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.

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Parenting Drinking Game

So, I was working on a post about things my kids do that make me want to drink when I got the idea to create a Parenting Drinking Game. Like the drinking game memes that go around during presidential speeches where you take a shot when the president uses a made up word or something, this is a game where you take a drink when your kids do something at least somewhat annoying or infuriating. I should probably release this after the other post, but here’s something a little fun to cheer up your Monday. (And if your Monday is perfect and doesn’t need cheering up, don’t tell the rest of us.)

(Click the image to view a much larger version!)

What would you add to this list?

If you’re one of the special few who might feel inclined to blast me for promoting getting blasted around your kids, let me stop you right there — this post is meant to be humorous and such comments will be deleted. That’s all. 

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

If Toddlers Had Facebook

Isn’t Facebook great? You can go online and share everything about your life with your family, friends, acquaintances (aka people you met once), and stalkers. Whether it’s picture after picture chronicling your kids’ childhoods, because the whole world really needs to know about your 10-year-old’s haircut  (guilty as charged) or vague status updates about that someone in your life who needs to butt out and piss off, you can share it all on Facebook.

Some people hated it when “old people” (our parents and grandparents) got on Facebook. “It’s gonna be ruined!” they complained. And by “ruined” they meant, “I can’t post pictures of my half naked ass puking in the bushes or status updates about all the wild sex I’m having.” Aside from the often jumbled status updates about “COUSIN LENNY XLKSKD FIRE” and the 3,249 requests to play Farmville, it wasn’t that bad, though.

“Old people” definitely did not ruin Facebook. Sure, there might be an accidental — and highly inappropriate — gif or laughing reaction on a post about someone being on their deathbed, but that’s always good for a chuckle since it slightly lightens the situation. Even more so when they apologetically post about how they didn’t mean to put that or that Zuckerburg must have hacked their profiles. (Because deleting the offensive post is clearly not an option.)

(By the way, I’m putting quotation marks around “old people” because the people that we considered old a decade ago aren’t much that much older than we are now…)

Since we know what “old people” on Facebook looks like, let’s imagine for a moment that our toddlers got accounts and were given free reign. Their pictures would probably be just as bad as an older newcomer to Facebook. Where you might see an old person post three different profile pictures in various orientations until they get one that’s upright, you’d probably see pictures like this from a toddler:

Have you ever felt especially stabby when someone posts pictures about their amazing vacation while you’re stuck in the office or at home dealing with two projectile vomiting children and Laundry Mountain?

When you take a break for a minute and mindlessly scroll through Facebook, you’re faced with a picture that is angled just right to show off an adult beverage, toes, and sand.

If a toddler had a Facebook account, this is what they’d post:

And, of course, there would be the inevitable passive-aggressive comment from a jealous toddler friend…

Oof.

Toddlers would also probably be just as self-conscious about the number of likes on their posts as the average angsty younger Millennial was.

And you know how new parents seems to be cursed with an affliction that causes them to overshare on Facebook during their child’s first year? Well, toddlers would probably be like that, too.

The best part of toddlers being on Facebook would be all of the drama, though. You know they’d have it. They go from one extreme mood to another in the snap of a finger, and just like an insecure 29-year-old who has had way too many shots of Fireball, there would be no hesitation in putting that drama all over Facebook.

Toddlers on Facebook would definitely be interesting.

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

Happy Mother’s Day: #MyMomChallenge

First and foremost, Happy Mother’s Day to all the mamas out there! To everyone who has played that played that role in a child’s life and to all the moms-in-waiting, I hope your day is great. And a special Happy Mother’s Day to my grandmother in heaven — I may not have been her biological daughter, but she sure treated me like one during our time together.

I’ll save any further sappiness (as well as a doodle of the most interesting trophy ever that I was gifted) for another post. In honor of Mother’s Day, I’m introducing a challenge of sorts that will give you the chance to grill your kids and see what sort of funny stuff they can come up with.

The #MyMomChallenge

1. My mom is _____ years old and weighs _____ pounds.
2. My mom is good at cooking _____ and is not so good at cooking _____.
3. If my mom were a superhero, her name would be ______ and her superpower would be _____.
4. And if my mom were a villain, her name would be ______ and she would use her evil powers to _____.
5. I love it when my mom ______.
6. When my mom is driving, she _________.
7. I like it when my mom _______ and I don’t like it when my mom _________.
8. My mom does not like to _______.
9. My mom does ________ the best and _________ the worst.
10. I’m thankful for my mom because ___________.

Rules:

Get your kid/kids (regardless of age) to fill in the blanks and create a new post with their answers. Link back to this post so that your post shows up as a pingback in the comments. Nominate three other bloggers to participate.


Little Man (age 10):

1. My mom is 34 years old and weighs 104 pounds.
2. My mom is good at cooking everything and is not so good at cooking doughnuts.

3. If my mom were a superhero, her name would be Captain Obvious and her superpower would be mind control.
4. And if my mom were a villain, her name would be Professor Bossypants and she would use her evil powers to make other people go my way.

5. I love it when my mom is around.
6. When my mom is driving, she always needs a GPS.
7. I like it when my mom cuddles with me and I don’t like it when my mom fusses at me.
8. My mom does not like to drive in tight spaces.
9. My mom does making cookies the best and navigates the worst.

10. I’m thankful for my mom because she made me alive.

Baby Girl (age 3):

1. My mom is ten years old and weighs 24 pounds.

2. My mom is good at cooking spaghetti and is not so good at cooking yucky crumbs.
3. If my mom were a superhero, her name would be Captain Mommy and her superpower would be throwing ninja stars.

4. And if my mom were a villain, her name would be Bad Mommy and she would use her evil powers to throw plastic cups.
5. I love it when my mom hugs me.
6. When my mom is driving, she holds on to the steering wheel.
7. I like it when my mom plays with me and I don’t like it when my mom says “It’s not your birthday anymore.”
8. My mom does not like to eat yucky things.

9. My mom does cuddling the best and splashes bubbles on me the worst.
10. I’m thankful for my mom because you’re my best mommy.

I love everything about these answers. And I officially want to change the name of this blog to Professor Bossypants, but I probably won’t.

For the record, I’d like to see any mom who reads this blog participate in this challenge, but here are three in particular who definitely should:

Honest K
Baby Costs Money
The Lupie Momma

And dad bloggers — feel free to join in and change the wording up a bit!

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

#AtoZChallenge: ‘Z’ is for Zzzzz

I mentioned having bad anxiety in a previous post. I have generalized anxiety disorder, so my brain tends to escalate situations at times, to put it mildly. While the whole “feeling like I’m having a heart attack” thing sucks, it has created some funny situations. I wasn’t able to laugh at the time these situations were happening, of course, but definitely had a chuckle afterwards.

Baby Girl has not been good for my anxiety. Kids will create anxiety in any parent, even those who are typically pretty calm about things, but Baby Girl is another story. Where Little Man was always my easy child who listened and didn’t do things that were remotely dangerous (he didn’t do anything to indicate needing child-proof anything a single time, even though we had it), Baby Girl has necessitated purchasing every single child safety device known to man. She can also be a bit of a daredevil at times.

Like the time when she had just turned one and couldn’t walk, yet she managed to stand on one leg on top of a toy with wheels.

And she loves jumping off the step at the top of the porch. If her brother who is 6.5 years older than her can do it safely, then so can she, in her mind.


We haven’t ended up in the ER yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

Baby Girl stayed in her pack-n-play for a long time. (She hated the crib, but we had a good mattress in the pack-n-play, so it was comfortable for her.) Up until her third birthday, there was no need for a big girl bed, as she was too short to attempt climbing out. After she finally did climb out, though, we bought her a big girl bed, and that’s when the night terrors started.

And by “night terrors,” I don’t mean those dreadful nightmares that cause kids to wake up screaming. She’s the one responsible for scaring the crap out of me.

Whenever I hear a noise in the night, I get freaked out, thinking someone might be breaking into the house. And despite being hard of hearing (, I tend to hear a lot of noises, noises that my husband who hears perfectly fine doesn’t hear (overactive imagination, much?). One night I heard something and sat up in the bed, waiting to see if I would hear it again and would need to wake up my husband to go check out the source of the noise. Just then, my doorknob jiggled.

Spoiler alert: we weren’t.

‘Twas no madman — just a toddler.

This one has happened quite a few times. I’ve told Baby Girl to call us over her monitor to come and get her when she wakes up, but she runs in our room every time.

One night I didn’t fully wake up when she opened the door to the bedroom, but I did moments later. In that state between being asleep and waking, I had a feeling of being watched. I woke up to this:

That’s not the only time she’s done that creepy staring thing, either. I’ve woken up in the morning to her sitting beside my pillow staring at me with her face just a few inches from mine. Once I woke up during the night to find Little Man doing the same thing. I asked what he was doing, and he said “watching you,” which didn’t lessen the creep factor.

So, thanks, dear children — especially Baby Girl — for making my anxiety worse.

And that’s a wrap for the A to Z Challenge! Wow! Tomorrow I’ll do a wrap-up post for the challenge. Thanks for sticking around all month! 

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#AtoZChallenge: ‘U’ is for “Uh Oh”

Today’s Blast to the Past post is a repeat from when we went on vacation last year. I cut the length of the post down a bit.

Remember when I posted about the odd — but not really bad — sunburn I got a couple weeks ago? Despite sunscreen and an umbrella, I got a weird sunburn on my leg. Odd, but no biggie. This vacation — despite plenty of preventative measures — I got the real deal of sunburns.

Yes, the most aspire to is a few splotchy tanned areas and red cheeks.

I made the mistake of not wearing my cover-up for a while and got a nasty burn on my chest. Other parts of me were dark pink/reddish and this part was more of a Merlot color it was so dark. The worst part (aside what legit feels like nerve pain in that area)? I got a nice reminder of how my body is doing gravity-wise when I take off my bra. You ladies know what I’m talking about. I think. Every damn shift or sway, I not only get a nice jolt of pain, but also get reminded that things ain’t where they once was. (Channeling my inner country girl on that last bit.)

Non-gravity defying breasts aside, let’s talk about what a kid should be excited about when going on vacation. Little Man counts down the days until he gets to get on water slides, body board in the ocean, and dig in the sand. Baby Girl gets excited about something different.

Before we went on vacation, I asked Baby Girl what she wanted to do at the beach.

“See the ice cream man!” she answered. I was rather impressed with her memory of getting ice cream at the beach a year ago, but that wasn’t quite what I was going for. True to her word, though, this is what she looked forward to every single day.

Spend hundreds of dollars on a vacation for the kid to care about a sweet treat that costs two bucks.

“I gonna see the ice cream man today?” she’d ask after waking up in the morning. The same question would be repeated twenty minutes later, after breakfast, in between breakfast and lunch, during lunch, etc. And finally the music from the ice cream truck would play and her dad would take her to pick something out.

And, I kid you not, if you ask her what kind of ice cream she had on vacation, Baby Girl will tell you all five of the different types of cones and popsicles she had. Again, her memory is most impressive.

Now for the last vacation expectation vs. reality. Since Baby Girl is getting older, there are certain things I expect of her — namely not eating poop or crapping in the tub. Anything gross that’s related to poop, really. I’ve been pooped on in the tub a few times, but now she tells us if she has to go. As Little Man would say, “Thank Zeus!” As such, I expect the same from her when swimming. Water’s water, so give us a head’s up so we can head to the bathroom, right?

Wrong.

Just a reminder — the squiggly marks on me are from sunburn, not poop.

She did tell me about the poop — after the fact. Just as I stood her up on the edge of the pool to jump in for a cannonball, she told me that she had pooped.

Uh-oh.

Sure enough, when I glanced down at her crotch area, I saw watery streams of poop coming out. For the record, she was wearing a Little Swimmer diaper, but it was no match for Baby Girl’s bowels. I’ll spare you the details from there, but just know that some beach towels were ruined and that I had to avoid eye contact with people.

All in all, it was a great trip. We spent the majority of our time either by the water or in the water, which is what it’s all about for me. In the past, it has been a challenge to get Baby Girl to even touch the sand or ocean water without tears, so it was awesome to see her work her way up to digging in it a little and splashing around. As Borat would say, “Great success!”

Thanks for joining me for the April A to Z Challenge! If you’re participating, please leave a link in the comments section so I can check out your post.

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#AtoZChallenge: ‘R’ is for Religion

When I was a kid and teen, my grandmother used to call me a “heathen.” Whenever I was sassy, made crude jokes, or did something silly, I was “acting like a heathen.” I’ve taken to calling my kids heathens, too, although it’s usually more of a term of affection. Usually.

Even though I lovingly call them heathens, they are definitely straight up heathenly at times. Some of the funny questions they’ve asked or comments they’ve made regarding religion has qualified them for that. (And some of the comments that inspired the doodles that follow are completely innocent, but I’m sticking with calling them “heathens” nonetheless.)

Recently Baby Girl asked some questions about God. “Who is he? What does he do? What are his powers?” I answered these questions to the best of my ability and this was how she responded to that:

When she’s not busy comparing the big guy to Superman, Baby Girl has a pretty interesting prayer she sometimes says before supper:

No, God, please don’t.

The boy has always been known for saying funny things, and he is definitely no exception when it comes to religion. When Little Man was about five, his grandma talked to him a bit about Jesus and heaven. Let’s just say that he took things very literally.

The boy also got pretty clever one day when I was trying to drive home the point that he should listen better…

Another time when Little Man was five, he shared his thoughts on God’s personal appearance and responsibilities.

Bow tie…ponytail…is God part of an all male revue that is blessed with the powers of Harry Potter?

Finally, there was this moment that certainly made someone else think that Little Man a legit heathen. We were at Chick-Fil-A one day last year and LM was playing in the play area. He came out after a while and told me that some lady in there had started going on about religion to him. He was visibly annoyed by this.

I asked what happened exactly, and LM said that he had said, “Oh my god” about something, and the lady scolded him about that.

I cracked up at the absurdity of that. Little Man told me that he informed her that in his house we say “Oh my god” all the time, to which the lady replied that God cries every time we do that. I apologize in advance for the Dorky family causing the next great flood.

Thanks for joining me for the April A to Z Challenge! If you’re participating, please leave a link in the comments section so I can check out your post.

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#AtoZChallenge: ‘O’ is for “Oh, My God”

Today’s post is going to be short and sweet (and hopefully funny). This one happened a few weeks ago, so we’re not blasting too far into the past for this one.

We were at Walmart recently when Baby Girl had to use the bathroom. I love that she’s potty trained and that we don’t need pullups except for at night, but I hate public restrooms. There are exactly three restrooms in my town that don’t make me feel like I’m going to die when I go into them, and if I absolutely have to go, I’ll do whatever I can to get to one of those.

Yes, it’s possible that Little Man gets his fear of public restrooms from me (even though I totally play dumb when the doc asked). Remember this?

Unfortunately, when you have a little kid, avoiding public restrooms isn’t always possible.

After Baby Girl loudly announced her need to void her bladder, which no less than three other people heard, we headed towards the family restroom. It’s big enough to avoid touching the sides of the grimy stalls and is usually cleaner.

Usually.

You’ve probably gathered that wasn’t the case on that day, and it wasn’t, not by a long shot. Here’s what we saw:

Despite being a toddler who was known for licking poop once, Baby Girl is also squeamish when it comes to public restrooms, so when she saw the poop on the toilet, she started yelling.

Out we went. And just after we exited the family restroom, Little Man, who was waiting outside started yelling.

Good lord. One of the workers took notice of Baby Girl’s partially clothed body and cracked up. I yanked up her pants and headed to the ladies’ restroom. Thankfully we were able to find a stall that was poop free that time.

Thanks for joining me for the April A to Z Challenge! If you’re participating, please leave a link in the comments section so I can check out your post.

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#AtoZChallenge: ‘D’ is for Doctor

Like any little kid, Baby Girl likes talking about what she wants to be when she grows up, and she wants to be a doctor. Occasionally she’ll mention being an ice cream man or a storybook writer, but mostly she talks about being a doctor. She’s had a not so low-key obsession with doctors for a long time now. While everyone else I know dreads going to the doctor, the girl lives for it and often creates reasons to go. “Oh, I’ve got a boo-boo! Call an ambulance!”

If Baby Girl were able to leave the house by herself and drive, she’d probably have a restraining order by now.

The girl gets ticked off anytime the rest of us have to go to the doctor and don’t take her along, and she asks a million questions when we get home. There’s always a little bit of hope in her voice that maybe something will be badly wrong with us, because that means more visits, more procedures, and more deets to share.

I think all of this is adorable, of course. Even more adorable is her in her doctor’s scrubs for Halloween.

She has quite the collection of toy doctor tools, and she even has a few real things, courtesy of an EMT who took interesting in BG at a restaurant one day and gave her a tour, hooked her up to an EKG, the whole nine yards. Baby Girl was in heaven that day.

One thing Baby Girl likes to learn about is body parts. She’s very interested in the different organs and their functions. You might be thinking, “Smart kiddo!” but know that her interest doesn’t stop with her little body parts doll she got for Christmas.

She’s also very interested in where babies come from. She’s three, y’all. I gave her a sciencey rundown, and she later asked my husband where she was before she got in my belly. He told her that she was in Heaven with God. This freaked her out because she associates that with being dead. She brought it up with me again later, and I talked to her about starting out as an egg in my ovaries, which went over much better…

And then, of course, she wanted to see the ovaries and find out how all this went down. I showed her an awesome YouTube video (you can see it at the end of this post), and she has watched it at least a dozen times. She’s absolutely enthralled.

Then the next big question came:

I didn’t want to tell her about vaginal delivery. That’s just too much right now. I don’t care if she educates her classmates on the rest of it, but I really don’t want anyone calling me because Baby Girl talked about pushing a baby out of one’s vajayjay. (And she’d use the correct term, of course, but I’m not.)

Instead, I told her about C-sections. She was born via C-section, so that worked. She was fascinated with that, which made me kind of scared…how long before I wake up in the middle of the night with her trying to perform surgery? It was like the time Little Man got super interested in organs, too, namely the heart. He talked about wanting to hold a beating heart in his own hands one day, so I didn’t sleep for a while.

Yesterday (we’re not blasting too far to the past for this one), the attempted C-section happened, but I wasn’t injured in the process.

We were hanging out playing doctor with her stuffies when stuck one under my shirt.

Oh lord.

She took her toy doctor scissors and pretended to cut open my belly along the area where my actual C-section stitches are.

And then it was time for Pete the Cat to be delivered.

We then repeated the process many more times before she decided that I should be her nurse and give all of her stuffies their flu shots.

Thanks for joining me for the April A to Z Challenge! If you’re participating, please leave a link in the comments section so I can check out your post.

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Future Mean Girl?

Baby Girl is the most precious little girl that walks the earth. Sometimes. Other times, I could swear that she is a Regina George in the making, just without as much pink.

For a three-year-old, the comments she makes can be straight up savage sometimes.

Remember this from the Yo Mama post?

Brutal. She was making a joke, of course, but still…damn.

This is from when I picked her up at preschool recently:

Gee, thanks.

Baby Girl has also been trying to trim down the family lately. She got mad at Little Man one night while we were in the car — over what, I can’t remember, but it was minor — and she went off on him.

Goodwill? We about died laughing. But at least she didn’t tell him, “I not like your face” or “I’m going to die you” this time. (We really, really hope what she meant with that one was that she was going to take out his batteries, since that’s what we always tell her when the remote or something isn’t working, that the batteries died.)

My husband was also kicked out.

At the time, she wasn’t angry at all. She just mentioned that her dad needed to leave one day. She was quite insistent with that, too, and it was all said with the sweetest voice. I later found out that she didn’t want him around anymore because he used Google Home. So far I haven’t been kicked out of the family, but I’m sure my time is coming.

I didn’t doodle it, but BG also recently told me that she was leaving and not coming back. She planned to go live with new parents because she didn’t like any of us anymore. This was after she was fussed at for not cleaning her room. She later changed her mind.

And then there is this…

Little Man was pretty ticked over this, poor kid.

So now you see what we’ve been dealing with. Future mean girl? I hope not, but right now, she has as much of a filter as Sophia Petrillo.


I got my cochlear implant two weeks ago. The surgery went well and the ear is healing up nicely. The implant will be activated in a couple of weeks, so hopefully that will go well.

Also, I hate that I haven’t been able to keep up with reading blogs much or posting on this blog, but I started a new job in December and haven’t had a lot of free time. Sorry! Maybe one of these days I’ll be able to juggle everything as well as I’d like, but not today. 😉

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If you’re an Amazon addict like I am, then use this link to do your shopping. I may earn a small commission that will go towards my kids’ college educations new Converses.