Wednesday, November 30, 2011

10 Questions About Christmas Cards

I hate sending holiday cards because I am so freaking bad at it. Every year, the whole process kicks my hindparts and reminds me that no matter how old I get, I will never be a real grown-up.

Example? One year, I actually got all the cards done by the 20th of December. WIN! And then I found them under the passenger seat of my van six days later. FAIL.

It’s a series of problems for me.  Let's start at the beginning. I have ten questions about stupid Christmas cards.  Something that for normal people is easy but for  me is excruciatingly hard.

10. When do I have to order these mofos so that I can send them out in time? I think about… two weeks ago. Shizzle.

9. What the hell kind of card should we send out this year? Make or buy? Usually make.  Not "make" in the manner of an annoying and talented Martha Stewart type person, but rather "make" as in Shutterfly or TinyPrints or something.  But that means a picture.

8. But which picture? And does a suitable picture exist? And where the hell is it? I know I had one but is it on my phone or in my camera on the memory card or (most likely) taken by my friend and randomly posted on Facebook? That will be a fun three hours.

7. So we’ve decided on a card and found a photo and the cards are all ordered … And hold up – HOW MUCH DOES THIS COST? And does that even include stamps?  Gahhh!

6. And wait. Where’s the list of who we’re sending these things to? Every year I swear that I’m going to update the incredibly old excel spreadsheet and the every year it seems hopelessly out of date.

5. And umm…Can I just print out some labels or is that tacky? Because handwriting all these envelopes is going to take forever and I will flip my brisket. 

4. Speaking of time-saving and tacky, can I just sign our names to the card or do I have to write a greeting on each one? My husband, the fantastical Cap’n Coupon says it’s in really bad taste not to write a greeting.  Meanwhile, I just want to get the notecard type of thingee, print out mailing labels, and not even sign my name.  But he says if I do that it means that I hate Christmas and I’m a bad American.

3. So instead of writing a greeting in each card, should we write one of those group letters? I think that if done well, those group letters are AWESOME.  If done badly they are more painful than a bad case of anal fissures. So do we include one or not? My mom says it’s fine to do so on the years you have something to tell people (a new job, new house, new baby, etc). But I mean, surely people will notice that there’s an extra kid in the picture and draw their own conclusions. 

2. People are judging us based on our card. Sad but true. We’ve moved a lot and for many folks, this is their only glimpse of our family. So is it good enough? Is it annoying? Sigh… I don’t even know anymore.

1. And just when I’m realizing that I’m going to have to pull an all-nighter to get them done and mailed out in time, the Cap'n will stroll by and casually ask me if we’ve sent out the Christmas cards yet?  And then I just drink directly from the bottle.

(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Monday, November 28, 2011

The Second Annual Christmas Toys That Suck List

Every year my kids ask for things for Christmas that they stand no chance of actually getting. The reason for this tends to be that they only want the products that someone has spent a small fortune advertising on television. They are little Pavlovian monkeys. The TV tells them they want Moon Sand, and it's Moon Sand they want.
So because we deal with this same thing every year, we present the second annual Christmas Toys That Suck List.


Let’s Rock Elmo
One of this year's hottest toys, it should also be called "Let's Give Mommy An Eye Twitch Elmo".


Monster High dolls
Lots of people love these dolls and the show that features these characters. I will state for the record that I've never seen the show. My 8 year old daughter thinks that everything Monster High is completely and utterly awesome. I think they look like a genetic hybrid of a Bratz doll and the 3 day old corpse of a slutty monster.

Stompeez
These are adorable. But they encourage kids to STOMP in order to get the cute slippers to do their thing. Do you have any idea how much noise my kids feet make already? I have to think this was product was developed by someone who hates parents or who has never actually spent time with anyone under the age of 17.

Also? This Stompeez character is called Sir One Eyed Monster. ::snicker::

Power Rangers Samurai Mega Blade
This toy got called out as being one of the ten most dangerous of the year. That’s pretty easy to believe given that when you see kids playing with it, it looks deadly and horrifying. I can’t imagine arming a hyper little dude with an actual dangerous weapon is a good idea. If I gave this to my 6 year old, we'd end up at either the emergency room or juvenile detention within three hours.

The Incredible Shrinky Dinks Maker
This toy was identified as one of the most dangerous of the year because of the risk of electrocution. Whuck?! Shrinky Dinks are awesome! Why tart them up with some lame-o Easy Bake contraption that could kill you? For the love of Pete, just use the oven to make Shrinky Dinks, as nature intended it.


Justin Beiber anything
No explanation required.


La La Loopsy
These are also some of the hottest toys of the year. And lots of people love them. I thought they were really cute, too - until I took a good look at them. Then I got the chills. Personally, I find them terrifying. The button eyes? Are frightening as hell. I’m truly concerned they might come to life when we’re sleeping and do unspeakable things. Look at their little faces and imagine them saying: "Mommy is asleep. Let's get the knives!"

Is it just me? Probably.


Squinkies
Why not just call them Chokies? Seriously.



Kung Zhu Pets Ninja Warrior Hamster
All three of my kids like this toy and consistently play with the ones we have. Here’s my issue: some Zhu Zhu pets never stop making bizarre squeaky noises and there is no OFF button. Why would you do that, people who manufacture Zhu Zhu pets? Do you hate me? Do you enjoy robbing me of sleep?

Also, I just think the notion of “Ninja Warrior Hamster” is hilarious.


Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3
Boys who love video games have been indoctrinated into the idea that the Call of Duty series is THE MOST AWESOME THING IN THE HISTORY OF EVER. And since this is the newest Call of Duty, it is the best and therefor boys who love video games HAVE to have this game. Except my son is 6 years old. So keep it the hell out of my house. None of these games is for little guys and yet "cool parents" everywhere think its fine to buy them for 6 year olds and make me look like the meanest mommy ever.


Doggy Doo
A game that is essentially about watching a dog crap. I just don't understand how this product made it out of beta testing. Were there no sane people in the focus group? I mean, I spend hours begging my kids to help me clean up *actual* doggy doo from our *actual* dog in our *actual* yard. That's a game I could get behind but the children lack some enthusiasm for it. Go figure.
Orbeez
These things drive me nuts. They're like bath beads. But they're designed to just feel really good when you touch them. That's it. That's all they do. There's something about them that just screams "DANGER!!" to me. Maybe it's because I'm almost 39 and they look so squishy and pretty and cool that I almost want to put one in my mouth. How could my three year old resist? Then you know what I would call this toy? "Six Hours in The Emergency Room Waiting for The Attending Physician to Remove One from My Child's Left Nostril".
Flush
This game sprays potty water on the players. I've been trying to keep my kids out of the damn potty since they were old enough to walk. I mean, are you freaking kidding me? It sprays potty water everywhere? Why not glitter? And some Moon Sand? And then you'd have the trifecta of horrific, most hated substances for me to have clean. That's what I call a Merry F**king Christmas.
Soccer Boppers
These are essentially inflatable boxing gloves. At my house we would end up calling this product: "Sister Boppers"
Dr. Dreadful's Zombie Lab
Last year I said I would never buy the Creepy Crawly Bug Maker, which is a toy very similar to this one. But I caved and I bought it and my kids happily spend an entire day playing with it every couple of months. Also? The youngest one insists on calling it the "Creepy, Crawly Baby Maker". [heh heh heh] But I won't cave on this one. And I don't have to use my own words to tell you why. This is how the manufacturer describes this product:
  • Create your own delicious treats!
  • Eat bubbling brains and zombie skins
  • Inject spiders into the eyeballs
  • Watch the Zombie's jaw rip open as it pukes out a brain barf beverage
  • 1 Zombie Head, 2 Tools, 5 Pouches of Food, 1 Cup

In case you're interested, you can also check out a slideshow of these products on Babble.com.

(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Saturday, November 26, 2011

2nd Annual WHUCKTURKEY Caption Contest

This is what the text messages between me and Kate looked like this the day before Thanksgiving:

Lydia: Look at this, hooker. LOOK.

Lydia: I'm buying them and I'm going to wear them like shoes. Always.
Lydia: Because they're actually slippers.
Lydia: But they're also shoes. The same way that Pajama Jeans are also pants.
Kate: And then you can watch me die.
Lydia: [evil laughing]

-- Two hours later --

Lydia: OH. DEAR. MAUDE. The Cap'n called me downstairs to help with something in the kitchen and this is what I found.

Kate: What the WHAT?
Lydia: That is a 23 lb turkey being brined in a Rubbermaid tub that I've used to store Hawk's old clothes and shoes.  In the garage.
Kate: But?
Lydia: I know.
Kate: But?
Lydia: YES. I KNOW.

The good news is - no one died!  And the turkey tasted delicious.  Also? We'll be eating it for approximately always.  Because 23 pounds of bird is a lot of freaking turkey and I don't waste food. Just ask my enormous ass.

The other good news is - you get to caption the photo!

Whoever gets their caption picked will get $50 donated in their name to a charity that helps feed or clothe people in need. Kate and I helped out at the Homeless Hypothermia shelter for a couple of hours last night and it was totally bad ass. We served food and hung out and I played several games of Yahtzee with some really cool ladies.

Submit your captions for this photo and we'll pick a winner in the next couple of days!



xo, Lydia

(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Monday, November 21, 2011

The Thanksgiving MommyLand Spy Mission

So in our quest to find that balance between the awesomeness that is MommyLand and the awesomeness that is our families, Kate and Lydia will be taking this week off to celebrate give thanks eat our way into bigger pants.

But we do have a mission before you before we go...mostly inspired by the whacktacular dishwasher turkey that Kate's mother-in-law fixed last year. And while we wouldn't call the Dishwasher Turkey a FAIL, it was still pretty insane-in-the-membrane to look for a clean coffee cup and finding dinner steaming away in the top rack.


So, bring us your Thqnksgiving FAILS, whether it's a centerpiece made by one of your kids, a cake gone wrong...or something else that makes you happy that, if you eat enough turkey, you can just sleep through the rest of the day.

We'll post our favorites...Happy Thanksgivng, y'all. Bring on the triptophan.

xoxo Kate and Lydia


(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Friday, November 18, 2011

Mommy Has a First World Problem

For the past two weeks, we've been pretty obsessed with the whole notion of first world problems. So we asked you to share your problems with us and we asked The Badger, Mommy Shorts and Pregnant Chicken to choose the most funny, ridiculous and honest ones of the bunch.

It turns out that was a pretty hard job.  There were hundreds to choose from.  To scroll through all of them, you can click here and here.

All the judges liked this one:


A Desi Mom said... "We got so many comments on our contest that we are unable to choose the best one" - Kate and Lydia's First World Problem :D

But because it's about us we can't use it in our top ten.  So without further ado, these are our top ten - in no particular order:

April D. Hunt said... I made queso dip, but I ran out of chips before I was done with the queso, so I have to buy more chips, but then I don't have enough queso. It's a never ending cycle.

Amy said…The Starbucks drive thru is too small for my Yukon XL to fit through so I have to walk into the store.

Mandy said... "This tiny cut on my thumb makes texting EXTREMELY painful." 

Avery said... Last Saturday I had to take two showers because my massage appointment was before my run that day

Sandee Harned said... It has taken so long for the stuff I ordered off of zulily to arrive that I no longer remember what it is.

Amy Renee said... Our fancy new dining room table won't be here in time for Thanksgiving, so we have to use the *other* dining room table.

Erin said... Trader Joe's stopped carrying my favorite "Moondust" cheese. Apparently it was a "Spotlight" cheese and only around for the month. I wish someone would've told me that. 

ilikebeerandbabies.com said... My husband took the iPad to school so I had to poop without playing Words with Friends.

Lisa N said...The backyard looks ugly when the pool cover is on.

Anonymous said... Sometimes, my feet are too warm in my Uggs, but too cold in my socks.

And the winner? Is Lisa N. She gets $50 donated to Toys for Tots in her honor. 

And in case you were wondering if Mommyshorts was insanely awesome... She is. She made us this to go with the crying Dawson Meme. 
Thanks so much to everyone who participated. And thanks for reminding us (especially this time of year) that all of our troubles are really just first world problems.
Peace out, hookers.
K & L

(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Lydia's Plan for The Holidays

Go ahead, holidays. Try it.
As you know, I'm totally obsessed with First World Problems. You also know that I'm a fashion trainwreck. And kind of a jackholian mess; disorganized and constantly behind on everything. The holidays make this much, much worse. Thanksgiving is next week and I'm already feeling it.

I turn into a raging B. I'm miserable to be around because "CAN'T YOU PEOPLE SEE HOW HARD I'M WORKING TO MAKE THIS A WONDERFUL FREAKING FAMILY HOLIDAY?!"

But this year things will be different because I have my new Beyonce Perspective Program for Not Losing My Schmidt. And the perspective I've gained from joking about all my first world problems has given me something. A sort of nudge. It's been happening a lot.

Here's a flow chart of what's going on in my broken, deeply disturbed brain:

A cold latte used to make me mad. I just paid $5 for a cold f*cking coffee? I don't think so. Now I sort of shrug and move along. Trust me, this attitude adjustment has made me much easier to live with.

But I'm also smack dab in the middle of the Halloween to Holidays Death Spiral. And there are a few things that raise my blood pressure and give me an eye twitch when I even think about them. So in an effort to get my schmidt together this year, I've spent a lot of time talking to people and reading stuff on the interwebs. Let's call it research. I think I now have a plan to get things under control this holiday season. Most of the strategies are stupid and some involve wine. You can read about them here.

Basically? I'm slowing it down. I'm cutting it back. I'm doing less of everything. Except for one thing. My sorry, fat, over privileged first world ass is starting a new tradition. This is the last item on my list:

Every week between Thanksgiving and New Years, I’m doing something service-oriented. I’ve heard people brag about doing this and even heard of celebrities who have their assistants do this for them. And I’ve always thought, “Sure Gwenyth, right after naptime I'll just take all three kids down to the methodone clinic and we'll donate our time."

But this year is different. My kids are a little older. I have a tiny bit more autonomy because no one is breastfeeding and even my littlest is in preschool two days a week. I really can do something. And I’m going to try and do as much of it as possible with my kids. Here's the thing - I'm a giant, idiotic boobstain and I still think I can pull this off.

We’re filling stockings for children who might not get any other presents this year. My church is hosting a Homeless Hypothermia program the week of Thanksgiving and they need a lot of help. There will be caroling at the nursing home.       Each kid is going to go through their stuff and find things to donate. Collecting donations for the food bank? Yes. Cards for wounded soldiers at Walter Reed? Even yesser. If you have any suggestions for me for things that I can do with my kids (ages 3, 6 & 8) - I would love to hear them. You know by now that I need as much help as I can get.

And for the record? I'm not trying to make anyone else feel like they need to do what I'm doing. This is the first year in NINE YEARS that I haven't been preggo, nursing or had a tiny, toddling devil cupcake in tow. This year it makes sense for me. I know we're all doing the best we can.

And this is me trying to do that.

xo, Lydia

PS: Special shout out to Momastary, for all the amazing work she's doing with her blog. She's helping put the people in her little corner of the blogworld together, those who have a little extra in touch with those how need a little extra. It's pretty amazing. And if you click on her site? You'll see that Beyonce is murthfurkin everywhere. It's like magic.

(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Whuck of the Day: Is There a General Exit?

We got this from a self-proclaimed "lurker (stalker?)" and fell in love. We love when government agencies spend money on things before allowing people to proofread them.

And, as ever, it spawned a flurry of texts...

[Kate's phone bings, announcing a new text message]
Kate: Shut UP!
Lydia: I know...I'm so happy.
Kate: Wait. Are we going to Boston?
Lydia: I KNOW! They must be expecting us.
Kate: Hold on...this is a government building. Advertising this entrance maybe isn't a good idea.
Lydia: I could say something snarky about politicians.
Kate: Please don't...
Lydia: Helloooooooo Ladies. You go thru this door...
Kate: And, now I have to throw up a little.
Lydia: I also have to wonder if there's a Specific Hooker.
Kate: Seriously, Lydia. Stop writing...
Lydia: And, if so, what's specific about her?
Kate: Uhhhhh...
Lydia: Well, I'm just happy we have an entrance of our own. I don't really want to use the Specific Hooker one.
Kate: GAH! There's no Specific Hooker entrance!
Lydia: How do you know? We just found out there's a General Hookers entrance. I totally bet there's a Specific entrance too...wait.
Kate: Just say it...
Lydia: Oh, that was gross, wasn't it?






Yes, that *does* say General Hooker Entrance...well done, Massachusetts. Way to edit.





(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Five Universal Laws of Holidays

If I squeeze hard enough, maybe you'll
pass out and I can run away? Please?
Christmas and Thanksgiving are just around the corner. Like, forty days away or something. Which should bring to mind all the warm, Norman Rockwell-y fuzzy thoughts of families gathered around fireplaces, singing carols and wrapping presents while sipping on a cup of something warm that we didn't have to make for ourselves.  

Except that it never turns out like that. Why? Because, like mornings, bedtime, privacy and summer, the holidays have their own special, special set of laws. Laws that make us wish we were that little Macaulay Culkin kid and our family would all go away and leave us home alone. Except without the screaming. Or the burglar dudes. Because if we came home and found our child safe and the presents still there and the bad guys in jail, we'd still find a way to be pissed about the mess in the house.

1. The Acquisition Negotiation: You know that list you wrote up? The one that has everyone's name and the litany of toys and games and stocking stuffers they want? Yeah, that's just the beginning. Now someone actually has to go out and acquire those things. And then the stored-up cache of threats, bribes and you-owe-me's come conga dancing out of the recesses of your mind. OH LYYYYYYDIIIIIAAAAAA! Remember that time I picked up your kids at the bus stop because you were getting your hair striped and you begged me not to tell the Cap'n because you didn't have a coupon? Yes? Excellent. Because you live very close to Target, and I need a few things from there. Here's my list.

2. The Space/Time Continuum Violation I know we have your family, my family, the people-who-aren't-family-but-might-as-well-be family, the choir thing at church, the caroling, the grandparents and the extended family visits. But, let's get one thing clear. There is one dude on Earth that can visit three billion houses in one night, eat three billion cookies and still be happy about it. And do you know why? Because he has short people who help him the other 364 days a year so he can do his job all in one night and a spouse who might have a lifetime supply of Valium. The minute our children sing while they do their chores and we own Pfizer, I'll be happy to visit your parents. Until then, I'll be in the bedroom with a box of Oreos. Sixty-four....sixty-five. We need more milk.

Wait! I think we're missing a piece.
3. The Construction Deconstruction What is it with assembly instructions? I do not have a mechanical engineering degree. Or a warehouse to lay out all these damn parts. Or an Allen wrench? Who the hell is Allen? All I know is Allen is going to be in pain in about, oh, twenty to thirty years when I finish putting this dollhouse together. What? Oh right, I mean bike. When I finish putting this bike together. Stupid Christmas.

4. The Daddy Variable: Dear My Spouse, I know you looooove Christmas, and you want our children to have all these awesome, marshmallow-filled memories of feety pajamas and baking bread and caroling in the neighborhood when we're invited in for spiced cider and eggnog. And I'm really starting to believe you think those things happen because you thought them out loud. Sweetheart, I love your holiday spirit, but you actually have to do something to make that happen. And by "do something" I mean get on amazon.com and order toys, not  just talk about pretending to be Santa and surprising the children. Wait. Oh dear Maude, is that a red velvet costume? Please take off that beard. And, stop patting your lap and asking me if I've been good. You're out of your damn mind.

I HATE MY PRESENT AND YOUR HOUSE SMELLS FUNNY!
 5. The Griswoldian Imperative Here's how it's gonna work out. We're gonna have a great Christmas, and we're gonna smile for the camera, and yes we ARE gonna call crazy Aunt Myrna even though she gave you underpants for Christmas -- maybe she thought you would like Sleeping Beauty even though you're a boy. And you ARE going to eat that fruitcake shut up about how there's not actually fruit in it I'll slap an apple in your mouth if it'll make you shut your piehole I swear to Maude next Christmas I'm going to Maui can we for once just shut up and make some HAPPY F*)!CKING MEMORIES HERE, PEOPLE?!?!  Smile! *click* Here's a tissue.

Merry Christmas...

And, seriously dear. Take off that Santa suit. Without the porn music, please. Now you're just freaking me out.  

(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Monday, November 14, 2011

First World Problems: BRING THEM ON.

A couple of weeks ago, we ran a post talking about first world problems (made epic by a blogger called The Badger). We said if we got enough of them we'd compile our favorites into a list. Then we ran into a problem - the ones you sent us are so awesome, hilarious, honest, and brilliant that we can't pick. Also? They just keep coming.

That made me feel good. Because the whole concept of first world problems really resonates with me. I love to rant and moan about what a tough time I'm having. Oh poor me - my kid has an ear infection (that I was able to get diagnosed and treated within 24 hours) but I haven't slept in a couple of days so here I am crying like a damn Van der Beek.


Then I remember my Beyonce Perspective Program for Not Losing My Schmidt. And I take a moment to appreciate where I'm really at and maybe start thinking about what I can do to help people with real problems. Especially this time of year, when usually I'm caught in the Halloween to Holidays Death Spiral and frankly, being kind of a dick.

But of course, I can't think about any of this like a normal person. I have to be obnoxious about it. Which is why I love the whole concept of First World Problems. And apparently, you do too because we had almost 200 comments left on that post. So we've enlisted the help of some of our friends to choose the funniest and most honest ones. First up, the Badger himself. Second, the one and only Pregnant Chicken. Third, Mommy Shorts, who is so good at contests of this nature that we just blatantly copy everything she does.

So here's the dealio:


  • Submit your first world problem here or here, as a comment.


  • Submit as many as you want.


  • On Friday, we'll post a list of the ones our judges chose.


  • If the judges pick your problem as #1, Kate & I will donate $50 to Toys for Tots in your name.
We know that you are all about a hundred times more clever and funny than we are. We can't wait to see what you come up with.

xo, Lydia

(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Top Ten Reasons Why 3 is Worse Than 2

It seems to me that one of the most important things that no one told me about parenthood is that three is worse than two. Everyone is sort of prepared for the Terrible Two’s. Very few of us are ready for what happens next.

One of our brilliant readers suggested that people don't warn you about three for one reason. It's not that they hate you, it's that they can't bear to break it to you. Many of us are close to coming unhinged as we think the two's are winding down. Imagine running a marathon and getting to mile 25 only to find that the finish line has been moved up a year. They don't want to see the disappointment and bewilderment steal across your face like a dark shadow.

But this is the interwebs and I can't see you. So I'm going to tell you the truth. Three is a lot worse than two and here's why:


1. Three is two with intent.

2. The good news is, they can speak. Oh wait did I say good news? Guess who can parrot an overheard curse word perfectly? Except now they can do it understanding the importance of timing.


3. They’re mostly potty trained. Of course that also means that when they crap on the floor, it's even more disgusting and they’ve probably done it on purpose.

4. Their lungs are bigger. Therefore, the tantrums are louder – especially in public. They also are perfectly aware of what annoys and humiliates you. They know... Oh, they know.

5. Little girls get a wee bit emotional at three. Not a lot, just enough to turn your house into a damn telenovela.

6. Little boys act as if destruction and mayhem is their job. More than their job - their duty.

7. All of a sudden – they get picky, picky, picky. After eating macaroni and cheese every other day their whole life, get ready to hear: "Momma. I not gonna eat dese noodles. Dey haf cheese all over dem and dat's GROSS."

8. They're independent and doing more things for themselves, which means that doing anything now takes approximately forever.

9. They're smart. So you can no longer trick them into eating healthy things or playing quietly while you try to gather your shattered nerves. Also, they’re self-aware enough to weigh the consequences and take what’s coming to them. Flooding the bathroom floor is totally worth ten minutes in time out.

10. Are you ready to leave your house? Well, your toddler isn't. Are you ready to walk down the street? Your toddler isn't. Is it time for you to leave the playground? Well, your toddler really, really isn't. And that's why we call it turtle herding.

I speak the truth, hookers. I'm really sorry. And you're welcome.

But at least now you're prepared. Maybe.


xo, Lydia

Friday, November 11, 2011

The Spinal Tap Maternal Nagging Scale


11/11/11 is Veteran's Day. (Here we pause, with heads bowed, to acknowledge the awesomeness of our armed forces. And also their families, who make an equally important sacrifice for all of us. Military mommies past and present - we honor you and the fact that you are badass ninjas. Sincerely, Kate & Lydia)


For a really great post about being a mommy and a veteran, we suggest clicking over to Stark.Raving.Mad.Mommy for her very cute and funny take on how Basic Training and being a mom are pretty much the same thing.

Today is also Nigel Tufnel Day. And since it only happens once, we are going to commemorate it. So we thought it would be a really good idea to share with you again the Mommyland Spinal Tap Maternal Nagging Scale. We created this with the hilarious and brilliant Pregnant Chicken (rated as Babble's #1 Pregnancy Blog in the entire, freaking world), whom we love so much that it borders on unhealthy.

Because as mommies, we nag. Not because we want to. But because apparently, you have to tell kids every day that shoes are required for school. You might think they'd know that already. But no. So here's the scale that we created that tracks how we must nag our most beloved, but often forgetful offspring.






(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Whuck of the Day: We Have a Hang-Up

Remember Lionel Ritchie? And the Disney cups? We're not sure if the universe is just that crazy, or if we've become more susceptible to the whack over the past two years. Because it seems like every time we turn around, there's something else that we're pretty sure was manufactured just to screw with us.






And, because we also like to pass the ca-razy around, Kate sent it to Lydia in a text message. No words. Just the picture...

[Lydia's phone beeps, announcing a text message]



Lydia: What in the name of Maude?

Kate: Isn't that not hilarious. I'm currently dying.

Lydia: Gah! My eyes. Do you hate me?

Kate: I'm going to laugh to death.

Lydia: What is WRONG with you?

Kate: I think this might be the most Whucktastic thing ever...

Lydia: It's so, so, so, so wrong.

Kate: It's to hold your puse.

Lydia: Whuck? Whuck?!

Kate: (#$&@P(# PURSE. I meant to write PURSE

Lydia: Please stop texting me.

Kate: PURSE. Like, you know...your handbag.

Lydia: I think you've done lost your mind.

Kate: Wait. No. Forget that word...ewwwww.

Lydia: EWWWW!

Kate: OK, see the strappy part? That's--

Lydia: Kate you need to--

Kate: --that's the handle--

Lydia: Please stop.

Kate: --of the purse.

Lydia: And, my phone is now dead.

Kate: Awesome! Because it realized it's funny?

Lydia: No. Because I stomped it.

Kate: But you're still texting...
Lydia:
Lydia:

Lydia:

Kate: Oh, haha...next time you can just leave your purse on the floor. Me? I'm using the porny thing. Oh wait, that was gross, wasn't it?



(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

And This Is Why It’s Important To Put Things Away


I think my children believe magical fairies follow them around and put things away for them. There is nothing else that can explain the backpacks dropped at the front door, the how-many-days-in-a-row-did-you-wear-these socks on my pillow, and the toothbrush that I found in the refrigerator this afternoon. How long has that been there? And, is that crunchy toothpaste?


Lefty is definitely my worst culprit of this. He stashes things that are trash in his desk drawer, things that go in his desk are actually hidden inside his underwear drawer, and – to make it all balance out -- his underpants are in the trash. Which, actually, is probably not such a bad idea. The point is, he’s so completely one of those kids who would lose his head if it wasn’t attached, so I’m really grateful for all those tendons and skin and everything. After all, I made that boy from scratch.


So it shouldn’t have surprised me at all when we went to his annual pediatric appointment, and on our way out the door, he couldn’t find his shoes…or his pants. [Editor’s Note: Please don’t ask. Suffice to say that boy has a strong aversion to clothing.] I should have known that was only the beginning.


Forty minutes later, he’s standing in his boxers in the little room covered with bunnies and duckies, Lefty is glaring at me for subjecting him to all this indignity. He sorta maybe doesn't love this time of year. Thankfully, it was almost over. Or so we thought.


Eyes? Check. Ears? Check. Spine all straight? Yep. Heartbeat? Good. Lungs? Screamworthy. Drop the trousers and do the quick check….Hello?


Let me say here that doctors should never furrow their brows NOR look confused. Ours was doing both. Then he pulled out Lefty’s chart and flipped a couple of pages.


Doctor: “Odd. He had two testicles at his last appointment.”Excuse me? Whuck? What do you mean *HAD* two.


Me: “Dude? Where’s your ball?”

Lefty: “I don’t know…”

Me: “Where’s your ball, dude? What did you do with it?”

Lefty: [pause] “Uhh, nothing…”

Me: “Where was it the last time you checked?”

Lefty: “It was right here!”

Me: “And, where did you put it when you were done playing with it?”

Lefty: [pointing down] “I. LEFT. IT. RIGHT. HERE!”


Another thing doctors shouldn’t do: Tell a freaking out mom that “maybe we can just coax it down…” No and no-er. In my nightmares, I’m either having random conversations with a ball on a window ledge that’s threatening to jump, or I’m using the word “knead” – either way, ewwww.


So, what are we left with?
  • Option One: We can leave it alone and hope that it decides to abandon its vacation in his abdomen and return back to his little home with Righty.

  • Option Two: Apparently, there’s a surgery that can fix this, put that little rogue ball back in its place, and – just for good measure, and to make every man on earth squirm – stitch it in place. That’ll remind it to not run away from home ever, ever again.
  • Option Three: Get used to the fact that Lefty is now calling himself a Half-Sack and the Uniballer and just embrace the fact that Lefty is now more a Righty.
Now we’ve gotten all protective of The Ball That Stayed, and are basically making Lefty wear a cup everywhere he goes. On his last day of baseball, he was the catcher, and we were all cringing with every errant pitch. McLovin took to yelling out to Lefty on the field.


“Hey! Catcher! Protect your nut!” And then raised one finger really slowly.


The other day, Lefty came running to me after school yelling that he had found his baseball cap that he had lost on the second day of school. It had just turned up, as if by magic. I said, maybe if he had put it away, he wouldn’t have lost it at all. He said, maybe if he hadn’t lost it, he wouldn’t have been so happy about finding it.


Lefty: “Just think how happy we’ll be when we find my ball.”

Me: “Maybe you shouldn’t have lost it.”

Lefty: “Maybe it’s not lost.”

Me: “So, where is it then?”
Lefty: “Somewhere really safe and secret and I can’t tell you.”
Me: “Seriously? Is your ball Dick Cheney?”


Now he refers to his missing nut as the former vice president. Which he thinks is the funniest thing he’s ever heard. I should have known. After all, I made that boy from scratch. Ball and all.


(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

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