Open House Bingo

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

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

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

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

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

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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?

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.) 

The Long Vomit

If you’re planning to eat anytime soon — or are eating at the moment — save this post for later.

It has been a week since my last post, but no worries — I have not succumbed to fingernail jaundice. I’ve been dealing with lots of puke and two parties, and the two were not connected like they would’ve been in my college days.

It all started at midnight on Wednesday (well, technically Thursday). I was sitting in the living room waiting for my husband to come home from a Willie Nelson concert when Little Man ran into the living room. His wide eyes darted around in a sheer panic. Before I could ask what was the matter, he raised his hand to his mouth, and I knew. He dashed over to the trash can, but before I could yell, “The trash can is full [because I don’t like stinky things and I’m waiting on your dad to get home and empty it],” it happened. Puke everywhere.

I once described one of Baby Girl’s vomiting sessions as being like the nasty little girl in The Exorcist, but Little Man put them both to shame. If projectile vomiting were an Olympic sport, I think he’d have taken home the gold. He covered close to eight feet of my kitchen (including the trash can, island, and stuff on top of the island) with his vileness, which took me 1.5 episodes of Parks and Recreation (which he started watching while waiting to see if his stomach was settled before returning to bed) to clean.

Forget the Long Jump, we’ve got the Long Vomit.

I was hoping that it was something he’d eaten, since we had Baby Girl’s birthday weekend coming up, but it wasn’t. Not long after asking Baby Girl where she wanted to eat that night on Friday morning (her answers included “a wedding” and “chicky chicka,” a restaurant she made up), she covered me from head to toe with vomit. I jumped in the shower while my husband ran a bath to clean her off when I heard a blood curdling scream. I stuck my head out to ask what was wrong.

(I really hope you guys took my advice and aren’t eating right now.)

That wouldn’t be the last time we were puked on, as Baby Girl had an aversion to throwing up in the bucket we kept nearby. She informed me that she didn’t like throwing up in it, but wanted to throw up on ME. Just…what the hell did I do in a former life to deserve this?

Thankfully, like her brother, she was over the worst of it in about eight hours, and we didn’t have to cancel her birthday plans for the following evening. She spent her last day as a three-year-old snoozing in my arms between throw-up sessions. The puke sucked, of course, but I really enjoyed holding her all day and evening. It was like when I brought her home from the hospital again, except for instead of weighing five pounds, she weighed 30.

The rest of her birthday weekend went well. She had a Justice League themed birthday party, which was great, outside of The Pinata Incident. (Let’s just say that one should probably not take apart a t-ball set and give kids the adjustable tee to use to hit the pinata, as the adjustable part can go flying and hit one’s husband.)

So long, toddler years — they’re officially behind us, since we won’t be having anymore kids thanks to the snip-snip-sniparoo. Baby Girl should probably get a new blog nickname at this point (and so should Little Man, since he’s not so little anymore), but Little Woman and Medium Size Man don’t have quite the same ring to them.

 

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.

Fuzzy On The Details

Between my drafts folder and the multiple notes saved to my phone, I have so many things I could write about on this blog. I often jot or type things down when inspiration strikes and then go right back to what I was doing, having every intention of fleshing out that idea later. I have 30 drafts saved on my blog with titles of a few words or so. I have at least another 30 topics saved on my phone. Yet I struggle to come up with a blog post that will dazzle you.

If you’re a fan of The Office, then you’re probably familiar with this Michael Scott quote:

Sometimes I’ll start a sentence, and I don’t even know where it’s going. I just hope I find it along the way.

That’s totally me when it comes to blogging. When I come back to many of those blogging topics later, I have often no idea where I was going with them at the time I wrote them down. And I stare at those topics and even attempt to write a few sentences about those topics, hoping that things will click and I’ll find where I’m going with it along the way. I usually don’t.

As you’ve probably already guessed, today’s post is going to be about the topics that I seriously don’t have a clue where I was going with them.

Cussing 100 yards, forget cleaning

I wish I had a clue what “cussing 100 yards” refers to, because it sounds like it would be funny. I’m certain that it doesn’t have anything to do with me hearing someone cussing 100 yards away, so there’s that. And “forget cleaning?” Well, I do that quite often, but why is it lumped together with the whole cussing bit? Am I the victim of autocorrect?

Sharing

Dear past me — be a dear and kindly expound upon your blog post topics, okay? Surely something bland and boring like “sharing” has to be connected with a funny story, right?

More bubble bath

I’ve got nothing. I can’t think of any situation in which one of my kids requesting more bubble bath (and I’m assuming it’s them, because my husband doesn’t take bubble baths and I usually don’t, because my allergies/asthma is very picky about soaps and stuff) would be humorous.

Your face is a vulca

Okay, so “vulca” has to be “vulva.” It has to be. Now if only I knew why I wanted to blog about vulva faces. Did Baby Girl call Little Man a vulva face? Because that would definitely be a step up from what she usually calls him — a meanie or a brat. (Gah.) Clearly I thought it was so funny enough that I’d remember all of the details of it later, but nah.

Bath water

This was on a separate note from “more bubble bath,” so I doubt they’re connected. There are a few things I could write about with something this generic, but nothing that strikes me as particularly interesting. I could write about the kids splashing water over all of creation from the tub, but…meh. I could write about Baby Girl drinking bath water, but…meh. Maybe that’s where I was going with it at the time I wrote it down and couldn’t see that it only had “meh” potential.

Theist spray

This is absolutely my favorite topic that I am clueless over. This one is older, so I know it absolutely isn’t related to when church people showed up on my doorsteps a couple weeks ago, when I hadn’t washed my hair in two days and wasn’t wearing a bra, but dang, it sure would’ve come in handy right about then. Surely I wasn’t planning on a bug spray for religious people, so what the heck was this supposed to be about? Or what the heck did autocorrect screw up and turn into something that makes me look like a heathen?

These are just a few of the topics that I have no idea where I was going when I wrote them down. And even on a couple of them that I have somewhat of an idea as to what I could be referencing, I’m still not sure how the hell I thought I’d get an entire post out of it.

Just so y’all know, this is pretty much every list I make. I used to not make lists, but then I started making them because I was told it would make my life easier. Ha. I’ll go into Target every so often and buy some Greenroom spiral 6×8 notebooks, which I use to keep track of all of my lists. And then I’ll inevitably lose one of the notebooks and start lists in a different one, and then find and lose another, and so on. Currently I have two notes on my phone plus pages of notes in three different notebooks for birthday party plans for Baby Girl’s party. When I try to take it all in and make sense of everything, I inevitably get overwhelmed and start a new list. The madness never ends.

Are you dazzled now?

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.

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

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.

Top 5 Songs For Migraines

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. I’ll catch up with comments and your blog posts when I get back.


Originally published in March of 2017…

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.

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?

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