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.”

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Things Kids Say: Strawberries, Fevers, And More

Yesterday Baby Girl gave me enough material to do a few weeks worth of Things Kids Say. Instead of making you wait for it, though, I’ll post it all today, because I’m cool like that.

While changing Baby Girl’s diaper, she started scratching herself. She’s got a bit of a rash going on. It’d be nice if she were ready to potty train (and she did show interest briefly but has since flat-out refused to go on the toilet), but that’s not where we’re at right now. So, as usual, I instructed her to stop her clawing.

“Baby Girl, don’t scratch at your vulva — it’s already red,” I told her.

“Ooooh, Mommy, do it look like a strawberry?” she asked excitedly. I had to inform her that, no, her vulva did not resemble a strawberry. File that one under “Things I Never Thought I’d Say.”

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Little Man is sick with the flu. Again. Yep, he had to go ruin our Illness Free streak, which I think lasted about three weeks. (I’m kidding — poor Little Man.) So, Baby Girl loves going to the doctor and often asks to go. She has a little doctor kit that she plays with a lot, too. (Yep, I’m already boasting to Sam that our daughter is gonna be a doctor.) I commented to BG that Little Man was sick, so she asked about the doctor, expressed regret that she didn’t get to go, and immediately went to doctoring.

“My doggy sick. I get my step-o-scope and shot and take his fever.” She went through the motions with the toy stethoscope and syringe, used the thing that’s used to check the nose and ears, and then pressed the button on the digital thermometer I had left out. (You can tell she’s paid close attention in her visits.)

“It say he got five dollars! He sick!” she said when the numbers popped up on the thermometer. Poor dog.

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Our power went off briefly yesterday evening. After taking out the lantern (which BG declared to be “amazing”), Sam talked about getting some candles out. This made Baby Girl super excited.

“It’s my birthday?! Yay! It’s my birthday! Where’s my cake?” It took a while to make her understand that there was no cake. I was tempted to stick a leftover birthday candle in a Little Debbie cake, but she didn’t eat her supper, so no Debbies for her.

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And now for the super sweet thing she said yesterday — we were waiting on a call from Little Man’s doctor (the insurance denied his Tamiflu prescription, saying they wouldn’t cover it more than once in a 90-day period, so the office was trying to get that sorted out). I didn’t hear the phone ring, because sucky hearing, and Baby Girl told me it was ringing. I told her a little bit later that I appreciated her telling me it was ringing.

“Mommy’s ears don’t work very well, so I need your help hearing things sometimes,” I told her.

“Your ears not work?” she asked.

“Not very good,” I answered.

“Poor Mommy,” Baby Girl said, looking sad. “I go see Santa tomorrow. I say I want new ears for you. I say, ‘Pleeeease, Santa!'” All the feels right there.

Things Kids Do Thursday: Moves Like Prince

Today I’m changing up things a bit. Instead of doing a “Things Kids Say” post, I’m going with a “Things Kids Do” post.

Sam was watching music on YouTube with Little Man when he came across a Prince video. He and some other guys were cover a song (I’ll post it at the bottom), and at the end of the song, Prince throws the guitar in the air and walks off.

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Little Man liked it so much that he wanted to listen to the song again, and while it was playing, he pretended a wood souvenir baseball bat was a guitar and played along. (Side note: LM sometimes carries this bat around and does Harley Quinn impersonations.) My husband was loving that LM was so into Prince. “He’s gonna have good taste in music, unlike his mama.” Burn.

And then the end of the song comes. Little Man, who was still being a cool dude and shredding the guitar, decides to continue copying Prince and throws the bat in the air and attempts to walk off. Unfortunately for him, he threw it forward a bit and the bat landed on his head.

Sam broke one of the cardinal rules of parenting — check and make sure your kid is fine before laughing at them — and nearly fell in the floor because he was laughing so hard. (Little Man was fine, aside from being annoyed at Sam.) At least he didn’t have his real guitar.

Things Kids Say Thursday: My Poop

Sam and I don’t really celebrate Valentine’s Day anymore, but I do make a point to get a little candy and maybe a small toy for the kids. On Monday, Baby Girl and I were shopping and I decided to get the treats. She helped with the candy selection (and repeatedly asked for me to pay for it so she could eat it), and then helped pick out two small stuffed…things  — a donut for herself and an emoji poop for Little Man. 

Why is this a thing? Why?!

Let me tell you, Baby Girl was fascinated with that stuffed poop. After she asked to go see the “fishies,” she held it up and said loudly, “Hey, fish, look at my poop!” I about died laughing.

She got quite a few looks, especially since every person met she would say “I’ve got a poop!” or “Wanna see my poop?!” Plus there was “Hey there, silly poop!” (For some reason, everything is “silly” lately.”

Just so you know, there was fighting over that damn stuffed poop. Lots of it. Little Man didn’t particularly care to play with it, but he also didn’t want BG to touch it at all, because apparently that’s what siblings do. I ended up getting a second poop yesterday on clearance. 

Things Kids Say: Farts

My kids have said lots of stuff over the past week, but not much of it has been funny, as they’ve both been pissy with me. Especially Little Man. I’d say the tween years are upon us, except I checked, and supposedly that age range is 10 to 12. He’ll be nine next month, so I should have a little more time before he rolls his eyes, huffs, and talks so disrespectfully that I almost see red. I was proud of his ability to detect and use sarcasm when he was four, but now? Not as much. Not when it’s directed at me, anyway.

So…funny things my kids said. I checked Facebook, and I haven’t posted a single funny thing they’ve said all week. All week. That’s a long time in mom years. The only thing that comes to mind is something Baby Girl said last night, but it’s more of a crude humor thing than legit funny (well, not legit funny to me, but to Sam and LM, it was hilarious).

I was rocking Baby Girl when she farted on me. She started giggling, so I made a comment about her “tooting.” (When I was growing up, my Southern Baptist grandmother considered “fart” a bad word. We were permitted to say “tootled,” “tooted,” or maybe “poot” if we were feeling bold. But “fart”? Hell no. I was probably more comfortable saying “shit” as a teenager than I was saying “fart” or “darn” even.)

Baby Girl’s response to my comment was, “No, Mommy, I fart.”

“Baby Girl, we don’t say ‘fart,’ we say ‘toot.'” Not that it really makes a damn bit of difference. Gas is gas, but old habits die hard/we’re doomed to repeating the crap our parents/grandparent said.

Baby Girl shook her head. “FART,” she said loudly, as if I were stupid. “Little Man say ‘fart.'”

“Toot.”

“No. I not toot. I FART,” she said quite seriously.

I stopped at that. I have enough pride not to argue with a 2-year-old over this sort of thing.

Oh, and that reminds me of another mildly amusing thing she said. I was talking to her about using the potty — telling me when she has to poop or whatever (she was actually telling me a few months ago, but now is adamant that she’s done nothing at all, even when she’s squatting and straining) — when she heaved a big sigh, shook her head, and told me, “I go to the potty tomorrow.” Procrastinating already.


For some news about Little Man that doesn’t relate to him being rude, he found out that he won the school science fair this week. His project, the source of a minor scandal since kids thought he was drinking wine, was a hit. As Little Man is now saying, “Praise Poseidon!” (Yeah, tabling the ‘go back to church’ thing.) He’ll go to the district fair in a couple of weeks. That fair is the day after the district spelling bee (and is the same week of his birthday, whew). The kid is killing it this year!