The Toddler Inquisition

Why are you taking a shower? Why do I have to brush my teeth? Why is the sun hot? Where is my woobie? What are you doing? Why? Can I have some milk? Can I have some water? Where is the cat? Why is she in the basement? Why are you scratching your leg? Why did you get a mosquito bite? Why does it itch. Why is black? Why? Why? Why?

Seriously? Shut it before I call the adoption agency and inquire if there is a nice Amish family that wants to take you to the middle of nowhere where you can ask your incessant questions to a goat or something.

The questions are non-stop from sun-up to sun-down in our house. And all lines of questioning end the same way: with 362 repetitions of, "Why?" I think that my toddler's unending questions may one day lead me to commit harakiri (poor Harry Caray).

I love that The Quiet Contemplator is inquisitive. It shows she is all smart and stuff. But when I am trying to put on mascara while being assaulted with the Spanish Inquisition on why the cat poops in a box, I tend to get a little twitchy. Ok, really twitchy. And people tend to frown on you pouring a drink before 8 a.m. on a Tuesday.

I feel like Jules Winnfield in Pulp Fiction. Say "why" again. Say "why" again. I dare you. I double-dare you, motherfucker. Say "why" one more goddamn time.


If you share this post, I will buy you a pony. I suck at Twitter. I am OK at Facebook. Pinterest is my bitch. I am also on Bloglovin' and Instagram.

Stop playing with my toys!

Though I buy my children plenty of lovely toys, they inevitably want to play with my stuff. The problem is, Mommy doesn't share well and she doesn't really appreciate her things being covered in unidentifiable stickiness all the time.

My kids want to play with my iPad, make-up, toothbrush, etc. This generally ends with something expensive being broken or me frantically searching the house for my keys when we are already running 20 minutes behind on a Monday. Fantastic!

Where do they put my stuff when they are done, you ask? I generally find them in really well thought out places, like behind the litter box. Oh, THAT is where you decided was the best place for my phone. Much better than in my purse where I left it. I also totally love it when I go to brush my hair and find that there is yogurt jammed in the bristles. What a great way to add much-needed shine and volume! Oh, and that trick where you reprogram the TV to always have subtitles that are in Spanish? Brilliant. I have been meaning to pick up a second language in my spare time.

I could buy my kids a $1,500 swing set and they would still want to stay in the house and play with my jewelry and shoes. It boggles my mind how their little brains work. Clean room full of awesome toys and books = bad. Bathroom full of dirty toilets and toilet paper = good.

Yes, I could tell them not to touch my things, but this would just result in me saying, "Don't touch that. That is Mommy's" 15 gajillion times every three seconds, and that would make me lose my shit even more than fishing my chap stick out of the toaster for the 12th time this week. Kids are awesome.

The Confessional

I bought some of those frozen wine drinks because they sounded fun/looked delicious (they were, in the most white trash of ways). When The Quiet Contemplator saw it in the glass, she insisted it was ice cream and that she wanted some. Now. I told her it was wine. She kept annoying me asking for some until I finally said, "OK, sure. Try some. I promise you won't like it." She took one sip, backed away and said, "That's wine." She then backed away some more and said, "I don't like wine." I died laughing. Don't call DCFS. I knew she wouldn't like it. She won't even drink juice.


Confession from a fellow Boozehound

My toddler has taken to squeezing my boobs while shrieking, "SQUEAKY!".  AND, he only does this in public.  

ILBAB says: My god I hope to run into you two in the liquor aisle of Target soon.


The Confessional is now open. Have something you need to repent for? Feel free to send me your sin and I will help your purge your demons.

How To: Flock of Birds

I have had MANY requests to do a "how to" post on my flock of seagulls birds. Well, here it is. Enjoy.

What you will need:
The pattern (provided below)
Scrapbook paper
Scissors
Poster putty or something else to stick the birds to the walls

Total project takes less than an hour and costs less than $20!

For paper, I used K&Company Paper. It was nice and heavy, double-sided and worked great. They offer tons of different colors and patterns. You can find it very cheap here.


The Pattern
OK, first things first, the pattern. Here it is:

This image is scanned on 8.5 x 11 so you can (hopefully) easily print it out, then cut out the bird.


Bird Mass Production
Now that you have the pattern, it is time to mass produce these puppies. I took my scrap paper and folded it in half so I could kill two birds with one stone cut.

Example of where to fold on the 12 x 12 paper.

Look! It's a sailboat!

Once your paper is folded in half, place your pattern on it and trace around it.

Now you see it...

Now you don't...

Now that you have the pattern marked on your paper, make sure that both sheets are even and cut around the pattern.

Tra la la...cutting paper.

Once you are finished cutting, you will have two birds. Repeat this step until you have enough birds to fill the space you are looking to fill. I used most of my pad, minus the paper I used for a project in my son's room.

Yay! Two birds!

Let 'em Fly!
Now that you have your birds, you need to fold them all to give them a 3D effect. Simply lay them down flat and bend up each of the wings.

One fold...

Two folds!

Now it is time to let these colorful feathered friends fly. I used poster putty to stick mine to the wall, but you could use tape or whatever else tickles your fancy. You can do them in a flock like I did or just scatter them about. You could also draw a tree on your wall and let them hang out in it. Whatevs! Have fun with them!

Though I did this in birds, you could easily do this with bugs, pterodactyls, etc. To make a perfect pattern, I actually drew half of the bird on a piece of paper that I had folded in half, so when I cut, I had two perfectly equal sides--kind of like making a snowflake.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask!

Advice Under the Influence

Dear ILBAB,

So, I like food, my husband likes food, my toddler? Well, let's just say he is sustenance-ly challenged. He will be 3 in a couple of weeks and he refuses to try any new food. I have tried everything from cutting up food into fun shapes, making a game out of eating, promising delicious treats as reward for eating, blah, blah, blah. Everyone tells me, "he'll eat when he's hungry"...which is...never. If I tell him that he can get down from the table but let him know there won't be snacks (and keep to my guns), he doesn't care and won't ask for anything to eat later.


I just got him to start eating mac & cheese again (I know, NOT healthy), spaghettios, and pb sandwiches. He won't touch anything with fruit in it (including jelly, I'd wonder if is he adopted, but since I carried him for 9 months and went through labor with him...). He like peas, but for the most part, doesn't eat many veggies.

We do family dinners sitting down all together at the table. And no known food allergies. I try to fix him a plate of what we are having but he pushes it away and asks to get down.

At daycare, however, he eats all kinds of things. Green beans, chicken nuggets, tuna noodle casserole, and so on. I have tried to fix things that he supposedly eats at daycare, but he won't touch them at home.

He is growing and is not small for his age (95th percentile in height and 50th percentile in weight), so I shouldn't be concerned. But, I totally am. Any suggestions?

Sara

Dearest Sara,

I (and I am confident enough to say most other mommies) feel your pain. The dinner table and the potty chair have the same standing in my eyes: devices of parental torture. I have learned a few things along the torture trail, though.

1. Let them help make dinner. Kids get excited when they have a part in the process. Just stirring the macaroni in the water or picking out the pieces of bread for a sandwich helps them feel like they are helping and, in turn, makes them more willing to eat it.
2. Give a dinner table warning. Let your son know that you will be sitting down to eat soon. My daughter has responded better when we let her know it is coming instead of just picking her up from whatever she is destroying doing and plopping her in her chair.
3. Kind of ignore the whole eating issue while actually at the table. The attention, whether positive or negative, only seems to make the pressure mount on both parties. If he eats, great. Don't say anything about it. If he just sits and sulks, great. Don't say anything about it. After you have all finished eating, tell him thank you for sitting with the family for dinner and send him on his merry way to flush Cheerios down your toilet.
4. Don't try to be Supermom. What he is eating sounds good to me. Slap that pb on wheat and consider yourself a success. All these micro-managing mommies tend to make us feel like shit if our kids aren't eating organic kumquats and quinoa at every meal, but screw them. Food is food. As long as he doesn't survive on Kool-Aid and Cheetos, you are doing a hell of a job.
5. Hide little stuff if you can. Puree crap and shove it in anywhere you can if you feel he needs more nutrients. It he likes peas, add some spinach. If he likes mac n cheese, puree in some carrots and cauliflower. Some people think this is trickery. I like to think or it more like magic. Now you see the spinach, now you don't TA-DA!
6. And last but not least, don't sweat it if he doesn't eat. You just said he eats at daycare. He isn't going to starve to death from one meal to the next. The simple fact is: he just might not be all that hungry.

Bottom line: you are doing everything right. Pour yourself some Pinot, load up an episode of Gossip Girl and relax. Your kid sounds awesome, healthy and, most importantly, NORMAL!

Smooches,

The Beer Bitch

Advice Under the Influence

Not sure of whether to go with Playtex or Dr. Brown's? Looking for a way to keep your toddler from shaving your cat again? Want to know what to do when your husband pees on the toilet seat again? Well, the Dr. is in. Email me your query and I will put on my thinking cap and publish your question, along with my answer. 

The Confessional

Sin from fellow a Boozehound: 

The night my grandfather died I was in college which of course meant drinking heavily. Found out the news the next morning and of course headed to be with the family. Had one of the worst hangovers of my life [NEVER substitute wine coolers for margarita mix and drink said concoction through red vines- just saying] which I instead pulled off as severe grief and they never knew different.

ILBAB says: This so reminds me of the pilot of Six Feet Under.

After doing crystal meth for the first time, which her boyfriend Gabe tells her is just going to make things "burn a little brighter", Claire gets a phone call from her brother telling her her dad was just killed.

Claire: I have to go. My dad just got hit by a bus and it broke his neck and he’s dead. I gotta go pick up my mom and bring her to the morgue so she can identify his body. (laughter) No, I’m not kidding. This is actually happening. And now I’m high on crack!
Gabe: Crystal.
Claire: Whatever! So I guess this whole hellish experience I’m about to go through is just gonna burn a little brighter now, right?! Great! Thank you! Fuck!

Overall though, minus the whole dead grandpa thing, I think using wine coolers to make margaritas and drinking them out of Red Vines (far superior to Twizzlers) is an amazing concept and we should try this again together.


The Confessional is now open. Have something you need to repent for? Feel free to send me your sin and I will help your purge your demons. 

Advice Under the Influence

Dear ILBAB,

My mother always gives us (me, my husband and son) weird gifts we don't like. Of course I know that she's doing this out of love, but everything just gets exchanged or donated. She often asks what to get for birthdays or Christmas, but no matter whether I tell her specific items or tell her not to get anything, she always ends up giving us something wacky. How can I get her to stop without admitting we don't like her gifts?

Thank you!!

Jenn

Dearest Jen,

Welcome to having a family. I can't tell you how many hideous sweaters, ugly decorations and weird knick-knacks I have gotten over the years, let alone the Disney-adorned clothing or age-inappropriate toys my children have received. Enough to clothe, furnish and entertain a small Ethiopian village, I imagine. You are not alone in the horrible gift department, but put things into perspective that at least you have people who love you enough to go out and buy you really shitty gifts. However, warm and fuzzy feelings aside, a few strategies might work to resolve the problem.

One thing I have thought about is letting family know that we have a new home and kids and would love gift cards to help us decorate and fix up the house, and you know, feed the kids and stuff. This will let them off the hook of looking for the perfect gift and help me get shit done. Win-win, right? You can do the same. Just let the fam know gift cards would be much appreciated and see if they cough them up instead of another set of matching reindeer sweaters for the family.

Not comfortable asking for gift cards? If you have any projects you need done, ask for specific things to help with them. Redoing the dining room? Ask for your mom to buy you the chairs you want for it. Adding a playroom? Ask for specific toys to go in it. Tell her you want her to be part of the project so she can feel needed and also feel like she is appreciated. Then she might be more willing to listen to your specific requests.

If logic shows no budge in the shitty gift department, go weird. Start buying her equally inappropriate gifts. Did she get your son a size 5 coat when he is only 2? Get her some pajamas that are 3x too big and no explanation to why. Did she buy you a hideous set of countrified candle holders to go on your fireplace when everything in your house is modern? Get her a creepy new-age statue for her coffee table, though you know she is traditional. It won't resolve the problem in any way, but at least it will be entertaining.

Hope this helps.

Smooches,

The Beer Bitch

Advice Under the Influence

Not sure of whether to go with Playtex or Dr. Brown's? Looking for a way to keep your toddler from shaving your cat again? Want to know what to do when your husband pees on the toilet seat again? Well, the Dr. is in. Email me your query and I will put on my thinking cap and publish your question, along with my answer. 

The Confessional

For the last 20-something years, my mom has kept up the ruse that my old dog, Shelby, actually was one dog in the history of the world to be taken to live on a farm. Finally, last month, I was able to get her to admit that Shelby was, instead, hit by a car. My mom would even elaborate the lie with who owned the farm, the goats Shelby would play with, how much she liked to run there, etc. Busted!


The Confessional is now open. Have something you need to repent for? Feel free to send me your sin and I will help your purge your demons.

Why potty training is like prison.

Potty training sucks. BIG TIME. I have found it is a lot like prison. Here's why:

You can't escape it.
No matter how hard you try to get out of it, you are going to have to do your time. Your can't beg, plead or cry your way out of your sentence. You just have to suck it up and do the hard time, coaxing your toddler to do something they don't want to do with stickers, M&Ms and outright bribery.

Your are on lockdown.
There will be no trips to the park, grocery store or The Target in your future. Outside potties are "scary" and fear of an accident while out or regressing if you slap a diaper on your little trainer is just too much to bear, so you are on house arrest until this hell potty training is over.

You are on latrine duty.
No matter how careful you are and how much you prepare, there is going to end up being pee everywhere--the toilet, the bathmat, the floor, the walls. So, bring out the rubber gloves and toilet brush because mommy is on toilet duty. FOREVER.

Your sentence is indefinite.
Though you have been sentenced to a month in the loo, you may get let off early for good behavior or you may have a tough peerole hearing and get another year tacked on to your sentence. Only time, and Jack Daniels, will tell.

Your cell is small…and dirty.
You are about to be locked in a cell the size of, well, your bathroom for the next month…or more. No matter how much you clean, sitting on the floor near the toilet is always sort of skeevy. I mean, come on, you poop in there.

Your cellmate is annoying.
You are now stuck for the majority of your day with a tiny cellmate that can be super annoying. The 500th time they ask you, "But why?" when you tell them they have to try to go on the potty may not cause you to attack them with a shiv, but it may cause you to bring the box of wine in and plant it firmly on the sink.

It all happened one night…
…when you got knocked up. One night of reckless sex has led to an indefinite sentence of cleaning up someone else's poop and pee out of a tiny, tiny toilet. And you even have to help them wipe. Was the crime really worth the time?

You may get sent back.
Even after your release for good behavior, chances are, you will be sent back to prison for violating parole. A new baby, daycare, illness, brand of milk, etc., can send your cellmate into a tizzy that will result in you getting sent back to the slammer diaper duty.

The Confessional

A post from Motherhood: A Descent into Madness reminded me of this Confession.

When I was maybe 10, my friend brought her hamster over to play with my hamster, Buster. They had a lot of fun. A LOT of fun. They had hamster sex, on my bedroom floor, right in front of us. Not sure what to do, we let them finish and put her hamster back in its box.

Well, three weeks later (bitches), I go in to feed Buster (who I thought was a boy) and found that "he" had had about 10 babies in the middle of the night. A few days later, we found one of the babies in the laundry hamper (I seriously have no idea how). Knowing we shouldn't touch them, we just picked up the shirt it was on and put it back with its family. Que the next morning when I woke up and found all of the babies dead--and partly EATEN! Shivers. Nightmares. Therapy. Charles Shaw.


The Confessional is now open. Have something you need to repent for? Feel free to send me your sin and I will help your purge your demons.