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.)

Advertisements

Parenting Advice Series: Freaking Socks

Someone told me that I should give parenting advice on my blog. I snickered to myself when she said it, because what the heck do I have to offer people in terms of advice? I’ve been a mom for a decade, and I’m only slightly less clueless than the day I brought the first kid home from the hospital. I’m useless where getting picky eaters to eat goes. I couldn’t tell you how to get the kids out the door so you can get to school on time. And I definitely couldn’t tell you how to deal with tantrums, relatives who think they know how to raise your kids better than you, or how to keep car seats clean.

“Maybe I’ll do that,” I said, because I didn’t want to say, “I’m the last person anyone should come to for parenting advice.”

But then — nine months later (because it takes the same amount of time for me to have a good idea as it does to grow a baby) — I was folding clothes and I had a thought.

Oooh, SOCKS. Maybe I do have a little parenting advice to offer the world.  (Well, if not the world, then new parents, at least.) It only took a moment of rage to figure that out. And then I started thinking about other things along those lines, and boom — I had enough stuff to make a post. Or two. Or three.

Here we go.

In my time as a parent, I’ve learned that you should never buy cute socks for the kids. Cute socks come in different cute designs and colors, and do you know what all of that cuteness means? NEVER HAVING A PAIR OF SOCKS THAT MATCH. I wish you could see my laundry basket right now. It is full of cute socks that are missing their mates. There is even a sock that fit my preemie sized Baby Girl in the basket that is holding out hope that one day I’ll find the other one. (I refuse to throw it away. I’ll take that baby sock to my grave if I have to.)

I don’t have a clue where the damn things go, either. It’s almost like someone is breaking in my house when I’m not home and stealing socks here and there. If you’ve watched Home Alone, then you’ve heard of the Wet Bandits, and now there’s the Sock Bandits. All they take is one sock from each matching pair, because they want to slowly drive you insane.

(If those guys look familiar, it’s because they made an appearance in a post I did where I mentioned using a bug spray of sorts to get rid of religious people showing up unannounced. I guess payback is a bitch.)

I’ve looked in all the drawers, under the couch, in the toy boxes, and I cannot find them. I get missing a few socks, but I have at least 40 socks in that basket.

Are the sock companies in cahoots? Do they rig the socks in a way that makes one of them self-destruct after a certain amount of time, so that you have to keep buying more? Because — aside from the self-destruct component costing more than the sock itself costs to be made — that’s a good explanation.

Or maybe there is a portal to another dimension in my house that only socks can access. There is another world completely filled with socks that don’t match. Or maybe it’s not another dimension at all and is just part of one of the circles of Hell that wasn’t mentioned in Inferno. Dante was all like, “Shit, socks are boring, so I’ma focus on people being ripped apart by dogs.” In a less exciting area, there was a pile of socks that the sinners had to sort through for eternity.

I can understand why he would leave that out, since writing about sock sorting in a poem is kind of lame.

(New thought: a series on the nine circles of hell, parenting style.)

So, take it from me — don’t buy socks with designs or colors or brand logos or anything. Don’t be like me and go, “Ugh, those plain socks are so fugly, I’m gonna get these cute stripey ones where each pair comes in a different color and maybe the moon and stars will align and none of them will get lost.”

Where do you think the socks go?

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? 

Thank You, Siri

My mother-in-law and I went shopping together recently in an area that I wasn’t familiar with. After we left one location to head to another, I had to get Siri to give me directions, since navigation isn’t either of our strong suits. True to form, Siri started telling me how many feet to go until each turn and so on.

I noticed something after receiving a few directions from Siri — my mother-in-law was quite engaged with her.

And then when Siri gave too many directions about upcoming roads or whatever…

Or something to that effect, and naturally, I about peed my pants laughing. I told my MIL that I wanted to doodle that, since it cracked me up, and then after we chatted about it a bit, I asked her if I could write about some of her other tech funnies. She regularly reads my blog and knows what type of stuff I post, and she agreed. Others probably wouldn’t want their “The struggle is real” situations put out for the world to see, but my MIL is pretty laid back and is always quick to laugh. She once recorded a video singing “Y’all gonna make me lose my minds” and dancing with my kids, so she’s definitely one of those rare people who don’t take themselves too seriously and enjoys the moment.

So, I welcome you to the doodled mini roast (sort of) of my mother-in-law, AKA MawMaw.

(She has been included in one of my past stories. Check out Little Man’s prank if you haven’t read it yet.)

I’m pretty sure that our phone number is on my mother-in-law’s speed dial, and it’s not so much that we’re her favorite people in the world to talk to as it is we’re her go-tos for tech help. We’ve seen her through countless viruses back when she had a desktop computer. Despite installing the best antivirus software known to man and locking down all permissions to make it virtually impossible to mess up her machine, she’d still infect the dang thing, and we’d be called to fix it. I’m not sure exactly what she was looking at or downloading for this to happen, but happened it did.

Same with the tablet, laptop, smartphones, etc. Viruses weren’t so much the issue with these devices, but there were lots of questions about how to install apps, how to delete apps, upload pictures, etc. (Stuff I would expect since it seems like this stuff changes constantly.) Once there was a help request regarding Facebook.

Facebook Problems

Like almost everyone else I know, my MIL is on Facebook. For a while I’d regularly see her post pictures, memes, etc., but then I noticed that she wasn’t posting as often, and I assumed that she got tired of using Facebook for anything more than checking out pictures of her grandkids.

Wrong.

One day I was at my MIL’s house with the kids when she got her phone out and started scrolling through Facebook. At one point, she commented about how no one ever liked or commented on her Facebook statuses. At first, I thought she just meant that people didn’t comment/like things often enough — and I felt guilty for not liking them myself, even though I didn’t see them — but no, she really did mean it never happened.

After pulling up her Facebook page, I saw very quickly why there were no comments or likes.

Yep, her posts were locked, so she was the only one who could see them. I scrolled through for a bit and saw that several months worth of posts were locked. Birthday wishes, photos, posts about the grandkids, memes, updates, etc. All locked, so no likes/activity from family or friends. I could only imagine the frustration that must have been building up! 

Obi Wan Jesus

This one will be new for my mother-in-law, since I never commented on it.

One night when Baby Girl really was more of a baby, I was rocking her to sleep. It was one of those nights where she didn’t fall to sleep easily, so I was there for a while. After she dozed off, I continued rocking (it took her no less than 15 minutes to get into a deep enough sleep to be moved) and turned on my phone. I scrolled through a few statuses when I came across one post from my MIL that almost made me have to restart the rocking routine.

I didn’t even realize it was Obi Wan at first, since I was just scrolling, but then I realized, “Hey, something’s not right there…” I scrolled back up, and there was Obi Wan Kenobi in all of his Jesus glory. It was all I could do not to howl with laughter. My husband noticed my not-so-muted snickering and peered over my shoulder to see what I was laughing at, and he almost lost it, too.

Legal Troubles?

My in-laws got a new car last year, and like many other new cars, it has a shiny infotainment system. It has navigation, satellite radio, apps, etc. One of the apps (or services, I suppose) they have is On-Star. If you aren’t familiar with On-Star, it’s a service that helps with navigation, emergency services, and more. My in-laws regularly used On-Star for directions and stuff, and one day my MIL approached me to ask about the possibility of legal trouble regarding their new car.

After complaining about how well the On-Star service was working, she told me that she was worried they were going to get arrested because my FIL cussed out the virtual adviser. He asked for directions, and it didn’t understand him and it gave him some random answer. After that happened a few times, he let loose a string of curse words.

“Could he go to jail for that?” she asked me.

I can usually keep a straight face with her, but this time I couldn’t. The thought of cussing out On-Star’s version of Siri is was humorous enough, but getting arrested for it? I about pissed my pants.  I assured her that no one was monitoring those interactions (I think) and that no laws had been broken.

I’m sure it won’t be long before Little Man could write his own version of this post for his dad and me!

Do you have any funny tech mishaps to share?

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?

Parenting Music

I know what y’all are thinking — “Not another post about Daddy Finger!” No worries. When I wrote that title, I absolutely was not referring to the shitty songs that we parents have to listen to. Not even a little.

Instead, I’m thinking more along the lines of “Songs I’ve heard before that I never thought could relate to parenting, but actually do.”

And that is a mouthful for a title, so I went with Parenting Music.

There are a lot of songs that take on more of a deeper meaning when you have kids. Some of those are sappy, and we don’t do sappy on this blog (well, at least not today), so I’m focusing on the songs parents can relate to in more of a “This totally sums up parenting” way.

No Doubt – Don’t Speak

When certain individuals have talked for 20 minutes straight about Minecraft and I feel like my head is going to explode, this song applies. When other individuals have talked nonstop about which character from The Incredibles or Peppa Pig they want to be, or like the best, or want for Christmas or…you get the idea…this song applies. And when other individuals talk nonstop about Microsoft Excel and spreadsheets and Pivot tables, this song applies. Oops, the last one goes to my husband and not the kids, but still — DON’T SPEAK!

Don’t speak
I know just what you’re saying
So please stop explaining
Don’t tell me ’cause it hurts

It really does hurt. My head. It hurts my head.

DMX – Party Up

This should be every parent’s anthem. It’s perfect for any situation where the kids are acting like little heathens and you want to express how they’re making you feel without letting loose a string of cuss words.

A little side story to this one — before a few months ago, I didn’t know who sang the Y’all Gonna Make Me Lose My Mind song (as I called it) or any of the lyrics beyond the chorus. At any rate, I knew the hell out of the chorus for some reason, which I sang whenever the kids did something that made me want to drop four-letter words.

Little Man took a liking to that song, and I’m pretty sure he intentionally pushed my buttons at times to get me to sing it. Anyway, one day he asked about the song, and I told him that I didn’t know all of it and offered to look it up on YouTube for him. I typed in “Y’all gonna make me lose my mind” on YouTube, clicked an official looking video, and went back to whatever I was doing when my husband came in and about had a cow when he realized what LM was listening to.

For the record, the lyrics sound completely garbled to my crappy ears.

Well, no, of course not, but based on those few lines, how bad could it be?

He told me to pull up the lyrics. I did. Yikes.

Sting – I’ll Be Watching You

Y’all know how it is with kids. They are constantly eagle eyeing you, especially when you’re trying to sneak a cookie after you’ve told them no more junk, or are trying to check your texts after you’ve declared screens banned for the rest of the day. It doesn’t stop there with my kids, though. They’re straight up little stalkers. It doesn’t matter whether I’m on the toilet, asleep, or brushing my teeth, someone is usually there watching me.

It gets straight up creepy at times.

Every breath you take
Every move you make
Every poop you take
Every curse you make
I’ll be watching you

No, I’ll Be Watching You didn’t need a rewrite at all to be declared a parenting song, but I tweaked it anyway.

MC Hammer – U Can’t Touch This

What is it with kids touching everything? Even older kids can’t keep their hands off shit. Stop touching my phone, my snacks, and my toys.

Stop grabbing my tampons, my shampoo, and my pens. For the love of God, not the pens! I am very particular about the kind of ink pens I use (I prefer the Zebra stainless steel fine point pens or the Pilot Precise V5 pens), and they are always putting their grubby little fingers on them, which means they get lost. Don’t touch this!

Maybe if I adopted some of MC Hammer’s dance moves and sang out “You can’t touch this!” they’d be more inclined to stop. At least the older one would out of embarrassment, I hope.

Destiny’s Child – Say My Name

They say “the” is the most commonly used word in the English language. All parents know this isn’t the case when it comes to kids, though. Some variation of “Mom” or “Dad” is used at least ten times as much as “the,” and while it is often said in a way that can make your heart melt, it can also be said in a way that makes you die a little inside.

Say my name, say my name
The kids are always around you
Saying “Mama I need you”
Won’t you play another game
Say my name, say my name

Don’t say my name! Especially when you do it in a Feeny Call sort of way!

Bonus: Backstreet Boys – I Want It That Way

I don’t know which is worse, this song or the kids demanding to have everything Burger King style, but either way, the song is relevant.

The ultimate parenting version of the song:

Tell me why
Ain’t nothin’ but a headache
Tell me why
Ain’t nothin’ but a migraine
Tell me why
I never want to hear you say
I want it that way

Which song would you dub a parenting song after having kids?

How To Lose A Mom Friend In 10 Days

Who remembers that awesome romantic comedy How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days from the early 2000s? For those of you who didn’t see it, it had Kate Hudson and Matthew McSexy McConaughey and showed their two characters doing everything they could to drive away the other as part of a bet. (They ultimately fell for each other, of course.) I was thinking about this movie the other day when my brain did its thing, jumped to a dozen other things, and then came back to thinking, “How to Lose a Mom Friend in 10 Days would be funny…ooh, blog post!”

So here we are.

Do you have a mom friend in your life that you’re getting kind of sick of? Breaking up is hard to do, especially when it comes to “friends.” Being direct about this sort of thing is tough, and if they aren’t picking up on your Vaguebook posts, you might want to think about stepping up your game. Here are a few ways to say, “I hate you” and lose that mom friend in 10 days or less. (And, no, there will be no falling for each other.)

Buy Their Kids Shitty Gifts

Certain gifts are universally hated by parents. I found this out the hard way before I had kids when I gave a young child a Play-doh set for Christmas. His mom asked — in a not-so-joking tone — what she had done to piss me off. I was confused, since Play-doh is awesome, but I’ve since learned that many parents share her belief that Play-doh is the devil.

In case your mom friend is anything like me and actually wants Play-doh sets gifted to her kids, then consider buying something that is super loud and annoying. If the kid is a baby, this damn dog is pretty much the perfect “I hate you” gift:

Little Man had one of these, and I swear, the thing was possessed. It played music even after we turned it off. We both swear that we heard it making noise one night after we removed the batteries, too. Giving someone that dog will make them automatically reevaluate their life and the choices they’ve made.

If you don’t think Play-doh or toys like that damn dog will do the trick, then just give the kid a box of glitter. Fair warning — the mom friend you’re trying to dump may assault you over this.

Host a Crappy mom Night

I know what you’re thinking — “Why the hell would I want to invite Mrs. Annoying over to my house and spend more time around here?” It could work, though, if you do it right.

Promise a mom’s night that will put all other mom’s nights to shame. Sell the hell out of entertainment and booze. Who can say “no” to that (unless you live in the Bible belt like I do)? Obviously, though, your definition of entertainment is going to greatly differ from the typical’s persons definition of entertainment.

As far as booze goes, break out bottles of Boone’s Farm wine or Aristocrat vodka. Do not, under any circumstance, include mixer for that vodka.

Finger Roll Them

Okay, so Daddy Finger Rolling someone sounds weird as hell, but I think most of y’all probably get what I’m referring to. (Or maybe not, because I’m weird and often snicker at lame stuff that no one else finds funny…like maybe this whole post.) Remember the whole Rickrolling thing that was popular a few years ago, when people would trick someone into going to a YouTube video of Rick Astley singing Never Gonna Give You Up? (Little Man loves that song, by the way.)

One of the top priorities of the parent of a toddler is to keep them from seeing the Daddy Finger videos on YouTube. They’re awful, there’s no end to how many shitty videos there are, and the kids love them. They are the absolute fastest way to getting a migraine.

Text the mom when the kid isn’t asleep and tell them you’ve discovered an awesome new educational video that will make their kid’s IQ skyrocket. When she opens the link, the Daddy Finger song will begin blaring, and as long as the kid is within a 100-yard radius of the phone, he’ll hear it and come running. The mom will spend the next hour watching horrible video after video and will have to listen to the kid beg for it at least 10 times an hour for the next month.

Custom RingTone

If all else fails, there’s one thing you can do to make that mom friend know how much you want to break up with her without having to say it — give her a personalized ringtone. Go with something like Bitch by Meredith Brooks or Asshole Song by Jimmy Buffet. Tell the mom that the ringer on your phone is acting glitchy and ask her to call it so you can test it out.

If she doesn’t take the hint after that, then you’re stuck with her for life.


Obviously this is just a jokey post that no one would ever do (except use Aristocrat vodka because you’re a cheapskate), but if you were going to drive someone away, what’s a funny way you’d it?

A Sneaky Little What?

Hello from the land of viruses, nasty colds, and migraines! Plus general busyness. I think everyone is mostly healthy now, so yay! Yuckiness aside, the past week has been good. My son landed a part in two plays he auditioned for (which most of y’all already know, but I’m still in proud mama mode), one of my posts was published on the Erma Bombeck site, HumorWriters.org, and my husband got our swimming pool open. Good stuff!

Now that I’ve got that out of the way, on to the funny…

We have a dog named Bilbo. We named him after a character from The Hobbit. If you haven’t read The Hobbit (or watched the movie), then you should know that the character is persuaded to go on an adventure with a wizard and a bunch of dwarfs to be a burglar, on account of him being small since he’s a hobbit. We are big Hobbit/Lord of the Rings fans in my house (to the point that I have three LOTR inspired tattoos), so Bilbo was the perfect name for the dog.

And it really was perfect, because that dog loves to steal stuff.

Before we got an invisible fence, Bilbo had free run of the neighborhood. (It’s a small neighborhood in a rural area, where other dogs have free run, too.) All of that came to an end, though, when he started bringing up stuff he’d stolen. At first it was a couple of balls, and then there was a beach towel, which wasn’t so bad, but then he brought up a wild goose, and that put an end to his freedom.

This didn’t stop Bilbo’s thieving ways, though. He has since turned his sights to food. He is super sneaky about it, too. For example, if a slice of pizza is on a plate with some other food, he can swipe it right off the plate without making a sound or knocking anything else over, which is pretty impressive.

Yesterday Little Man was eating a sandwich when the burglar struck again. He had it in his hand and was looking at something when Bilbo quietly sneaked up and took it. Little Man was surprised, but chuckled over it, and said the following:

Whoa! That was true (and hilarious), but whoa!

Now, as some of you have gathered from reading this blog (as well as those of you who know me in real life), I’m not exactly against using curse words. I try to be careful around the kids, mainly because I know Baby Girl would repeat them. Little Man has only dropped a curse word around someone once (in front of two preachers, sigh), but otherwise he knows better and will ask permission before using such words. So, even though “bad words” don’t bother me on any level, I was still surprised that he said that, since a) I didn’t realize he knew the word, b) he doesn’t drop such words without permission, and c) his sister was present.

(Bastard is one of those words that falls in the gray area for me, but if he dropped it at school, it would be a problem, so a bad word it is.)

Little Man was surprised by this.

I laughed and laughed over that. I explained that “little bastard” was definitely not a country saying, and something that he shouldn’t repeat at school or in front of his sister. I asked where he heard it, but he wasn’t certain.

Now let’s hope that Baby Girl doesn’t repeat this. She didn’t appear to be paying attention to any of it, so hopefully I won’t get any calls from the preschool in the fall reporting, “Baby Girl called a kid who stole her blocks a little bastard.”

(By the way, if you’re someone who likes to go on about how their kids would never say such words, this isn’t the place to post about it.) 

I’m Dying: Nail Jaundice Edition

Today’s post was inspired by a post from Mom Life With Chiari, who wrote about nail polish on her blog. She mentioned using a base coat to avoid yellowing of the nails in her post, which made me remember yet another time in my life when I thought I was dying. (In case you’d like a refresher on a different time I thought I was dying, head here to check out the seat warmers from hell.)

This happened two or three years ago…

I’ve mentioned that I’m not the most feminine woman around. Not by a long shot. I’ve talked about how I’m not a fan of dresses, how I can’t get around in heels, and how my makeup skills resemble those of a drunk clown. My boobs and the monthly reminder that I’m not pregnant (or spontaneously pregnant, which was the fear before I met my husband, since anxiety makes you think you could be the next Virgin Mary) is pretty much the most feminine thing about me. Those are definitely legit reminders, but still, y’all get the point I’m trying to make. I hope.

So, two or three years ago, we were planning to go to the beach for vacation, when I decided I should really do something about my raggedy fingernails and fugly toenails. I could have gotten a manicure/pedicure from someone who knows what they’re doing, but I hate that sort of thing, so I decided to purchase some nail polish and give it a go myself. And by “give it a go myself,” I mean, “I enlisted my husband’s help.”

I did a decent job on my left hand, being a righty, but painting my right hand and my toenails was tough. My husband noticed this and offered to help, saying that he had painted his mom’s nails before. Before you go, “Aww, what a catch!” know that his painting looked much like you’d expect if you handed a toddler a bottle of nail polish and told her to go at it.

My husband is supposed to be sitting, not dancing a jig.

Yikes.

I was floored at how bad he did and accused him of lying about painting his mom’s nails. I know his mom quite well, and there’s no way in hell she’d let her nails go around looking like the Texas Chainsaw Massacre had occurred. He very quickly fessed up to lying about painting his mom’s nails. I should have been outraged, because husband and lies and the foundation of marriage being honesty and all that crap, but I wasn’t. He explained that he felt sorry for me and really wanted to help, and being outraged over his pity at my patheticness would be too much.

I very painstakingly painted my nails, using lots of polish remover and cotton balls in the process, and was actually pleased with the results. As long as you didn’t let your gaze linger, it looked half decent.

The vacation went well. I proudly flaunted my nails around, not that anyone noticed, because why would they? Some time passed and I realized that I needed to remove the polish and either a) paint the nails again or b) go back to wearing sneakers. I’m sure y’all can guess which option I selected, being a lazy mofo.

This is where the whole “I’m dying!” thing comes to play. After I removed the nail polish, I noticed that something wasn’t quite right.

Naturally, I assumed the worst.

Having a WebMD degree, I knew that jaundice is not a good thing. Clearly death was imminent, but why was the jaundice showing up on my nails and not the skin around my eyes? Was I a medical mystery? Would my body have to be donated to science? I needed answers, so I turned to the trusty WebMD.

WebMD informed me that my fingernail jaundice (which it called “nail discoloration”) could be a result of a fungus or bacteria. How about that? WebMD didn’t tell me that I had a terminal illness for a change. So maybe death wasn’t imminent and my liver was fine, but I definitely needed to figure out what was causing the jaundice (yeah, I’m still gonna use that term) and how to fix it, because yellow nails…blech.

Rather than set up an appointment with the doctor, I took a few pictures and sent them to some friends in the medical field and asked what was up with my nails. One of them asked if I had recently painted my nails, and I told her that I had. She asked if I used a base coat, and I told her that I had not, because…well, why would I? I was just trying to paint my fingernails, not be a fancy bitch with all the polishes.

She then informed me that when you don’t use a base coat or use the cheap polish that has a base coat in it, that it causes the fingernails to yellow. Now, I did paint my nails in middle school and sometimes in high school, and I know that I never used a base coat and only used cheap stuff since I had no money, but I don’t remember this ever happening. Lucky me, I guess.

My medical mystery was solved. No health issues. No death. Just being a sucky female who purchased cheap nail polish.

Crisis averted, and I didn’t have to embarrass myself at the doctor’s office with my brand new illness.

Tell me about a time when you thought something was wrong only for it not to be a biggie. 

Happy Father’s Day: #MyDadChallenge

In honor of Mother’s Day last month, I created the #MyMomChallenge, where I asked my kids a bunch of questions and recorded their answers. Since today is Father’s Day (and since Eric at All In A Dad’s Work reminded me by doing his own), I’m doing the same Q&A with my kids for their dad.

And here we go…

1. My dad is _____ years old and weighs _____ pounds.

Little Man: 40; 200
Baby Girl: 5; 4

2. My dad is good at cooking _____ and is not so good at cooking _____.

Little Man: hamburgers; nothing
Baby Girl: pizza for you and me; I don’t know

3. If my dad were a superhero, his name would be ______ and his superpower would be _____.

Little Man: The Human Dad; taking people around the neighborhood
Baby Girl: Spiderman; shooting webs

4. And if my dad were a villain, his name would be ______ and he would use his evil powers to _____.

Little Man: The Hacker; getting on Facebook when his son is playing Minecraft
Baby Girl: Joker; do bad things to superheroes

5. I love it when my dad______.

Little Man: hugs me
Baby Girl: hugs me and kisses me

6. When my dad is driving, he_________.

Little Man: uses one hand
Baby Girl: holds on to the steering wheel and turns it like this (imitates steering)

7. I like it when my dad _______ and I don’t like it when my dad _________.

Little Man: plays video games with me; says “no screens”
Baby Girl: watches TV with me; be’s mean

8. My dad does not like to _______.

Little Man: wipe my hiney
Baby Girl: read me books when he’s working

9. My dad does ________ the best and _________ the worst.

Little Man: buying good watermelons; playing video games (I always beat him)
Baby Girl: cook fish sticks and cheesy tater tots; I don’t know

10. I’m thankful for my dad because ___________.

Little Man: He’s the best
Baby Girl: I love him

Those last two answers, though. All the feels.

Happy Father’s Day to all you dads/father figures out there! And a special Happy Father’s Day to my husband, who sets the bar super high when it comes to his daddy game.

Feel free to join the Q&A! I know Father’s Day is almost over, but don’t let that stop you from recording your kids’ answers. It’ll be nice to have these written down (or blogged) so you can repeat them each year and compare their answers. Even if you’re an adult, your dad will enjoy it. (My kids did a version of this as a Father’s Day card for their dad, and since I forgot to buy a card for my dad, I did the same for him, and he seemed to love it, even though I am 34.) If you do join in, please tag me or add the link to the comment so I can check out your post.