How to scare your child into acting right

Sometimes, tough love, redirection and positive reinforcement just aren't enough. Sometimes mommy has to whip up a batch of crazy to fix bad behaviors. Here are a few ways to fix some of the most common toddler faux pas.

Throwing Things
Start throwing things back. They won't be happy once they learn that Mommy has a wicked arm and fierce aim. About the 20th time they get beaned in the melon with a Lego, they won't find throwing things as fun anymore.

Screaming
Tell them that the screaming makes the voices in your head come out. Start whispering everything you say in a super creepy voice. Say things like, "Mommy likey makey cookie. Cookies are evil. Do you likey cookies?" They will most likely be so freaked out by "evil Mommy" that they will be too afraid to scream.

Throwing Tantrums
Become a drama queen. Dropped a dish? Roll around on the floor flailing your arms and crying. Get the cable bill? Run around the house screaming, "NO! Why me! It's not fair!" Run out of toothpaste? Throw the tube down, stomp on it and scream at the top of your lungs. Chances are, your kids will be so embarrassed by your behavior that they will shape up just so they don't look like they are related to you.

Not Sharing
Stop sharing your stuff, too. Sorry, no Dora. The TV is MOMMY'S! Oh, you have to go to the bathroom? Too bad. The potty is MINE! Thirsty? NO! This is MY MILK!

Refusing to go to Bed
Let 'em stay up all night. Just tell them mommy is off duty at 9 p.m. and that they have to fend for themselves after that. Chances are, they will get bored once their slave is no longer there to serve them and fall asleep on the couch within 15 minutes of watching Bubble Guppies.

Biting/Hitting
Tell them that every time they bite/hit, God punches a puppy. No kid wants to see God punch a puppy.

Lying
Start making everything you say a lie. Make the lies really weird and confusing to throw them off guard.

Kid: What time is dinner?
Mom: We already ate. You missed it.
Kid: But it's only 2 p.m.
Mom: I know, you are REALLY late.
Kid: So when is breakfast?
Mom: Next Tuesday.
Kid: But it is only Thursday.
Mom: Yes. You better be sure you aren't late again.
Kid: But I am hungry now.
Mom: Well I guess you should have been there for dinner.

Body by Baby

Many of us feel embarrassed of our post baby bodies. Some of us are surprised that we didn't snap right back to our pre-baby bodies. The truth is, no matter how fast you bounce back to your pre-pregnancy state, you will never be the same. Be it from stretch marks, wider hips, sagging breasts, or just a new state of mind about your body, you are now forever changed by the miracle that is childbirth.

So, because Gisele and all her friends make it seem like stretchmarks don't happen, I started Body by Baby. Stretchmarks do happen. So does saggy skin. And saggy boobs. And that is ok. Because we are real women. Our bodies aren't perfect. But they didn't get this way on their own. They got this way because we are fucking awesome and CREATED A HUMAN IN THEM. What's a stretchmark or a muffin top when we actually made life?

This is what a real woman's belly looks like. This is what having beautiful babies does to a girl. And it is awesome:

This is Keri. She is a mom of two.

Here is her story:

I so love this magic you started.  I'm Keri Kettle and I have a 14-year-old and an 11-year-old. I know most of your baby belly pics are recent moms but I want to save women from crazy diets, creams and insane work-outs. I lost all my "baby weight" a decade ago. I'm a size 4 and, yes, it still looks like this. The only fix I know of is a tummy tuck, so save your pennies or just say "fuck it, I made babies and I'm awesome." I'm Keri Kettle and I blog about getting a fabulous life and great love after divorce at Holding Your Grace.

Thanks, Keri. You are the shit for sharing with us what we all hide from each other.

Body by Baby all started here, but you glorious bitches have kept it going. Feeling frisky? Send me your own Body by Baby portrait and I will share it with all six of my readers the world. Anonymously or not. Your choice. Email them to me at ilikebeerandbabies @ gmail . com (remove spaces).

What Happens on the First Day Home from the Hospital

Leaving the comfort of the hospital to venture into the unknown of parenting is a scary thing. The first day home usually goes something like this:


Wake up to breakfast in bed provided by the hospital cafeteria.

Have the lovely nurses in the nursery wheel in your precious baby and spend the morning bonding.

Talk to the Dr., who tells you the great news: you are being discharged today.
Panic.

Realize you left the car seat in the car.
Panic.

Send hubby to get said car seat while you are alone with the baby.
Panic.

Realize you don't know how to work the car seat.
Panic.

Finally get the baby in the car seat only to realize that it looks like you just placed a mouse in a cage fit for an elephant.
Panic.

Say goodbye to the lovely hospital staff and thank them for all they have done.
Panic.

Get wheeled down to the car while realizing that this is it: no more pushing a button to get help when you need it.
Panic.

Get yourself, the hubby and the baby in the car.
Panic.

Drive five miles an hour on the car ride home.
Panic.

Get home and feel like a strange man in a strange land.
Panic.

Get unpacked and wonder what to do next.
Panic.

The baby cries.
Panic.

Try to figure out what the baby wants.
Panic.

Figure out what the baby wanted only to have it start crying again.
Panic.

Try to figure out what the baby wants.
Panic.

Figure out what the baby wanted only to have it start crying again.
Panic.

Try to figure out what the baby wants.
Panic.

Figure out what the baby wanted only to have it start crying again.
Panic.

Realize that you have been home for eight hours and haven't eaten or used the bathroom.
Panic/get faint.

Decide it is time for everyone to try to go to bed and put the baby down for the night.
Panic.

Obsessively watch the baby sleep and analyze every twitch and breath.
Panic.

Baby wakes up crying.
Panic.

Feed baby and put it back to sleep.
Panic.

Obsessively watch the baby sleep and analyze every twitch and breath.
Panic.

Baby wakes up crying.
Panic.

Feed baby and put it back to sleep.
Panic.

Obsessively watch the baby sleep and analyze every twitch and breath.
Panic.

Baby wakes up crying.
Panic.

Feed baby and put it back to sleep.
Panic.

Obsessively watch the baby sleep and analyze every twitch and breath.
Panic.

Baby wakes up crying.
Panic.

Decide that it is finally time to call it night and start your day.

You made it!
One day down, 18 more years to go.

Eat, Sleep, Poop and Play

I often found, when faced with my crying newborn, that I just kind of froze and had no idea what the problem could be. It was like all time and space stopped and my mind was a complete blank. It was just me and a crying bag of goo that needed something. What that something was, I was too far gone on The Postpartum Crazy Train to figure out. I found that this list helped me. Hope it helps you, too.

Having a Sad Moment

Whether you are in the trenches of the terrible twos or have a child who always runs with high emotions, you are probably looking for a way to both help them through the tantrums and keep from losing your ever-loving shit every time they have a meltdown. In our house, that way is the "Sad Moment".

The Sad Moment is a way to help your toddler deal with their emotions when there is nothing really "wrong". For example, when they want to play with a toy their friend is playing with and get hysterical when you tell them "no". Or when they ask for a cookie before dinner and you tell them they need to wait.

After I explain to The Quiet Contemplator the right thing to do in the situation or why she can't have what she wants, I ask her is she wants to have a Sad Moment. She almost always says yes. I then give her her turtle pillow pet (or any soft stuffed thing you want) and she buries her head in it and cries until she feels better. Usually this lasts less than a minute.

A Sad Moment with Turtle is kind of just a place for her to put her emotions when she doesn't know what to do with them. It almost always makes her feel better. I am amazed every time she says "yes" when I ask her if she needs a Sad Moment. It is like she knows that she just needs a release. Afterward, she totally rebounds and it is like nothing happened.

I guess this is kind of like a time out, only it helps your kid get rid of all the pent-up emotion while also giving them time to think. I hope this helps some of you. I know it has helped the crap out of us. Thank you, Allison. You are an awesome mom!

Mommy Tolerance Threshold Scale

I have found that I have a Mommy Tolerance Threshold Scale when it comes to bad behavior. Whether it is putting Cheerios in the toilet for the 20th time, or hitting the cat when I have said not to a million times, there are varying levels of annoyedness to my Mommy Scale and I can go from green to black in about five seconds. Enjoy, and please don’t call DCFS.

Level 1: (No Annoyance Rating)  
Oh, isn’t that cute.  
You are such a smart and precocious child. I am so proud of you. Everything you do just amazes me. (Insert puppy dogs, rainbows and unicorn farts here.)

Level 2: (Low Annoyance Rating) 
They are just testing boundaries because they are smart.   
Nothing to worry about. They are just exploring cause and effect and seeing how I react. If I yell at them, it will only discourage them.

Level 3: (Moderate Annoyance Rating) 
Honey, sweetie, please don’t do that.  
Sweetheart, I get your curiosity for new things, but what you are doing is getting on Mommy’s nerves just a bit. Let’s try some redirection, shall we?

Level 4: (High Annoyance Rating) 
DUDE, please don’t do that.   
OK, enough with this redirection crap. Mommy said no and Mommy meant no. Now knock it off before Mommy gets stabbity.

Level 5: (Very High Annoyance Rating)
 Seriously, knock it the f*ck off. 
Mommy has said no about 15 times now and you keep doing it. Have you had a stroke and gone deaf or something? What is wrong with you? STOP IT!

Level 6: (ABORT! ABORT!) 
ADD Daddy, take the wheel.   
ADD Daddy, take these kids. Now. Mommy is going to go drink until she can look at your faces again.

My Husband has "Man Hands"

So my husband is a wonderful man. He does the dishes, actually knows when our kids eat, sleep and poop, made late-night mozzarella stick runs for me when I was pregnant, cleans the litter box, etc. But, unfortunately, he is still a man. Therefore, he has what I refer to as “Man Hands”. This dreaded affliction causes him to do some very stupid things. See below for just a taste of the good stuff.

The Wet Vac Incident

So my poor obese cat frequently gets UTIs. The unfortunate result of this is a sick kitty cat that pees in the house. One such day, my husband found the puddle on the carpet and said he would clean it. Sweet. Thanks. Yeah, I regretted that response five minutes later. I come back in the room to find my husband using our regular vacuum cleaner to vacuum up the pee. The rest of the conversation went something like this:

Me: WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
Him: Cleaning up the cat pee.
Me: With the VACUUM?
Him: Yeah. Why?
Me: Because it isn’t a WET VAC!
Him: What’s the difference?
Me: The ability to vacuum up WET things.
Him: Why does it matter.
Me: Because now there is cat pee in the electronic-y part of the vacuum and cat pee in the dust bin.
Him: So?
Me: So that probably isn’t good.
Him: So?
Me: So you get to do all of the vacuuming from now on.


All Dish Soaps are Not Created Equal

One Tuesday morning, my husband was nice enough to do all the dishes and start the dishwasher before he headed out for work. Awesome, right? Wrong. Twenty minutes later, I hear a weird sound from the kitchen. I go in to check on it and find my entire kitchen flooding with water and foam. “WTF?,” I think to myself. Then it hits me: the hubs used dish soap in place of dishwasher detergent. After I clean up the kitchen, I call to confirm.

Me: Did you put dish soap in the dishwasher instead of dish detergent?
Him: Yeah. We were out of detergent. Why?
Me: Because it flooded the entire kitchen.
Him: That sucks. Why did it do that?
Me: Because you can’t put dish soap in the dishwasher.
Him: Why?
Me: Because the detergent you use in the dishwasher is non-foaming. Dish soap isn’t.
Him: Well that’s stupid.
Me: Not really. It’s science or something.
Him: Well that’s stupid.
Me: Um, OK. Just don’t do that again.
Him: OK.


Please Don't Ever Be Nice And Wash My Car For Me

So I come home from work one Friday to find my new car all shiny and freshly washed. My husband had spent the day hand-washing it so it would look all swanky clean for me to drive up to the wineries with my girlfriends who were visiting the next day. What a sweet man I married. Before said girlfriends arrived in town, I had to go to the store to stock the house with the appropriate amount of booze and cheese-filled goodness. So, I headed out to the garage to take my shiny new wheels for a spin.

Much to my horror, I noticed that the driver’s side door of my new car no longer had the sheen of a new paint job, but more resembled the flat, scratched-up crappy paint job of a beater you would find at the junkyard. I go back in the house and the following conversation ensued:

Me: Did you do something to the door of my car when you were washing it today?
Him: No. Why?
Me: Because the paint is all scratched up in a weird circular pattern.
Him: All I did was clean the bird poop off of the side of it.
Me: What did you clean it with?
Him: The green sponge in the sink.
Me: You mean the green scratch pad in the sink?
Him: Yeah. Why?
Me: Because that is a heavy-duty scratch pad, not a sponge.
Him: So?
Me: So it not only takes crusted food off pans but it also takes the paint off of cars.
Him: I think you are making a bigger deal of this than it really is.
Me: Seriously? You basically used a BRILLO PAD to clean bird sh*t off of my car.
Him: It isn’t that big of a deal.
Me: Seriously? I have owned that car for less than a month and now the paint is ruined on the driver’s side.
Him: It isn’t that big of a deal.
Me: Seriously? Do you think using a scratch pad to wash the car was a GOOD idea?
Him: It isn’t that big of a deal.
Me: Seriously? Just get me a beer and don’t talk to me for a while.

One Year Ago Today

One year ago today, my brother was murdered.

He was a loud-mouthed redneck with fiery hair and an even hotter temper (sound familiar?).

This is the eulogy I wrote for him:

John was an original soul.
He lived life by his own set of rules and never compromised who he was.
He loved fast cars, a good Beam and Coke and his family.

He was an entertainer.
He loved to tell a good story.
Some would make a prostitute blush, but they all made you laugh.
Some of them were even partly true.

I have three brothers.
One I would call if I needed life advice.
One I would call if I needed help with the house.
And one I would call if I needed bailed out of jail.
I will let you guess which one John was.

 

John had a genuine heart.
He would be there for you whenever you needed him, no questions asked.
He had a love for his family that was endless and he was never afraid to tell you that he loved you or give you a hug, no matter how much time or distance had come between you since you had last seen each other.

John was always a firecracker, meant to burn out hard and bright.
People called him "animal" for a reason.
He was wild and untamed and that is why we loved him.

What can you do to help? 

Share this post: How to Help.

You can also donate to the Crime Victim Advocacy Center. I can't even begin to explain how much they have helped me recover.

In memory of John. I love you, brother.

Body By Baby

Many of us feel embarrassed of our post baby bodies. Some of us are surprised that we didn't snap right back to our pre-baby bodies. The truth is, no matter how fast you bounce back to your pre-pregnancy state, you will never be the same. Be it from stretch marks, wider hips, sagging breasts, or just a new state of mind about your body, you are now forever changed by the miracle that is childbirth.

So, because Gisele and all her friends make it seem like stretchmarks don't happen, I started Body by Baby. Stretchmarks do happen. So does saggy skin. And saggy boobs. And that is ok. Because we are real women. Our bodies aren't perfect. But they didn't get this way on their own. They got this way because we are fucking awesome and CREATED A HUMAN IN THEM. What's a stretchmark or a muffin top when we actually made life?

This is what a real woman's belly looks like. This is what having beautiful babies does to a girl. And it is awesome:

This is Andrea from Andrea Arch. She is a mom of one of the most adorable baby boys I have ever seen. Seriously.

Here is her story:
I'm the kind of woman who fights her weight. Every. Single. Day. Have since puberty. I love to eat and hate to exercise. Then we decided to have a baby. Knowing Oreos and cookie batter weren't an ideal pregnancy diet, I gave up the sweets and started eating foods I've spent a lifetime avoiding… you know, like fruits and veggies. I loaded up on omegas and protein and calcium and all those other healthy essentials Baby Arch needed. Even though I was dedicated to my diet for nine months, I still gained 47 lbs during my pregnancy.

I find it funny that doctors tell you (in reference to exercising while pregnant), if you weren't doing it before, don't start now. Umm…so no exercise at all for me then because I certainly wasn't working out pre-baby. And who the hell can go on long walks without pissing their pants?! Not I.

My OB decided to rip me a new one during one of my later appointments. She told me I was gaining way too much weight and needed to cut out the drive thrus, processed foods, pop, etc. Excuse me bitch, but I wasn't eating any of those things to begin with…don't act like you know me.

Besides, I'm a 6' 2", size 12, (formerly) 167 lb woman. My husband is roughly the same size as me…so there's no way we were popping out some little petite five-lb baby. I was certain I was growing a baby giraffe. My son Brody ended up being 9 lbs 2 oz at birth.

I'm down 35.5 lbs to date (14 weeks postpartum) with a few patches of stretch marks and that damn line down my belly that I'm convinced will never go away. My dress pants and belts don't fit, my back fat has returned with a vengeance and my hips will never be the same. My ambition to exercise comes and goes, I spend my evenings in sweatpants and my squishy boobs make excellent pillows for Brody.

I put on a lot of weight during my pregnancy and I'm OK with that. Those pounds came from an extra serving of chicken at dinner, or the natural sugar found in the fruit smoothies I made, or the bags of carrots I consumed while sitting at my desk. I nourished and gave birth to a beautiful, happy, HEALTHY baby boy…and at the end of the day, that's all that matters.

So eff you, OB. I'm proud of my tiger stripes. Rawr.

Thanks, Andrea. You are the shit for sharing with us what we all hide from each other.

Body by Baby all started here, but you glorious bitches have kept it going. Feeling frisky? Send me your own Body by Baby portrait and I will share it with all six of my readers the world. Anonymously or not. Your choice. Email them to me at ilikebeerandbabies @ gmail . com (remove spaces).

Mommy Porn

After I had The Cool Cucumber, I did a post on Postpartum Porn. It was all about how to make a mommy hot when she has just had a baby.

Nowadays, everyone calls 50 Shades of Grey "Mommy Porn". This got me thinking: what really turns mommies on? Yeah, some cheap, hot, sexy reading is great and all, but if you really want to get my mommy motor running, there are easier ways.  

Such as saying:

You look like you had a hard day. Don't worry, I already made dinner and cleaned up the kitchen. Why don't you pour yourself a glass of wine and catch up on your Tivo while I give the kids a bath and put them to bed.

Daycare called and said they need 57 forms updated, the kids shot records and our DNA sequences. Don't worry, I already contacted the pediatrician's office, picked everything up, dropped it off at daycare and filed a duplicate copy for our records.

I was at the store today and thought we might be out of cat litter, diapers, toilet paper, laundry soap, glitter and hemorrhoid cream, so I picked some up just in case.

I noticed that cleaning the house and doing the laundry has gotten a little overwhelming for you so I went ahead and hired a maid to help you out. Oh, and just so you wouldn't feel uncomfortable, I got the wartiest and hairiest one they had.

I find it so sexy when you wear no make up and pajamas pants all day. It just reminds me how relaxed and laid back you are.

I finished the laundry, unloaded the dishwasher and cleaned the bathrooms. Is there anything else I can do to help around the house?

You looked like you could use a night away so I booked you a hotel suite and called all of your girlfriends to go out on the town. Why don't you go take a nice long bath and get ready while I take the kids to get haircuts?

They were offering flu shots at Target today so I went ahead and got me and the kids vaccinated. I also picked up your Xanax and a box of wine while I was there.

I am heading to the store to pick up some beer. Why don't you give me the grocery list and I will just get everything while I am out. Don't worry, I will call you if I have any questions on what brands to get or if I should get something in fat free or regular.

Did you read about that new study that says that women who keep on the baby weight are 10x more likely to have sex with Ryan Gosling than women who lose it all? I know, I thought it was really weird too.


So, Boozehounds, what domestic things could your husband say to make you all hot in the baby-making region?

Meet me in Mommyland

For you regulars, I am over at Rants From Mommyland talking about why toddlers are kind of dicks.

For those of you who have made your way here from Rants From Mommyland, allow me to introduce you to, well, me. I am Julie, also known as The Beer Bitch.

I have two kids, a husband and an obese cat.

I work full-time.

I drive a minivan named Rambone.

I have stretchmarks.

I am far from mother of the year.

I have experienced loss.

Follow me on Facebook, Pinterest and Twitter.

Overall, I am a real mom with real ups and downs. And I share them here. I hope you will stay a while. Grab a glass of cheap wine and catch up. I'll wait.

A Goodbye from The Cool Cucumber

Today is one of The Cool Cucumber's favorite teacher's last day at his school. He has asked that I publish a letter from him to his favorite teacher to mark her passage from his life (hopefully not forever).


My Dearest Alyssa,

I can't believe you are doing this to me. After all that we have been through. You are a cruel, cruel woman. You know that you complete me and without you I will be nothing but a drooling, mess of a man (even more so than I already am).

Me, tomorrow. And every day after that.

Who will wipe my snail trails in your absence? Did you even think of that? That you leaving me would result in someone else getting all of the slimy kisses that I had until now reserved for you? Because they will. I will move on faster than Drew Peterson. This I promise you.

Will the kids you see at the vastly inferior places you visit via your new vocation put a bucket on their head and play the fool for you? I think not. Those neanderthals won't even be able to respond to their own names, let alone have the acting chops or the coordination that I do. And you know that, Alyssa. You know that.

Never again.

Remember when it was just you and me and Mary against the world? We had it all. Hugs, kisses, patty cake. And you ruined it. All for what, a few pennies? Does it make you feel like a big (wo)man abandoning a baby like that? My god, Alyssa. Did you ever even think about me? Did you?

You're dead to me now. Mary is my rock.

I even let you into my home. Let you sleep under my roof and play with my toys and this is how you repay me?

Little did I know this airplane would soon crash and burn.

I was faking it.

And you will never see this face again. You know what I am talking about...

I've got a secret...

But it's OK. I will survive. Mary is loyal and won't abandon me to die in the cold streets like you did. She's my new queen.

Alyssa who?

Oh, fuck it. I'm just trying to hide the truth.

DON'T LEAVE ME, ALYSSA! I love you. You are the (almond)milk to my Cheerios, the Kleenex to my constant runny nose, the woobie to my nap time. I can't live without you. Please don't go. I love you so.

I'll change. I will be a better man for you. I will pick up my toys and stop wiping my snot on you. I will take a nap every day and never leave the lid on the potty chair up. I will stand with you on a mountain and bathe with you in the sea or whatever other garbage that stupid ass band Savage Garden said. Whatever you want, just don't leave.

Oh, you're leaving anyway? Well then, call me.

XOXO

The H Man

I'll be waiting...

Body by Baby

Many of us feel embarrassed of our post baby bodies. Some of us are surprised that we didn't snap right back to our pre-baby bodies. The truth is, no matter how fast you bounce back to your pre-pregnancy state, you will never be the same. Be it from stretch marks, wider hips, sagging breasts, or just a new state of mind about your body, you are now forever changed by the miracle that is childbirth.

So, because Gisele and all her friends make it seem like stretchmarks don't happen, I started Body by Baby. Stretchmarks do happen. So does saggy skin. And saggy boobs. And that is ok. Because we are real women. Our bodies aren't perfect. But they didn't get this way on their own. They got this way because we are fucking awesome and CREATED A HUMAN IN THEM. What's a stretchmark or a muffin top when we actually made life?


This is what a real woman's belly looks like. This is what having beautiful babies does to a girl. And it is awesome:

This is Kim. She is a mom of three.

Here is her story:

My name is Kim and I'm a 33-year-old mother of three monkeys, 7, 6 and almost 3. I had c-sections with all three of my kids. I used to be one of those people that never had to worry about what they ate. I would sometimes have people accuse me of being anorexic (jealous bitches). Not anymore though. My 30s hit me with a bang and I have lost my metabolism along with my sanity. 

P.S. I miss my old belly button.

Thanks, Kim. You are the shit for sharing with us what we all hide from each other.

Body by Baby all started here, but you glorious bitches have kept it going. Feeling frisky? Send me your own Body by Baby portrait and I will share it with all six of my readers the world. Anonymously or not. Your choice. Email them to me at ilikebeerandbabies @ gmail . com (remove spaces).

Poopin' ain't easy

For those of you that are a little squeamish at just the title of this post, you may need to do a little light reading before you proceed on. Might I suggest the literary masterpiece by Taro Gomi, Everyone Poops. Because it's true. Poop happens. Moving on…

In our house, taking a poop by yourself is like locating the Bermuda Triangle and finding out Santa is real all in the same day: it ain't gonna happen. With two kids and a cat, you always have a surprise visitor mid-dump.

I can't lock the door because the last time I tried to poop alone (two years ago!) didn't go well. After two minutes in the bathroom alone, I found that The Quiet Contemplator (then 1) had climbed up our ottoman, into the windowsill and was banging on the glass--that was over two stories above the concrete sidewalk below.

So, to save my children from a Tears in Heaven ending, I never poop with the bathroom door locked or fully closed. Which invites a lot of spectators to my porcelain sporting events. Because who doesn't like those?

Here are just a few of the poop situations in our house as of late. Don't worry, they aren't gross. Mostly.

Captain's Log (because log is so appropriate here)

3-5-13
Today, The Quiet Contemplator came in and decided to out-poop me. While I was saddled up on the big potty, she pulled up her little potty and decided to have a competition of sorts. She won. Once she was finished and the stench she had laid was enough to knock me out, she proceed to exit the bathroom. THANKS!

3-11-13
The Contemplator joined me for the show and proceeded to tear pieces of toilet paper off the roll and individually put them in the toilet between my legs for my entire performance.

3-14-13
Today, The Cool Cucumber walked in, decided he didn't want to stay and walked out, leaving the door wide open so everyone in the house could watch me.

3-19-13
This morning, The Contemplator asked me 62 questions in rapid-fire succession. It is hard to concentrate on your number two when you are dealing with the Spanish Inquisition from your number one.

3-23-13
Today, The Cucumber crawled into my lap, tore pieces of toilet paper off the roll and then threw them on the floor, one by one. He then got down and proceeded to tear my bathroom book into shreds--while just out of my reach.

3-25-13
Today The Cucumber crawled into my lap to give me hugs and kisses. Um...thanks. But could they have waited just a few more minutes.

3-28-13
Today I decided I would try to derail The Cucumber's efforts to attend my poo performance. As soon as he toddled in, I asked him to go get me a book from his room. He toddled right back out. VICTORY! Unfortunately, he is getting smart so he came back two seconds later with a book for me to read to him. We had stinky story time.

3-31-13
Today I went into the bathroom to go and found a fresh Mr. Hanky laying on the bathroom rug in front of the toilet. I walked right back out.

4-6-13
Today the cat walked in, sat right in front on me and stared me down with a look of disgust the entire time I was on the pot. Because that isn't creepy. At all.

4-10-13
Today The Quiet Contemplator stood in front of me with her legs crossed crying that she had to go to the bathroom RIGHT NOW! When I told her to use the other potty, she responded, "No. I want THIS potty." So I had to cut things off halfway through so she could go.

Fuck it. I quit.


So what about you, do you ever get to poop alone? Have you read I Just Want to Pee Alone?

Toddler Erectile Dysfunction

There is a new epidemic hitting the toddler set today. It is a sad and horrible condition that affects not only the children who have it, but also their parents and loved ones. It is a silent disease. You may not even know your child has it until it is too late. It is called Toddler Erectile Dysfunction*. But this terrible condition doesn't just affect male children. No, it is just as prevalent in females. Here are just a few signs that your child may be afflicted with Toddler Erectile Dysfunction.

Symptoms of Toddler Erectile Dysfunction (TED):
Getting a Stiffy
Trying to buckle your child into their carseat and they get as rigid as a schoolmarm on sex education day? Your child may have TED.
Trying to put your child in the stroller so you can go for a nice walk in the park and they go stiffer than Ron Jeremy? Your child may have TED.
Trying to give your child a bath and they pop a full-body boner the second their toes touch the water? Your child may have TED.

Going Limp
Trying to get your toddler dressed because you are already 10 minutes late for work and your kid turns into a bowl of JELL-O? Your child may have TED.
Trying to put your toddler down so you can put the box of wine in the cart at The Target and they turn into a puddle of goo? Your child may have TED.
Trying to pick your child up after a full-on meltdown at a birthday party and they turn into a boneless jellyfish? Your child may have TED.

Causes of Toddler Erectile Dysfunction (TED):
Scientists have pontificated that the contraction TED is a direct result of toddlers being batshit crazy little beings that can't be swayed with any sort of reasoning.

Diagnosing Toddler Erectile Dysfunction (TED):
Chances are, if you have a toddler, they are already affected by Toddler Erectile Dysfunction. If you haven't seen any signs yet, the disease may be lying dormant, waiting for you to be in a public place where TED's symptoms will be most humiliating.

Treating Toddler Erectile Dysfunction (TED):
If you think your child may be experiencing symptoms of Toddler Erectile Dysfunction, grab the nearest bottle of booze you can find and take a big swig.

You can help cure TED.
Though there is currently no cure for Toddler Erectile Dysfunction, there is hope for the future. Join me in fighting TED by donating just five minutes of your time each day (the time it takes to make a cup of coffee) and drinking yourself silly. Every swig you take will get us one step closer to beating this horrible disease, or at least from giving a shit about it.

That, and sharing this post. Because if you don't, you will get a raging case of The Herpes.

*Toddler Erectile Dysfunction is a completely made-up condition. If you thought it was real, you need more than a drink.

If Men Were on Pinterest

My husband recently said that he was thinking about getting on Pinterest. I immediately started laughing hysterically. He asked why it was so funny and I said because I was thinking of what a straight man's Pinterest boards would look like. Here is what I imagine they would be:

Shit my wife will never let me buy
This board would be filled with pins about fancy boats, expensive cars, motorcycles, samurai swords, grenade launchers, etc. All ridiculously expensive crap that all men covet and few ever realize because a woman comes into their lives and ruins all of their fun. Because, really, who doesn't need a life-size replica of a civil war cannon that shoots cantaloupes out of it at 300 miles per hour?

Dead things I can cook on the grill
This board will strictly contain things about meat, meat and more meat. Beer butt chicken, ribs, meat rubs, sauces, you name it. If it used to cluck, moo, baa, oink or quack, it is on this board. And soon will be on fire.

Rabbit food for the grill
This will contain pins about things that you can cook on the grill that are not meat. You gotta make the wife happy, after all.

Mmmmmm…bacon.
Because in a man's eyes (and mine) bacon deserves its own special place. A place not to be sullied by other pins. Just an ode to sweet, sweet swine fat.

Fantasy baseball/football shit
Dear God. Fantasy leagues. If your husband is a Fantasy man, you know how all-consuming they can be. My husband even makes a pilgrimage out of state once a year so he can "draft his team" while I am stuck alone with the youngins. So, while he is hours away eating pizza and drinking copious amounts of beer, I have to man the fort alone with two seemingly inebriated midgets. FTW? To even the playing field, I am starting a Fantasy MasterChef league. For irony's sake, we will hold our draft at the local Applebee's. Mudslides and Riblets for all!

Shit I can make with my hands
Or, more appropriately titled, "Shit that can help me lose a finger". This board is all about the man projects. This is probably the most realistic board for the Pinterest circuit. Because none of the shit on this board will ever see the light of day. And if they do, the projects will most certainly be abandoned halfway through. In the middle of our living room. After it has been covered with a fine layer of sawdust. And paint. And grease.

Power tools and shit
This board contains more power. And lost fingers.

Shit that will get me drunk
Cocktail recipes, beers that can only be found in impossible and faraway places, bourbons, bar designs, cocktail glasses, beer bongs, etc. This board is all about booze. I like this board. A lot. Men shouldn't use this board and the "Shit I can make with my hands" board together. I am serious about the lost finger thing. Gross.

Pictures of boobs
Enough said.

Shit my wife would like
Really, this board should be titled, "Shit that will help me get laid." This board gets started because the man sees something his wife will like and pins it. This only happens once and the board is quickly abandoned to pin more things like videos of a chimpanzee who sticks its finger in its butt, smells it, then falls off a tree branch. Man, I loved that video.


I am on the damn time-suck that is Pinterest. You can follow me here.

Body by Baby

Many of us feel embarrassed of our post baby bodies. Some of us are surprised that we didn't snap right back to our pre-baby bodies. The truth is, no matter how fast you bounce back to your pre-pregnancy state, you will never be the same. Be it from stretch marks, wider hips, sagging breasts, or just a new state of mind about your body, you are now forever changed by the miracle that is childbirth.

So, because Gisele and all her friends make it seem like stretchmarks don't happen, I started Body by Baby. Stretchmarks do happen. So does saggy skin. And saggy boobs. And that is ok. Because we are real women. Our bodies aren't perfect. But they didn't get this way on their own. They got this way because we are fucking awesome and CREATED A HUMAN IN THEM. What's a stretchmark or a muffin top when we actually made life?


This is what a real woman's belly looks like. This is what having beautiful babies does to a girl. And it is awesome:

This is Nellie. She is the mom of two girls, 6 and 4, and a little boy, 11 months (news break: soon to be four babies)!

Here is her story:

This is the temporary baby housing unit after three pregnancies. You can see my one escape artist stretch mark on the upper left side, it showed up with my oldest daughter and hung out forever, it's cool, I've made my peace with it.

Thanks, Nellie. You are the shit for sharing with us what we all hide from each other.

Body by Baby all started here, but you glorious bitches have kept it going. Feeling frisky? Send me your own Body by Baby portrait and I will share it with all six of my readers the world. Anonymously or not. Your choice. Email them to me at ilikebeerandbabies @ gmail . com (remove spaces).

Trusting Your Inner Mommy Instincts

I have learned lately to never ignore my inner-mommy instincts. The one that sometimes makes you feel like what you are thinking is crazy, but is no less right. The one that told me that my son had acid reflux and was lactose intolerant, even when Drs told me they didn't think that he was. He does and he is.

As moms, we are often worried that if we voice what we are truly feeling, we will just look crazy. Well I don't know about you, but I would rather voice the crazy and be wrong than not voice it and be right. I often feel like if I ask certain questions or bring up things I have found on the internets, that my Dr will just think I am nuts and tell me to stay away from Dr. Google. But what I have really found, is that I am not crazy. I am a mom. And I have a very strong mommy instinct. Ones that I should never ignore.

When my pediatrician sent me to an Ear Nose and Throat specialist to get my son looked at for tubes and adenoid removal, I thought nothing of it. Then, while at the appointment, where the very well qualified and highly recommended ENT recommended both procedures be done, something felt wrong about having the adenoids removed. And I mean REALLY wrong.

Adenoid removal is no big deal so why was I so worried? I don't know, but I just knew it was the wrong thing. No question. I have never felt something so strongly in my life. It was like I was being told by something bigger than me what to do. Or, moreover, what NOT to do. Don't worry, this isn't my "come to Jesus moment". This is more like my "come to mommy" moment.

So I called the best hospital in my area and got a second opinion. And I was right. Something told me that between my son's breathing issues and allergies, he wasn't going to make it through the general anesthesia required for adenoid removal. And you know what, even just under the gas that was used to insert the tubes, he faced real problems. His breathing was dangerously low and his heart rate dangerously high. And right then I knew: if I would have gone ahead with the other surgery, he would have died. Tomorrow, in fact.

Dramatic? Yes. But I can tell you with every fiber of my being that it is true. That if I hadn't listened to that niggling little voice in the back of my barely functioning mommy brain, my son would be breathing his last breath at 9:30 a.m. tomorrow morning. That if I would have listened to everyone who told me that it is "no big deal" and that I was just "overreacting" that I would have lost my son. Forever.

Our children can't advocate for themselves. They need us to grow a pair and do it for them. They need us to ask the uncomfortable questions, seek the best Drs and all-around be their champions. They need us to stand up to those who tell us what we are thinking is wrong and push forward to find real answers. They need us to listen to our instincts and not stop until we have done everything we can. They sometimes need us to seek second, and third and fourth opinions until we find the root of a problem. They need us to pull them out of a daycare because something "just doesn't feel right". They need us to spend hours on the phone with our insurance companies fighting for the care they need. They need us to do all of this and more. Because they can't.

But we can. And we do. Every day. 

So be "that mom". The one who overreacts sometimes. Or worries too much. Or asks so many questions your Dr dreads seeing you. Because it is your job. And it might just save your child's life one day. I can tell you without a doubt in my mind that it saved mine.

Still here.

Funny Photography

Some days, you just need something that is light and funny and makes you smile. I pretty much always get that from Dave Engledow. He spends his days documenting his time with his adorable daughter, Alice Bee. Most of it on his own, because his wife in one of the precious and brave few who are serving their country.

Dave's works of art usually feature him and Alice in some sort of precarious position. And they always include his signature accessory: a stark white ceramic mug that reads, "World's Best Father". 

Here are just a few of my favorites:

Daddy Style

This one is Over the Top

All work and no play makes Daddy a dull boy...

We've all been there...

But Dave isn't a one-trick pony. He also takes hauntingly beautiful images like this one of his wife leaving for a one-year tour of duty in Korea.

Commence ugly cry

As if that wasn't enough, Dave is also hilarious and says things like,

"As many parents know, certain foods with high acidity (like oranges and tomatoes) can cause irritation in the diaper area. During one of these outbreaks, Alice Bee was begging me for a cherry tomato, and I had to tell her "No sweetie, you can't eat that right now--it'll hurt your bum-bum".
She looks at me like I'm crazy and says, "No, Daddy, I wan' put it in my MOUF!"

and

'This morning while playing with Alice Bee, she gives me a big hug and says "You're my best Daddy...EVER!" I'm not exactly sure who these other daddies are I'm competing with, but it's still nice to hear that I'm #1."


Just thought I would share something that always makes smile. If you need some puppy dogs and rainbows in your day, be sure to check Dave out on Facebook.

Body by Baby

Many of us feel embarrassed of our post baby bodies. Some of us are surprised that we didn't snap right back to our pre-baby bodies. The truth is, no matter how fast you bounce back to your pre-pregnancy state, you will never be the same. Be it from stretch marks, wider hips, sagging breasts, or just a new state of mind about your body, you are now forever changed by the miracle that is childbirth.

So, because Gisele and all her friends make it seem like stretchmarks don't happen, I started Body by Baby. Stretchmarks do happen. So does saggy skin. And saggy boobs. And that is ok. Because we are real women. Our bodies aren't perfect. But they didn't get this way on their own. They got this way because we are fucking awesome and CREATED A HUMAN IN THEM. What's a stretchmark or a muffin top when we actually made life?

This is what a real woman's belly looks like. This is what having beautiful babies does to a girl. And it is awesome:

This is Elizabeth. She is the mom of a 2-year-old little girl.

Here is her story:
Before I became a mother, I used to love to make my own clothes. My daughter is two and a half and I finally got out my dressmaker's dummy last week for the first time since I got pregnant. I had to adjust the hips 4 and a half inches bigger for my post-baby body. No wonder none of my old waistbands fit! But I wouldn't change a damn thing, because this body gave me my wonderful girl. And when I start teaching her how to sew, I'll tell her to always put in elastic drawstring waists!

Thanks, Elizabeth. You are the shit for sharing with us what we all hide from each other.

Body by Baby all started here, but you glorious bitches have kept it going. Feeling frisky? Send me your own Body by Baby portrait and I will share it with all six of my readers the world. Anonymously or not. Your choice. Email them to me at ilikebeerandbabies @ gmail . com (remove spaces).