Friends,
I took last week off from this newsletter because, well, work is hard sometimes. 🤷🏾♂️
We've had a big week in our home with the kiddos. On Saturday, while Jess was at work (she works really late on the weekends anchoring her shows), Nico (2yo) had a total meltdown wanting his "mom home now." I suspect it's because bath time is more fun for him when she and I split duties between the two kids, giving each focused attention. Or it could be that instead of rose petals, I smell like a used gym sock after not showering for two days, but who the hell knows.
On the weekends, it's just me playing zone defense against two kids while doing both baths simultaneously. This can best be described as having your seatbelt break while on a rollercoaster and completing the remaining 2 minutes of the ride while barely hanging on. To say the least, it's challenging and only the tiniest bit fun (if you manage to survive it).
Nico has been a bath-time champ the last few months, but that totally fell apart this weekend. While in complete meltdown over a missing mama, I managed to get him into the tub where he promptly had his first in-tub accident* and subsequently began shaking in panic. For those who know, he is absolutely the sweetest and calmest kid (minus a minor issue with sharing at the playground), so this was totally out of character for him. I managed to get him cleaned off, finished Coco's bath, and got them both into bed, after which I promptly sank deep into my couch and proceeded to drink an entire bottle of wine**.
The next night and after that, he had extreme meltdowns at bath time, but these were different. Each night, he went into full panic mode, actually voicing his fear of the bathtub and begging to not have to go in. It was a scene.
So, what exactly do you do when your kids develop sudden fears of recurring events?
In our case, we went into overdrive, determined to rewrite the memory. I jumped onto Amazon and ordered the following (note that we hadn't really done any decorating in the kids' bathroom except for a ton of toys):
Baby Shark bath mat (for inside the tub)
Baby Shark Towel
A shark toy that lets you chomp toy fish accessories
Dinosaur decals for the walls
And finally… Honest Company Bubble Bath (fragrance-free)
Last night, after setting up the new bathroom decor and filling the bath so full of bubbles Mr. Bubble himself would be envious, we unveiled the new experience to our son. Jess literally barely got his clothes off before he dove in.
It was a Christmas miracle in April! At one point, he stopped playing, looked up at Jess, and said, softly, "so fun, mama." Hearts suddenly melted all over Manhattan.
I've been reading Bessel van der Kolk's The Body Keeps Score for the past month. It is about trauma and the physical effect it has on the body. In his analysis, the author drives home the idea that the effects of trauma are not solely isolated to one's emotional state (historically, this view was associated with mental weakness, not illness), but instead, trauma can actually alter the body's ability to physically process and respond to threats, affection, trust, etc. This negatively affects the way we operate in our daily lives entirely.
Why do I bring this up after just telling a story about my kid taking a shit in his bathtub because he missed his mom? Because trauma is relative and should be recognized when it happens, no matter how ridiculous the situation is. I'm not trying to be overdramatic here. I am honestly just trying to train myself to recognize and respond to trauma accordingly. I do this because, with practice, I will be better at recognizing the more subtle signs of more severe traumatic moments my children will experience in the future.
More than anything, I simply want to be better for them.
Kolk writes in his book that there are three basic ways to undo the effects of trauma:
Top-Down - basically traditional therapy, talking out traumatic experiences, reliving them mentally, and sharing with experts and other survivors.
Middle Out - using medicinal intervention to bring order to the body's responses to trauma, allowing patients to function with some sense of normalcy while employing the tactics presented in 1 and 3.
Bottom-Up - work to rewrite the memory by introducing positive experiences around the same behaviors.
Looking at my son's reaction to his terrible bath experience and knowing that I was dealing with a relatively minor issue (compared to those listed in the book), I chose path #3 to resolve the issue.
Over 24 hours, Jess and I redecorated Nico's bathroom with dinosaur decals, Baby Shark items, and a ton of bubbles. The goal was not to use toys or gifts to distract him. It was to completely rewrite the memory in his head. His bathroom before the incident was just fine, he was comfortable and in a routine. One lousy night evoked a reaction akin to a panic attack you'd see afflict a PTSD-scarred veteran in an old war movie. It changed the way he saw the actual room, on top of the experience.
Would this have resolved itself over time if we had stayed the course? Probably. As I said earlier, I am intentionally overthinking these moments to prepare myself for the future and give my son the best childhood possible.
The moral of the story? Every reaction we have to our children's traumatic experiences teaches them how they should be expected to respond when they are adults living their own lives. The burden of responsibility on parents is so significant that, at times, it's suffocating, but applying lessons from unexpected sources can lead to incredible results.
For us, it allowed us to get through a reasonably typical incident in a child's life, having learned something along the way. I'll take the win.
01. I have changed
Going into quarantine last year in NYC, I knew that I would change. How could an event like this not change you? There are several more profound learnings, but my new view on life can be best explained through, what I call, my "dreams of the pandemic."
Phase One: The first three months
Me to wife: How great would it be to be on a beach in the Bahamas right now with a few friends and sipping on frozen drinks?
Phase Two: The rest of 2020
Me to wife: I would give away my entire sneaker collection to be strolling the Atlantic City boardwalk with a slice of pizza in hand, waving at strangers right now.
Phase Three: January - April 2021
Me to wife: I would literally murder a Keebler Elf with my bare hands to be able to day-drink at a Taco Bell Cantina and pass out on the living room floor surrounded by empty White Castle burger boxes.
The takeaway: I'm on the verge of cracking, but the end seems near.
02. Mothers Day is coming
Guys - DO. NOT. FUCK. THIS. UP. The mothers of your children should be held up and admired the same way Simba was held up at his birth for all to gaze upon with starstruck awe. They are superheroes holding the world together and should be celebrated as such. Plan something, anything, to show her you care.
The takeaway: I can't overstate the importance of this. A simple Google search will open you up to a world of ideas (gifts and experiences). Oh, and also don't forget your wife's birthday when asking if you can leave town for the night to attend a board meeting for an independent private school you attended and are also a trustee of, which happens to be on the exact same day as said birthday. Don't do that either.
03. Disney’s wokeness traumatizes a grown man
This story was immediately added to my running list of "I can't believe I live in a world where…" A Nevada-based, grown-ass man wrote an op-ed for the Orlando Sentinel sharing how Disney making a few of their rides less rapey and less casual about slavery is destroying his favorite experience… which apparently is going to Disney World so frequently, without kids, that he feels confident to quite-seriously critique the experience in a national-reaching publication. You can see it all best summarized here.
The takeaway: I love Disney World and Land. LOVE THEM. I've been several times as an adult (before kids) and can't wait to go with my children when they're old enough. That said, under no circumstances would I write a public-facing review critiquing it for any reason, let alone about Disney making the most fundamental changes possible to the experience in an attempt to remain decent business operators. I don't understand. Honestly, whose experience could possibly be so negatively impacted simply because the Pirates of the Caribbean ride no longer auctions off animatronic women as sex-slave-wives?!?!?! It's just nuts.
04. The MF Bookshelf
Currently Reading: The Body Keeps The Score: Brain, Mind, and body in the Healing of Trauma, Bessel van der Kolk
On deck: The Vanishing Half, Brit Bennett
Articles: None. Absolutely none, because I’ve been overloaded with work/life duties.
Watching: The Handmaid's Tale, Season 4 on Hulu
05. The MF Mixtape
Jeff Rosenstock’s entire catalogue (I’ve been in a punk rock-angsty mood lately)
*There was a 4-inch turd floating in there next to a crying and confused toddler.
**Two bottles. It was two.