I Survived

If you aren’t on my personal Instagram or Facebook pages, then you may be wondering whether or not I survived snow tubing. Since Hell doesn’t have the Internet yet and I’m not posting in ghost-mode, I survived!

We went with an indoor snow tubing place. You see, I didn’t realize that you had to take a chair lift or tram up the side of a mountain to get to the snow tubing place we originally wanted to go to. Just thinking about that makes my heart rate go up. I’m not even gonna doodle this, because I want your heart rate to go up, too, so here’s an image from TripAdvisor.

See? Holy cow! I’ll ride most roller coasters, but there is something about being suspended over the side of a mountain by a cable that makes me nope out completely.

So, indoor snow tubing place it was. Baby Girl wouldn’t get on the snow tube, but the rest of us had a good time with it. I was pretty darn terrified at times, because going fast down a hill, spinning, and worrying about tipping over and breaking my neck can do that, but I still enjoyed it.

I didn’t fall going up the escalator (yes, an escalator) to the top of the hill, I didn’t fall down the hill while trying to sit on the tube, and I didn’t break anything.

The only time I had a near-death experience was when I rode back from the snow tubing place with my mother-in-law. Let’s just say that taking mountain curves at 65 MPH is more terrifying than the thoughts of riding a tram up the side of a mountain.

Death flashed before my very eyes.

(And my mother-in-law is probably reading this now and thinking, “But did you die?” No, I didn’t, but, you know I can’t pass up a chance to tease you.)

It was a very fun short trip away! We took the kids to do the Polar Express train ride last night, and we all loved it. They came out dancing to the “Hot Chocolate” song just like in the movie. I was mildly disappointed they didn’t dance with the hot chocolate in their hands, though. (Yeah, I knew there was only a .00001% chance that would happen, but I held out hope.)

Now that we have that trip out of the way, we can focus on our Christmas Movie Marathon, baking, and crafty type things.

Instead of asking you a question to wrap up the post, I’m going to create a poll…

If y’all don’t hear anything from me after this post, it’s because she has killed me. #RIPDorkyMom


Now that the “Don’t Lick That!” eBook giveaway at Pretty In Baby Food is over, you can try your chances at the giveaway Candy is hosting at Geek Mamas. If you don’t want to wait, then you can snag the eBook here and the paperback here.

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Baby Girl Says…

When I first started this blog, I didn’t have a lot of Baby Girl material to use. She was talking some, but not a lot, so most of my stories were about her brother. These days, however, that child doesn’t stop talking, and much of she says is funny as hell. The older one is shifting away from saying lots of cutesy things and does a crap ton of dabbing, so I don’t have as much to go with from him. (I am so sick of dabbing, by the way.)

See? That does not make for great blog fodder.

Thank goodness for the girl. Baby Girl has said enough cutesy things in the past week that deserve her own post, so here we go.

Doctor Time

The girl had strep throat a few weeks ago. Since she downright refuses to take medicine — and I don’t mean she gets fussy about it, but that she will kick, scream, spit it out, and reject any food/drink that we’ve mixed it in — the doctor suggested giving her a shot. I didn’t think this would be a problem. Most kids hate shots, of course, but she understands that they will only hurt for a second and that they can help you feel better or prevent the flu and other illnesses. She told me she went to school encouraging her friends to get flu shots after she got hers in October. So, yeah, I didn’t think it would be a big deal.

It was, of course.

The doctor, nurse, and I had to hold her down while the nurse administered the shot. (Never underestimate the strength of a 30-pound 4-year-old.) After it was all over, she told me she wasn’t going downstairs (where the pediatric office is) and was only going upstairs (the family practice we used to go to) from then on. Poor kid. (And she did feel better within a couple of days.)

Last week, we had to go back to the pediatrician. That child told the receptionist, the assistant, and the doctor no less than 30 times that SHE WAS NOT GETTING A SHOT.

When the assistant asked if she had any allergies while checking her in, Baby Girl spoke up and said something that had us all laughing.

Well played, Baby Girl, well played.

The Spider Closet

Remember how Baby Girl drew a picture of me dead in a grave last week? Well, she’s still going through her creepy phase. A few days after that, she was displeased with Little Man over something (who knows what it was, as she is often displeased with him), when she made the following threat:

Um, what?

When we asked her to clarify what a spider closet was, she looked at us like we were idiots and told us that it was a closet full of spiders. I let her preschool teacher know the next day that we do not, in fact, have a closet with spiders, in case it came up.

Go Tell It…Where?

For the preschool program this year, Baby Girl has to sing “Go Tell it on the Mountain.” Baby Girl and preschool programs do not go well together. (Not that you can expect much from preschool age kids, but especially not with her.) The first year, she was too preoccupied with terrorizing the children near her to do much in the way of singing. Last year, she didn’t participate much (and had to visit the preschool director for her refusal to participate and distracting others during practice). This year…we’ll see, but so far it’s not looking good, since she’s already changing up the lyrics to the song.

At least she isn’t singing, “Joy to the world, the teacher’s dead, we barbecued her head!” right?

Pepper Spray Them Bitches

Okay, she didn’t say the last word, but I sure thought it.

Earlier this week, she noticed that I carry pepper spray (it’s out of her reach, of course, but I was showing her something and she saw it) and asked what it was for. I explained that it was to help protect us in case of danger and also explained how painful it would be and to never, ever touch it OR ELSE.

Sometime later, we were driving down the road when a car zoomed past us. It was a 45 mph zone and he was easily going 65. I made a comment about the guy thinking he was on a speedway and how he was driving dangerously. Baby Girl had a solution for this problem.

Nah, girl, if I get road rage at someone and feel like I need to get out of my car and hurt them, I won’t be using pepper spray. I’ll just throw glitter on them and really teach them a lesson.

No More Cleaning

What is it with kids and cleaning up stuff? No, cleaning isn’t fun, but come on — it doesn’t take that much effort to pick up after yourself. It certainly doesn’t require so much effort that you should act like your world has come to an end.

A few days ago, I told the girl that we needed to clean up the house. She wasn’t happy about this, of course.

You have the energy to take out your toys and pay games with them, but not the energy to put them away? Something doesn’t make sense there.

Wake Up, Daddy

My husband told me this one. He lied down with Baby Girl to help her go to sleep a couple of days ago and dozed off himself. He said that she woke him up with a complaint.

Preach, girl.

At this rate, I may be able to do a sequel for “Don’t Lick That!” before the end of the year.

What’s the funniest thing you’ve heard a kid say lately?


Time to plug the book!

Rachel at Pretty In Baby Food had some lovely things to say about “Don’t Lick That!” Check out the review on her blog, plus enter the giveaway on her site to win a copy of the book. If you already purchased the book, enter anyway — if you win, you can gift the code to a friend that you think would enjoy the book!

“Don’t Lick That!” is available for purchase as an eBook on Amazon and as a paperback through Amazon or Barnes and Noble. (Amazon has free shipping for Prime users, but right now things are glitchy, saying shipping will take a while, so keep an eye out for that. This isn’t an issue with B&N.) If you have a Kindle Unlimited subscription, you can read the book for free. If you purchase the book and enjoy it, please consider leaving feedback on Amazon, B&N, or Goodreads.

Morning Hell

My sister and I fought like cats and dogs when we were kids, but my brother and I never fought. I chalked that up to there only being two years between my sister and me and nine years between my brother and me. With that in mind, when we had Baby Girl, I figured the kids wouldn’t fight much, since Little Man would be almost 6.5 years older.

I was wrong about that.

Rarely does a day pass where they don’t fight about something. And on the days they don’t fight, it’s usually because one has stayed over with a grandparent or is too sick to fight. It drives me crazy.

Mornings are the worst. I can’t even comb my hair or brush my teeth without hearing screams coming from the kitchen, where the children are supposed to be eating their breakfast. If I only had to drop off Little Man, I wouldn’t have to get dressed, since I can let him out at the curb. I have to walk Baby Girl in, though, so looking like an extra from The Walking Dead isn’t an option. It only takes a few minutes to throw on some clothes, brush my teeth, and run a brush through my hair, so you’d think that the kids could keep their shit together and not fight. Since fighting comes as naturally as breathing, however, that doesn’t happen.

I warn them before I dash to the bedroom to get dressed. No fighting. I even tell Little Man that if Baby Girl tries to start something with him–she’s often the instigator–to not engage her. All they have to do is sit there and eat their breakfast. That’s it. Shoveling food in your mouth without wanting to kill your sibling should be easy, but it’s not, as sometimes not even a full minute passes before I hear the screams.

Jesus, y’all.

Sometimes I ignore it for a few moments and wait to see if they’ll solve the problem themselves without me stomping in there. Since that’s as likely as me making it through the day without tripping over something, that rarely doesn’t happen. I have to stomp back in there, put my hands on my hips, and speak in my Mom Voice to let them know I mean business and to stop the crap.

This morning, when the screams started, I went in to see what was going on. Little Man told me that Baby Girl tried to hit him with a bottle of honey. Baby Girl said that she tried to hit Little Man with the bottle of honey after he threw it at her. Little Man claimed he did not throw the honey at her and had no idea how the honey he was using made its way across the table into her hands. It must be magic.

After some scolding them and threatening not to let anyone do anything fun after school if they didn’t stop fighting, I started to make my way back to the bathroom when I heard Baby Girl say this:

I’m gonna annoy you now.

We weren’t late, but it was close.

What does your typical morning look like? 


Rachel at Pretty In Baby Food had some lovely things to say about “Don’t Lick That!” Check out the review on her blog, plus enter the giveaway on her site to win a copy of the book.

“Don’t Lick That!” is now available for purchase as an eBook on Amazon and as a paperback through Amazon or Barnes and Noble. (Amazon has free shipping for Prime users.) If you have a Kindle Unlimited subscription, you can read the book for free. If you purchase the book and enjoy it, please consider leaving feedback on Amazon, B&N, or Goodreads.

It’s Your Grave, Mommy

Kids can be creepy sometimes. I remember when Little Man once told me that he wanted to hold a beating heart one day. And I can’t tell you how many times I’ve woken up in the middle of the night to find one of them staring at me. When I woke up to find Little Man sitting beside my pillow staring at me when he was about four, he told me that he liked watching me sleep. Did I say “creepy” already?

Baby Girl took the creepy stuff up a notch this weekend. I had my headphones on playing a video game with Little Man when my husband tapped me on the shoulder. I slid one of the speakers to the side to see what he wanted.

“Can you pause the game?” he asked.

“No. You can’t pause Fortnite. The storm is closing!” I slid the headphones back in place, and he tapped me on the shoulder again.

I slid the speaker to the side again. “What?”

“You’ll want to see this. Baby Girl drew a picture.”

I won’t lie–I was slightly annoyed. I hadn’t played the video game in a week, had a great weapon, and was ready to take out the other tweens and teens I was up against and get a kill count higher than Little Man’s. (I did, by the way, and he claimed it was because other people were cheating.) But whatever.

“Let me see the picture.”

My husband gave me this:

(I lost 10 Mom points there for not saying, “Tell me about your art.”)

What?!

Surely I had misheard her. My kids have done and said a lot of creepy stuff, but neither of them have ever killed me off.

I looked at my husband for verification.

What?! Was that my punishment for playing a video game–death?

I asked Baby Girl why she killed me, but she said she didn’t know. I was just dead and in my grave, and that was that. (I didn’t know she even knew what a grave was.) She didn’t appear to be angry with me, and she also didn’t seem very shook up about my death. She went back to drawing more pictures, and I went back to playing Fortnite. I made sure not to turn my back to her.

When I pressed her for more information while I was working on this post, she told me that she made me dead because she didn’t want to draw my face. I’m not sure why I had to be dead when she didn’t draw out two other faces and made them alive, though. I guess it’s somewhat comforting to know that my daughter killed me out of laziness. If I believe her.

What’s the creepiest thing your kid has ever said or done? 

If you haven’t signed up for the raffle to win the  “Don’t Lick That!” eBook, click this link to do so. A few of you made me aware of some issues with the raffle and that your entry didn’t go through, so I added an option at the top where you can enter just by saying you follow the blog. No verification needed. (I don’t know why it’s being buggy, sorry!) 

The preorder for the eBook is live on Amazon for $3.99 and will be available to read on Nov. 28. You can find it here. The paperback is available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble  for $14.99 and will ship Nov. 27. 

Parent Speak

Have you ever noticed how adults start talking differently when they become parents? I don’t mean doing the baby talk stuff, which some certainly do, so much as the way they phrase things. Aside from trying to omit “bad words,” parents tend to phrase things in a way that won’t make them sound like assholes when the kids repeat stuff at preschool (which they surely will).

For today’s post, let’s explore a few things parents say to their kids and what those sayings really mean.

Of course, parents aren’t the only ones who have to say things more…diplomatically. Take the stranger who has been around your kid for all of five minutes, for example.

Yikes.

What’s your Parent Speak phrase? 

Update time! I posted this on my social media accounts yesterday (and if you aren’t following me on there, use one of the links in the sidebar to like/add me), but I’ll share it here, too, for those who missed it.

I’m planning to release the book on November 28 in both eBook and paperback formats. I get nervous putting a firm date out there, since that is practically begging for something to go wrong, but that’s what I’ve told Amazon, so I suppose I can tell y’all, too.

Here is a 3D rendering of what the book will look like:

I’ll be doing a giveaway as the end of the month gets closer. Email me at dorkymomdoodles (at) gmail.com if you want to help promote the book later this month.

Just Call Me Super Mom

Have you ever seen those stickers and t-shirts that say, “I’m a teacher, what’s your superpower?” Maybe insert “nurse, mailman, or [whatever else]” for teacher. Well, I might not be a teacher anymore, but I am a mom, and by default, that means I have a number of superpowers. There are things I can do that no one else in my house has the power to do, and while they may not be as glamours as shooting fire from the palm of my hands, these powers are still pretty cool. (I’m being very liberal with my use of the world “cool,” by the way.) As such, I expect my invitation to the Justice League to arrive any day now.

Enhanced Vision

Thanks to my super enhanced vision, I’m able to spot items that are too small to be seen with the naked eye. This comes in very handy around the house, and I often become The Finder of the Things.

Why, yes, I can see through walls.

Step aside, Superman. Your microscopic vision has nothing on mine. The only thing my enhanced vision is unable to detect is socks. As you’ll recall from my last post, they’re basically my kryptonite.

Super Strength

Wonder Woman can throw cars and the such, but can she do the one thing that no one else in my house has the strength to do?

That’s right, I alone have the strength to do things like remove empty toilet paper rolls and replace them with new ones. I’m also the only person strong enough to close a cabinet door. At first glance, you might think that doing such things would be easy, but based on my family’s inability to complete such tasks, I came to realize my own strength. Clearly things like cabinet doors, toilet paper rolls, and clothes — which the people in my house manage to get to the bathroom but can’t actually  put them in the hamper — weigh a ton. I might not look like I have much in the way of muscles, but sometimes looks can be deceiving.

Mind Reading

Have you ever noticed that children can be super vague at times when it comes to telling you what they want or whatever it is that they have a problem with? They sometimes give you the absolute bare minimum in the way of details and expect you to be able to figure it out anyway. Maybe not everyone could figure out what, “I want [incoherent mumbles]” means, but I can, thanks to being able to read minds. I’m basically Charles Xavier with more hair.

I don’t even have to wait for her to finish that question before I say, “No.”

This comes in handy with lying, too. I don’t catch them telling lies often, but I always know when they do.

Mom Sense

You’ve heard of spidey sense, but have you heard of mom sense? It works pretty much the same, only instead of being able to deflect the Green Goblin’s pumpkin bombs, I do things like catch a falling cup of milk and stop the kids from ending up in the ER.

Catching a glass of milk might not be as satisfying as deflecting a bomb, but at least I don’t have a mess to clean up.

So, yeah, I’ve got powers. The only things I’m missing is the ability to fly, turn invisible, and having super stretchy arms. Becoming invisible would be nifty when they’re annoying me and I want a moment of peace and quiet, and that last one would come in extra handy when we’re in the car.

What’s your superpower? 

Book update time: “Don’t Lick That! [Tales of Parenting and Other Madness]” should be out within the next couple of months if everything goes as planned. (Self-published — it will be available on Amazon and other online retailers.) I’m in the final stages now and am trying to figure out the whole marketing thing. One suggestion I read was to form a “street team” (rolls eyes) to help with online promotion. If you’d be interested in doing that (I’ll form a Facebook group), email me at dorkymomdoodles@gmail.com. (I feel awkward as hell about this, but that’s better than other suggestions I read like making a video or podcast.)

Honest Bumper Stickers

It never fails that I get behind someone on the road who has one of those proud parent bumper sticker on their car. You know the ones — “Parent of a GREAT Kid!” or “Honor Student at [Made Up School]!” or “My Kid is Awesome and Yours Sucks!”

Maybe that last one is made up.

My car is bumper-sticker free. I do have a Hanson logo sticker on my window, though. My husband wasn’t wild about that, since he drives the car, too. He could remove it if he wanted, but I have one of those machines that lets me make any vinyl decal cutout I want, so it’d be pointless. Being the rolls-her-eyes-at-bumper-stickers hypocrite that I am, I also have a Duke TIP magnet for my son. But hey, at least a) it’s not a bumper sticker, b) it won’t mess up my paint, and c) I can remove it when he does something to piss me off. As we all know, removing a sorta braggy magnet is the ultimate middle finger to a tween.

(For any grandparents reading this, “C” is a joke, so don’t unleash your wrath in a strongly worded text message.)

Looking at those bumper stickers got me thinking — what if parents put honest bumper stickers on their cars? I mean, sure, it’s nice that your kid makes the honor roll, and I know you’re proud of that, but come on — you probably call your kid an asshole more in your head more times in your day than you think, “I’m so proud of my A and B making kiddo that I could pee my pants,” right?

Here are a few honest bumper stickers that are likely better suited to your (or someone’s) kid:

Now that we’ve got the honest kiddo bumper stickers out of the way, here are a few more that reflect #parentlife:

What would your honest bumper sticker say? 

Let The Fun(draisers) Begin

Do you know what school starting back up is synonymous with? Aside from early mornings where everyone bitches, doesn’t eat their breakfast, and then whines about being hungry? And also loses the mate to every single pair of shoes they own?

Fundraisers!

I’m pretty sure they shove the fundraiser forms at kids the second they enter school on their very first day. Forget school handbooks, emergency contact forms, and all that crap — fundraiser forms are priority number one. This means that basically from late August until mid May, anyone with a child is a social pariah. People will go great lengths to avoid being asked if they want to support Little Johnny popcorn or fruit crate fundraiser.

I hate school fundraisers almost as much as I hate zucchini, and that’s saying something. It’s like that song from Annie, It’s A Hard Knock Life, where the little orphans are singing about all the shit Miss Hannigan makes them do, but with adults and selling useless crap instead of cleaning.

It’s the hard-knock life for us
It’s the hard-knock life for us
Always making us sell useless shit
To buy more cheap Chromebooks for your kids
It’s the hard-knock life!

(Excuse me while I go rewrite the disgruntled parents version of Annie.)

When I was a kid, we had one big fundraiser for school where we sold wrapping paper. Apparently at Christmastime, there was a massive shortage of wrapping paper, so it was crucial to sell the same thing you could buy at Walmart at a 300 percent markup. And then there was a fundraiser with the softball team where we sold candy. Candy wasn’t a problem, since most people didn’t cringe when they saw you coming their way with those big boxes of M&Ms. Except for that one lady who yelled at me for trying to kill her because she was diabetic, anyway. (That’s every 10-year-old’s dream — to rid the world of the diabetics. Sigh.)

Things are different now. They sell lots more useless crap now, and depending on which school your kids go to (not the boy’s), the kids who sell the most useless crap are treated like celebrities for a day. One year there was a limo ride to a local pizza place, followed by playing in a bounce house rental. I think that was the same year, at least.

There’s also the “Fun Runs.” Little Man has repeatedly asked what the heck is supposed to be so fun about these Fun Runs, but I’m not really sure.

Maybe an inflatable obstacle course would be lots of fun, but jogging around a track or inside of a gym isn’t anyone’s definition of fun. Some years they do Color Runs, which I have a love-hate relationship with. On one hand, it’s fun to squirt my kid in the face with the colored chalk stuff, but on the other hand, I have to let him ride home in my car. We’ll call that the Sorta Fun Run. (By the way, I was so disappointed at the first Color Run. For whatever reason, I thought we got to throw large paint balls at the children. We did not.)

It is my dream that one day the schools will have fundraisers that the parents will actually enjoy. Instead of being forced to wait tables for a night at a restaurant so the school can keep the tips (whoever the hell came up with this horrible idea for a fundraiser can go straight to hell) or harass coworkers to buy garbage, we need fundraisers that are actually fun. There has to be a way  a person can raise funds while not hating their own existence, right?

Ultimate Dodgeball

There are two ways you can go with this. First, parents vs. other parents. Charge $10 per participant and have fun launching balls at the heads of the other parents you loathe for an hour. Second, parents vs. kids. Same idea, plus you get to unleash some of that pent-up aggression over certain individuals leaving messes all over the house again. Borrow balls from the school, meet in a public space, and it’s all profit.

Drink-A-Thon

Instead of getting people to pledge a buck or whatever for your kid to walk a quarter-mile, how about getting people to pledge money for each glass of wine or beer you drink? Some of the…more seasoned…moms would probably be able to raise the rest of the funds needed to build the new playground in no time at all.

And if you aren’t a drinker, then get people to pledge money for each glass of water or Coke you drink. You’re with other adults, kid-free, having fun, and raising money, so it’s a win-win situation.

Adult Fun Raffle

Some schools have Fundraiser Raffles where they get people and companies to donate all sorts of stuff, you buy a bunch of tickets, and then you put your ticket in the bag for whichever item you want. Some of the items at these raffles are neat, but others just blow. (Why the hell would I want to put my ticket in the $1 oven mitt raffle vs. the beach weekend raffle?)

At the Adult Fun Raffle, there will be no oven mitts, kiddie art classes, or coloring book sets raffled off. Gift cards for the local pub, babysitting vouchers, date night supplies, etc. will all be raffled. Baked goods — but not the kid-friendly kind — will be raffled. You get the idea. We’ll even let Karen raffle off the rest of her Pure Romance stock, and we’ll take her word for it than everything is unused.

See? Fundraisers really can be fun. Or at least not kill-me-now painful.

If you could come up with a fun fundraiser, what would you choose?


Good news on the book front — I finished the rough draft. Anyone who emailed me about being a beta reader for the book can expect an email soon with a PDF file of the book. If anyone would like to be a beta reader and hasn’t already gotten in touch with me, email dorkymomdoodles@gmail.com.

Liar, Liar

Recently my friend Lindsay, who blogs at The Sensitive Giraffe, tagged me in a post on Facebook about lying to your kids. She suggested that particular topic would make for good blog material, and she was right.

I know what some of you are thinking — “It’s wrong to lie to your kids! You poopyhead!”

To which I say —

Just kidding. Maybe. Maybe not. You’ll never know.

For the most part, I like to keep it real as a parent. Well, as of around 2017, I have liked to keep it real as a parent. Prior to 2017, I only kept it real for topics that didn’t make me uncomfortable. I mostly didn’t outright lie, but I did a lot of omitting the truth and skirting around issues. (Don’t forget to vote for me in 2020.) Nowadays, if one of my kids wants to know something, I make every effort to tell them straight up, regardless of how much I don’t want to answer the question.

For example, Little Man has asked me this at various times throughout the years:

How was I born?

Before I became a [Sorta] Super Truther, I’d tell him that he appeared . Later I mentioned that babies were sometimes born by C-section, and we happily watched a C-section video, since that is better than mentioning my vajayjay. (He wasn’t born that way, but it was okay if he made the assumption.)

After I became a [Sorta] Super Truther, I told him point blank that he was born by vaginal delivery and came out of my birth canal. And you know what? He didn’t bat an eye. There was nothing to be uncomfortable about at all. (Parenting pro tip: just be super technical with this stuff.)

So, Liar, Liar. I’m a fairly truthful mom these days about the things that matter. Baby making, puberty, the chances of seeing more than a couple inches of snow during a South Carolina winter…I’m truthful.

There are, of course, a few things I’m not at all truthful about, and that’s mostly a matter of convenience. Saying something like, “Lindt chocolate is for adults only,” might make me lose a few mom points when they discover the truth, but it’s pretty damn convenient.

Here are a few other situations that I may have fudged the truth in:

As I’ve established on this blog in an earlier post, my kids definitely know that when the bra comes off, their mom ain’t doing anything. And part of that is because — at some point — I led them to believe that I require a bra to function outside of the house.

Anytime I say “Maybe” when they ask for something or to do something, it’s pretty much a lie. The above pie chart proves this.

That blasted Steve Jobs.

This also works with their Gogurt, Goldfish, and graham cracker treats. For the record, this is by no means a regular occurrence, but it has happened. (After they look at you like you’re the parent version of Judas, you’d lie, too.)

Amazon doesn’t have it. Target doesn’t have it. The whole Internet has run out of it.

I had actually forgotten about that lie until Baby Girl asked me if Caillou was still sick one day. I blanked at first, and then she reminded me that I had told her Caillou was sick and couldn’t be on TV. He eventually got better. Unfortunately.

I don’t care if you are the most honest parent in the world and never lie to your kids, there’s no way you can judge me for the last one.

What’s one of your parenting lies?

Open House Bingo

Remember the Parenting Drinking Game? The one where we got to take drinks for things like the kids tattling or fighting?

Well, now there’s Open House Bingo! Simply keep this bingo card on hand and mark off squares for when certain events happen at Open House Night. At the end of the evening, you get rewarded depending on which bingo pattern you end up with. This game is guaranteed to make dealing with crowds, dodging sign up sheets to volunteer for doing all the things, and ignoring passive aggressive comments slightly less painful.

(Assuming you don’t have superhero vision, you can open this image in a new tab or zoom in to read the small words.)

(In case it isn’t obvious…you’ve got any five in a row, five diagonally, an X, four corners, and full card. For the love of God, if you get the last one, get the hell out of there.)

Based on past Open Houses, how do you think you’d do? Is there anything you’d add to one of these squares?