Oh Coconuts!

Posted on May 24, 2013 by ashersmom

This is a sponsored post written by me on behalf of NETFLIX. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

My kindergartner came back from a trip to see his grandparents saying, “Oh, coconuts!” every time something didn’t go his way.

I asked him where he came up with that expression and he said, “Expression?”

We thought it was pretty cute so we just went with it. Pretty soon, I was saying, “Oh, coconuts!” whenever I dropped something on the floor or the baby woke up early from his nap.

Then one day, Asher was watching “Jake & The Neverland Pirates” on my iPad (cuz he knows to open the Netflix app himself) and as I passed through the room, I heard the iPad say, “Oh, coconuts!”

Ash streaming Jake & The Neverland Pirates from Netflix.

Aha. Mystery solved. The grandparents must’ve introduced him to Jake & The Neverland Pirates on his last trip.

Whenever he’s in Florida visiting them, they watch a lot of Netflix on Bimma’s iPad. She’s particularly fond of snuggling in bed with him with the iPad in this lap pillow we bought her as a gift. It’s pretty cool. It has a little plastic screen you just slip the iPad into and then comfortably place it on your lap and watch away. He discovers a lot of new shows that way. Luckily, Netflix has a dedicated kids section with family favorites for kids 2-12 (with ratings and reviews) so it’s easy to find new shows to stream.

We’re fond of Friday Family Movie Night in mommy & daddy’s bed ourselves. Even though Asher is only 5, we’ve been doing it with different levels of success for 3 years. When he was 2, we’d barely make it through 30 minutes of a movie and have to call it quits but these days, he looks forward to Friday Family Movie Night as much as we do. We can’t wait until the baby is big enough to climb in too.

Friday Family Movie Night
The Lorax

Tonight, we’re streaming “Dr. Seuss’s The Lorax” and cuddling up while Asher spills popcorn all over our bed. Which leads me to our next Friday night tradition…me and Gabe finding popcorn in our bed all night long every time we turn over. I’ll give you one guess what Saturday tradition is?

This is how he looks when I say – “YES, you can watch Batman & Beyond on my iPad.

What are you watching on TV with your family? Netflix has family favorites from Disney, Disney Jr., Hasbro, Cartoon Network and Dreamworks that are available to stream anytime, anywhere.

And streaming is easier than you think! Download the free app on your iPad, click on the Netflix app on any gaming device, go to the website on your computer – and you’re in business. Check it out here!

This is a sponsored post written by me on behalf of NETFLIX.

How A Toddler Is Like Your Insurance Company

Posted on May 22, 2013 by ashersmom

I don’t know how many of you have had to deal with your health insurance company very often, but if you’re like us, it’s a lot. There’s almost nothing I dread more than that call to the “representative” to straighten something out — and that something is almost always related to a “we’re not gonna pay for this” moment. Because even though I pay my part EVERY SINGLE MONTH, they never seem to want to pony up for theirs.

Since I now have a toddler running around the house who seems to employ a lot of the same policies as my insurance company, I thought I’d share with you how they’re alike.

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Advice To My (Bad) Dog.

Posted on May 16, 2013 by ashersmom

Dearest Hadley:

Your ears are comically large yet you still can’t seem to hear anything I have to say.

I think it’s time for a a little talk. You may not wanna hear this but the truth of the matter is, you’re the trouble-maker of the family. If you’d just heed my simple advice, you’d be one happy dog. So listen up…I’m doing this for your own good.

Make friends with the kids. They’re your stomach’s strongest allies. You drool for doughnuts. You slobber for Sloppy Joes. You pine for pig. Every time I turn around, you’re begging for grub. Here’s a hint: the kids are eating all the time and it’d be mighty easy for them to slip you some food if they were so inclined. When you see those shorties coming, don’t run the other way. Let them dress you up in a superman costume, paint a purple mohawk on your head and use you as a live pillow pet. You make them happy, there’ll be peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and half-eaten hot dogs in your future. I guarantee it.

Give the UPS Man a freaking break already. If you don’t stop going ballistic every time he comes onto the porch, you’re gonna drive away the one person who brings you all the things you love! (And the things I love). When it comes to the list of doggy goodies we order on a regular basis, we count on that delivery man. Sit, stay and play nice. Then you can tear into the package with abandon. (You can see Hadley’s wish list at Sweet Relish here. The site is an amazing way to keep digital lists of all the things you want or need).

Stop sticking your nose in other people’s business. You’ve got the heart of a trouble-maker but let’s get one thing straight — your nose is the clear ringleader. You’ll follow that thing anywhere. And your favorite place is right through our back-yard fence. I used to wonder how you got out so often and then one day, I just happened to be looking out the back door when you pressed your little nose against one of the privacy fence boards, pushed against it until it gave and then squeezed your 35-pound body through a hole about 6-inches wide. The neighborhood report says that your first order of business when you’re out is to stick that smeller through other people’s fences to fight with their dogs. No wonder your nose is irritated all the time. Thank goodness for Opie & Dixie Snoutstik so we can heal it right up naturally.

Stop pulling on the damn leash. You know how you love to go for walks? Well, I hate them. And it’s because you pull on the leash like a rabid bear the entire freaking time. Walking you is more like skiing on concrete than walking. If you’d just stop it, we’d be pounding that pavement a hell of a lot more.

Don’t roll in nasty crap. You think it’s super fun to roll in the grass and dirt and red clay and dead birds and whatever other indescribable horrors you find in our backyard. Whatever happiness you get from this disgusting act can’t touch the satisfaction you’ll find from snuggling with your family in our bed while we watch movies. And trust me when I say, rolling in your own poo does not equal snuggling in my bed watching movies. Stop it already. It’s gross.

So there, my dearest cuddly little rascal, is the most profound advice I can give you to make your life happier and our lives happier. I’m happy to see that you’re all ears.

Love, Mom

How’d you like to win a package of wonderful Opie & Dixie products for your four-legged family members? One reader will win a bundle of all-natural goodies from Opie & Dixie including shampoo, conditioner, snoutstik and paw balm. Get a closer look here.

All you have to do is visit Sweet Relish, sign up (it’s easy peasy) and leave a comment here telling me you’ve done it. Extra points if you leave a bit of advice you’d give to your dog if you could.

Giveaway ends May 22.

Special thanks to my digital list obsession Sweet Relish for sponsoring this post.

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The Measure of a Mother

Posted on May 15, 2013 by ashersmom

Today is a special day at T&T because I have a guest post from someone I’ve admired (aka stalked) for years. Nicole Leigh Shaw, aka Ninja Mom, brings her smart, funny take on how moms are measured…and it’s not in inches. I bow down. You will too so be sure to visit her blog and follow her on facebook here.

Being a mother is tough. Not so much because one has the care (along with her co-parent, certain restrictions apply, may not be available in all states) of other human beings, but because there’s no clear definition of mother. Right, yes, the person who births a particular human is that child’s mother. But there is also that person who is seen at the grocery store with the child, helping him to pick a sugar-loaded cereal, denying her a small toy, or removing him from the middle of the seafood section when he’s trashing on the floor claiming that he’s “not done talking to the lobsters!”

That woman, like her counterpart wrangling children in the pew on Sunday, her doppelganger ushering kids through a soccer practice with erstwhile cheerleading, and her twin in the parking lot giving a stern lecture about not darting into traffic, that woman is being judged. I maintain that judgment, the collective silent critique of a woman’s interactions with her children, is the measure of a mother.

Mothers are measured. Like height, weight, and bra size, a mother can be cataloged by her actions. Does she yell too loudly at her children in public? Does she speak too softly when they run roughshod over her in the toy store? Where does she place her hand when restraining a toddler ready to bolt into a crowd? The upper arm? The back of the neck? The hair?

We are on display for the world to see, dissect, and comment upon in public forums both online and at carpool. Did you see how dirty her children’s fingernails are? That one dresses her kids better than I dress myself, does she think she’s raising Suri Cruise?

It’s painful to discover that you’ve been measured and marked like meat for consumption: prime, choice, select. One mom is good enough for PTA president, the other for cleaning up after the school carnival. Another is easier to stomach after being marinated in some booze.

Let me encourage you to take your own measure. Don’t let someone else decide if you’re the kind of mom too snooty to enjoy an afternoon with the neighborhood families at a community BBQ. Neither is it someone else’s business if you prefer filet mignon to frankfurters and your kids really do enjoy crudités.

On the chance that someone sizes you up correctly, own it. Introduce yourself and invite them to bring their kids over for craft time, or water balloon time. Sometimes we are who we appear to be, and that’s a good thing because how else will we recognize the rest of the moms who like to let their kids make mud pies or only eat organic snacks?

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