The Most Dangerous Toys? Oh Please...

"I've had a lot of worries in my life, most of which never happened."

---Mark Twain

At times, I have been a world-class worrier. My first child wore a life jacket and a bike helmet in the tub. As the years wore on, I eased up. My second only wore the helmet. The third? Neither, but the baby monitor wasn't turned off in her room until she was ten years old. Thankfully, over the years, I've been able to calm down about the minor issues and just focus on what matters most. It's a good thing because looking back, worrying about tubby time seems simple compared to some of what keeps me up at night now.

Recently the list of the ten most dangerous toys came out. I appreciate that there are organizations that check on safety and toys because the laws about the manufacturing and sale of them are not that specific and the list always seems to bring up something no one thought of before. Knowledge is power, right? No, not always. Sometimes knowledge is what's causing that rising panic when you start losing it because the toy your kid wants---more than anything in the world---made the top ten.

This year's list is much like those in the past. It talks about toys with toxic materials, small pieces, dangerous malfunctions and all that. The problem is, some of the items on the list, while not harmless, seem to be there for no real reason. One of them is the Wonder Woman Battle-Action Sword. It's on the list as one of the "worst" toys, and let's face it that's a big deal. It's a short list; it's like being a National Merit Finalist for a trip to the Island of Misfit T

oys. The problem with this toy? It could cause a "blunt force injury." Well…yes, but couldn't almost any toy do that? I bashed my brother over the head with my Patty Playful doll, and he needed two stitches. It would be one thing if they had a problem with the Lasso of Truth being a choking hazard, or Wonder Woman's invisible plane being recalled for not meeting emissions standards, but come on.

Another toy to look out for the is the Spiderman drone. The propeller blades go wicked fast and if a kid touches them, it could cause an injury. Isn't that true of every drone ever made? How come Spiderman is singled out?  First Wonder Woman, and now the webbed wonder? Doesn't this sort of sound like a conspiracy against Super Heroes? Watch out Batman; they'll be coming for the utility belt any day now.

It's become ridiculous. The holidays are stressful enough; now there's a naughty list of toys too? Whoever makes up the list must think parents are stupid and will just hand a kid a toy and never bother to read the directions or watch the children play. It's like the whole "You'll shoot your eye out!" frenzy in the movie "A Christmas Story."  The Red Ryder, carbine action, two-hundred shot range model air rifle wasn't on any list, but everyone still worried about it. Everyone except Ralphie's dad, who got it for him. Did Ralphie shoot his eye out? No, it never happened, he broke his glasses, that's all.

 This movie is a favorite of mine because it's not really about the Red Ryder BB gun, or the Bumpus hounds or the "major award" leg lamp. It's about what we remember most. We are entering the season of "lists" from who is naughty or nice, to the Black Friday specials, the holiday card addresses, and the invites to the New Year's party. Some of my most cherished memories of this time were never on any list. There was the Christmas my doll carriage fell apart and to make me feel better my father pretended to write to the factory elves about quality control, after spending two hours getting it put back together. Then the year George was nine days old, and there were still gifts to wrap for his older brother at 5 o'clock Christmas morning after a sleepless eve of screaming and diaper changes. These all could have been disasters, but that's not how they are remembered.

Enough of lists that are just more worries to add to the ones we already have. Most of them won't ever happen, Mark Twain was right; so much of what we worry about never comes to pass. Make new lists, without chores or "action items." Mine will read something like, "Call Lisa J. for coffee" or "Go to lunch with Miss June" and "Play cards with Auntie Anita." The rest of it can just wait. After Christmas, maybe I can pick up that Wonder Woman sword on clearance.

Pressure Cooker Parents

"The only thing you ever had to do to make me happy was come home at the end of the day."

---Aaron Sorkin

Recently I was talking with some friends, and the topic of anxiety came up. An anxiety disorder is a real, medical, neurobiological condition, no question. It's one I wouldn't wish on anyone, it's crippling at times and not well understood. But there's also the regular run of the mill anxiety we all feel sometimes. Work deadlines, family pressure, stress and the like. What about that? I wish I knew, because then maybe I could help a few young friends of mine, but I don't have all the answers.

I have some questions though. Why is the rate of teen suicides up so much? It's horrifying. In the period between 2007 and 2015, the number of girls ages 15-19 who took their lives doubled. For boys, it went up 30%. We are losing too many precious kids to depression and anxiety issues.

Another question I have is: Why are so many teens so incredibly stressed out? Even some who are not harming themselves still suffer. Panic attacks, aggression, strained relationships with family, and risky behavior with drugs and alcohol are all hallmarks of stress. Remember when being 16 years old meant you hung out with friends, went to school, played a sport or joined the marching band and maybe on a Friday night you got to borrow your mom's car and go out with your friends? It's so not that simple anymore.

Where is this stress coming from? Some kids have diagnosed anxiety disorders, and my heart is with them and their families because it's incredibly hard dealing with that kind of illness. Some kids are just born high strung and put pressure on themselves over grades, SATs, college and so much else. Sometimes though, the pressure is coming from a parent. We've all seen those parents, and while I never like to assume I know everything by looking at someone, sometimes you can just tell. Haven't we all been at a game where a parent is screaming harsh criticism from the sidelines? Heck, I've been to a game where one parent punched another parent over a goal that was denied. This pressure cooker way of parenting is happening more than any of us realize, and our kids are at risk.

A friend told me that her husband (pardon me, now ex-husband) "required" their kids get As in every subject. I said, "What happens if they don't?" and her daughter spoke up at that point and said, "We were too scared to find out." Raise your hand if you think it's fine for a kid to get so freaked out over a B that they consider hurting themselves?  This dad isn't a one-off either, and it wasn't an issue of domestic violence, he never raised a hand to anyone, he just "laid down the law." There are a lot of parents just like him though. Ask any guidance counselor, principal or teacher how many kids they see that are about to burst from stress. You might be surprised.

How did some parents get this way? Another unanswerable question. They aren't all ogres, they aren't all looking to borrow Joan Crawford's wire hangers, but they're stressed too. They want the best for their children, but some of them have gotten it terribly wrong. Perhaps they've read too many books like "How to Prepare Your Pre-schooler for the Ivy League." Ok, that's not a real book (at least I hope not), but there are plenty of similar books. Maybe they've gotten caught up in some societal rat-race competition thing. I sure did a few times, thinking that my kid just had to take a particular class or stand out as a stellar athlete or they would be left behind, choking on the dust of failure and desperation. Do we all want the best for our kids? Yes. Is getting into an Ivy, or having the highest GPA in town or being an MVP worth their health, their sanity or their lives? No. I'm not making this up, there are kids dying over grades, over SATs, over social drama and while there could be hundreds of causes besides parenting, it's one of the few things we can control. It's got to stop. How do we make it stop?

I don't know any parent who doesn't love their children so much they'd walk through fire for them. Maybe before doing that, we parents could all take a long hard look at our kids, their strengths and weaknesses, their faults and fears, and remember that they are, for a little while yet, still children. Remember when they were babies, all pink and giggly? Somewhere under all the stress, the eye-rolls, and the sarcasm, we have to remember that they are still our babies and some of them are in a world of hurt. Surely we can fix that, right? I don't know about anyone else, but I'm with Sorkin on this one. If my kids come home at the end of the day, to me, that is everything and more. 

Where Everything Didnt Used to Be

NB: What also "Didn't Used to Be" is a paywall over my column. I realize the paper has to make money, but I am not paid by the GateHouse, yet they charge people to read my column? I don't much care for that, to be honest. I don't mind doing it, I like being a part of my community this way. But still....OpEd content should be available to all in the community.

"Anything that triggers good memories can't be all bad."

---Adam West

Summer is over, it's not Thanksgiving or the Christmas season yet, so it's hardly the time to get all maudlin and wax poetic about good times gone by, kids who have grown up and moved on, and absent friends. Or is it?

Halloween isn't a big deal at our house beyond handing out candy and keeping an eye on my own kids at the same time. No decorations and we're so over the pumpkin carving. I think the year my oldest wound up in the ER for stitches took the fun out of it. Then, out of nowhere, this very different kind of Halloween happened at our house.

For years, I walked my kids around the neighborhood for trick or treating. First Andy, then George, then Devin around and around the same couple of streets. Guaranteed something memorable would always happen. There's a big tree near my house, and I used to tell  Andy to look behind it because there were extra treats. It was dark and spooky, and he fell for it every time, while I laughed like a fool. That will come up in a therapy session someday. Then there was the year George was three years old, and he got so freaked out by some jerk who thought it was funny to hide in the bushes and jump out at little kids that I had to bring him home, screaming all the way. The Spiderman costume did not go to waste though; he wore it every day after school for a year.

When I tried to get George to fall for the "treat tree trick" it worked once. The next year he said, "Ya, what am I, stupid? You did that last year." Devin started her Halloween trick-or-treating early, at ten days old. I still had to haul her brothers around, so I packed her up in a bunny sleeper and showed her off to the neighbors.  Through the years she was a dead zombie cheerleader, a vampire girl, and a fairy-princess-butterfly-Tinkerbelle which just meant she put on every sparkly thing from the dress up box because she couldn't make up her mind on what to be. Halloween was never complete without a stop at the home of a friend's parents. They would ooh and ahhh over the kids and tell me what good mother I was, which in those days of herding young children was better than candy.

Fast forward to this year. It's about to get dark on Halloween. I look around, and there are no kids in my house. Obviously, I knew where the boys were, but I'd forgotten that Devin had plans with a friend. It was the first year in over two decades that I hadn't cut up a sweatshirt to look like a little lamb or painted blood on someone's face with my lipstick. Apparently, as far as Halloween went, I was obsolete.

It reminded me of when my father used to say, "That's it, everyone in the car, we're going for a ride." We'd hop in, and while we usually got an ice cream out of it, there was always the narration that went along with the journey to nowhere. Frank liked to show us where everything "didn't used to be." The drive-in didn't used to be on the Lynnway; it was a factory once.  The mall wasn't always indoors you know, those walls and that roof didn't used to be there; they enclosed it back in the 70s. On and on, with the parade of places that didn't exist anymore.

It's supposed to happen this way though, this moving on and changing. We'd all die of boredom if it didn't. The costume of camo pants and a GI Joe shirt has been replaced with an official USAF Airman Battle Uniform. The girl is an actual cheerleader so there's no need for a dress up box anymore. Andy would never fall for the tree trick; he's much wiser now.

Like all those places my father dragged us to, Halloween "didn't used to be" what it is now. Thanksgiving will be different as well since George cannot come home for it. Christmas? Who knows? I'm going to have to find a way to weave the old memories into the new normal. I'll get right on that as soon as I hit the store and buy some 50% off candy since I can't steal it from the kids anymore. And so it goes…