Hook, Line, and No Sinker: Staying Calm When Parenting Gets a Little…Pointy

 My husband called me on a Sunday afternoon "babe, Elias has a fish hook stuck in his nose, I'm just gonna pull it out." Um...NO!! But you guys...There was a fish hook. In his nose. The barb was in. And somehow — SOMEHOW — I did not completely fall apart. 

In this episode of Why Am I Yelling?, I'm breaking down exactly what happened, why I didn't panic, and the six tools I now swear by when parenting goes sideways fast. We're talking about the difference between being a REACTOR and a RESPONDER in a crisis — and how you can actually build that skill before you need it. Whether your kid has ever had a fishing-related facial emergency or just the regular kind of chaos, this one's for you. 🎣👃

⏱️ TIMESTAMPS
0:00 — The fish hook. In the nose. I'm not joking.
1:00 — What actually happened (the full story)
7:00 — Reactor vs. Responder: what's the difference?
13:30 — 6 tools for staying calm in a parenting emergency
22:30 — The bigger picture: what we're really teaching our kids
26:30 — Wrap-up, cheat sheet & your listener challenge

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Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:09

Okay, so picture this. It's a perfectly normal, perfectly boring Sunday. The kind where you have already mentally checked out. Your husband's tinkering around the yard, your son is fishing with his buddies, you are on the way to the grocery store at 3 o'clock in the afternoon because you have procrasted long enough. It's a nice, bright, sunshiny day, the sunroof is open, the tunes are blasting on the radio, and then you get the phone call. It's your husband, and he says, Babe, Elias is on his way home, there's a fish hook stuck in his face. I'm just gonna pull it out.

unknown 0:52

Huh.

SPEAKER_00 0:53

To which you respond, um, no, do not touch his face, as I was doing an illegal U-turn in the middle of the road, to race back home to assess the situation. You haven't even seen him yet. You have no idea what we are dealing with. Hung up the phone as he agreed, I'm not gonna touch it until you get here. And I called my bestie, who just happened to be on her way home and is also a nurse. And so I called her and said, Hey, you know, meet me at my house if you don't mind. The kid has a fish hook stuck in his face, and Will wants to pull it out. And her response was the same as mine. Uh, no, I'll be right there. Thank God for rational friends. So I get home, my friend pulls in behind me, there's a little congregation on my front porch, my husband, his friend, uh, my son's friend, my son, Ford guys standing there. And there's my son sitting on the rocking chair with a three-pong-pronged fish hook in his nose. Stuck in there. Yep. A fish hook in his nose. The barb was in. I'm not gonna describe it, but it wasn't that bad. I was less worse than I thought it was when I was driving home, right? And um, yeah, it was in there, it was committed, it was not a casual fish hook situation. It was let's let's nab this kid on the end of this hook, right? So here's what I want to talk about today. Because I didn't scream, I didn't faint, I didn't immediately call 911 while also Googling while driving, removing fish hook from nose. Uh, I didn't do any of those things. We pulled up and we looked at it. We assessed the situation and we made the decision together. And that is what I am talking to about today on why am I yelling? How to be a responder instead of a reactor when your kid's Sunday takes a very unexpected, very barbed turn. I'm your host, Krista Rizzo. Welcome back to the show and let's get into it. All right, let's back up and let me tell you the full story because context, I think, matters very much, and also because this is genuinely one of the more unhinged things that's happened in my house. And if you know my house, that's kind of saying something. So, my son, bless him, is curious and he is outdoorsy and he, you know, likes to go on adventures and he likes to figure things out. And that's one of the best things about him. There's a lot of best things about him, but that's one of them. We also live in a community that is a very reminiscent of a Gen Z, Gen X childhood. Not Gen Z, Gen X, I'm Gen X, right? Free range kids, kids on bikes, kids on scooters, kids traveling in packs with their friends, carrying their gear. In this case, fishing gear. But they've been doing it. He's been doing it with his friends, riding bikes and just going to the lake and going fishing and doing all the things without adult supervision for years. He's 14, probably for the last definitely three, maybe four years. Now, when I asked about the sequence of events, because I obviously wasn't there, uh the explanation was sort of like trying to read a ransom note written in crayon. The basic message was there, but the details were totally abstract. Something about he was standing in the wrong place while his friend was casting the line, and then it was windy, and so instead of catching a fish, they caught his face. The other point is that there had been a fish on the hook that was in his face a few minutes prior. So for that reason alone, we had to go to the emergency room. I mean, hello. What I want to be fully transparent about is that my first initial response to the phone call while I was driving in the car was actual panic, right? Alarm bells are going off in my head, there's a fish hook in my kid's face. At that point, we didn't know it was in the nose. Uh, are we gonna need a plastic surgeon? Thank God it didn't touch his eye. I'm sure they would have told me if it was touched his eye. How in the hell did my husband think he was gonna get it out? Like, what are we doing now that we've confirmed that there was another uh there was a fish on it before there was a kid on it, now there's germs that we have to deal with. Like all the things, all the things are going through my brain. But then when I pulled into the driveway and I saw the four guys huddled, right? My son, his friend, his friend's dad, my husband, all laughing and probably crafting in their brains the story that they were going to be telling for years to come about the situation. The first question out of my friend's mouth was, Did you get a picture of this? After we looked at it. And the answer was, of course we got a picture of this. It has been Snapchatted to all of my friends. Obviously, mom. And that is the part, honestly, that made my adrenaline slow down. Is that once I saw him and how he was behaving, smiled the whole time, not crying, not nervous, not upset, also, you know, not reactive from anybody around him. I knew he was gonna be fine. And so let's go to the ER. And that's what we did. Now, once we got to the ER, the doctor came in, take a look at it, said, hmm, I'm gonna need a minute to figure out how I want to attack this thing. I'll be right back. And spinned around and turned out, walked out of the room. Kind of left us a little bit nervous. My husband was like, uh, you know what he's doing right now. You know he's Googling fish, getting fish hook out of nose. Getting three-pronged fish hook out of nose. And I was like, well, hopefully he's not. And hopefully he's just trying to figure out what the best way to remove this thing is. Now, a few minutes later, he walked in with a needle, small needle, to put some lidocaine in his face to numb his nose. And he ended up, you know, cutting it out. So I have a video of that, with a little wiggly, just pulled it right out instead of, you know, cutting the thing and cutting the hook and taking it out both sides. 14-year-old boys are a joy, I tell you. But actually, the story I can't stop thinking about isn't the actual fish hook. It's the 30 seconds when I was in the car or when I was, you know, getting out of the car and walking up to the front porch where I made the choice, whether it was conscious or not, to respond rather than react. Because in those 30 seconds, the way I answered that situation was going to be the shape of the afternoon, how the rest of our evening was gonna go. And I think it's really worth unpacking because I don't think I would have done that when he was a baby. I've definitely reacted before, right? Um, and I have learned through age and experience and coaching and me coaching my own clients that being a reactor is not helpful, especially in emergency situations. So let's talk about the difference between being a reactor and a responder, right? It's important for us to understand that framework. It is genuinely one of the most useful things a parent can understand. And nobody ever sits us down and explains it. You just kind of have to figure it out in real time, usually while someone is bleeding or crying or has a fish hook in their face. So, what's a reactor? A reactor is someone who responds to an emergency primarily from their emotional brain. Specifically, the amygdala, which is this little almond-shaped part of your brain that is responsible for your fight or flight response. Say that 10 times fast. When the amygdala fires, it fires fast. It doesn't wait for information, it doesn't assess, it acts based on the signal danger, chaos, fish hook interface. And it mobilizes your whole body toward that signal. This is not a character flaw, it's evolution. Our amygdala, your amygdala kept your ancestors alive. It's a very good alarm system. But here's the problem with parenting from your amygdala in an emergency. Your kids are watching you. The moment you panic, their panic doubles. If you're escalating, they're escalating. And now you have two panicking people in a fish hook situation, and nobody is making good decisions. Reactors do things like grab a child and squeeze them too hard, shout questions at a child who's already scared, run for a phone before assessing whether a phone call is even what the situation requires. Google horrible things in front of the child, say, oh my god, repeatedly, cry before the child cries. None of that is helpful. Again, not a character flaw, just an untrained response. So now what is a responder? And a responder is someone who has built, either through training or practice or intentional habit, the ability to create a tiny, tiny gap between the alarm sizzle signal, sizzle, the alarm signal, and the action. It is just a breath. Just a second, just enough space to run a quick assessment before the body starts moving. Responders do things like take in information before deciding, ask clarifying questions in a calm voice, categorize the severity of what they're seeing, communicate clearly and steadily to the child, and then act decisively, but from a place of information rather than pure fear. Now, I want to be really clear here. Being a responder doesn't mean being cold, it doesn't mean being unaffected, it doesn't mean performing some kind of robotic calm that your child can see through in 12 seconds. I was scared driving in that car. My heart was beating really fast as I was speeding down that road to get home to my son. But I have learned somewhere along the way, way back when, to do the one thing before I did anything else. And that one thing was what I want to talk about next. Because I think it's teachable. It is teachable. I think you can build this. This is a skill, it is not a personality trait. And by the way, there is no parent who is 100% a responder all the time. I've been a reactor in situations when they were much younger. I've gotten better at it, right? I've definitely lost my mind over a kid getting sick in the middle of the night or a baby falling off of a bed when they're a teeny tiny wee one because they just learned how to, you know, roll over and we didn't have enough pillows around the side of the bed. We've been there. We have all been there. We are all human. There's no such thing as perfection, but there is a such thing as practice. So let's talk about the tools. Because you know I love a good tool, and you know that when you listen to one of my podcasts, you're always going to get some kind of useful tool that you can use. A little bit of education, if you if you will, right? So here's the what you actually can do part. Six strategies, quick ones, that I think can actually help. And some of these I have figured out on my own, others I have learned from other parents, from uh emergency responders, and just, you know, from stuff. So tool number one is called the one breath rule. It's the easiest one, and it's the one that probably has saved a lot of potential panic situations in my life, right? Before you do anything else, before you speak, before you move, before you reach for your phone, you take a breath. Just one. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Now, I know this sounds like the advice equivalent to calm down, which is not something you want to say. And I understand why that's annoying, right? But there is physiology around this. One slow exhale activates your parasympathetic nervous system. How many big words are we using today, you guys? It's called your rest and digest system, which is the counterbalance to fight or flight. It physically begins to lower your heart rate. Just one breath. You're not trying to zen or meditate. You're not trying to feel calm. You're just burying yourself, you're just buying yourself, I'm reading my notes, you're just buying yourself two seconds before your amygdala takes the wheel and goes haywire. Practice this now, before the emergency. Take one slow breath right now. Okay. See? You just practiced. You're already a pro. Number two, the first assessment. Stable. S T A B L E. When you walk into an emergency situation with your child, your brain needs a framework so it doesn't have to figure out what to look for in the moment. The acronym is called stable. S is for speaking. Ask yourself, look at your kid. Is my child speaking? Can they communicate? Yes or no? This tells you a tremendous amount about their neurological status and airway. T is for temperature and color. Are they flushed? Are they pale? Do they look gray? Are they sweating? Are they cold? Skin can tell a story. A is for alert. Are they conscious and aware of what's happening? Are they oriented or are they confused? B is for bleeding. Is there blood? If so, where? How much? Is it slow or is it increasing? L, location and movement. Where is the injury? Can they move the affected area? Are they guarding it? Are they holding their arm? Are they holding their ankle? E, emotion. What is my child's emotional state? Calm, panicked, disassociating. And then what's my emotional state? Run through stable in your head. It takes about 15 seconds once you've practiced it. It moves your brain from emotional processing to analytical processing. It gives you data instead of dread. In the fish hook situation, running this kind of mental checklist is what I did without realizing I was doing it, probably. He was speaking clearly and obediently. His color was normal. He looked a little pink, but he had probably gotten some sunburn. He was alert, he was laughing, there was minimal bleeding, some a little bit of blood, but not too much. The hook was in his nose, not in his eye or across his face. We didn't need a plastic surgeon. He was uncomfortable, but not in pain. My emotional state, elevated, but highly functional. Assessment complete, not serious. It is serious, but we're not calling 911. We're gonna drive to the ER instead. I mean, if this took less than a minute for all of us, the three adults and two kids standing on the front porch to assess. That assessment happened to change the course of our afternoon, however. Tool number three: regulate to regulate. Your nervous system is contagious. Science has a fancy name for this. It's called co-regulation. But the basic concept is that your child's nervous system takes cues from yours. If you're calm, their nervous system gets the signal that calm is appropriate. If you're frantic, you confirm their fear that the situation is catastrophic. This does not mean fake calm, it means performed calm. Speaking slowly, speaking quietly, maintaining eye contact, keeping your hands steady and your movements deliberate. Some specific things that can help. Lowering your voice instead of raising it, slowing your speech, even if it feels artificially slow. Getting physically lower to your child. My son was sitting, so I crouched down to get on his level to see what was happening. Make eye contact and hold it for a moment before you speak. Use your child's name at the beginning. Hey, Elias, I'm right here, look at me. The last one, the name, then I'm right here, then look at me, is a regulation sequence. It's a reset signal. It tells a frightened child there is an adult present, the adult is oriented, and the adult is with you. Even if you're not feeling calm, the physical act of performing calm begins to create actual calm in you as well. The mind flows the body in this direction. Tool number four, triage your language. What you say in the first 30 seconds of a child emergency matters gigantically. Here are a few phases to phrases to use and phrases to avoid. Here's phrases to avoid. Oh my god! That confirms catastrophe in their minds. How did this happen? That's accusatory, unhelpful, and untimely. Why would you? Same. Accusatory, unhelpful, untimely. I cannot believe this. That shifts the focus to your shock. Don't panic. The word panic triggers panic. Neuroscience. It's a thing. It's fine. If it is fine, then why do you look like that, Mom? Use instead phrases like, I see what's happening, I've got you. You're okay. Let me take a look. Can you tell me where it hurts? I'm gonna figure this out. You stay right here. Good job staying calm. You did the right thing by calling me or coming to me or getting me or any of those things. The language you use should communicate three things. I see you, I'm in charge, and we're gonna handle this. Kids in pain and fear need to know that the adult has the wheel. Even if you're internally freaking out, your words can hold the wheel while you get there. Tool number five, know your three tiers before you need them. One of the biggest blockers to calm decision making in parenting emergency situations is not knowing what the options are. So let me give you a little framework. Three tiers of response. Tier one is handle at home. That's minor cuts, small burns, mild allergic reactions, stomach upset, small splinters, minor bumps. You can clean, assess, treat, and monitor. This is the stay calm and get the first aid kit kind of situation. Tier two is urgent care or the ER, where you're driving yourself, right? Things that need professional treatment but are Not immediately life-threatening, lacerations that might need stitches, embedded objects like fish hooks, possible fractures, high fever in older kids, eye injuries, ear issues, things that need a doctor today, but not right this second at the speed of sirens. Tier three is call 911. That's when you have unconsciousness or difficulty breathing or a potential seizure, suspected spinal injury, severe allergic reaction, like throat swelling where they can't breathe, significant blood loss that's not slowing, ingestion of toxins with unclear severity. These are the call before you get in the car situations. Knowing these tiers before an emergency means that in that moment, you're not starting from scratch. You're just sorting. Which tier is this? Okay, that tier has a path. Let's take that path. A fish hook in the nose is a solid tier two. Stable, not immediately life-threatening, needs professional remover, removal, remover. ER, drive yourself, no sirens required. Done. Tool number six, debrief after the storm. This one is for after the emergency, and I think it's underused as far as tools go in that toolbox, right? Once everyone's home, once the hook is out, once the kid has eaten a gigantic burrito because we ordered from the Mexican place because I still had not gotten to the grocery store to make dinner that evening. Talk about it. Not in a heavy let's process our trauma kind of way, just a quick calm conversation. What happened, what we did, why we did it, what went well, what would we have changed if we potentially knew what the outcome was going to be. This does two things. First, it normalizes the experience. It tells your kid that hard things happen and we move through them. Second, it builds their own emergency competence over time. A kid who has been through a calm, well-handled emergency and talked about it after has a reference point. The next time something scary happens, they have evidence that scary things can be managed. Okay, so let's zoom out for just a moment. Because there is something bigger than fish hooks and ER copays here. Although I still haven't gotten that bill. We talk a lot in parenting culture about protecting our kids, keeping them safe, making sure nothing bad happens to them. And that is obviously a core parenting drive. I'm not dismissing it at all. But here's another job that we have that we talk less about. And that job is showing our kids how to move through hard things, not around them, through them. Every time I manage an emergency calmly, my kid learns something. He learns that scary situations are survivable. He learns that panic is not only available, is not the only available response to fear. He learns that there are steps and tools and people who can help. He learns that his mother and father specifically can be people he runs toward in a crisis rather than someone who will make it worse. That last piece matters the most to me, right? I want my kids to come to me when things go sideways. And they will only come to me if they believe, based on evidence and experience, that I will not completely unravel when they do. So every time I take that breath, every time I say, let's take a look, instead of, oh my God, every time I assess before I react, I'm not just managing the crisis in front of me. I'm building something. I'm building a kid who knows that emergencies have paths through them. And I'm building a relationship where I'm the person he runs toward with that fish hook instead of the person he tries to hide the fish hook from. And that's the real right reason why I'm talking about this today. The fish hook was on a Sunday, but teaching my son that his mother and his father are people who assess before they panic. That is priceless. Okay, so let's bag this fish, right? Here's your takeaway. Cheat sheet for emergency parenting. One, take a breath before you do anything else. Two, run stable, speaking, temperature, color, alert, bleeding, location, movement, emotion. Three, regulate your regulate yourself to regulate your child. Lower your voice, slow your speech, get on their level. Four, use a language that says, I see you, I'm in charge. We're gonna handle this. Five, know your three tiers in advance. Handle it at home, drive to care, call 911. Know which tier before the emergency happens. 6. Debrief after the storm. Talk through what happened. Build the reference point. This week we have a listener challenge, and I want you to actually practice the one breath thing. Not in an emergency just right now, again, right? Or sometime this week. I want you to take one deliberate slow breath and notice how your body shifts. And then I want you to think about one emergency scenario, maybe one that you've had in the past that you could have responded to differently, or maybe something like a fish hook, potential fish hook in your kid's nose, and how would you react? Not something catastrophic, just something plausible. And mentally rehearse your first three moves. One breath, stable assessment. What tier is this? Rehearsal is how responders are made. It's how firefighters are made, how ER nurses are made. It's how regular menopausal moms drive into the grocery store learn how to deal with a fish hook in the nose and say calmly, all right, we're going to the ER. If this episode helped you, share it with a parent friend, the one who would absolutely scream at the fish hook. You know who they are, and they will need this. We all need this. We're all just out here doing our best with the hook life throws at us. I'm your host, Krista Rizzo. Thanks for listening to Why Am I Yelling? If you enjoyed today's episode, subscribe wherever you get the pot your podcasts and leave a review if you have 30 seconds and a functioning thumb. I'll be back next week with more musings from this middle of this very strange, very loud, very crazy life. Take care of yourselves and take care of your kids. I love you.