#AtoZChallenge: O is for Obey

Last summer the kids went to vacation bible school. When I’d pick them up each day, Little Man would tell me about the lesson for the day, while Baby Girl would mostly focus on the fact that they had snacks. (This is still what she mentions first when picking her up at preschool — snacks are important.) One day Little Man told me that the lesson covered The Ten Commandments. I asked if he could name them all, and while he remembered a few, a couple were probably not quite chisel-on-a-stone-tablet worthy (and a couple others should probably be chiseled on a tablet and dropped on some people’s heads).

Which non-biblical commandment is your favorite? Mine would have to be #9.

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#AtoZChallenge: N is for Name

Remember Rumpelstiltskin? It’s one of the more screwed up stories I remember reading as a kid. A dad says his daughter can spin straw into gold, the king says she has to do the gold spinning or he’ll kill her, and a little creepy, unnamed dude makes the magic happen by taking something that belongs to the girl as payment. (Because obviously someone who can spin straw into gold needs a ring or necklace.) And then the little creepy, unnamed dude wants the girl’s firstborn to work his magic one last time, which she agrees to. She then marries the king who wanted to kill her, gets pregnant, and the little dude wants her to uphold her promise. Naturally she doesn’t want to and has to guess the dude’s name to keep the baby.

Spoiler alert: the name is Rumpelstiltskin.

Okay, so I probably didn’t need to summarize that story since everyone likely knows it, but I do like to emphasize the screwedupness of some of the stuff we read as kids, so there’s that.

Now for the relevant stuff.

If Baby Girl became a creepy little dude who went around doing favors and taking firstborn babies, victimized miller’s daughters would have a hard time guessing the name she calls herself, too. She has a a bunch of nicknames she’ll use, and rarely will she use her real name when asked. At first it was cute — well, mostly it still is — but I’ve been pushing her to say her real name, just in case she gets separated from us. So far that isn’t working out too well.

Here’s how her name has progressed since she started talking:

See? The miller’s daughter would be screwed.

Mostly Baby Girl will use parts of that mouthful, but occasionally she’ll go with the unabridged version. I imagine that when she learns to write her name in a couple of years, she’ll shorted that up a bit to either her real name (which isn’t Ona, in case you were wondering), or maybe SBOKKSP. Or, maybe I’ll just teach her to write “Batman” and have a laugh at her teacher’s reaction.

Did you have a funny or cute nickname as a kid?

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#AtoZChallenge: D is for Dark Knight

Some toddler girls love Princess Sophia. Others love Doc McStuffins. Others — namely the ones whose moms have to Google characters that toddler girls are into — love Batman. And Superman. And all things Star Wars. (Sigh, and as of the last couple months or so, Peppa Pig.) But mainly Batman.

So, yeah, Baby Girl loves her some Dark Knight. Her love is so intense that some might even say that Baby Girl has a minor obsession with him. Others might say that there’d be a restraining order against her if Batman actually existed.

Climbing in the windows, snatching ya’ people up.

I can’t remember exactly when the lovefest started, but it was sometime between her first and second birthday. Her brother has a couple of Batman play sets, and she loves playing with the toys alongside Little Man. Baby Girl went through a phase where she refused to wear anything but her Batman t-shirts, wanted to wear the Batman pajamas every night, and had to carry her Batman stuffie everywhere. She had a Batman themed party for her birthday last year, too.

With the theme for this post in mind, I was scrolling through old Facebook and blog posts looking for some material for today and came across a few cute things.

The first one shows her getting her teeth brushed while wearing a Batman mask. She hates getting her teeth brushed. It’s one of those things that always ends up in a meltdown of epic proportions, no matter what we do. But then one night we put a Batman mask on her to so we could show her that superheroes brush their teeth, too.

It worked. For one night, we had an adorable Batman toddler getting her teeth brushed in our bathroom. For one night, because I don’t know where that particular mask is anymore.

The second shows Baby Girl not showing me any love on my birthday. Sigh. I know that Batman’s fond of making everything about him, but on my birthday, too? C’mon, man.

The third one shows how Baby Girl introduced herself a few times. Loads of cuteness if you witness it in person.

The fourth doodle shows that Baby Girl has some real game when it comes to getting sweets from her daddy. Rather than ask for an ice cream cone herself (and likely be denied), she asked for one for Batman. And she got it. She claimed that they were sharing it, but I do have my doubts.

So…Team Batman or Team Superman? 

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#AtoZChallenge: C is for Cell Phone

Like most other kids, my two love electronics — tablets, phones, whatever they can get their grimy little hands on (and believe me, after they get their hands on said devices, there will be no doubt that “grimy” is not an exaggeration). I know some people frown and say “electronics for kids are the devil” while others have the latest and greatest device waiting on the kid before he passes through the birth canal. Whatever. I’m not going there (nor should y’all in my comments). Where I will go, however, is to the photo album on my iPhone.

Occasionally I’ll let Baby Girl hold my phone in the car, and her favorite thing to do with it is take pictures. (Her second favorite thing to do with it is turn on Itsy Bitsy Spider or an equally annoying song.) I absolutely love looking at the pictures she’s taken after I pry my phone from her peanut butter and jelly encrusted fingers. Some are random pictures of stuff in the car, but most of them are of herself.

Here is a sampling of what I get:

Rarely does she end up at our destination actually wearing her socks and shoes.

My favorites are the ones like the bottom middle, where happiness just radiates from her. (And obviously the doodle doesn’t do her justice, but you get the idea.) I once posted a picture to one of my personal social media pages where I said something to the effect of, “I hope she always looks at herself like this.” Wouldn’t that be amazing?

So, should I get the kid a selfie stick for Christmas? 😉

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#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. 

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#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?

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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. 😉

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#ThingsKidsSay: Don’t Lose Your Top

My family and I went for an overnight stay at the Great Wolf Lodge located fairly close to where we live. If you’ve never been there, it’s an outdoorsy themed water park for kids. Most of the slides and pools and splash pads are indoors, but there are a few things outside, too, for when the weather is warmer.

I love being by the water, but I’m not as much of a fan of getting in. I can swim, but prefer hanging out by the pool or ocean most of the time for reasons. One of these reasons is that sometimes things happen when I’m in the water (whether it’s in the ocean or on a water slide), and these things cause me to have wardrobe malfunctions. It happens to everyone at some point, but I’m pretty sure I’ve had more than my fair share.

The last time I went to Great Wolf Lodge, I had a wardrobe malfunction while riding a slide with Little Man. After much begging, I got on the slide (I really dislike water slides now that I’m older), and then I proceeded to flip on the mat, take a hard hit to the head, and partially lose my bottoms and one of my boobs was well on her way to greeting the world when I got to the bottom. I righted myself, avoided eye contact with the people standing near, and stayed away from that area for the rest of our visit.

So, I have a rule now — no more water slides for me. I’ll gladly stand at the bottom and watch, but I ain’t getting on. Nope, not happening. And Little Man apparently forgot this rule yesterday when he begged me to ride a two-person water ride with him.

Channeling my inner Joey Tribbiani, I told him, “Mommy don’t ride water rides.” (I have no idea why I have to say it in Joey’s “Joey don’t share food” voice, but I do.)

Since the boy rarely takes no for an answer, he tried to change my mind. When I suggested that he find another kid to ride with, he tried to guilt me by suggesting that he could be kidnapped.

I realize after uploading this image that I gave myself a thigh gap, which I don’t have IRL, at all.

I told him I’d take that chance. He cackled and said he’d wait for his dad.

So, are y’all water slide riders? Or do you avoid them because of wardrobe malfunctions, too?

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Netflix Zombies

As new parents might expect, having a little one changes things quite a bit. Well, quite a lot, since there’s the matter of there being a new human in the home who is completely dependent on you. And that child is basically a puke-diarrhea-pee factory who is also the most precious thing on the face of the earth — so you might not mind too much when some of those bodily fluids land on you, or in your mouth (all three categories, both kids — pretty sure a FML was appropriate).

Pre-kids, my husband and I had so much fun together. Sometimes we’d go away for the weekend, but mostly we had our fun hanging out, having deep talks, playing softball, playing chess and card games or video games, having some drinks, and going to football games (and having even more drinks). Typical newlyweds-without-kids stuff.

Now things are different. I know we could still do all of those things. Maybe not the drinking on a regular basis (well, definitely not, because hitting 30 apparently means you get all the heartburn galore from a single drink), but the chess and card games and video games — sure, we could. But we usually don’t. When 10:00 comes, and the last kid is finally down for the night (or, in the case of the toddler, for a few hours), we’ve got about an hour and a half together before my husband lies down. That time is usually spent zoning out to TV because we’re just so damn tired. We do have our dates nights, but half of those are spent getting pizza and watching something on Netflix because, again, tired.

This will change as the kids get older and more independent, but for now, that’s life, and you’ve gotta find the funny in life.

And that brings us to today’s doodle —

Can y’all relate?

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IRS v. PTO

This is one of the first posts on this blog and a repost seemed appropriate since school starts back for kids in our area this week. 

Parents of kids who have been in school — would you rather deal with the IRS or with the PTO?

Hmm?

You probably had to take a second to think about that. Answering questions related to purchases made years ago, deductions made, and other boring nonsense sounds pretty bad. But then you realize that you’re not comparing the IRS to car shopping or signing a million pages in a house closing — you’re comparing it to the PTO (Parent Teacher Organization). At best, that realization gives you a sinking feeling in your stomach. At worst, you might be having some flashbacks and screaming, “No, God, no!” in your head.

The PTO is kind of life the mafia. And the PTO powers that be treat parents like we’re lower tier drug dealers. , and you might start to realize that the IRS isn’t the worst thing in the world.

“Get out there with 50 packs of overpriced M&Ms and don’t come back until they’re gone.”

“Little Peter can only sell 10 tins of popcorn? Get his butt back out in front of the Walmart ’til they’re gone.”

“Each child was supposed to raise $300 for this fundraiser. Your child raised $298.12. You think that’s acceptable?! Hit. The. Streets. Find that money or else!”

Or something like that.

Here’s a nice little comparison of the two organizations. I think we can all agree that the PTO is the worst (assuming you are honest on your taxes, anyway).

(You can zoom in to read the smallish handwriting. Laziness prevented me from redoing it.)

What would you add to the list of crappy things about the PTO?

I should mention that this isn’t representative of the PTO at Little Man’s current school, but definitely matches up with past experiences.

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