My Kid Is Bad In Kindergarten

Little Cryin Ryan is growing up.

He started school last month.
I didn't even cry.
Just kidding, I cried once, then had a pity party for myself complete with a 5lb bag of gummi bears.

We went to the Back To School night to check out where I would be abandoning my child.
His teacher, Mrs. Wilson is super cute and around my age, I assume.

She had pieces of paper that parents could pick one to help donate supplies to the classroom.
Each paper had a certain item listed.


I took 4.
The teacher was like, "you don't have to take 4! 1 is more than enough. Most parents don't even take one!"

And because I usually do whatever I want, I was like, "I'll take 4, it's no big deal. Plus, I need to compensate for the fact that you have to have Ryan in your class for a year."

I went to Costco and bought a huge amount of tissues, paper cups, paper plates, and paper towels.

When I dropped everything off, I noticed that she still had a bunch of the slips of paper hanging out. I insisted that I grab a couple more.

When I dropped the second load of suck-up supplies off, Mrs. Wilson was really grateful. Once again, I mentioned that fact that Ryan can be a handful and I'm trying to make up for it.
She laughed like I was joking.

But I wasn't joking at all.


I try to volunteer in Ryan's classroom once in a while.
I was obliviously helping kids paint when I looked over and saw this:

Ryan was on the RED.
That little A-hole.

Only 2 kids were on RED and one of them belonged to me.

I couldn't believe it.
Just kidding again. I could totally believe it.
Why else would I spend $75 on school crap for their classroom?
I knew this was going to happen.


I talked to Ryan. Turns out he is well-aware that he misbehaves. At least he takes responsibility.
I grounded him from his Kindle.
Then I realized that was more of a punishment for me, so I grounded him from his friends and made him write a sorry letter.

If your kids are little punks, you can make them write apology letters! Look at this convenient free font:  KG Primary Dots from dafont.com


The next week Ryan stayed in the middle on GREEN for a solid 3 days.

But as of Friday, he is on RED again.

He said it was because he was talking to a girl about the bad-guy clowns "trying to kill everyone."
Fair enough. That's a serious topic for a child.

I told him it wasn't true and if it was true then it would be on the news.
Then my dumb-A turned on KSL 1160 and guess what they were talking about?.... the freaking clowns.

Thanks a lot KSL.

What I want to know is, is it ethically wrong to tell your kid that killer clowns only hurt kids when their clips get moved to RED?


I'm on the fence on this one.

I Have Crooked Kids

Ryan was born with a super crooked nose.
It was slightly alarming.

When I first saw him I wondered how hard it would be to switch him with one of the other babies in the nursery with straight noses.

Then I remembered that was a felony.

Just kidding. I was super excited for this little crooked-nosed bundle of joy.

I adored him and even breastfed him! (Even though it hurt worse than a punch to the vadge.)
I worried about him. He had a bit of a hard time breathing, especially when smashed up against my humongous boobs.

I was glad everything else about him was healthy
I asked our doctors about surgery, nose braces, or anything else that would make him "normal" and help him breathe better. 

As a mom you just want your little poop-machine to be perfect.
Thankfully a crooked nose is not that big of a deal compared to other complications.

Ryan's little nose straightened out pretty quickly. After a week it was perfectly straight.

I was relieved.
Mostly because I didn't feel like I would suffocate him with my vein-y post-pregnancy tits.

I thought this would be the only crooked thing in my family.

Then little baby T-Bag came along.
He was crooked too.


But he was crooked in a much more amusing way.

T-Bag was born with a bent line down his bum.
It definitely did not straighten out, since the picture above is from today. 

But who am I to judge his split?
The top of his butt crack is a free spirit.

If his crack wants to bend towards the left I should support and accept it.
I will foster a loving environment for it and constantly reinforce my love and care for it.

At least this crookedness won't be suffocated by my boobs. 

Well played God. Well played.
Very clever.

However, if we are blessed with another child, I'm concerned/excited to find what will be crooked next.

Any guesses?

Ryan And Soccer

I'd like to bear my testimony that I know my kid is pretty good at soccer.
Also, I love my mom and dad and brothers and sisters. amen.

I signed Ryan up for soccer at Herriman Rec Center in hopes that he would learn teamwork, patience, and good sportsmanship.

I played soccer all through High School. If you don't believe me, check out this sexy picture of me posing in my uniform:

I played with my awesome friend B*tchie, I mean Christie.
And I have to recognize Laurisa for being the only teammate that would moon people with me out the back of the school bus when we drove to away games.
It was an integral part of my High School soccer experience.



I have kicked a soccer ball around with Ryan a little. We have a little net he plays with. Nothing too serious, but I taught him some moves. Soccer moves. Not mooning people moves.


We showed up at his first real live soccer game.
He had never really played a lot or with other kids so I wasn't expecting much.
I was expecting nothing actually.
Especially because he had such a bad attitude when he was initially assigned to the pink team. 

There were some kids on the other team with legitimate cleats and Adidas shorts, so I figured things were about to get real.

The first game Ryan's team lost 4-3. Ryan scored all 3 points for his team.
I was happy for him but thought it was just luck.

Each game he got better and was scoring 5-8 goals per game, usually all the points for his team.
Each game I got more psycho and intense.

You know those idiot parents who get all worked up over their kid's dumb sports. They freak out, yell at the ref, and have high blood pressure?

After the first couple of games I began to understand the struggle of crazy little league parents.

I had to constantly remind myself that it's inappropriate to get so worked up over a 9am soccer game between 3-4 year olds.
And I had to remind myself to stop mouth-breathing while rubbing my hands on my knees.





Ryan is awesome though. When other kids on his team helped him score, he would tell them "Hey! nice moves!", "That was some good teamwork!" or "Thanks for helping me score that goal!".

Looks like I was the one who needed to learn teamwork, patience, and good sportsmanship.
A good life lesson learned and it only cost me $40 and a few Saturday mornings.

So besides his constant announcements about his butt slime, it was a pretty good experience.

We are signed up for a summer league so Ryan can kick more butts and balls. Soccer balls. 

Butt Slime

Having sweat in your butt crack is a humbling experience.

Anytime I get Swass, my brain starts thinking about how everyone around me must have Swass, and how we are all humans and we are all equal because we all have sweaty butts.

Swass. The great equalizer.

After I've inventoried people around me, I then select who must have the worst Swass and I feel sympathetic towards them.
Then, for the rest of the day I think about butts and curse my brain for being so disgusting.

Great. Now I am thinking about butts just cause I typed the word "Swass". There goes my day.


Cryin' Ryan  HATES any moisture between the cheeks. HATES it.

When he was younger and first starting to realize he had a butt, he would get very worried anytime he sweat in it.

He looked at me, horrified that this kind of injustice exists.

He was trying to get my help and explaining what was wrong.

"MOM! I HAVE BUTT SLIME! I'M SERIOUS! THERE IS REALLY SLIME COMING OUT OF MY B-HOLE!"

Then it was my turn to be horrified.

I hurried to the bathroom while he followed me all bow-legged and careful.
I was expecting the worst, as someone should when they are potentially dealing with a kid that says they are harboring butt slime.

I went to clean it up and there was nothing there.
I told him he was fine.
He would not accept my diagnosis and insisted I wipe off the slime.

That's when I realized what I was dealing with. Sweaty butt.

I dutifully wiped his crack like any good mother should.
Ryan appreciated it and felt he could go on living a normal life.

Now, anytime Swass rears is ugly head/butt, Ryan announces to the world he has butt slime. Literally yells it out.
This happens in public all. the. time.

He has no shame.
Soccer games are the worst.

We get a lot of grossed out/judgemental looks from other people.  I wish they were more tolerant of kids with sweaty rear ends.
The way our society discriminates against butt slime have-ers is appalling. 
Butt slime victims are humans too.

Both of my kids suffer from Swass. 

I hope this post brings more awareness to this awful problem.




(In the interest of full disclosure: this post is not sponsored by the Children's Butt Slime/Swass Foundation For Equality and Inclusion.)



P.S. I'm still thinking about butts.

Sloth Arm

Cryin' Ryan is a clever little kid.
He is funny, kind, and creative.

He is also foul, gross, and disgusting.


He is so creative/disgusting that every time he poops, he feels inspired to vividly describe it to me.

When I hear, "MOOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!! CAN YOU WIPE MY BUTT?!?!?!?!"
I know three bad things are coming my way:

1. the actual wiping of the butt
2. an accurate description of his dump
3. the throw-up that comes up the back of my throat.

What's most disturbing is that his descriptions are usually detailed and correct.

Some of the most cringe-worthy portrayals of his dumps include:

• a battle axe
• a long neck dino
• beans
• corn on the cob with some kernels eaten off
• dead coral reef
• butt-mud

And of course the most recent and unsettling depiction:

• a sloth arm.

Let my say that again:

• A sloth. arm. 

Probs one of the grossest things I've ever heard.
I don't know if I'm up for boy-momming anymore. 


Now I need to go brush my teeth.

Pink Team

I played soccer a lot of my young life, so it's only natural for me to re-live my youth through my offspring.

I signed Ryan up for his first season of  co-ed soccer.

Last Saturday, the Herriman Rec Center had this huge soccer team organization day. You met there at a certain time for your age group, met your coach, had a mini-practice, and got your team jersey. We got there about 10 minutes late.

There was 20 different teams practicing all over the field.
On the very end of the field was this team with bubblegum pink uniforms.

I started talking mad trash to Ryan. Because there were 20 other teams I assumed there was a low probability that he was assigned to the pink team.

I told him he was going to be on the pink team and turn into a girl.
I offered to do his makeup and hair before all his soccer games.
I said it was cool if he wanted to start sitting down to pee. 
I told him he was going to grow boobs.


Then, of course, we found out he was indeed on the Pink team.

Ryan was pissed off.

Even though the other boys on his team were already wearing their jerseys, Ryan refused to put it on.
After all my trash talking, there was nothing anyone could say to make him OK with his team.

Even the other boys on the team couldn't convince him that pink was cool.
I had to admit to the other parents that I mercilessly teased him on the way there.

Luckily, I had signed Ryan up for the wrong age division, so a short email, and a quick response later, Ryan was on a different team.

We pick up his uniform today and I'm really hoping it's not pink.

And I learned my lesson. I will never tease my kids about soccer uniform colors again.

Floor Disaster

After the December Hawaii trip we were ready to come home, sleep in our own bed, and lock the kids back in their cages.

Our flight back home departed at 9:30pm so we didn't get home to Utah until 7am. We were tired.

Poor me. I was feeling sorry for myself after a long night of travel even though I had just spent a week in paradise.
That's when the universe slapped me in the face with some reality. Being sad about a plane ride when you just spent a week in Hawaii is a stupid thing to be sad about.

You know what is a good reason to be sad?
When your dishwasher leaked the whole time you were out of town and now you have water damage everywhere.

 Our wood floor was saturated and part of our carpet was soaked and black from mold.

We had to call in some disaster clean up crew to dry the floors out. Loud machines covered our floor for 4 days.

Ryan and Tyler thought all the machines were an obstacle course. They loved it until Ryan tripped and cut his upper lip.

Seig Heil Ryan.


It's not a total loss though. The floor looks fine, insurance paid for everything, and I get new carpet and a new floor.

So actually, thanks universe.

Worst Kid Ever

Cryin Ryan is actually a really nice kid.
He is friendly, kind, thoughtful, happy, helpful, and hilarious.

I rarely have to punish him, but when I do he takes it very seriously.
Usually I just have a quick logical talk with him and he understands why he's getting in trouble.
Sometimes I yell.

I only put him in time out about once every couple of months.
I really don't believe in hitting kids, so he never gets spanked.

Generally a  quick threat of "Do we need to have a talk?" is all he needs to modify his behavior.

(Titty Monkey Tyler is a whole different animal, that I don't like to think about.)

When Ryan knows he's done something wrong he hurries and does one of the following:

• Says "Sorry mom! I'll go to time out", and then sits in the corner until he realizes I didn't put him there and he can get out whenever he wants. 

• Tells me, "Sorry my prettiest sweetie precious mom! You are my best! You are the nicest mom I ever had in the entire universe!" Then I can't be mad at him because he's telling the truth. 

• He will fold his arms, bows his head, and says a quick prayer. "Dear God, please let mommy be nice and in a good mood so her does not get mad at me. Amen." Then he immediately asks me if I'm still mad. 

• Says, "Hey mom! I have a good idea! Let's all be happy and be friends and then you don't have to get mad at me! I will cuddle you!"

• Runs and hides behind the couch, in the closet, or under blankets on his bed. 

When none of his tricks work and he gets yelled at Ryan hates it. He can't handle anyone being mad at him.

He has a Kindle Fire and like to play a dinosaur game on it. He got mad at the game and threw his kindle in the trash can.
I got pretty mad at him and took the tablet away.
He ran to his room crying.

I heard him saying, "I'm so bad! I'm the worst kid ever! I make mistakes all the time! I am the worstest!"

My heart broke for him... so I video taped it and put it on my blog.

Kinda sad, but a lot funny.

Gosh, I adore that little kid.

He's the best.

Meet Wolfy

Ryan is in a disturbing stage of life right now.

He is obsessed with Wolves.

When I ask him why, he tells me - "Wolves are legendary predators and they are carnivores. They hunt in packs and are nocturnal."
Then I have to get out a dictionary to find out what that means.

He gets mad when I refer to him as "Ryan" - and yells, "Mooommmm! I'm called Wolfy!!!!!!!!!"

He asks for meat every meal.
It's creepy.

He leaps around on all fours, even in public.... wait... especially in public.

I had to have a serious talk with him about that. I don't need any more reasons for child services to be called on me.

Wolfy constantly reminds me that we are a wolf family and we only do wolf things.

• We should howl at the moon. Or the sun. Or actually, just howl at everything
• No using your hands to eat since we don't have hands, we only have paws.
• It's totally fine to growl/hiss at things that piss you off.
• Wolf pups stay up late since wolf families don't pay heed to human rules.
• It's also completely OK to claw someone/anyone.
• Who cares if you're in public, you better act like the legendary wolf you are.
• We have to be alert in case any hunters come around. If you get scared you hide in a cardboard box or behind the couch.
• We have to lift up one leg for a truly authentic pee session.

Good thing wolf pups are cute.

I fully expect him to come home after his first semester of college with a majestic wolf tattoo and no friends.

So that's where I'm at in my life right now.  

Hawaiian Ryan

As of right now, Ryan is my favorite child.
I switch between my kids regularly.

The second week of December my parents and my creepy little family went to Hawaii.

Ryan was a champ on the plane rides, probably because I let him play Minecraft for 7 hours straight.

Tyler was the Antichrist. He puked everywhere and I swear his head rotated a full 360 degrees. He slept in the airport before the plane ride so he would be rested enough to inflict terror during the flight.

Ryan was so excited to see everything. I love when kids are in awe of the world.

Tyler had an attention span of 1.02458 seconds.

Ryan snorkeled like a pro.

He snorkeled every chance he got.
He was very concerned that someone littered food in the water because it was too salty.

He snorkeled in places that I wouldn't even get into. I was pretty concerned about how fearless he was, even though we put him in swimming lessons after he fell in a pond downtown.

He was stoked when we went star gazing and he saw the moon and a galaxy through huge telescopes.

When he found out my sister Rachel was having a bad day back in Utah he was very concerned. He sent her this sincere message:

Hawaiian Ryan also likes to explore creepy cemeteries as much as I do.

He loved having my parents along to entertain him.

Tyler was generally pissed off the whole time.

Ryan's mind was blown at a Luau where he saw a roasted pig carcass and girls shaking their butts.

Who would have thought Pee-Baby would grow up into such a fun kid? I had serious doubts.

Maybe there is still hope for little Tyler.

Or maybe not.

It's a good thing I think he's adorable.