Three Year Olds Are Assholes- The Positive Reframe - By K. Cozzo, School Psychologist

K. Cozzo is a School Psychologist, Aspiring Writer, and temporary SAHM on the brink of insanity due to temporary SAHM status

Saturday morning, a comrade-in-arms (aka fellow parent of a preschooler) sent me the link to the Huff Post Parents blog post entitled ‘”Three-Year-Olds are A**holes.”  My initial reaction was, “Daaamn straight,” and upon reading the entry, I found it to be every bit as hilarious, honest, and accurate as expected.

Truth is, it’s been a long winter on the East Coast, and “snow” is the dirtiest of four-letter words. There’ve been too many weekends where by Sunday night, my house has been trashed and my patience trampled by a crabby little creature literally climbing the walls in a paint-stained purple princess dress, worn over her pajamas, both of which she’s refused to take off since morning.

Tonight, with another day of snow (aka house arrest) looming, I’m weary before it even arrives. But instead of dreading or fearing what lies ahead, I find myself harkening back to my introductory counseling class in grad school. I remember a lesson on the “positive reframe” technique and being given an exercise where we were forced to turn negative adjectives/qualities into positives. So, in the hopes of starting tomorrow with a more optimistic outlook and renewed patience, I’m going to (temporarily) forget that “three-year-olds are a**holes” through the following analysis: Three-Year-Olds – the Positive Reframe.

(I’m pretty confident the following list of tendencies applies to the vast majority of three-year-olds out there, but for the record… yes dear daughter, I’m talking about you.)

Terrible Toddler Tendency #1: You may be dressed like a sweet princess, but you’re a wicked little drama queen. By seven-thirty AM, I’ve lost count of the varied crises that have compelled you to drop to your knees and scream to the heavens in utter despair, disbelief, and/or fury. On this particular morning, the antics were incited by the dumping of your Jelly Belly jelly bean dispenser. You know the one – the Jelly Belly jelly bean dispenser you’ve been told on countless occasions that you’re not allowed to touch. But you didn’t listen, or maybe you just didn’t care, and proceeded to dump approximately 6,482 jelly beans all over the kitchen floor.  The highlight was the subsequent mourning period, during which you wailed “Jelly beans! My jelly beans!” on repeat for a solid twenty minutes. (Interesting side note – while I’m quite certain you could be heard in every house on the circle, somehow, miraculously, your father heard nothing.  A story for a whole ‘nother time.)

Positive Reframe: You are passionate! I should commend you for that. There’s no denying that you care, about big things, and about things as small as, well, jelly beans. I hope you always care. I hope daily occurrences always inspire passion in you, and that you are never reduced to merely going through the motions. It’s good to care, and it’s good to feel. It sure seems to take a lot of energy, all that wailing, but at least no one can ever accuse you of apathy.

Terrible Toddler Tendency #2: Good Lord, you are bossy. I never realized when I had you that I’d committed to several years of indentured servitude. Yet by the time you take your nap, I’ve been “commanded” to fetch you drinks (heaven forbid they’re delivered in the wrong cup), cue up the appropriate princess DVD, pour a refill of breakfast cereal, find baby Teds, your beloved (filthy) teddy bear, refold a blanket that I’d folded improperly, turn up the volume on said princess DVD (because you can’t hear it over your rapid-fire demands), and maybe wipe your bum a few times. While nursing your brother. (Not only are you bossy, you’re usually pretty rude about it, too. Like yesterday, when you were reminded to say “please,” and you informed me that it would be the LAST day you’d be saying “please,” because my constant reminders about it were “annoying.”)

Positive Reframe: You know… I see some natural leadership abilities in you! I’m not too terribly concerned that, being a woman, you’ll have any difficulty scaling the professional ladder. I feel confident in your future at the head of industry, or possibly as the dictator of a small European principality. Tempered, I’m certain your ability to “delegate responsibility” and demand immediate results from “those you manage” will take you quite far in life.

Terrible Toddler Tendency #3: Impatient much? Believe it or not, I am not deaf, and I heard your request to “come HERE!”the first forty times you barked it at me. You don’t need to get louder, or more adamant, or say it forty more times. You seem oblivious of the fact that I have only one pair of hands, and that often times these days they are tending to a person who’s been on this planet less than 75 days. Being that often times I have to wait until late afternoon to even take a shower, I feel I’ve become a shining example of patience myself. It clearly isn’t rubbing off on you.

Positive Reframe: You are eager.  Eager for me to join you at the delicious picnic you’ve assembled using every food item from the 195-piece set (thank you, Uncle Tommy). Eager to have me admire the beauty of the fourteenth picture you’ve just painted in a fervent state. Eager to have me read the Nemo story for the seventh time from the Disney anthology, because you still enjoy it THAT much. Mostly, you are eager to interact with me, to have me share your excitement, beauty, and joy, and to use our imaginations together. And when I phrase it that way, I have to ask… can I really complain?

Terrible Toddler Tendency #4: You’re appallingly argumentative, and you talk back like a surly sixteen-year-old, which, ironically enough, is how old you think you are. You always have an excuse, a reason, a counterpoint, an exception to the rule, which you feel the need to share in a most belligerent manner. You have a total inability to accept “no” as the final answer. You believe your way is the best way, even when it results in the yogurt container spilling all over the coffee table, the paint ruining the princess dress, or the chair falling backward with you narrowly escaping banging your noggin against the wall. No one knows better than you do, and you’re not really going to entertain the idea that they might.

Positive Reframe:  What conviction! How fierce! No man will ever push YOU around. You have a voice, and you’re going to use it. On top of that, you have a tremendous grasp of the English language, and your ability to share your thoughts and feelings is somewhat awesome. I know better than to take this for granted. At my “day job,” I work with children who can’t articulate their words, or lack the receptive or expressive capacity to share experiences with others. No matter how loud, verbose, argumentative, or chatty you are, your power of language should not be taken for granted. I know better.

Terrible Toddler Tendency #5: You are careless. You leave your crap, I mean, priceless treasures, everywhere. You rarely (never) pick them up. You step on your favorite crown and then tantrum because your foot hurts (you refuse socks these days, even in subzero temperatures) and because your favorite crown is now broken. Food is spilled. Food is in your hair. Drinks topple. Puzzle pieces never make it back to their boxes, and now poor Sofia the First will forever be missing one arm. Daddy nearly suffered a black eye during bedtime hugs. To put it bluntly, you’re a hot mess.

Positive Reframe: You are care-less. You float through most days with nary a care, and kudos to you for that. Most days I have too many stressors, anxieties, and items on my perpetual to-do list to keep straight, and the definition of carefree is somewhat lost on me. Thank you for modeling the lost art of care-less-ness. One day, maybe I’ll try to be care-less with you.

Terrible Toddler Tendency #6: You have the short-term memory of a mosquito. I’ve asked you to put your coat on three times now. I’ve reminded you to pick up the Legos seven times. I’ve told you to stop bopping the dog on the head with your inflatable hammer thirty-two times. Yet each and every time, you look up as if you’re hearing the instruction for the very first time… and then promptly go back to forgetting it again.  You’ve passed hearing tests, but somehow, you miss every word I say. Except for “lollipop.”

Positive Reframe: You have the short-term memory of a mosquito. So you never hold a grudge. There have been several times today when you could have viewed mommy as unnecessarily dramatic, bossy, impatient, argumentative, needling, bossy, boring, or even mean. Yet at the end of the day, your attitude toward me has not soured at all. You’re still offering smiles, seeking hugs, and scooting closer to cuddle on the couch. My wrongs do not seem to amass throughout the day, leaving you impatient with me by bedtime. You love me just as much as ever and continue to clamor for my company when I am admittedly a bit eager to take a break from yours. And you know what’s really wonderful about you? It doesn’t take a positive reframe list for you to feel that way. It seems that your heart is set to automatic positive reframe.

So yeah, maybe three-year-olds sometimes act like a**holes.  Maybe sometimes they act dramatic, bossy, impatient, argumentative, careless, and forgetful. But at heart, three-year-olds are passionate, independent-minded, eager, strong-willed, care-less, and most importantly, forgiving.  Because I’m not so perfect either.

With that in mind, it’s time for bed, because I definitely need to rest up. Here’s to a fun-filled snow day with my girl.*

*followed by a glass of Pinot at bedtime

I'm Traumatized From Getting My Children Ready in The Morning

It's 5:45am and I hear the creak of my daughter's bedroom door open. Her sound machine is still on. I can hear the fake rain sound emanating from the distance. Then I hear the thumping of her little feet hit the floor. She runs directly into my bedroom and proclaims:

"Good morning mama!" 

I groggily rub my eyes and muster up a semi-comprehensible response:

"Good morning my love." I muster back. But what I really want to say is "Oh my G-d it's so fucking early. Couldn't you have slept one more hour/"

But I don't. 

I get up and go into the kitchen with her. I microwave some frozen pancakes and she eats them readily. All the while I am praying that my son sleeps a little bit longer. He's not a morning person, so there is that. 

After I give her the pancakes I put my coffee mug in the microwave for three minutes to get the water hot enough for the French Press. During this time I'm continually anticipating my daughter's impatience and eventual descent from her chair and down the hall toward the living room. 

I'm thinking in my mind I hope she sits there just two minutes longer so I can have my coffee.

While she's chowing down on pancakes I'm furiously taking all my vitamins because I'm old. While I'm shoving supplements in my mouth I'm also gathering frozen fruit and vegetables and attempting to make a smoothie in my blender. 

At the sound of the blender doing it's thing, my son wakes up. 

"I wanna watch something!" He proclaims, meaning he's trying to get out of sitting at the breakfast table and wants to watch TV. 

"You can't watch TV until you eat breakfast."

We argue about this for about five minutes until he sulks and sits at the table and eats Cheerios without milk. The alternate scenario here is that I forget he hates milk in his cereal and I put it in the bowl, he freaks out, and I give the milk version to my non-picky eater sitting across the table.

Once everyone eats they all run away from me towards the living room and turn the TV on. 

"You guys can't watch TV until you get dressed." 

There's a lot of whining and protesting. My son then starts negotiating and telling me that he will actually die if he's not allowed to watch TV. As if this is actually possible. I explain to him that no one has ever died from lack of television. There are no medical studies documenting this, although it might be a rare condition that we're not aware of yet. But, nevertheless, he should still put his pants on.

He finally agrees to put clothes on. But that's when things get intense. 

"I can't find any pants!"

"Look in your drawer."

"There are no pants!"

"If I come in there and find pants, I'm going to be really upset."

"Mommy, help."

"Okay fine."

I go into his room, open the drawer and locate a pair of pants within 2.5 seconds. 

"See? Pants."

"I don't like those pants. I want my green pants."

"Those are dirty. I'm doing laundry tonight."

"I want them."

"Well you can wear them tomorrow. We're late now, you need to put these pants on."

"No."

"Either you put these pants on, or I put them on you."

"No."

"If you don't listen to me you're not watching TV tonight."

*Crickets*

He decides that TV is worth the sacrifice of putting the pants on. Meanwhile, while this argument is going on, my daughter is chasing the cat down the hall and if and when she catches this poor feline she is pulling the creature's tail. 

"Stop pulling the cat's tail! That hurts her."

"Okay." She says with a sigh.

While I'm discipling my kid for animal cruelty, my son has taken his pants off in protest.

"Remember what I said about TV?"

"Yeah."

"Put your pants back on."

*Crickets again.

"Okay, I'm going to get dressed. By the time I have my clothes on, your pants along with the rest of your clothes are going to be on."

I cannot believe I still have pajamas on. But I do.

I get my clothes on all the while praying that he'll be ready to go while I'm doing my thing. Meanwhile, my daughter has taken all the Dixie Cups out of the bathroom cabinet and is throwing them one by one into the toilet.

"Stop doing that! Grandpa is going to be mad." I tell her. "You're going to time out."

I put her in time out. 

At this point I've managed to put clothes on miraculously. I find my son and thankfully he's mostly dressed aside from the one snow boot that he cannot manage to find. We search high and low and eventually find it underneath the couch. 

"I'm good at finding things." He proclaims.

He's good to go. But my daughter has now run away from me and I can't find her anywhere. Finally I locate her. She's underneath my bed. 

"We gotta go! Let's put your coat on."

I put her coat on and we are ready to get out the door. But I might need a time out myself. 

Samara Gets Pink Hair

For months, after I dyed my hair purple, Samara was asking for purple hair. I kept putting that information in the back of my mind. I wanted to do more research about the right products to use so as not to damage her hair too much.

I finally got it together, and a friend of mine who does color professionally came over to dye Samara's hair.

I have to say, Samara was a great client. My friend remarked that she was an ideal client and more patient than her adult clients. I attribute that to the IPad.

The only part that was unpleasant for both of us was washing out the dye from her hair. She was like "No! I don't wanna get wet!" I had to remind her that the end result was pretty pink hair. And voila! Here it is:

"Samara, you look like Twilight Sparkle!" I said to her. Twilight Sparkle is one of Samara's favorite My Little Ponies. 

"No!" She said back "I Pinkie Pie!"

After all this excitement, homegirl was tired. So she lay down on the purple couch.

Next color up: blue!

Being a Sensitive Person on The Internet

I wrote an article. That article went viral. It was controversial…I guess. People had strong reactions to it. When I wrote it, I didn't think about what other people would think. It was about getting my feelings out. Writing is a form of catharsis for me. It always has been and always will be.

What I wasn't prepared for is how I would feel when other people disagreed with me. I'm fine with people having a differing point of view from my own. I have a difficult time handling it when people attack me for having an opinion. The reason is that I'm a sensitive person.

Being sensitive is challenging in itself, but when you combine being sensitive with becoming a public persona, it's a whole different ball game.

When someone says something negative about something that I've written, it hurts. People have told me I have to develop a thicker skin. Well, they're right to an extent. However, it's difficult not to feel hurt when someone tells you that "you're an asshole" or "you've hurt your innocent daughter by writing what you wrote."

Yeah that shit hurts. I'm not going to pretend it doesn't, because I would be lying to myself. And I'm about being honest with my emotions.

I need to find a way to honor my sensitivity without letting it take over. I don't need to be obsessing over what other people on the internet (that I will never meet in real life) think about me.

I have my friends and family who love me and support me. That's more important than some random haters.

I know these things are true, but in that moment when I read something negative about myself online, it still stings. I take it personally, because writing is a personal act. Writing is a huge part of who I am. My words and I are connected in a deep way.

I wonder if there are any other sensitive writers out there who can relate to this.

Are you a sensitive writer? How do you cope with being sensitive in a public forum?

To The People That Are Offended By The Word "Asshole"

I've received such wonderful feedback from my article 3 Year Olds are Assholes. I want to address the issue of profanity used in the piece.

As I mentioned in my HuffPost Live interview, it's not acceptable to use profanity at your children. However, as parents we're humans. We may think these things in our minds. We may need to step out of the other room to take a breather from an intense negotiation with our toddler, because we need a break.

Parenting is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. I can say that with all honesty. Anyone who claims that parenting is easy is either a liar or in denial. Straight up.

It's okay to feel frustrated with your children. It is okay to be angry at not being able to control a situation. We are all humans, including our kids, and hence, we are not perfect. We're deeply flawed creatures. A part of being flawed is recognizing that we may have angry thoughts related to our children when we are having a bad parenting day.

And guess what? That's okay. You have to forgive yourself as a parent. Forgive the fact that you may not want to look at your child after they threw your cell phone in the toilet. And by the way, that's a real life example. My daughter actually threw my IPhone into the crapper.

If you have a problem with my usage of the term "assholes," I encourage you to take a look at the bigger picture of the article. I want you to understand that it is okay to both love and feel incredibly exasperated by your children and their defiant behavior.

Feel free to substitute the word "asshole" for something that makes you more comfortable. But please, do not shame me for using that word in my mind. Please allow me to enjoy my own personal catharsis so that I'm able to be a great mother to my children.

And (contrary to your understanding) I am a wonderful mother despite my flaws and my bad days.

Thank you for reading and now go give your asshole toddlers a big hug.

Beware the Trolls

There are some creatures that live on the Internet. They only come out when there is something negative that they would like to share. They are called trolls. Now when I think of trolls, I immediately envision this toy from my childhood:

They are silly and have neon hair. They're also called trolls.

The trolls that live on Internet don't look like this. But wouldn't it be awesome if they did?

So if you come on my blog and leave me a nasty comment, I'm just going to reply with this:

Have a wonderful day!

Men are Just as Sensitive as Women - They Just Show it Differently

Our society boosts that women are sensitive creatures. We are in touch with our emotions. We're able to express ourselves and tell others when we're sad or angry. We have no problems crying. In fact, women and girls are encouraged to cry if the occasion permits. Cry, let it out, it's okay to cry, I've been told over and over again.

Little boys, on the other hand, are often told to "stop crying" from a young age. There is a societal expectation for boys to display toughness. I took a developmental psychology course during undergraduate career. In that course, I read a book called Real Boys By Dr. William Pollack of Harvard Medical School. In the book, Pollack talks about the issue of repressed emotions in boys and men. He specifically calls attention to the fact that men are discouraged from crying and expressing outward sadness.

Due to the fact that men are told not to cry and suck it up from a young age, they often become disassociated from their feelings of sadness.

What happens when you remove someone's ability to express sadness? They find another emotion to replace it with. Often times this emotion is anger. Most men, from my experience, have no problem expressing anger. It's a familiar emotion to them and society encourages them to express it. Unlike sadness, which they are told to hide at all costs.

I've dated many different men in my life. From the time I was 15 years-old until now I've noticed that they behave in a similar way when they express their emotions. As a sensitive person, I have no problem expressing how I feel, whether that be sadness, anger, happiness, frustration or anxiousness.

The men that I've dated have typically expressed themselves the best in writing. Some of them were great speakers, but their writing was where they truly shined. I still have old love letters from my boyfriends from high school and college, because they are beautifully written. Sure, call me sentimental, but I value the human ability to express genuine emotion.

Sometimes I play this game with my male friends. I'll ask a guy that I'm close to:
"When was the last time you cried?"

The responses are fascinating. Often, the man won't admit to crying recently. He'll say, a couple of months ago. He might even remark that it was years ago. The most troubling of these responses is:
"I can't remember."

If you can't remember the last time you cried, that's a problem. That means that you're repressing genuine emotions.

When my five-year-old son cries, I tell him "It's okay to cry honey. Let it out." And I hold him. I rub his back. And guess what? His father tells him the same thing. We believe in encouraging emotions in our children. Emotions are a normal healthy part of life. Boys are allowed to feel and express sadness.

We need to encourage our boys to be able express sadness in a cathartic way. As parents, we need to tell them that it is okay to let the tears flow when they're sad, despite what society tells them.