are cookies in the back.  There were chocolate shortbread cookies today.  How in the world could I pass THAT up?  So, I didn’t.  I had one. 

In the past, I would have had 3 or 4. 

I don’t like Dunkin Donuts, thank God.  There were some in the kitchen today, too.  They have this weird artificial taste and some type of fat in it that coats your mouth leaving it feeling sticky/slimy. 

In order to combat this inertia, I’ve been telling more and more of my patients about the blog.  I am trying to ensure my resolve by increasing the number of people who can give me a hard time about failure.  I’m trying to shame myself into success.  Not sure if this is the best approach, but it seems to be working so far!

  Most of the conversations start with, “Hey Doc!  I like your new hair cut!”  Then I launch into the REASON for the haircut, my struggle, and the blog, and I invite them to follow along and cheer or jeer me on!  I tell them that I HAVE to succeed at this because then I’ll be giving them an excuse to fail, if I do.  BUT, if I succeed at this, then I’ve given them hope that they too can do it, and I can give THEM a hard time.  It’s kind of group therapy. 

So far, it’s been a success.  This lack of momentum thing is a temporary bump, I think.  Shame is a powerful motivator and I’m shaming myself into success every time I see my resolve weakening.  I think to myself, “THINK of this TEACHABLE MOMENT!  If YOU fail, you’ve failed your patients too!”  Then, I walk away from the temptation or  I  eat fewer of the tempting yummies. 

Keep me on the straight and narrow guys!  Help me keep up my momentum!
Help me avoid the SHAME!!!

Splurging. OR It's Not a Life Sentence

Splurging
I really thought I blew it. 
I was not the paradigm of virtue these last 7 days. 
There is something so tempting about going off the rails on Thanksgiving!  I had the most delicious time being alone for 3 days too!  I could eat anything I wanted and not worry about feeding any one else.  I actually had a milkshake for dinner one night!  (a small McDonalds chocolate shake is about a zillion points, BTW). 

I had TWO Thanksgivings.  One at my partners house on Thanksgiving Day (man is she a good cook!) and the second at my house on Sunday. 

I really tried to be good within reason.  I did splurge on a pumpkin pie and homemade whipped cream, but we decided to just make a turkey, dressing, and green beans on Sunday.  No other soft and squishy, high caloric foods like mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole.  I made green beans almondine with fresh green beans, and I used lower fat sausage for my dressing this year.  We left the table full but not needing to unbutton.  I had 4 oz of white wine and stopped at that. 

Unfortunately, I also gave in to other temptations.  Chocolate.  I stopped at 2 small Ghiradelli squares though.  I was utterly convinced I was done in and avoided the scale for several days. 

I decided to get back on the straight and narrow two days ago.  I figured that this is a life style change, not a life sentence, so occasionally I could splurge, as long as I only did it occasionally.  So, here I am. 

I got on the scale today and held my breath.... 191.7.  WHEW!!!

SO, I got back into my routine and made a menu for next week, which I’ll shop to.  I’ll prepare most of the food over the weekend between kid activities and housework. 

To my patients who are following along...You don’t have to be a saint.  This isn’t a prison sentence.  Eating well actually tastes good most of the time.  I felt satisfied on both Thanksgivings without feeling overstuffed!  Christmas may be a challenge but I’ll try to be reasonable and stop when I’m full, taste the goodies and not gorge. 

Menu for next week: 
Spaghetti with broccoli sauce
roasted brussel sprouts with maple balsamic drizzle
Slow Roasted Pork in Mole Sauce
Chicken with Broccoli Rabe and White Beans
Maybe a chili or sloppy joe with bulgar wheat or ground turkey.  

Remember, it's not a form of suffering to eat well.  Unless you're this guy:

Thanksgiving Thanks....

What I’m Thankful For



I’m thankful that I have to actually worry because I get too much to eat.

I’m thankful that I have heat and electricity (especially in light of Connecticut’s recent outage)

I’m thankful that my friends are healthy.  (Yes, even YOU Steven.  He said that you’re doing BETTER than expected, not AS WELL as can be expected).
Read :
www.Journalfromtheplagueyear.blogspot.com and you’ll understand. 

I’m happy that I’ve lived long enough to say, “---BECAUSE I SAID SO!” to my children. 
By the way, I swore I never would say that. 

I’m thankful that I now understand the “Mother’s Curse” (I hope you have a child who is JUST LIKE YOU!). 
I’m happy that I lived long enough to learn it.  And to say to my Mother, “I’m sorry because I was a royal PIA as a kid”. 

I am thankful that my children are quirky and funny and smart. 
When Tom was five, he was sitting on the toilet and I was getting dressed.  I swear this is not edited.
“Mom, You know how I’m a ‘science kind of guy?’”(He was FIVE!!!)
Me, “yes”
“Well, I’m not sure if I can believe in God.”
“Why not?”
“Well, there’s no proof.  I believe in Santa because there’s PROOF,  but there’s no proof that God exists.”
(I had to run into my bedroom to keep him from seeing me crack up laughing). 

I’m thankful that my husband is the kindest, most thoughtful guy I’ve ever met.  He does housework, cooks, cleans, and is a fabulous father to our kids.  I cannot and never will complain about him to my friends.  I’m so lucky it’s ridiculous.  That said, He needs a haircut.

I’m thankful that my cat, Fuzzbutt, has lived to the ripe old age of 20.  When I say ripe, I mean it.  Old cats don’t groom themselves very well.

I’m thankful that I have a hobby.  Life would be so boring without some obsession to distract me.  Quilting is a great hobby because you leave behind a piece of you for others to keep themselves warm  after you’re dead and buried!  People will remember me and say stuff like, “Oh, there’s the quilt that Michele made for us.  Too bad she’s dead.” 

Mostly, I’m glad to have two days alone.  No one to cook for, no one to clean up after.  No one to put to bed.  No one else’s laundry to do.  I don’t have to say, “Hey, I’m in here!” while I’m showering.  (13 year old boys love to barge in and pee while you’re showering.  What is that anyway?)

Happy Thanksgiving!