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.

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WTF Search Terms

Full disclosure: all of these search terms won’t fall under “WTF,” but at least a couple will. Since “WTF Search Terms” was more likely to grab your attention than “Mostly Mildly Interesting Search Terms,” I went with it.

More often than not, the search terms that lead to my blog show up as “Unknown Search terms,” but occasionally, I’ll get to see the actual term someone searched for that led them to Dorky Mom Doodles. Most of them don’t even qualify as mildly interesting, so I won’t include those here, but there are a few that either made me chuckle, piqued my interest, or made me a bit confused.

Is this someone’s way of letting me know they’re mad at me? I imagine using “mom doodle” as part of a phrase would lead someone to my site, so tacking on “damn it” (or something like “jerkface that I hope breaks her thumbs”) would be a neat passive-aggressive way of letting me know they were ticked at me. Maybe that’s the case, maybe not, but I did search for this myself and found that I say “damn it” quite often, as this search yielded quite a few results leading to this site.

I can only imagine that whoever searched for this was hoping to find prices on meat and cheese trays, or maybe they were looking for recipes that required meat and cheese. I don’t know which blog post it led to for sure, but I’m guessing it was probably one where I talked about being a picky eater. Whatever it is, I’m pretty sure that they didn’t find what they were looking for.

I’d like to say that the person who entered this search term did indeed feel better after visiting this blog. Well, unless they’re fans of good drawings and sophisticated humor…in which case, maybe not.

This one has me curious. I’d assume that someone searching for “toddler poops in underwear” is either researching how to clean poopy underwear or how to keep the child from pooping in underwear again. The “superhero” part is what made me snicker. I wouldn’t imagine one would need to be that specific when researching this issue, but they were.

There is no question about which post this search term led to. Last year when I did my Calling All Dorks series, I doodled my blog friend Becca’s story about the creepy baby doll in her garage called Baby Howie. I absolutely love that Baby Howie is so legendary that someone searched for him on Google.

I’m including this one because I don’t have a clue how this actually led to my blog. True, my Spanx post is one of my favorites, but spanx is a pretty big thing that tons of stores sell. How on earth did someone wade through that many pages of search results to make it to this blog? For the record, I skimmed over five pages of search results before I called it quits. I saw lots of spanx for sell, a mention of spanx on NPR, and something about Kim Kardashian accidentally flashing spanx, but nothing about a dorky mom wearing spanx.

Carding dorks…is that like making sure that dorky looking people are really 21 or older before giving them their booze? When I searched, I found stuff that confused me because SQL was mentioned. I decided that I’m okay with not knowing what, exactly, “carding dorks 2017” is and why it led to my blog. I don’t want to expend too much brain power on a Friday, after all.

This is the kind of term you hope to get when you check your search terms looking for interesting stuff. Randomness! Penis reference! Oddly specific! I looked this one up and it’s not as interesting as it seems — it’s a reference to line from a movie called Heavy Metal. I did not figure out which post the person was led to, which is a bummer, because I’d totally like to know where I referenced something resembling talking about letting my dork hang out.

What interesting search terms have led to your blog?

And We’re Back

Am I too old/mommyish to add “like cooked crack” to that title? Probably? Very well, then, I’ll just leave it at, “And we’re back.”

We got back from our Carnival cruise on Saturday, but shortly after getting home and taking a shower (and shaving my legs, which was the main thing), I was off to the urgent care to get my ankle and leg X-rayed.

This is how the second day of vacation went:

I slipped in the water area and slammed my leg on a stone tile corner and twisted my ankle. Ouch. (For the record, there were probably 100 people out there on their lounge chairs, but since I avoided making eye contact with anyone after that fall, I’m not doodling them.)

I’m the Queen of Clumsy, so wiping out wasn’t much of a surprise. I was able to get around okay during the vacation (largely due to the part of my leg that I fell on remaining numb the whole time, which is wearing off now). But by the time I got home, the swelling in my leg was so bad down to my ankle that I couldn’t get my Crocs on all the way and between that and the numbness that remained in my leg, I was encouraged to get an X-ray. The doctor initially thought I had a fracture and put me in a walking boot, but messaged me later and said it might be something else and to wear the boot and follow up with Ortho. So that’s what I’m doing.

That aside — and a few Baby Girl tantrums aside — the vacation was a blast. We went to the Bahamas again and had a stop in Princess Cays (very pretty) and Nassau. Little Man and I had booked an excursion to swim with the dolphins at Balmoral Island, and I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to do it because of my leg/foot at first, but we made it and had fun. Balmoral Island was absolutely beautiful with crystal clear water, so hopefully we’ll make it back there soon!

Baby Girl loved the “Mahamas” as she called it, even though she was a little confused on what, exactly, the Mahamas were. At first she thought it was Charleston, and then she thought it was the cruise ship, and then she thought it was Fort Moultrie or Sumter (out of Charleston Harbor).

I also had a bit of confusion myself as we left Charleston. I saw a boat pull up alongside us and spotted a big gun, which I loudly announced.

I had visions of modern-day pirates running through my head, but as my husband pointed out, it was just the Coast Guard. Sorry for the alarm, fellow passengers (who still aren’t doodled).

The kids really enjoyed themselves. Between the pool, water slides, arcade, and other stuff, they didn’t complain about being bored or whine about screens a single time. Baby Girl loved being able to get ice cream 24/7, too. One morning we did the Green Eggs and Ham breakfast, which was really cool. Little Man was the only one brave enough to try the green eggs, though! We took the kids to a couple of the PG rated comedy shows, and Baby Girl almost made one of the comedians lose it when she did an extremely loud fake laugh after everyone else finished laughing a few times. Lordy.

Usually I’m glad to be back home by the end of the vacation, but that’s not the case this time, which is a testament to how fun it was. Also, Laundry Mountain is back, and I really don’t wanna fold clothes. (And, since I’m writing this post three days after getting home, it should really all be taken care of by now.)

So, yeah…good times, great memories made!

I’ve got over 100 emails from blog subscriptions to catch up on, so I’ll be dropping by soon. I’m glad everyone seemed to enjoy my throwback posts from last week! 

No, That Isn’t A Popsicle

If you’re reading this post, then the Dorky family is officially on vacation! We’re going on a cruise, so I’ll have limited access to Internet over the next few days. Since I won’t be creating any new posts, I thought I’d take the opportunity to share some of my early posts that most of you likely haven’t seen.


Originally posted in April of 2017…

My kids go by the “what’s mine is mine and what’s yours is also mine” rule.

My food? Also their food, even if I have the same thing that they have. My radio? Obviously theirs. My Playstation? Well, you get the picture. I say “no” sometimes, but “yes” is far more prevalent since they’re a) my offspring and b) cute. (My husband, though? You better bet that “no” accompanied with other not-so-nice words happens when he tries to get a bite of my steak or swipes one of my ice-cold Cokes.)

I’m used to sharing, but there’s one thing that I thought would remain mine and mine alone, for at least a decade, and that’s feminine hygiene products. However, since both of my children are like dehydrated people in deserts who see mirages of water everywhere in cartoons, the kids see candy everywhere and have tried to make me share my Aunt Flo-inators as well.

Note to Baby Girl: this is the first red flag that you need help with your popsicle addiction.

Now Little Man won’t think the fact that he’s called me “Mommy” is the most damaging thing I’ve posted online anymore.

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Reasons The Toddler Is Pissed

If you’re reading this post, then the Dorky family is officially on vacation! We’re going on a cruise, so I’ll have limited access to Internet over the next few days. Since I won’t be creating any new posts, I thought I’d take the opportunity to share some of my early posts that most of you likely haven’t seen.


Originally published in May of 2017…

If you look up “temperamental” in the dictionary, I’m pretty sure that you’d find a picture of a toddler next to it. Maybe even my toddler.

Oh, wait…

How about that? I wasn’t exaggerating after all!

True to the definition of temperamental, one minute Baby Girl is happy. The next she’s mad. Sometimes she’s mad over the reason that originally made her happy, which is confusing as hell and makes the whole “navigating parenting” thing much more difficult. Other times she’s ticked off for reasons that should never tick anyone off, ever. And, occasionally, there are times when she’s pissed for reasons that are beyond me.

Here are a few of the reasons she might be mad on any given day —

I have four younger brothers and sisters, so I get #1 — I completely understand what it’s like for a look from a sibling cause someone to see red. I don’t understand why, but I do know that it happens and isn’t just a Baby Girl thing. Even worse than looking at each other is looking at an object the other sibling is playing with/using with interest — this causes a reaction akin to road rage in children.

And for the record, with #3 — we’re talking about milk that has been sitting out for maybe ten minutes. The cup is still cool to the touch. I’m not a monster who makes kids drink warm milk. Cold milk is gross enough to me, but warm milk? “Disgusting!” to use Baby Girl’s new favorite word.

I mostly don’t get the others on that list. Especially #4. Who wants to go around wearing a shitty diaper? It makes her butt red and itchy, which she also complains about. Use. The. Potty. (And use it regularly enough that I can say stop saying “potty” in a sweet, high-pitched voice that is supposed to make you take interest in it.)

What are some funny things your kids get mad over?

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

The Buns And Guns Challenge

If you’re reading this post, then the Dorky family is officially on vacation! We’re going on a cruise, so I’ll have limited access to Internet over the next few days. Since I won’t be creating any new posts, I thought I’d take the opportunity to share some of my early posts that most of you likely haven’t seen.


This was originally posted in May of 2017. For the record, I never completed the challenge…

I don’t have buns.

I don’t have guns.

And I most certainly don’t have abs.

But, I am told that I could have these things if I complete a 30-day challenge called Buns, Guns, and Abs Challenge. Considering that my rapper name is Fluff Mama and that I’m too heavy to fly like Wonder Woman, I’m pretty sure that no 30-day challenge will make these mythical muscles appear, but stranger things have happened.

My husband is the one who asked me to participate in the Buns and Guns Challenge. (I think we can all agree that the challenge sounds better when you leave out the word “abs.”) We’re attempting to lose weight make better lifestyle choices, and part of that includes doing things that the Couch Potato Olympics Committee frowns upon — moving.

Not moving equals happiness to sloth-like creatures.

A couple days ago, my husband approached me about the challenge. After talking about exercises and muscles for a few minutes, which I mostly tuned out, he told me, “The first day is easy. And then it goes up a little in intensity each day. Want to do it with me?”

“Yeah, okay,” I said, without one iota of enthusiasm. I really just wanted him to stop naming muscles, plus he did say that it started out easy.

Easy.

Ha.

I’m 33. By now I’ve been around the block enough times that I should know that any time I think, “That sounds easy enough,” that it won’t be. Baking brownies out of the box — easy, right? Unless you’re me. Tying a basic braid in my daughter’s hair, walking, parking in an empty lot, and applying eyeliner also aren’t easy. Despite my best efforts, my body is determined to make me look like a spaz whenever possible.

On the first night of the challenge, my husband told me that I had to do ten squats, ten push-ups, and ten leg lifts. That really does sound easy. It should be easy. I thought, “Yeah, I got this.” A few squats later, I found out that I definitely didn’t have this.

Before getting pregnant with Baby Girl, I did a HIIT workout while trying to lose weight. (If you’re not the math sort, Baby Girl is almost three, so between that and 9 months of pregnancy, that means that the last time I did this was almost four years ago.) Anyway, I killed the squats back then. But not that night. My thighs and knees — which are certainly used to getting up and down all day long — betrayed me.

My legs were like…

Admittedly, this looks more like I’m dancing a jig than doing squats.

(Since I started writing this post and completed another day of the challenge, my husband has pointed out that I was doing the squats wrong and was doing them in a way that made it more difficult. Doing them right was easier, so that makes me feel a little better.)

Next were the leg lifts. They seemed pretty easy until my husband told me to lift slowly, hold my legs in place, and lower them slowly — apparently flailing your legs all over the place doesn’t count. Doing them right involved using my nonexistent core muscles, so after five of those, my core was like…

The last part was push-ups. I have always sucked at push-ups, even when I was at a perfectly normal weight (as I discovered many years later) and fairly athletic. My arms just do not like pushing up my body for some reason. They don’t like pulling up my body, either, so chin-ups in gym class back in the day didn’t happen much, either. Heaven forbid I fall face first into a pile of snow one day, because I guarantee that unless my body gets one of those “lift the car off the child” adrenaline rushes, I’ll perish.

As you’ve probably guessed by now, the whole time I did those push-ups, my arms were like…

(Despite my history with push-ups and my arms cursing me, they were the easiest part of the challenge on that day, so maybe all that hauling around Baby Girl has done my arms some good.)

When we were finished my husband pulled out his phone and showed me the rest of the challenge. He told me that by the end of 30 days, I’ll be able to do 100 squats, 40 push-ups, and 100 leg lifts. We’ll see. For the record, we won’t see in 30 days, since I’m sticking with day one for a few more days to work on my form, so maybe in 100 days we’ll see.

Want to participate in the Buns and Guns Challenge? Knock yourself out. (Also, zoom in, because I started writing smaller halfway through for some reason.)

So, are you in? Or do you want to retain the right to make self-depracating jokes about your fluffy body?

Want to connect on social media? You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. You can also vote for me as a Top Mom Blogger here

Female Instruments Of Torture

If you’re reading this post, then the Dorky family is officially on vacation! We’re going on a cruise, so I’ll have limited access to Internet over the next few days. Since I won’t be creating any new posts, I thought I’d take the opportunity to share some of my early posts that most of you likely haven’t seen.


Originally published in March of 2017…

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.”


 

What Should Go Here?

I finally invested in a felt letter board! Now I’m like all the other cool moms, except for I’m not cool.

Too bad I couldn’t think of anything clever to say! What would you write on this board? Seriously, let’s have fun…if you come up with something, comment and include your Instagram handle and I’ll tag you when I post it.

Also, that muffin is for me. Baby Girl asked who it was for, and I told her it was mine. She said she wanted it, and then Little Man overheard talk about a muffin and said he wanted one. Baby Girl informed him that the muffin was really for her, not him, which caused a spat. Excuse me while I update the Parenting Drinking Game to include taking a shot when your kids fight over doodled food.

Let’s connect on social media! You can find me on FacebookTwitter,  Instagram, and Bloglovin.

I Put My Boobs On The Internet…Again

Want to know a good way to appall your 1o-year-old? Besides calling Minecraft “that freaking block game,” that is? Put your boobs on the Internet. A few months ago, I published a post called What Your Bra Really Says About You on this blog, and while Little Man generally thinks everything I write is hilarious, he wasn’t very enthusiastic about me putting my boobs online, even if they were a) doodled and b) technically covered up.

Unfortunately for Little Man, those doodled, censored boobs are posted on another website. Sammiches and Psych Meds featured the What Your Bra Really Says About You today. If you didn’t read it when I originally posted it back in October, then head over to Sammiches and Psych Meds and check it out. Heck, even if you did read it when I originally posted it, head over there and check it out anyway, because it’s been seven months now, and I know your memory isn’t so great that you remember all the details of my censored breasts.

5 Times My Kids Make Me Want To Drink

You’ve seen the game; now check out the stories behind the game! 

If any of their grandparents are reading this, I know what they’re thinking right now — “Those sweet, innocent little angels would never do anything to make someone want to drink, you terrible asshole.” Okay, maybe they wouldn’t add “terrible asshole,” but they would definitely be adamant that my children are perfect little babies. That’s one of the perks of being a grandparent — you can know full well that your grandkids are mini terrorists at times, but you think they’re perfect anyway.

I adore my kiddos, of course. They’re sweet, kind, funny, clever, and a hundred other good things. But, despite all of their positive traits, they also have the tendency to occasionally make their parents consider taking up day drinking. Maybe even morning drinking. Here are a few reasons why:

1. Tattling

I’ve mentioned before that I thought the nearly 6.5 year gap between Little Man and Baby Girl would guarantee certain things — like no fighting. I also thought that tattling would be something that wouldn’t be a big deal, or one-sided, if anything.

No.

My kids tattle on each other constantly. Little Man tattled on Baby Girl before she could even walk. Baby Girl tattled on Little Man before she could even talk.

I hate the tattling with the burning passion of a thousand fiery suns. I also feel bad for the parents of both of my blended families (four kids in the first and five in the second), because I’m sure whatever tattling annoyances I’m experiencing was far worse.

They tattle over dirty looks. They tattle over someone touching a toy or book that they were not using and hadn’t used in forever. They tattle over name calling. Even when one kid calls names first and the other retorts with the same, the kid that lobbed the first insult will tattle. Baby Girl is probably the pettiest of tattlers, because she will tattle over Little Man for looking at the TV while she’s watching it.

Want a drink yet?

2. Interrupting My Bath

For the record, a full post on this reason to drink is forthcoming. It happens that often.

There’s nothing I enjoy more than getting in an almost scalding hot tub with a good book and having a nice soak. These enjoyable soaks are few and far between now, though, thanks to the kids. The little one sobs wanting to join me. The older one comes in demanding help with homework or wanting to pick my brain about something that happened at school. The really old one (I’m looking at you, hubby) comes in to tell me the kids aren’t listening.

Interruptions. Interruptions, galore! And forget locking the door — if Little Man doesn’t use his library card to open the lock, Baby Girl will attempt to break it down.

The most annoying of the interruptions is when the kids come in to ask me to do something that a) I can’t do BECAUSE I’M IN THE TUB and b) they could’ve either done themselves or asked their dad to help with.

3. Destroying My House

It’s a rare thing that my house is clean and organized. I try, but most days I only whittle away at fixing the disaster zone that is our home. Sometimes, though, the moon and stars align and the house is perfect — so perfect that someone could knock on my door and I’d gladly invite them in instead of making them stand on the porch. (Yes, I will absolutely do that…so call first!)

Everyone knows that it’s in a kid’s DNA to destroy things — especially clean houses. (If your kid is neat and tidy and never spills anything, then you’ve simply lucked out with a gene mutation.) So even though I know that the kids are going to mess things up, it still makes me die inside to watch it happen.

4. When They Won’t Eat My Food

I know that I sound like the biggest hypocrite in the world right now. The picky eater who drove her grandmother crazy, who has friends who will make her something special when she eats at their home, who is a self-admitted shitty cook is griping about her kids not eating her food. But this is different, I promise!

You see, I am totally sympathetic to the plight of the picky eater, so I have no problem with whipping up something extra to make sure Baby Girl has something she likes. While I do try to get her to vary her food options, I’m also not gonna complain about being a short order cook. This isn’t what makes me want to drink.

This is:

It’s. Exactly. What. You. Asked. For. EAT. IT.

5. When They Watch Crappy TV Shows

The experts all caution against letting your kids have too much screen time because it will melt their brains or something. They neglect to mention that screen time can be dangerous for parents, too, as certain programs will make the parents want to give themselves a lobotomy. Sure, it’s nice to turn on the the TV and let them watch a show while we do dishes, fold clothes, or cry in the closet, but some of those shows are rough.

I used to be super picky about what Little Man watched on TV. “Nothing but PBS cartoons for my son!” since I hated Spongebob just as much as I hate tattling. When he got a little older, he got more free reign with age appropriate shows, and that’s when I discovered just how awful children’s programming can be. I’ve had to sit through Pokemon, Slugterra, and Lab Rats. With Baby Girl, I’ve caught parts of Peppa Pig and Mother Goose Club. (Pretty much everything on PBS kids is still amazing, outside of Caillou, though.) We have a fairly small house and they watch their shows in the living room, so it’s hard to escape.

But, yeah, that stuff totally makes me want to drink. And seeing Peppa and her family collapse in the floor every other episode makes me want a double.

Since many of you guys have already mentioned things your kids do that make you want to drink on the game post, what would your drink of choice be if you did play the game?

Let’s connect on social media! You can find me on FacebookTwitter,  Instagram, and Bloglovin.