"There are some who can live without wild things and some who cannot." (Aldo Leopold) Apparently, I cannot.


Choosing Our Words: What You Won’t Hear Us Saying in Our House

You learn a lot about yourself as a person when you have kids. How much you can truly love someone. How much patience you truly have. How truly painful it is to see those little people you love so much get hurt. And just how far you will go as a parent to avoid this hurt in the first place. (If you can help it, that is.)

One of the biggest things I have learned since having kids is how to choose my words when speaking to (or in front of) my children.

choosing words

Here are some words and phrases that we try our very best to avoid in our house:

  1. Curse words: Ok, this one isn’t completely true. Every once in a while one slips (hey, we’re only human), but my husband and I really try to never use curse words in front of the children–or even if they’re anywhere in earshot. Although curse words can provide a certain colorful flair to adult conversation, we just don’t find it appropriate for our children. To hear or utter. (And hopefully most people reading this will be thinking, “Duh, you don’t curse in front of kids,” but I have known families where this happens on a regular basis. I’m actually surprised at how many times I’ve witnessed this.)
  2. Derogatory words: As painful as it is to admit, I used words such as “gay” or “retarded” when I was much younger. Everyone did it, so I did too. I just didn’t think at the time how completely unnecessary and hurtful these words can be. But then, through education from some wiser friends, I did. And I have never used these words since. In my opinion, there’s just no need to use words like this ever. With anyone.
  3. Hate: We don’t allow this word. Ever. Not for referring to things or people. I don’t think any explanation is required here. We just don’t want it as part of our kids’ vocabulary.
  4. Stupid/Dumb: These are tough because you hear them everywhere. Out in public, on tv (even on the kid shows). And these terms are so seemingly benign (e.g., “Uggggh, this stupid remote isn’t working”). Until someone uses them to refer to your intelligence. And because it’s hard to explain to preschoolers why it’s acceptable to say an inanimate object is stupid or dumb, but not another person–and because my heart clenches when I imagine the hurt my children would feel if anyone ever called them stupid or dumb–we avoid these words altogether. (Same goes for other hurtful words such as “fat” or “ugly.”)
  5. Bad: This needs some clarification. We do use “bad” in certain contexts. “The milk has gone bad.” “Too much junk food is bad for your health.” But we never use the word “bad” to refer to how our children are behaving–we never call them a “bad girl” or a “bad boy,” for example. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back the train up,” you must be thinking. “Surely your kids aren’t perfect angels.” It’s true. They’re not. (And I have many witnesses that can attest to this.) But we prefer to label their actions or words as “unkind” or “not nice” instead of labeling them as a bad person. Again, at this age, it’s hard to explain to them that even though they might sometimes not behave so nicely, that doesn’t mean that they are a bad person.
  6. I need/I want: This is a pet-peeve of mine more than anything. When I was in college, I worked one summer at a bagel shop. And the number of adults who came up to tell me that they “needed” or “wanted” this or that without so much as a “please” or “thank you”  just blew my mind. (“I need a dozen bagels and a container of cream cheese.” “Really, you need it?”) We understand that early on kids say “I need” or “I want” because that’s all they know. But once they can understand the concept of manners, we try to nip this kind of talk in the bud, instead focusing on them asking “please” and saying “thank you.”

Now we are not naive. We know our kids hear this stuff out in the world and even on tv (as much as we try to avoid it). And they drop one or two of these words from time to time. When that happens, we remind them that it’s not kind to do so and that they should speak to (or about) others how they’d want to be spoken to (or about).

Even though they don’t use these words now, that doesn’t mean they won’t pop up in the future. After all, just with everything else in life, there is a learning curve as you grow. As parents, we will simply continue to model the kind of language we’d like to hear.

Speaking of language we like to hear, there is one thing we do say around here all the time. “I love you.” My husband and I to each other. Us to the kids. We want our kids to know that no matter what, we love them. Unconditionally. Even if they do say “sh&t” by accident. 😉

As with all aspects of parenting, this is what we are comfortable with and what works best for us, in our home. 

Are there words you try to avoid in your house? What makes your list?



What 16 Singing Preschoolers Taught Me About Being a Mom

This past Friday started out like any other day. Well, actually, that’s not quite true. It started even earlier than usual.

Ever since the sun starting rising at the ungodly hour of 5 am (ok, 5:36 am to be exact), our oldest has been rising shortly after. I think 5:50 has been the latest in the past few weeks. But she knows her mamma loves her sleep, so she’ll usually make her way downstairs to either “read” her books or watch tv. My husband is usually up and getting ready for work, so they get to have some quiet morning time together, just the two of them. And that’s cool with me.

Our 3-year-old is pretty unpredictable. Whether he wakes up with his sister or sleeps longer, though, he’ll usually just come crawl in bed with me and go back to sleep. That is also cool with me. Like I said, I love sleep.

And the baby, well, currently he’s waking up around 6 to nurse but will almost always go right back to sleep for at least another hour after he eats. Also? Cool with me.

So essentially what I’m saying is that on any given day, even if I’m up early to nurse the baby or get the 3-year-old snug as a bug in a rug after he wanders into our room, I can usually stay in bed until about 7:30 or so, with only a brief interruption of sleep.

But not Friday. Friday was one of those perfect storm mornings where all three kids managed to wake up at the same time and had no inclination to go back to sleep. Any of them. And as I sat in bed feeding the baby while the other two talked about the whats and whys of diarrhea (don’t ask, I have no idea why this was even a topic of discussion that early in the morning) and then started arguing about what to watch on tv, I realized I was not going back to sleep. Although I did get the baby back to sleep, it was a lost cause with the older two.

Turned out the early wake-up was good, though, because I had a Mother’s Day Brunch to go to at our daughter’s preschool that morning, and since it had been awhile since I showered and made myself look presentable, I figured I’d better do something about that. As I was trying to steam myself awake in the shower while lamenting about the extra lack of sleep that morning, I started longing for the days of teenagedom when my kids’ lazy asses will likely be sleeping until noon. (Because that means that my lazy ass will be sleeping until noon!) “Those will be the days,” I remember thinking. (And yes, I know those years come with their own difficulties, but seriously, I should be able to sleep, right?!)

Then, later that morning I stood in my daughter’s classroom beaming with pride with all the other mothers as we watched our children sing us a song at our Mother’s Day brunch. I cannot for the life of me remember the words that they were singing, but in that moment I started tearing up and began experiencing something I can only describe as being equivalent to a near-death experience. You know, where something happens and your entire life flashes before you. Except it wasn’t my life. It was my daughter’s.

Seriously. It was almost as if everyone in the room disappeared and all I could see was my daughter. And bits and pieces of her life over the past 5 years just started flooding my memory. The day we found out we were pregnant with her. Her early birth and weeks living in the NICU. Her first milestones. Her first birthday party. Her transition from only child to older sister. Twice. Her first day of school. Her broken elbow. How her eyes, her smile, her laughter have managed to stay the same over the years.

Because in that moment, I was struck by the realization that my  3-lb preemie had grown into the smart, adorable, precocious 5-year-old standing before me in no more than the blink of an eye. How the hell did the last 5 years go by so quickly? All I wanted to do was freeze time. You know like in that show from years ago when the girl had an alien for a father whom she talked to via a glowing rock on her nightstand. And she could freeze time by touching her two pointer fingers together. What was that show called? (Pause while I consult Google…) Oh yes, “Out of This World.” So yeah, I wanted to do that. Freeze time. (Sidenote: If you’ve never seen “Out of This World,” you should check it out. It’s pretty tremendous.)

And then the guilt set in. For all the times, like earlier that morning, when I openly wished for time to speed up. For my kids to outgrow whatever phase they were in at the time. “I can’t wait until they’re older and sleep in.” “I can’t wait until they’re older so that they stop throwing these god-awful tantrums.” “I can’t wait until they’re all out of diapers so I don’t have to deal with wiping butts anymore.” “I can’t wait for the days when they’re older and I don’t have to watch them every flippin second of every single day.” I can’t wait. I can’t wait. I can’t wait. Wait, what?! *Insert screeching tire sounds here (or a record needle cutting across the record, your choice).*

As I stood watching these 16 preschoolers singing–these 16 preschoolers who all were babies you know like 10 seconds ago–I realized I had been spending so much time wishing for my kids’ childhoods to move along that I wasn’t always appreciating them for who they are now. Right this minute.

I could hardly breathe as the kids finished their song and I was pulled away from my thoughts by all of the clapping. I stifled my urge to sob right then and there, but when my daughter came over to give me the card that she made me, I nearly hugged the life out of her.

And right then I made myself a promise to stop wishing away time. At least so much. Now I’m pretty smart. I know everything is not going to be sparkles and rainbows and unicorns all the time just because I’ve made this promise to really focus on the now. Because I know the now still includes tantrums, and not listening, and goldfish crackers ground into the carpet, and toys all over the house, and glasses and glasses of milk spilled all over the place, and butts to wipe (oh so many butts to wipe!), and never any time for me…And I know there are still going to be times where I’ll think how nice things will be when the kids are older. And those kids of mine in the future will be awesome. I have no doubt.

But really, I need to remember that they’re pretty awesome right now, too! So, a big thank you to the 16 singing preschoolers who helped me realize this. 🙂

Happy Mother’s Day to all you mammas out there! May your day be filled with happiness and love whatever you find yourself doing.



Do You Suffer from Post-Kid Stress Disorder (PKSD)?


So anyone who has had a kid knows that this whole parenting gig–when it’s not absolutely glorious (because it really is sometimes)–is stress-full! (And if you’re new to this blog and haven’t had a kid yet, you may want to check out my “Things You Know But Don’t Really Know Until You Have Kids” series just to get a little glimpse into the sort of things us parents are working with on a daily basis.)

One kid, two kids (red kids, blue kids) . . . it doesn’t matter. Once you become a parent, your stress level goes through the roof and there’s the (very good) possibility that you will become one big ole anxious ball of wreck. At least on the inside.

This stress, this anxiety . . . this havoc you could find yourself in . . . well, my friends, I think we need to put a name to it. And I’m proposing Post-Kid Stress Disorder.


Post-Kid Stress Disorder (PKSD) is a common anxiety and stress disorder occurring in individuals who have children. It typically begins once the parents learn they are expecting, although it may not be triggered until the baby’s birth, and can last well into their children’s adult years, if not throughout the rest of their lives.


Symptoms of PKSD can include, but are not limited to, a zombie-like appearance from lack of sleep and inadequate time to manage personal hygiene, eye twitching, high blood pressure, hair loss or graying hair, constant bewilderment at things going on around you, moderate to insane amounts of yelling, repeating the same things over and over again without being heard, fear of leaving your children unattended for more than 30 seconds, the inability to find 2 minutes to yourself, a possible (over)dependence on caffeine or chocolate (or wine or beer or other booze), a nagging feeling that you’re forgetting something, obsessively counting to three, corner rocking, and extreme manic tendencies around bedtime.


PKSD has been linked to the following causes: constant anxiety from the realization that you are responsible for keeping another human being alive (increases with the number of human beings you create); the inability to get a full night’s sleep; loss of meaningful contact with the outside world; spending a disproportionate amount of your time with people who require constant attention because they can’t talk, can’t walk, can’t feed themselves, and can’t wipe their own butts; having to watch entirely too much children’s television; impaired nutritional intake due to little people always wanting to taste your food.


There is no cure for PKSD; although symptoms usually lessen over time and may all but disappear around the time your kids move out of the house. (Although be warned that this will likely bring on a whole other set of concerns.) Unfortunately, PKSD is a pesky disorder that could hang around for the rest of your life.

There are palliative measures that you can take to decrease the effects of PKSD, however. These include, but again are not limited to, taking time for yourself as much as possible, laughing at all of the silly things in life (and the absurdities when you can), connecting with other parents, finding a good sitter and going out on a date every now and then, having dance parties with your kids as much as possible, playing the part of the tickle monster sometimes, letting your kids take the lead from time to time, mixing things up occasionally (like having ice cream for dinner), checking in on your kids when they’re sleeping peacefully…

Take the Quiz

If all of this sounds familiar, you may have PKSD. To find out for sure, you can take this quick 20-question quiz:

  1. Yes/No: (A) Do you scarf down your food or hide from your kids while you’re eating so that they don’t ask to for a “bite” of your food and end up eating it all? (B) Do you hide food from your children so that it doesn’t disappear after two minutes of them getting their hands on it? (C) Do you have to buy food in bulk so that there will be some left for you after your kids get their hands on it?
  2. Yes/No: Do you shower super quickly (oftentimes deciding between washing your hair and shaving) to ensure that your kids do not burn down the house or take a permanent marker to the furniture while they are left unattended?
  3. Yes/No: Do you always have to shop for clothes without tags? Socks without seams? Shoes without “scratchy parts”?
  4. Yes/No: Do you buy prized possessions in multiples in case something gets lost or damaged beyond repair?
  5. Yes/No: Do you gag a little every time you smell goldfish crackers and apple juice?
  6. Yes/No: Do you ever bribe reward your kids ahead of time for good behavior?
  7. Yes/No: Do you avoid toy aisles at all costs?
  8. Yes/No: Do you dread hearing your child say, “Look what I did”?
  9. Yes/No: Do you secretly wish Leo would just kick Caillou’s ass already for all of that whining?
  10. Yes/No: Do you say “5 more minutes” for at least 45 minutes?
  11. Yes/No: Do you ever pretend like you didn’t hear what your kid just said?
  12. Yes/No: Do you ever look like a spy avoiding laser beam alarm fields as you try to navigate your creaky floorboards while your kids are sleeping?
  13. Yes/No: Do you panic slightly on mornings when you wake up and discover you’ve had an uninterrupted night’s sleep?
  14. Yes/No: Do you now begin long road trips around your kids’ bedtimes instead of at the crack of dawn?
  15. Yes/No: Do you in fact cry over spilt milk?
  16. Yes/No: Do you ever find yourself brushing up on your Spanish with Dora and Boots despite the fact that your kids have been off playing in another room for the last 18 minutes?
  17. Yes/No: Do you ever wish your bathroom was in a sound proof booth?
  18. Yes/No: Do you approach all chocolate crumbs suspiciously?
  19. Yes/No: Do you dump out your drink after your kid takes a sip, no matter how full it is?
  20. Yes/No: Do you use words such as “toot” and “potty” and “booboo” among an otherwise normal adult-adult conversation?


Scoring: If you answered “yes” (or have ever been able to answer “yes”) to 1-20 of these questions, you very likely have PKSD. If you answered “no” to any of these questions, you very likely don’t have kids.

(A huge thank you to my husband for giving me the idea for this post and for providing me with some great examples. Also for reading my various drafts when he should have been studying for his boards or could have been sleeping. Love you, babe!)


A Letter to My Children Concerning Their Artwork

Dear Children,

I love you. You know that. In fact one of you, and I won’t name names, is already over that game I play where I say, “Hey, I have to tell you a secret,” and then you come over and I whisper “I love you so much” in your ear. You can deny it, but your eye roll says it all. Regardless, I will continue to tell you how much I love you a gazillion times a day. This will never get old to me. Never. And one day, if you have kids, you will do the same. I can promise you that.

But I digress. Back to the topic. We need to have a serious chat about something. I love you. (See, there I go again.) And that means all of you. Including everything you create with those perfect (although usually extremely dirty) little hands of yours. But you all really need to slow your roll on the amount of artwork you create. And I use the term artwork loosely to include your drawings and paintings, any craft projects you make, those pages you’ve ripped out of activity books to color and adorn with stickers, the random Post-Its and scraps of paper I find all over the house with cryptic writing and various symbols drawn on them, and anything covered in doodles. Oh, and those pieces of paper that look completely blank at first glance but really have a few teeny tiny lines or dots or squigglies on them so that they cannot be used in the printer. Hopefully you get the point.

But why, you ask? Well, because we just don’t have the refrigerator space, or wall space, or cork board space, or desk space, or floor space, or shelf space, or closet space, or drawer space, or filing cabinet space, or car space, or purse space, or diaper bag space, or under-the-bed space, or under-the-couch space…to showcase every blessed piece of your artwork.

Plus, and I know this is going to sound very harsh, but it’s true–not every single thing you draw is a keeper. I refer you back to those papers with two barely visible markings on them. Or the colorful, glittery scraps not even you care to keep track of (and that I’m constantly getting stuck to the bottom of my feet). And while I’m sharing secrets, your drawings the other day didn’t accidentally fall into the trash can. (Read “recycle bin” if that makes you feel better.) Mommy put them there. On purpose. (Although apparently I didn’t bury them deep enough.) Because Mommy and Daddy’s most-used filing cabinet is, I’m sorry to say, our trash can.

Now, don’t wrinkle your noses up at me. You’re going to thank me one day for this. Honest to God. How do I know? Well, first, I can promise that you won’t want to be strapped with the mortgage payments we’d be ready to hand over for the house(s) we’d need to buy for the sole purposes of storing all of your art.

And second, when you’re older, you will have no idea what to do with the 83 gazillion boxes of old artwork that we’d be pushing on you the second you have your own place. How do I know this? Well, when I was little, Gramma kept pretty much everything I made and saved it all in boxes. And when I got older she’d plea with me to take all of the stuff she had saved because it was taking up too much room. You know why it was taking up too much room? Because there was too-damned-much stuff in there, that’s why. Sure, I’ll admit that it was kinda fun going through things and seeing how extremely talented I was from a very young age. (Ahem.) But after that, I had no idea what to do with the boxes and boxes of discolored papers that smelled like they had been sitting in a basement for 20+ years.

Now, don’t get me wrong, some of your art pieces are forever keepers. Like this one…

I LOVE this drawing of our family. (Notice that I'm holding the baby on my chest.)

I LOVE this drawing of our family. (Notice that I’m holding the baby on my chest.)

But hows about we make a pact moving forward for all the rest? I know it upsets you to think about me throwing away all of your hard work. So, I promise I won’t throw things away willy nilly anymore (because I have to admit, I did feel a little bad when you found that stuff in the trash). If there are things you want to keep, we can. We can use the old standby refrigerator display method, or we can hop on Pinterest to find some creative display ideas. Like this, or this, or even this.

We can do a weekly rotation (although if I’m being realistic, let’s say monthly; ok, fine, twice a year), and then we can re-evaluate. If you still want to save something once its display time has elapsed, let’s save it in a photo. I can take pictures and we can save them on my computer or on a CD or thumb drive. Or heck, even on our “cloud.” Then we can throw away/recycle the actual art. This has the twofold benefit of 1) saving space (in our house, anyway, oh and in yours in the future) and 2) keeping a record of your art that doesn’t yellow or take on that musty basement smell over time.

Then, if you want to get crafty and creative with the pictures down the road, do it! It’ll mean you’ve activated some lazy recessive gene of mine that until this point in my life has remained pretty dormant.

What do you say? Do we have a deal?

Looking forward to all of your future masterpieces. Just don’t expect me to save them all.



35 Reasons My Kids Won’t Eat What You’ve Made

Hey, don’t take it personally if my kids won’t eat something you’ve made for them. Really, it’s not you, it’s them. And after 5 years, I’ve begun to crack the code on why my kids sometimes don’t eat their food. Here’s what I’ve learned so far . . .

won't eat

  1. It looks funny
  2. It smells funny
  3. It feels funny
  4. It tastes funny
  5. It’s too mushy
  6. It’s too hard
  7. It’s too hot
  8. It’s too cold
  9. It’s too spicy
  10. There’s too much
  11. There’s not enough
  12. There’s green stuff in it
  13. There’s brown stuff in it
  14. There’s orange stuff in it
  15. There’s yellow stuff in it
  16. There’s red stuff in it
  17. They ate it yesterday
  18. They’ve never had it before
  19. Their friends don’t like it
  20. There’s no ketchup to go with it
  21. It’s not covered in chocolate
  22. They can’t pronounce it
  23. They’re full
  24. They have belly aches
  25. Their mouths hurt
  26. Their throats hurt
  27. Their hands are broken
  28. They don’t like the utensils
  29. The dog won’t eat it
  30. The cat won’t eat it
  31. They want something else
  32. It “accidentally” dropped on the ground
  33. They’re saving it for later
  34. It’s on their plate and not yours
  35. The dessert you’ve promised them if they eat it all is not adequate


Multiple Personality Parenting

Each of my kids has a different mom. Sort of. No we didn’t adopt. No we didn’t use surrogates. I definitely grew and birthed all three of them. Believe me, I remember. But I have a mommy confession: I parent each of my kids differently. I suppose you could call it multiple personality parenting. But I like to call it doing what’s best for my kids. Each one of them. Individually.

Before having kids, I knew exactly the type of parent I wanted to be. My hubby and I talked through everything. I was going to breastfeed. We weren’t going to use binkies. We weren’t going to introduce tv for the first two years. We’d make all of our own baby food. We wouldn’t eat fast food. We weren’t going to co-sleep. We weren’t going to use spanking as a form of discipline. In other words, we had it all worked out. We were so pleased with the kick-ass parents we were going to be.

And then we actually had a kid.

And you know what? Aside from a few circumstances beyond our control (our first was born 11 weeks early and couldn’t breastfeed, for example), we were pretty much able to be those kick-ass parents we dreamed of being. Belle was such an easy baby. She slept well wherever–in her crib, the swing, the pack ‘n play. She ate well. She naturally fell into a sleeping and feeding schedule very early on. She travelled well. She hardly ever fussed. Looking back, it’s no wonder we were able to be those ideal parents we had set out to be. We didn’t have any resistance, and Belle’s personality meshed so well with how we wanted to parent.

And so we had a second kid.

And boy did this throw a monkey wrench into things. Enter Saurus. I am not exaggerating when I say that he was the complete opposite of his sister in every single way as a baby. He was the king of fussy babies. He didn’t sleep well. He cried all the time. We could never seem to get him on a consistent sleeping or feeding schedule. And god forbid we try to take him out of town. Or out to a restaurant for that matter. Any time we’d start to make progress with him, something would happen to land us right back where we started.

I was in shock. I was depressed. I was confused. I felt like a failure. And I was left analyzing every parenting philosophy that my husband and I swore to abide by and that worked with our first child. I felt like I was a first time mom all over again. I had done all of this before. What the hell was the problem? What was I doing wrong?

I started getting angry. And frustrated. I blamed my child. What was wrong with this kid? Why couldn’t he just sleep like his sister? Why couldn’t he eat like his sister? Why couldn’t he be easy-going like his sister? Why was he making it so hard for me to parent him like I did with his sister?

Because he wasn’t his sister. BECAUSE HE WASN’T HIS SISTER!! This realization hit me like a ton of bricks. What the hell was I doing? Why was I trying to parent my children the same exact way when they clearly had very different needs?

This was another “aww hell” moment for me. I realized that the perfect, kick-ass parent I was able to be with Belle was because that was the type of parent she needed. Saurus, on the other hand, needed me to be an entirely different parent. In many ways, the type of parent I had never intended on being. Where Belle was content to be put to bed awake and drift herself off to sleep without a peep, Saurus needed to be rocked, and swayed, and cuddled until he fell into a deep sleep and could finally be put into bed. Where Belle could sit in her swing and be content for 30 minutes to watch her little birdies fly ’round and ’round, Saurus couldn’t stand to be in one place for more than 5 minutes at a time. Where Belle was independent, Saurus was clingy and needy.

This was a difficult realization for me. One that was not apparent in the baby books I read or in the advice I was given from family and friends. Sure, the “do what’s best for you and your kids” mantra was thrown around a lot–heck, I’ve even shared that advice with people–but the missing piece for me was that this mantra applies to each child. Individually.  “Do what’s best for this kid. But also do what’s best for that kid.”

And then we had a third kid. And although at 8 months he’s just now coming into is own, we’ll be parenting him the same way as we parent our older two. By whatever methods work best for him.

Don’t get me wrong. My kids are not running around willy nilly doing whatever the hell they want. We have rules and we have consequences for breaking the rules. We have expectations for our kids to behave in certain ways in certain circumstances, and we have consequences when this doesn’t happen. But our approaches for fostering these behaviors are not the same for each of our kids.

With Belle, for example, the mere mention that she might have to go to timeout is usually enough to get her behavior in check. With Saurus, we usually need to not only put him in timeout but also take away a toy or privilege before he understands we mean business. With Belle, a hug and a quick kiss is usually all it takes to help her feel better when she is upset. With Saurus, we often have to hold him in a tight embrace until he is calm.

And we’ll do whatever works best for the baby. Once we have some more time under our belts and learn what this is.

What about consistency? What about being fair? How can you possibly parent your children so differently? Well, we’re consistent when something works. And then when it doesn’t, we find something else that does. Our consistency is always doing what is best for our children. And this seems pretty fair to me.

I’m learning that as my kids get older, my parenting needs to evolve every day, every second for each of my kids. Sometimes what’s best for one kid is best for all. But sometimes it isn’t. And sometimes what’s best for one kid on one day, isn’t what’s best for that kid on another day. And that’s ok. At least for me. Because I know that “I am exactly the kind of mother my children need.” Each one of them.


Thanks to Leslie over at The Bearded Iris (http://www.thebeardediris.com) for letting me quote her here. When I saw this image on her page it really resonated with me and boiled down everything I wanted to say in one sentence. I just knew it would fit perfectly here.


46 Reasons My Mom or Dad Might Be Freaking Out

If you have kids and you’ve been on the Internet at all in the past few months, you’ve no doubt read Jason Good’s “46 Reasons My Three Year Old Might be Freaking Out.” If you haven’t, what the heck are you waiting for? Go there, now. Then come right back here. Pretty please with a cherry on top.

Hysterical, eh?! And absolutely spot on.

After reading this, I thought it would be funny to do a similar list, only told from a preschooler’s perspective. (Don’t worry, I ran the idea past Jason, and he was cool with it.) Many of these I have experienced first hand; others I’m not fessing up to personally, we’ll just call them educated guesses. I know I can’t do the original justice, but here you go:

46 Reasons My Mom or Dad Might Be Freaking Out

  1. I’m continually spazzing out because of something on Mr. Good’s list.
  2. I’m eating my boogers. And my sister’s.
  3. I ate an entire box of Raisinets while mommy was in the shower.
  4. I have explosive diarrhea and it’s getting on everything.
  5. I keep touching my explosive diarrhea.
  6. I’ve spilled my milk for the sixth time today. And it’s not even lunchtime yet.
  7. I’m chewing some gum I found stuck to the chair at the Walgreen’s pharmacy.
  8. I’ve started modeling my behavior after Caillou.
  9. I took off all of my clothes 30 seconds before we were supposed to leave for day care.
  10. I ate the last samoa Girl Scout cookie.
  11. I took a permanent marker to the couch.
  12. I won’t stop blowing a whistle.
  13. I dunked daddy’s phone in a big glass of iced tea.
  14. I ran out into the parking lot chasing a leaf.
  15. I puked all over the dog.
  16. I accidentally called 911 from mommy’s cell phone. Again.
  17. I flooded the bathroom while giving my dinosaurs a bath.
  18. I spilled nail polish on the beige carpet.
  19. I’m drinking milk from a sippy cup we lost 4 days ago.
  20. I’m playing in the cat’s litter box.
  21. I trapped my brother in the dryer and now he’s stuck in there.
  22. I smeared peanut butter and jelly all over the tv screen.
  23. I fed my 8-month-old brother some rocks.
  24. I locked my mommy out of the house.
  25. I’m not sure if that’s chocolate or poop I just smeared on my sister’s shirt.
  26. I kept pushing buttons and erased a month’s worth of stuff on the DVR.
  27. I ate one of those packets I found in a shoe box.
  28. I keep sneaking sips of water from the bird bath.
  29. I put my finger in the cat’s butt.
  30. I left the freezer door open and no one noticed for a few hours.
  31. I ripped the pages out of mommy’s first edition of Where the Wild Things Are. 
  32. I keep shouting “penis” as we walk through the grocery store.
  33. I like to put coins in the car air vents.
  34. I pulled all of the stuffing out of one of the couch cushions.
  35. I shoved 3 peas up my nose and one in my ear.
  36. I deleted daddy’s Clash of Clans account.
  37. I threw my shoe out of the car window.
  38. I kicked my dad in the nuts.
  39. I snuck a diaper into the washing machine.
  40. I keep trying to use a plastic bag as my superhero mask.
  41. I stepped on the CD that had all of the pictures from our vacation on it.
  42. I pulled off all of the tops from the Keurig k-cups.
  43. I thought my mommy’s hemorrhoid cream was an acceptable alternative to toothpaste.
  44. I smashed all of my goldfish into my car seat and then dumped my apple juice on top.
  45. I keep teasing my sister and making her scream. Because I can.
  46. I found some funny looking toys in mommy and daddy’s bedroom.

So, what’s on your list? 🙂