#AtoZChallenge: B is for Bulba

One thing I decided to do with Baby Girl was to teach her the proper terms for her anatomy when she asked about it. No more wee-wees, pee-pees, hoo-has, or junk. As much as I hate using the proper terms (va-jay-jay is much more fun to say), the experts suggest using the right words, so that’s what I’m doing.

At the time this Things Kids Say occurred, Baby Girl had recently turned two, and her vocabulary had exploded, as typically happens with kids that age. She wanted to know the name for everything, over and over and over. (Several months later and that hasn’t really changed.) And at one point, she took further interest in herself.

“Mommy, what’s dat?” Baby Girl asked during a bath one night, when she realized there was a body part we hadn’t gone over. She was pointing down below. It was time to follow through on the anatomy game plan.

“That’s your vulva,” I told her after a brief hesitation. I felt proud — I might never use anything other than hoo-ha with my doctor, but at least I taught my toddler the proper term.

“Bulba?” she asked.

“Right, vulva,” I said.

At that, she stood up and bent over to get a better look and was apparently impressed with what she saw.

I thought I was going to crack a rib because I laughed so hard.

And this wasn’t the only “chat.” My husband came in during one bath, caught a “conversation,” and walked out after picking up his jaw off the ground.

My post about cleaning carseats was published on Scary Mommy today. This post is a bit longer than the original, and you can check it out here if you’d like. 

Want to connect on social media? You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

#AtoZChallenge: A is for Alphabet Store

Woohoo, it’s April A to Z Challenge time! Thirty days of trying not to procrastinate are ahead of me.

To get things started — if you didn’t read my post from yesterday, my theme for the challenge is Things Kids Say. I have two hilarious kids (sometimes intentionally and some unintentionally) that I love to talk about, so why not? Since the basis for my posts will already be provided, all I have to do is come up with a doodle to go along with them. (Yeah right, I’ll totally get behind and have a day where I write H, I, J, and K are for Hey, I’m Just Kidding or something like that.)

So, for today I’m pulling out something Little Man (who is 9 now) said when he was a bit younger.

I went to school to become a teacher and did teach for a year before going the mommy route. So, when he mentioned the “alphabet store,” I automatically assumed that he was referring to the teaching supply store we had gone in once when he was much younger. That wasn’t it, though. I guessed “library” next, but that wasn’t it, either. A few minutes later, though, he was able to show me the place he wanted to visit:

Oh, that alphabet store. The one we drive past every day with the letters on it, just like he said. D’oh! I had to break it to him that, no, he couldn’t visit the alphabet store until he was 21. This didn’t sit well with him because “they shouldn’t call it an ABC store if they don’t want kids to come in,” but there wasn’t much I could do about that.

(In case you’re wondering, Mommy totally visited the alphabet store later.)

And that’s that for the first day! If you’re here for the A to Z Challenge, please leave a link to your post so I can be sure to drop by.

Want to connect on social media? You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

#ThingsKidsSay: Ruining Reputations

Over the past year or so, I’ve noticed Little Man making the transition from calling me “Mommy” to calling me “Mom.” At first he started calling me “Mom” in front of other kids and called me “Mommy” in private, but now it’s mostly “Mom,” unless he wants something. He’s nine now, so it’s about that time, I suppose.

Yesterday I showed Little Man a draft of a doodle post that I’m working on. It shows him doing something when he was younger, and in the picture, it shows him addressing me as “Mommy,” since that is what he called me then. Accuracy and all. This, I’ve found out, is problematic for me tween-to-be.

Those hobbit-sized feet are also accurate.

That’s me — the ruiner of reputations. Maybe that will be printed on my gravestone. I wonder how much longer I’ll be able to refer to him as “Little Man” before I’m accused of ruining his street creed.

What have your kids said to make you chuckle lately?

Want to connect on social media? You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

My Favorite Toy

Ever since we grew our family by having Baby Girl, I’ve learned a few things. For one, I learned that there is no age limit on riding in those little Coupe cars (or other ride-on toys) intended for toddlers. If you can fit, you can attempt to ride, even if you’re 9 years old and your knees are up to your chin. (Yes, there is probably a call to the fire department to extract a child from a plastic car in our future.) Another thing I’ve learned is that you’re never too old to eat puffs (those fruit flavored cereal snacks for the babies old enough to crawl). Judging by how quickly Little Man would down these things, apparently they are akin to manna from heaven.

And I’ve also learned that nothing makes a toy more appealing than a sibling showing the least bit of interest in it.

Sigh.

Can y’all relate?

Want to connect on social media? You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

I’m Dorky And I Know It

As you may have gathered from the title of this blog, the dork runs strong in me, and the rest of my family is no exception. My son once asked when he was going to get his nerd card, and my daughter came out of the womb with a Batman obsession. Dorky, among other things, is what we are, and we embrace it. 

Sometimes we embrace our inner dorks by changing the lyrics the popular songs. “Let It Go” becomes “Let Her Fart” (thanks, Little Man), “Summer Nights” became a song about Baby Girl’s bowel movements, and “Can’t Stop The Feeling” also became a song about flatulence. “My Heart Will Go On”…well, I probably don’t need to explain. (And apparently we all have the sense of humor of eleven year olds.)

Last week Little Man and I were making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. We were having a lazy dinner night, and the kids wanted PB&Js, which is perfect for lazy dinners, lunches, and pretty much everything. While making the sandwiches, I commented to Little Man that he and Baby Girl were certainly “all about that peanut butter.” And they are. Outside of pizza day at school, I can count the number of times LM has requested something other than PB&J for lunch on one hand, and BG loves peanut butter so much that she’ll eat at it straight from the jar.

“Yeah, we sure are,” he responded.

And then this was born:

Little Man suggested recording a video to put on YouTube, but I opted out. My singing abilities probably shouldn’t be showcased anywhere other than in doodled format. 

What songs do you like to change up for fun?

I got some cool news this morning — my Five Stages Of Dealing With Your Kids’ Carseats doodle will appear on Scary Mommy next Monday (if nothing changes scheduling wise). I’m excited about that. The text part of the post will be a bit more fleshed out, so I’ll post a link when it’s up next week.

Want to connect on social media? You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

Top Five Songs For Migraines

For a time as a parent, I didn’t have to listen to crappy music. (My husband would say, “Wait, that’s not true because you love Hanson,” which I’d ignore while pitying him for not embracing their greatness.) When Little Man came along, we didn’t play much kiddie music. We stuck to our Beatles, Radiohead, Ben Folds, Weezer, Hanson (obviously I’ve got to mention them again), etc. He loved it all and we didn’t have to listen to cheesy crap sang in high-pitched voices, so all was right in the world. Even the music for the TV shows he watched was tolerable.

All was good in our parenting world for about six years, and then things changed.

Baby Girl came along. While she likes some of our music (especially Radiohead’s No Surprises, which has been on repeat every night for much of the past two and a half years), she prefers the cheesy kids’ songs. Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. Five Little Monkeys. If You’re Happy And You Know It. Apples and Bananas. Itsy Bitsy Freaking Spider. And, despite having a playlist for her to shuffle through those songs, she usually picks one and wants it on repeat for the entire car ride. I get kinda road ragey as it is, but after the tenth time of listening to Itsy Bitsy Freaking Spider, all it takes for me to start cursing under my breath is for someone to put their signal light on at 90 feet out instead of 100 feet.

And then there are the songs or theme music on shows on YouTube and TV that both kids like. I liked the music on Thomas and Friends, Sid the Science Kid, and The Cat in the Hat Knows A Lot About That. The current shows they both watch? For the most part, just no. God no.

Aaaand, thanks to the newish car with satellite radio, Little Man has discovered Kidz Bop, also known as Music Hell. Kidz Bop is where they take popular music and ruin it. Much of the popular music is kind of bad already, but then they take it and make it worse with the crappy singing and such. And Little Man, the child we once bragged about for having excellent taste in music, loves Kidz Bop. (To be fair, he still likes a lot of great stuff, but Kidz Bop has tarnished his reputation.)

I’ve compiled a short list of songs that are driving me nuts right now. It could be longer. A lot longer. But there’s the matter of my laziness and the fact that y’all probably don’t want a doodled list of 1841 songs that are driving me nuts, so I cut it to five.

What song is likely to give you a headache if you have to hear it again?

Want to connect on social media? You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

Life Goals #1

Netflix marathons are where it’s at, y’all.

And why on earth am I just now getting into Gilmore Girls? I had watched a few episodes before and liked it, but never watched more for some reason. (I probably defaulted back to The Office.) I picked up on it again after Prison Break started sucking. I’m loving it so far!

What’s one of your life goals right now? If you’re kinda lazy like me and don’t have one, then we can just talk about your Netflix preferences. 😉

Want to connect on social media? You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

Things Kids Say Thursday: New Ears

Sometimes kids can say the sweetest things.

As some of y’all already know, I have hearing loss in both ears. I was born with nerve damage, so I’ve dealt with that all my life. I can hear, but I can’t hear that great and sometimes I miss a lot of stuff, especially if there’s background noise.

Yesterday, we were waiting on a phone call from Little Man’s doctor when Baby Girl told me that my cell was ringing. I didn’t hear it at all. I told her later that I appreciated her telling me it was ringing since I can’t hear well.

“Mommy’s ears don’t work very well, so I need your help hearing things sometimes,” I told her.

“Your ears not work?” she asked.

“Not very good,” I answered.

“Poor Mommy,” Baby Girl said, looking sad. And then she said this:

Y’all, I about melted. (And that’s me melting, in case you couldn’t tell.) Had we been at Walmart or somewhere else with all the toys when she said that, she’d have gotten everything. Sometimes it really amazes me at the sweet, thoughtful stuff she can come up with. (Her brother is the same way — he’ll even turn subtitles on my movies for me without asking.)

What’s one of the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard your kid say?

Want to connect on social media? You can find links to my accounts at the top of the menu bar on my page, or go here for Facebook and look me up on Instagram and Twitter with the handle “dorkymomdoodles.”

Methods of Torturing Mom (Or Any Other Female)

We always hear about how rough childbirth is. For sure, it’s no walk in the park, but usually it’s the one or two or three days of your life where the pain factor was high, and you walked out with a little bundle of joy, so that kinda balanced things out, right? Let’s talk about the day-to-day pains (physical or otherwise) that are pretty damn bad that a) don’t leave you with a bundle of joy and b) don’t make you elated in any way. 


The first one — underwire. OMFG. I know we’re supposed to avoid wearing bras with underwire for reasons I can’t think of (legit reasons, not “I’m afraid I’ll be stabbed and slowly bleed to death” reasons), but they’re more comfortable and supportive for me, so I do. It’s all good in the neighborhood until the wire that’s giving me a bit of form gets pissed off at all the work it’s doing and snaps. And then it’s like a drive by with a tiny sharp wire in my sideboob with every step I take until I free myself of the cursed contraption. I wouldn’t prefer labor with Little Man over the underwire, but I’ll take the C-section pain from after the spinal wears off over having to spend a day being stabbed by underwire.

And that brings me to epillators. I bought my first (and last) one a couple weeks ago. It was supposed to make my legs smooth for weeks, remove certain facial hairs that I don’t wanna bleach but want gone, and basically turn me from a 3 into about a 4.5. Lies, y’all, lies. Maybe I’m just doing it really wrong, but as far as I’m concerned, epillators are akin to medieval tools of torture. I have a high tolerance for pain, but I could only stand a few minutes of that. I want to box it up and send it back and leave a review calling it modern day torture, but they probably wouldn’t take it (and ew, would they resale a used epillator?). 10/10 I’d rather give birth to both kids again than shave both legs and other areas with that thing.

Hot wax. Hot not. Let me state for the record that the only thing I’ve ever had waxed is my eyebrows. Based on that, I can only imagine that ripping off hair in other areas would be godawful. Is it epillator bad? I don’t know and won’t be finding out just for the sake of this blog post.

Ain’t no flow like Aunt Flo. This one should go without saying, but look, it’s an angry uterus that looks like the Kool-Aid man ready to throw ovaries at you! As far as pregnancy comparisons go, I will say that some of these cramps have been every bit as intense as contractions. Not always, not often even, but it has happened. So, periods have their own torturous aspects. Plus, having to pay money for pads and tampons every month over the course of 40 or so years is a torture in its own right.

Crappy movies. Some of y’all will disagree with me on this. I know Lifetime sometimes shows legit movies, but when I’m flipping through, it usually isn’t. There are titles like “Who Killed Jenny’s Dad?” “Jenny’s Dad Returns: A Haunting” “The Face on the Milk Carton: The Untold Story of the Mysterious Disappearance of Jenny” and “Double Haunting: Ghosts Dad and Jenny Terrorize Mom.” Or something like that. You know how everyone says watching certain kids’ cartoons, like Peppa Pig or Spongebob, is torture? Well, Lifetime is about ten times worse. One day the kids are gonna find out that channels like Lifetime and Hallmark exist and are gonna want to know why we talked all that smack.

Laundry mountain. Maybe I shouldn’t be directing my hate at washing machines. After all, all it does is stand there. What I should be directing my frustration to is the individuals in my home who toss clean clothes in the hamper; the individuals who puke all over everything; the individuals who can’t go a week without spilling drinks all over. But, nah, I love my family, so I’ll hate on the washing machine and the laundry mountain that it eventually creates, and then cry online about having to fold everything being like delivering triplets with no medication. (Just kidding.)

So, torture…if you’re really pissed off at me, a great way to get back at me is to make me watch Lifetime movies while folding clothes while wearing a bad bra while on my period while you apply hot wax to one leg and go after the other with an epillator. 

So, what would you add to your list of things that you find torturous? And men, what makes you go, “This is worse than a cold”?

Want to connect on social media? You can find links to my accounts at the top of the menu bar on my page, or go here for Facebook and look me up on Instagram and Twitter with the handle “dorkymomdoodles.”

It’s Light Outside!

There are a lot of adjectives you can use to describe kids — some nice and some not so nice, especially when they’re having shit fits over bathing — and one of those adjectives is “inconsistent.” Some days Baby Girl loves oatmeal. Other days she closes her eyes (because not seeing it means it can’t go in her mouth, I guess) and rejects it, saying “I not like it, Mommy!” Some days (well, most days) she acts like hair clips are the scourge of the earth. Other days, namely when I can’t find any, they’re declared to be her favorite thing and must be worn immediately, or face her wrath.

Little Man is known for having some inconsistencies, too. His big one is his sleep schedule. During the week, when he goes to bed earlier, it’s a pain in the butt to drag him out of bed on school mornings. He acts like we’re torturing him, tells people (such as the doctor once) that he never sleeps, and moves at a snail’s pace because he just can’t eat, get dressed, brush his teeth. (It’s so bad that when we lived next to his old elementary school, he still got too many tardies and had to do recovery time. And at his current school, which is 20 minutes away, I’m pretty sure he has set a record for tardies. We’re those parents.)

Most people hate getting up in the mornings. Especially me. Sleep and I are not besties, thanks to a combination of insomnia and other things, so I get it. Having to get up early and having to get ready to go somewhere seem to amplify the tired factor, so, again, I get it.

But here’s the kicker — and I think a lot of parents probably feel my pain on this one — while the need to sleep in is real during the school week (the school week in which the kiddo goes to bed two hours earlier on average), he wakes up at the crack of dawn most of the time on weekends and is ready to go. 

Why? Why?! I know kids (and pretty much everyone) get excited about the weekend, but for crying out loud, rest up. Especially if you’re someone who complains that you never get enough sleep during the week — don’t sleep less, get up earlier, and act like the perkiest person in the world. That’s just craziness.

Do y’all deal with the “I can’t possibly move during school week, but here I am, bright eyed and bushy tailed on the weekends” thing?

Want to connect on social media? You can find links to my accounts at the top of the menu bar on my page, or go here for Facebook and look me up on Instagram and Twitter with the handle “dorkymomdoodles.”