Esther McCarthy: Three TikTok parenting hacks I've tried on my unsuspecting family

Esther McCarthy. Picture: Emily Quinn

Children are like farts; you can just about handle your own. But sometimes, you can’t even do that. 

So if your kids make your nose wrinkle, your eyes water, and are creating a toxic environment that induces an overwhelming urge to flee from the room, this column is for you.

I mean, it’s batshit crazy, becoming a parent. 

Three seconds of fun (I mean hours, HOURS) and we end up getting this lifelong gig, where we’re in charge of actual human babies — with zero training. 

No HR rep does due diligence and checks if we’re qualified. It’s a shoddy way to run the human race, that’s all I’m saying.

What I’ve realised is every other parent is winging it too, some are just better at hiding the terror in their eyes. I get solace from that, and you should too. We’re all just maintaining the illusion we know what the hell we’re doing.

Just when you start getting a little smug because one kid hasn’t turned out to be a total psychopath (yet), the next one is pooing in their hand and presenting it to you like it’s a prize éclair and they dump you right back to being mayor of WTF-Am-I-Doing-Ville.

I’ve been secretly experimenting to see if social media can help me be a better parent aka, get the upper hand on the little bastards.

Here’s three techniques I’ve haphazardly applied this week. Unethical? Perhaps. But it comes from a place of LOVE, like, don’t call anyone, ok? 

I’m already on shaky ground with Tusla for taking them out of school early to avail of cheaper holidays...

1. Yes, and...

An asthmatic mother pops up on my feed promising this simple technique will change my life. “Are you sick of always saying no to your kids?” she pants, “Try the ‘Yes, and...’ technique!” 

The example she gives is she’s driving and her kid drops their toy, and pleads, ‘Mommy, can you pick it up?’ Instead of saying “No” or “I can’t reach” or what I’d say — “Do fuck off, Becky Butterfingers” — instead she coos, “Yes, and... as soon as we’re home, I’ll pick it up.” 

Sounds as easy as getting Taylor Swift tickets, but I’ll give it a shot.

Tallest son: “Mom, can I go on my screen?” Me: “Yes, and... as soon as homework is done, you can have half an hour.”

He gets out his books.

Middle child: “Mom, can I’ve a treat? Me: “Yes, and... when you’ve cleared up after dinner I’ll show you today’s hiding place. (It’s always the medicine cabinet, mama needs her sweet, sweet empty calories). G’wan, do your obair bhaile.” Off he slopes.

Jesus Christ on a bike, it works!

Youngest born: “Mom, can I get new dunks?”

Me: “Yes, and...”

My baby fails to wait for the end of the sentence, skids over to homework table: “HAHAHAHAAAAAAA! I’m getting new shoes and you’re not!!”

He does the loser dance, grabbing his crotch with one hand and creating an L-shape on his forehead with the other.

Cue laments and recriminations and howls of, “I’m not even allowed a Kinder-Fucking-Bueno and your man’s getting hundred euro shoes that he doesn’t need.”

“He didn’t let me finish,” I try to explain, the sweat pouring off me. Now I know why Becky’s mom was wheezy. “I was going to say, ‘Yes, and ...when it’s your birthday you can pick them out as your present’.”

Now I’ve the crowing older two doing the loser dance to their outraged brother who’s bawling at the calendar after counting how many months it is to his birthday. 

I block Breathless Mother on all platforms, and revert to my tried-and-tested ‘Do fuck off’ to their demands.

2. Validate their feelings

I scroll to a monotone dude doling out advice sideways to his camera. He intrigues me. 

“Stop quashing your kids’ emotions. Don’t invalidate their feelings. Allow the tantrums.”

Next meltdown, I say in a sympathetic fashion, “It’s ok to have big feelings, pet.” 

This results in a bonus 40 minutes of wailing because he thinks I’m taking the piss out of him.

3. Become a calm leader

Lisa Bunnage promises a free behaviour board when you subscribe to her Bratbuster newsletter, but my inbox will self-implode if I sign up for one more thing, so I garner what I need to know from TikTok snippets. 

She’s big into consequences and being a calm leader. Lisa says consequences should be linked to the child’s bad behaviour.

So when one of my sweethearts sprays fizzy drink all over my other treasure’s new hoodie, I, in a serene, yet in-charge voice, explain the consequence is he will do his brother’s laundry.

“I don’t want him touching my clothes!” says the sticky one.

This quickly degenerates into a robust conversation about dirty jocks. 

I back slowly out of the room in a distinctly unleadery fashion, allowing my stinkers to experience their feelings, and to work it out for themselves.

Is this the right thing to do?

Yes, and... have a large glass of wine. That I can handle.