R is for Rekt

We have officially entered the phase where Little Man is embarrassed by his parents. Or at least me, anyway, and it’s so not for a reason I would’ve expected.

Lately he’s been talking about how corny everyone is. He regularly reports all of the corny puns or comments his teachers make. “Mrs. L said, ‘Full steam ahead, class!’ in STEAM today. Can you believe that? That is so corny. I just shook my head.”

A couple days ago, he had to use crutches because of a nerve problem that was making it hard for him to walk on his left leg. One of his teachers came out to talk to me about it while I waited in the car rider line and told me how she had asked what happened. She said that when he led up with, “I went to the doctor…” that she interjected with a joke, “And did he say ‘no more monkeys jumping on the bed?'” She said he didn’t get the joke (which sometimes happens because he’s so literal, which we have talked about before) and she had to explain that she was referencing the 5 Monkeys rhyme.

After LM came out and we left, I mentioned that the teacher stopped by to chat and then he launched into telling me about how she made the corniest joke at recess about his leg. “…and she said, ‘And did he say ‘no more monkeys jumping on the bed?'” Can you believe that, Mom? I just stared at her in disbelief that she would say something so corny.” Oh dear.

Today I was told how corny I am. 

“Ugh…Mom…it’s so corny when you say that your food is good,” he told me after we left the restaurant we had an early dinner at.

“What?” I was confused. What’s wrong with saying that your food is good?

“It’s just…when the waitress asked how your food was, you said it was really good.”

I still did not see the problem.

“If you can’t see how corny that is, then I don’t know what to tell you,” Little Man said.

I really thought he was bullshitting me at first, but no.

“The waitress asked how the food was. The food was good. I told her so. How on earth is this a negative thing?”

“It’s just corny! You said it was good with voice.”

Fucking hell. “What kind of voice?”

He copied me. “It’s really good!” he said in what seemed to be a happy, polite tone, which is exactly the way you’d act if your food was good and you were enjoying it.

“It’s just corny,” he reiterated.

“How could I have expressed that the food was good in a less corny way?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Just not like that.”

Good grief.

“So…was that as corny as you talking about ‘getting rekt’ all the time?” I asked. Boom. Roasted.

“Hey! No one thinks ‘rekt’ is corny,” he protested.

“Oh, yeah, they do,” I told him. “Anyone outside the ages of 9 and 12 definitely thinks that’s corny. Actually, it’s worse than corny — it’s cringey. And dabbing is, too.” Boom. Roasted again.

He huffed. “Just forget it.”

Hopefully I don’t embarrass him with my politeness again. And hopefully he’ll stop saying “rekt” and dabbing 50 times per day. If that happens, then being told that I’m corny will be worth it.


P is for Phone

I’m a happy girl. I upgraded my phone this week — got the iPhone 8.

See how pretty it is?

This phone cost me more than it should have. After my iPhone 6 started crapping out on me, I researched the cost of a new phone and found that the new iPhones were going for $600+. Whoa. Since my last new phone was purchased in 2014, which I paid $150-$200 for, I was shocked. And I was adamant that I wasn’t spending that kind of money on a new phone.

I bought the iPhone SE for about half the price (well, I did the 24 month payment thing), which I tried to convince myself that I liked, but really didn’t. My hands were too cramped texting, and we can’t have that. It also wasn’t pretty, and even though any phone I own will be in a case that prevents me from seeing it in its entirety, we still can’t have that.

So I sucked it up and bought the iPhone 8 on Monday. I paid off the remaining $300 balance on the SE (I’ll get about $200 after I sell it, so I’ll eat $100) and got the new one. Lesson learned: sometimes it’s better to just get the impulse purchase out of the way so it doesn’t end up costing you more in the long run. For a measly $15 per month, I could’ve had what I wanted four months ago. Fuck trying to be a responsible adult.

I bet you anti-iPhone people are hating this post by now. I’ll give you something to make this post worth your time, though.

Do you guys like the word “fuck” as much as I do? And do you get sick and tired of autocorrect changing words to “duck,” “ducking,” or “ducker?” (Or maybe even “motherducker.) If so, here’s the life hack to end all life hacks:

Yep, the entry “fuck, fucking, fucker” is in my contacts list. Why? Because autocorrect recognizes it as being what you meant to type, so it doesn’t change it. (I put “ducking–>fucking” in the dictionary once, but it didn’t help the “fuck” situation.) And, yep, I typed this post late last night. Sleep and I are still mortal enemies.

Go ahead and update your contacts list and do a test text. I’ll wait.




Now how awesome is that?

M is for Mommy!

The kids were out of school for spring break this past week. Here are a few things they said…

“Mommy, come wipe my butt! It’s nasty and it stinks, so PLEASE wipe me!” Unless you’re sick and have diarrhea, wipe your own ass, son.

“Mommy, I gonna tear this house apart!” Well, obviously I’m going to let you watch a TV show now, Baby Girl. Wouldn’t want the house to be torn apart, would we?

“Mom, that kid’s BUTT CHEEKS are showing. We HAVE to switch tables.” I took the kids to McDonald’s on Friday. LM was quite disturbed by a small boy’s plumber’s crack.

“Mommy, [my friend] Orange came out of my ovary.” Baby Girl has an imaginary friend named Orange that lives in her forehead, but first, he came out of her ovary to be born.

“Mom, why’d you say BLEEP instead of saying the actual bad word? You know that I know what you were going to say, right? It’s okay for you to say what you want to say around me. I don’t mind bad words.” Dude, I know that I can say the words and that you don’t mind, and I don’t care because I know you won’t repeat them. That’s not the case with your sister, though, so let’s stick to BLEEP, hmm?

“Mommy, I can’t find my vulva.” I see you with your hands in your pants, Baby Girl. I know you found it, so go wash your hands.

“Mommy, why can’t I watch The Walking Dead? Or Fear the Walking Dead? Everyone in my class watches those. And everything. They all watch everything that I can’t watch.” Didn’t we have this conversation ten times already? Yeah? In that case, “Because I said so.”

K and L are for [Just] Kidding, LOL

Dear Internet,

Lately I’ve decided to make a few changes in my life. For starters, I’m no longer going to eat red meat. So long steaks, aka mouth party morsels. Despite my iron always being too low, I’m going to bid you a fond adieu and see if spinach can treat me any better. I’m also going to drop chocolate like a bad habit. That means the glorious meals of filet mignon with a side of Hershey kisses can be no more.

I’m also going to cut back on the amount of time I spend on the road. I drive way too much. Some days I spend around 2.5 hours just shuttling around my kids to school and gymnastics. When Little Man plays ball and we have to go to away games, that can up the drive time by an hour. Kids, I’m no longer going to be your chauffeur. I’m going to do my part to be more environmentally conscious and stop picking you up. Two words: Hitch. Hike. It’s better for the environment and it’s better for my wallet and personal time.

As soon as I finish typing this post, I’m deleting all of my Hanson songs from my iPhone. It’s time to move on to other things. My family has suffered enough, and I fear that my cochlear implant is on the verge of rebelling against me and failing if I don’t. Twenty-one years was a good run.

And it’s about time that I jump on the Trump bandwagon. I’m going to join forces with my family, grab a red trucker hat, and talk about how wonderful it would be to waste money on building a wall. Maybe I’ll even go on Twitter and type incoherent things in ALL CAPS, too. I’ll finally cease being the black sheep in my family, which means acceptance and more togetherness time.

It might not be January, but it’s never too late for some resolutions.

*My brain had a huge fart. I thought I missed the J day and needed to do J and K. Nope, I missed the K day and had to do K and L. I’m not writing a new post, so instead of the title being “J and K are for Just Kidding, it’s now K and L are for [Just] Kidding, LOL. Lame would also work here.

‘J’ is for Just Stop Fighting

My offspring will not stop fighting, and it’s Spring Break, so instead of only having to hear this fighting in the evenings and on weekends, I’m getting it nonstop. And all of that fighting means yelling and constant tattling.

A few tattles from the past 24 hours:

“Mommy, Little Man’s not being a king!” I made the mistake of telling the kids to play together. LM wanted to play baseball and BG wanted to play kings and queens.

“Mommy, Little is calling [the dog] names!” After watching Coco, Baby Girl decided she wanted to rename our dog Bilbo and call him Dante. Little Man, of course, is opposed to this. So, last night when BG tattled on LM for calling the dog names, I assumed LM had called him dumb or something. Nope. He called him “Bilbo.” Sorry, BG, but calling one’s pet by the name it has gone by for 3.5 years is not calling him names in a bad way.

“Mom, Baby Girl called me a meanie!” Well, at least she didn’t call you an idiot this time, right? All of LM’s name-calling when he gets pissed at BG is really coming back to bite him in the ass.

“Mom, Baby Girl attacked me!” As usual, Little Man presented that as being randomly attacked. You’ve heard of drive-by shootings? Well, there are drive-by bites and scratches in this household. They just happen, for no rhyme or reason. Uh, no. LM, being bitten and scratched is what happens when you rip a toy out of a 3-year-old’s hands, after you told her it was hers to keep. Does it make her right? No, but you definitely aren’t innocent in this.

“Mommy, he’s licking the sucker!” It’s a sucker. People lick them. And it’s his sucker, so he has the right to lick it without being tattled on.

“Mommy, Little Man’s being a floofer!” We never figured out what she was trying to say there, but clearly being a floofer is not a good thing.

“Mom, she’s naked!” Come on, now. That child being in a state of only being partially clothed is nothing new around here.

“Mommy, Little Man is LOOKING at me.” Jesus Christ, child. This is when you start feeling your will to live exit your body. If you were on your death bed, there’d be no holding on for a little while longer. You’d be all “Toodleloo, motherfucker, I’m checking out now. Good riddance.”

Today we are taking the children to Great Wolf Lodge to stay overnight. My husband is taking BG to the kid area and I’m going to watch LM in the big kid area. We will be fight-free until we get back together for supper.