Month: September 2015

Crap My Kids Said Last Week

photo (25)About a month ago I published a blog post highlighting all of the ridiculous crap that comes out of my mouth when talking to my kids. It’s truly one of the many marvels of motherhood. You might have been the coolest most eloquently spoken woman before having children, but then you have kids and suddenly find yourself saying ridiculous things like, “Did you get all the poopy off your booty?”. You can read that blog post here:                                        But I digress…

This week I would like to write about the mind-numbing gems that fall out of the mouths of my babes. Let’s be honest; little kids are basically just miniature drunks with Tourette Syndrome, amiright? My kids are no exception. They have a particular affinity for anything boobs, boogers, and butts. So basically I’m raising a couple of female frat boys. I’m not really sure how that happened, but I can tell you that it makes life interesting.

So over the course of the last week I decided to keep track of the Top 5 most disturbing and bizarre things that my children said. (Please note; these do not make me proud. Kids are weird. And gross.) Without further ado, I bring you the Top 5.

  1. “Mommy, I just sniffed your butt!” (Disclaimer: I believe she was pretending to be a dog & greeting me in the appropriate canine manner….but still.)
  2. “Do mermaids wear underwear?” (Valid and thoughtful question, actually. I believe we spent some time pondering the logistics of mermaid underwear because, you know, life’s burning questions and all.)
  3. “Mommy, I love your boobs.” (I really have no good explanation for this one. I believe I said, “Um, thank you.” and then quickly changed the subject.)
  4. “Mommy, your tummy is just like jello!” (This phrase was uttered by my oldest daughter as she was so kindly patting my tummy. She may or may not have been immediately removed from my will…)
  5. “Mommy, your boobs are so squishy!” (This gem came from the youngest child as she attempted to feel me up as we were sitting on the couch watching tv. Really, kid? Hands off the goods!)

What is the most bizarre thing your child has said to you lately? Please, let me know mine aren’t the only tiny weirdos out there!


A Note To My Future Self About “Vacationing” With Children

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Dear Future Self,

I know you think it’s a great idea to plan a “vacation” with the kids. You long to get away as a family and spend oodles of quality time together away from your regular daily grind. Don’t do it, Future Self. For the love of all that’s holy, back away from the computer and do NOT purchase that family “vacation”.

You see, Future Self, there is a reason you are always saying that traveling with small children is NOT a vacation, it is a trip. There is a very important distinction between a vacation and a trip. A vacation is something you return home from with a glowing tan and a sense of rejuvenation. A trip is something you return home from feeling like you need a vacation.

Current You is on “vacation” in San Diego right now, Future Self, so she knows a thing or two about this traveling with kids business. She knows that it started out with great intentions and gleeful anticipation. Surely the road to Hell is paved with great intentions and gleeful anticipation, amiright?

“Vacationing” with children is a lot like childbirth. It’s excruciating, there is screaming, at some point during the process you change your mind (but it’s already too late), and after enough time has passed you forget how heinous it was so you do it all over again. Don’t get me wrong, Future Self. Sure, there were some good times and special moments. It’s just that when you are looking back at this San Diego “vacation” and see the smiling angelic tots of yours on the beach you’ll forget that this “vacation” called you to question your entire existence as a mother. That on more than one occasion during this “vacation” you decided you aren’t fit to raise a pet gerbil let alone two of the world’s most strong-willed and fierce little girls.

That’s why I’m here, Future Self. To bring you back to reality. Ok, so maybe putting a kibosh on all future family “vacations” isn’t reasonable. There are some wonderful and amazing things about traveling with your kiddos. But maybe just check and double-check your expectations, Future Self. Lower your expectations until you think you can’t possibly lower them any more. Then lower them again. Now you are ready for a family “vacation”.

Just know that no matter the mode of transportation, you will hear “Are we there yet?” about a bazillion times. Your kids will fight with a level of passion typically reserved only for battling genocide to be the one that gets the privilege of hitting the button on the elevator. They will stay up late and wake up at the first hint of dawn. There will be no escaping them because you will be trapped in the same jail cell, err, hotel room with them. They will find fault with the food because it is not EXACTLY the same as the food you have at home!

What do you mean McDonald's doesn't have Eggo Nutrigrain blueberry waffles?! Someone get me a manager!
What do you mean McDonald’s doesn’t have Eggo Nutrigrain blueberry waffles?! Someone get me a manager!

So my dear Future Self, I urge you instead to consider that adult-only getaway you were considering. At least until such a time has arrived when your children are a bit older and more self-sufficient. Oh, who the Hell am I kidding? You’ll look back at all the happy pictures and remember only the magical times and do it all over again. But don’t say I didn’t warn you, Future Self…


Current You

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Do you have any tips & tricks for traveling with littles? As it turns out, Current Me is a sadist and we have a trip to Disney World planned for next month.

But Today I Did Nothing

Today was the first full day of preschool for my kids this school year. After a brief appointment this morning I had nothing planned for the remainder of my child-free afternoon. I typically have lists of to-dos and the 5 hours they are both in preschool 2 days a week are usually crammed full of productivity. But today I did nothing.

Don’t get me wrong, there is no end to the number of things I could have been doing. There are always things to be done around here. There is always laundry and dishes and cleaning and errands and countless other things that require my attention. But today I did nothing.

Instead of my usual productivity, I ate a leisurely lunch without interruption. I wasted time perusing Facebook. I allowed myself to get sucked into an episode of Property Brothers on HGTV. And instead of feeling gloriously liberated by an afternoon of purely selfish laziness, I felt guilty. Guilty that I was doing nothing when there were so many things I could be doing. Guilty that while I had the opportunity to be lazy today my husband is working hard to support our family. I was even feeling guilty that I wasn’t enjoying my lazy time because I was too busy FEELING GUILTY! How ridiculous is that?! Feeling guilty about feeling guilty!

The truth is that every now and then we all need a break. I’m exhausted. You probably are too. And while I’m certainly not going to make a habit of squandering my valuable time by being lazy, some days just call for it. There are many days ahead for me to do all the “stuff”. But today I did nothing, and I can make peace with that.

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Please Excuse the Dirty Panties on the Floor

Clean or tidy. When you have kids you can have one, but not both.

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It has been said that attempting to clean with children in the house is like trying to brush your teeth while eating Oreos; completely pointless. Having a 4 and 2-year-old myself, I can attest to the accuracy of this statement.

Before I had kids I was a bit of a neat freak. Every Sunday I cleaned the house from top to bottom to start the week off fresh. Everything had a place and everything was in its place. Now I’m lucky if there’s a walk path through the sea of toys scattered on the playroom floor, and it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary to need to step over a pair of princess panties wadded up on the floor. *Heavy sigh* 

Before I had kids my house was NEVER going to look like kids had taken it over (now it looks like I’m running an unauthorized daycare center out of my front room) and I was going to teach my kids that you only have one toy out at a time and that it needs to be put away before getting out another toy. (Ha!) Yeah, I was pretty much a giant sanctimonious asshole. Karma got me back though!

These days priority goes toward making sure the piles of dirty laundry get washed, hung, folded, and put away. To making sure the dishes are done so we can have clean plates for dinner. To taking out the never-ending trash before it starts to smell. Everything else is just a luxury that gets completed when time (and energy) permits. I’ve (mostly) learned to embrace this new standard of cleanliness.

It just becomes a fact of life that when you take the time to get some cleaning done, your kids will use that time to make a giant mess in another room. Case in point; When I decided to do a thorough cleaning and reorganization of our guest bedroom my darling daughter used that time in my absence to tear her own bedroom apart.

This was a clean bedroom. It only took my tiny tornado a brief time to turn it into a scene from a natural disaster.
This was a clean bedroom. It only took my tiny tornado a brief time to turn it into a scene from a natural disaster.

Or there was the time my house was neat and picked up. I took a phone call from a friend and in the 30 minutes I was not policing them my children turned my downstairs into an obstacle course that could double as a training ground for American Ninja Warrior. Every chair pulled out and lined up, and every pillow and cushion in a pile on the floor.

Here is my ninja warrior in action.
Here is my ninja warrior in action.

And then there was that time this Monday when I went upstairs to scrub the 2 toilets up there only to come downstairs to discover that one of my kids (neither one would fess up, of course) had made a mess of the downstairs bathroom. I’ll spare you the details, but I’ll just say that sometimes I feel like I am living in a frat house–and I don’t even have boys!!

So these days I mostly try to focus on keeping things reasonably picked up off the ground, floors from reaching the point of being sticky, and keeping the layers of dust under a quarter-inch tall. I have learned that the price of mopping your floors is having every toy strewn about the house, and the price of putting all the strewn about toys away is having dirty floors. And watch your step. There are some dirty panties on the floor right there…

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