20 Things Every Mom Wants to Hear This Mother's Day

Moms have it rough. They have to put up with a lot of intolerable things, like stinky diapers, baby butt cream, toe fuzz, whining and The Disney Channel. They also have to deal with husbands who say things like, “OH MY GOD, THAT GUY IS TERRIBLE! HE’S TOTALLY RUINING MY FANTASY TEAM!” They do it with minimal appreciation and “thank yous”—and yet, after they drive off to run one of the many essential errands that moms always seem to be running, they still, for some reason unknown to the rest of us, come back home to the madness.

It’s a downright miracle.

If we want them to keep coming back, I think it’s important that we dads get our kids to show their appreciation. So I’ve created a list of 20 things that every mother wants to hear her kids say. I know if my kids repeated even 3 of these things, my wife would probably have a heart attack.

The 20 Things Every Mom Wants to Hear Her Kids Say

1. "I'm happy to eat whatever you've made me for dinner, even if it's broccoli. I know how hard you work to keep me fed and I appreciate it."

2. "Instead of screaming I've decided to sit quietly and think about all the amazing things you do for me. Wow, this is going to take awhile."

3. "When we go to the zoo I won’t run off on my own and, instead, will follow your instructions to 'Stay close.' I will also follow your instructions to "Not pick my nose and try to feed it to the elephants."

4. "I'll keep my shoes on in the car instead of kicking them off for no reason, causing us to spend 20 minutes hunting for one shoe that somehow is now lost under a mountain of travel Magna Doodles."

5. "Look! I didn't make a mess at the dinner table and kept all my crumbs on my plate! I never realized it was that easy!"

6. "I promise that when I sneeze I will, from now on, always cover my nose. I'm also sorry about yesterday, when I forgot to cover my nose and I sneezed in your face."

7. "No need to worry. Your iPhone is sitting right on the coffee table where you left it. I didn't touch it, nor did I kill your battery by walking around the house taking pictures of everyone's feet."

8. "I'm headed to the bathroom. No need to ask me or beg me or bribe me. I'm going because I know we have a long trip ahead of us and it just makes sense to try."

9. "I will wear the clothes you picked out for me and won't complain. In fact, I should thank you more often for not letting me wear shorts and a tank top when it's -5 degrees outside."

10. "I just realized it must be painful when I step on your feet as if they were part of the floor. I'm not going to do that anymore and, after careful consideration, will now look where I am walking."

11. "Would you mind if I skipped all the stalling that I normally do and go straight to bed? I know you've had a long day and could use a little down time and, perhaps, a glass of Merlot."

12. "Yes I remembered to flush after I pooped. I promise there will be no bathroom surprises waiting for you."

13. "Mom, you kick back and relax. I'll pick up all these toys that I've haphazardly left laying around the house. I'll even put them where they belong instead of shoving them under the couch."

14. "Because I've seen this episode of Dora more than 40 times, I'd like you to take the remote and watch something you'd like to watch. Perhaps Sophia Grace and Rosie are on Ellen, which would be a win/win for both of us."

15. "Look at that: I already brushed my teeth!"

16. “While you were doing the dishes, I took it upon myself to fold my own laundry and put them away in the correct drawers. I put yours away too.”

17. “I know I usually smush the Play Doh into the carpet, making it impossible for you to remove, but this time I was able to keep it all on the table..”

18. “I got myself dressed, combed my own hair and even had time to balance your checkbook. Good news: I found a clerical error in your favor and you’re now $20 richer.”

19. “I’ve decided to retire the Interrupting Cow knock knock joke.”

20. “Mom, you are the best and I love you more than anything in the world—even more than ice cream.”  

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Diary of a Half-Marathon Dad

I started running for the same reason everyone starts running: I wanted to be able to wear super short shorts in public. Once that dream was realized, I had to set loftier goals. That’s why, as part of my Year of Amazing resolutions, I set out to conquer a half marathon. 

I know what you’re thinking: Is a “half marathon” the name of a new bacon-covered Burger King burger? It’s not—though, if it were, I surely wouldn’t need any training to conquer that. The half marathon I trained for was a 13.1 run that spanned the beautiful city streets of Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky. It’s called The Flying Pig marathon, named after the official bird of Cincinnati. (Ironically, it’s named after the official pig of Cincinnati too).

The route included the street behind the sports stadiums, two bridges, the monstrous hill through Eden Park and a volcano. Well, maybe not a volcano. That may have been me hallucinating around Mile 7. But I had been training for months, running mile after mile, uphill both ways, in the snow and with permanent blisters the size of Nevada.

I had never been a runner before, nor had I ever even thought about running as a sport I could invest myself in. In the past I cracked jokes about people who ran for fun. But with my body starting to take the shape of a flying pig, I figured it was time for me to take my health a little more seriously. Or, at the very least, burn enough calories to eat large quantities of Doritos Locos Tacos.

During the half-marathon I kept an inner journal of the race that I’d like to share with you here. I must warn you, though, there are no more references to Doritos Locos Tacos. (I know, I’m bummed too). Here it goes. 

The Starting Line: My nerves were shaking as I stood there at the starting line, next to one of my closest friends who not only supported me so much throughout my training, but was also running that day. We waited for our moment. The gun sounded. We crossed the start line and wished each other luck. Then he took off like Doc Brown’s Delorean, blazing off at an unprecedented speed and disappearing into what I can only assume was the future. I, on the other hand, trotted along at a pace envied only by Snuffleupagus. 

Mile #1: Only a few steps in I see crowds of people clapping and waving signs, saying things like “Good luck runners!” and “You can do it!” and “Worst Parade Ever!” Feeling very motivated. Ready to conquer the world. 

Mile #2: Still feeling good, but the motivation is starting to dip. Bridge is ahead. That should create for a fun run and beautiful view of the city. 

Mile #3: Bridge was a BIG mistake. Completely uphill. Did not realize Northern Kentucky was built on a mountain. Make promise to self to only vote for political candidates who are pro downhill bridges. 

Mile #4: OMG, I’m only on mile 4!?! Feels like I’ve been running for a week. Sweat has already soaked through my shirt. And my shorts. And my brain. And it’s not even 7 a.m. yet. 

Mile #5: OK, settle down Brian. Five is your lucky number. It’s the number that carried you to stardom in little league and a championship in the inaugural Bar Game Olympics of 2004. It’s also the number of blisters you can feel forming on the inside of your feet. 

Mile #6: Grabbed a water from a water stand and feel refreshed. Not sure what to do with cup. Everyone is throwing them on the ground, but that’s littering. I don’t litter. Briefly consider eating it. 

Mile #7: I see a volcano. Everyone is running toward it and jumping in the hole at the top. They are being applauded by unicorns. I think I have lost it. My will to finish isn’t strong enough. I can’t go on. This magical moment of my life is over. I’m crushed and so mad at myself. Loser. Loser. Loser. 

Mile #8: Then, as I rounded the corner into Mile 8, I saw this:

And this:

And this:

And this and this and this:

These weren’t just any fans, they were my fans. My super fans. My daughters. My wife. My sister and nephew. My close friends. They were there to support me. I couldn’t let them down. What kind of example would I be setting if I gave up? I need to finish. I will finish. And for each remaining mile, I’ll keep them in mind. So I reminded myself that ... 

Mile #9: I’m doing this mile for Ella. She starts kindergarten soon and needs to know that any challenge is conquerable if you put your heart and soul into it. There will be times you feel like it’s too hard, but it’s the hard that makes the accomplishment great. 

Mile #10: I’m doing this mile for Anna. She starts preschool in the fall and needs to know that you can’t fear trying new things, even when your big sister isn’t there to guide you. It’s the act of trying that will make your life experiences even better--and you’ll be happier for it. Trust me. 

Mile #11: I’m doing this mile for Mia. She can’t really talk much yet but when she does, I want her first full sentence to be “I’m going to be awesome like my dad.” (I’ll also accept “My dad is my hero” and “I’m voting for Dad for President of the House.”) Being awesome means ignoring the moments of self-doubt that inevitably creep their way into any amazing journey. Stay positive and reach your dreams. 

Mile #12: I’m doing this mile for my wife, family and friends who have supported me throughout this quest of mine to become a runner. Without your support, I wouldn’t be super awesome. I’d probably be only kind-of awesome. 

Mile #13: I’m doing this last one for me. This past year has been hard. Really hard. There isn’t a day that goes by that my heart doesn’t ache a little. It’s been a long road with unexpected challenges, new experiences and moments of self-doubt. But I’ve worked tirelessly to make it through. More tirelessly than most will ever know. And it feels good to know that I’ve survived, just like I’ve survived these past 13 miles.

I looked directly up at the Finish Line banner as I passed under it. For the first time in a long time I allowed myself to stop and take in the moment. I teared up. It was nice.  

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The Stress Teasing Causes Parents

Like a lot of young kids, I used to get picked on in grade school. I know it’s hard to believe considering how awesome I am (I mean, I’m not insinuating that I’m as awesome as, say, George Clooney—I’m too humble for that ... though a Brad Pitt comparison isn't out of the question). But back in my younger days, a time so long ago that our video games systems used controllers with one direction pad and only two buttons (how did we survive!), I would catch grief. I was always one of the shortest in my class. I never got into trouble. I did well academically. And the teachers liked me.

Just lather up that “Kick Me” sign and glue it my back.

To be fair, I have a lot of wonderful memories too (and I graduated from grade school with several friends). But getting made fun of had a long-lasting affect on me, one I didn’t shake until adulthood. It’s something that I pray my own kids never go through.

Which bring us to the other day: Recently I was invited to help with my eldest daughter’s grade school Walk-a-Thon fundraiser. I agreed to help chaperone because 1) I like doing helpful things, 2) I completely underestimated how far they planned to walk and 3) my wife implied there’d be post-walk bacon treats, which I later found out was a ruse. Most important, though, it gave me an opportunity to spy see my daughter in action with her Kindergarten classmates.

As we left the school and headed out on our journey, I, along with the teachers and other chaperones, guided the kids along the path and reminded them of the rules:

·      Stay on the sidewalk

·      Stay out of people’s lawns

·      Wave to people in cars who honk at us

·      Don’t wave to people in cars who honk at other cars

·      Don’t mimic hand gestures from people in cars who honk at other cars

·      Wipe snotty noses on your own sleeves

My daughter, the sweetheart that she is, held my hand for the first 10 minutes of the walk. I’d like to think it was because she loved me, but in truth, I think it was because she forgot her gloves and it was pretty cold outside. I had forgotten mine too, so it was a bonus. Eventually, though, she broke away from my grip and trotted off with her friends. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they were all giggling and smiling and having a good time. This truly warmed my heart (but not my hands—seriously, it was freaking cold).

I talked with the teacher for a bit, who was very complimentary of my daughter, telling me how well she’s doing in class. I talked with the priest, who assured me that with enough prayer I’d be able to survive the walk even if there were no bacon treats at the end of it. I even chatted with several other Kindergarteners, all of whom claimed to be Spider-Man. This was ridiculous, of course, because secretly I am Spider-Man. (Keep that on the down-low, though. Don’t want to be mobbed by fans.)

About halfway through the walk I noticed my daughter was still laughing with her friends. I slowed down a bit to try and overhear what they were laughing about. I finally got close enough to hear what my daughter was saying to her friends.

“Don’t walk behind my dad. He’s stinky! And he has big feet too!”

My own little Judas was selling me out. She and her classmates weren’t making fun of each other. They were making fun of me. That’s how they were bonding. I know they were just being silly, but a little part of me—that five-year-old with the lame video game remote control—was crushed.

I contemplated saying something. I also contemplated giving them something stinky to really complain about. I contemplated a lot because I wasn’t quite sure how to handle this situation. On one hand, I don’t want her poking fun at others. On the other hand, we poke fun at each other all the time at home. If only I had a third hand that could tell me what to do.

That’s when the third hand I needed arrived: It was my daughter’s and she slid it back into mine.

“Daddy, I was just kidding. I know you’re not stinky. I love you.”

And with that, my worries started to evaporate. I know over the years most kids get heckled some. It’ll probably happen to my kids too. I just hope I’m able to teach my girls how to deal with it and not let it bother them, and how to be compassionate toward others and treat them with kindness. I can’t control the future but I can sure do my best to guide my kids on the path to be good human beings. And that’s what I intend to do.

“But you do kind of have big feet.”

If only there were post-walk bacon treats to drown my sorrows in. 

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Passive Aggressive Lunchbox Notes (For Moms & Dads)

There are 5 different types of notes you can write on your kid’s lunch napkin. They are:

1.     The Affectionate Note
(Have a great day! I love you!)

2.     The Reminder Note
(Don’t forget, Grandma is picking you up from school today!)

3.     The Educational Note
(5 + 4 = 9)

4.     The “Dad Fact” Note
(Did you know the Designated Hitter was added to baseball in 1973? #dadfact)

5.     The Passive Aggressive Note
(This sandwich looks delicious. You should try eating it today.)

I’ve been leaving notes on my daughter’s lunch napkins all year, a practice I picked up from my wife who left the inaugural “Have a great first day of school!” note on my daughter’s very first school lunch napkin. It’s a morning tradition that I’ve not only embraced but also thoroughly enjoy—plus I’m awesome at it, just like I’m awesome at inventing hilarious Twitter hashtags (#biebersmellslikebutts) and growing a mustache (check out this reflection perfection).

My plan at the beginning of the school year was to rotate which type of note I wrote. If I wrote an Affectionate Note on Monday, I’d be sure to write a Dad Fact Note on Tuesday, and so forth. I also promised myself that I’d reserve Passive Aggressive notes for only the most necessary of occasions, such as my daughter forgetting to do her homework or teasing her sisters or leaving a trail of toys that would most certainly cause her parents to suffer a bad case of Lego Limp. 

Lately, though, I find the Passive Aggressive Note is sneaking its way into all the notes. I blame this on my daughter who, for all the straight A’s that she gets and all the academic achievement awards she wins at school, can’t seem to find time at lunch to eat her sandwich. She makes all sorts of excuses, including she “got caught up talking to her friends” and “they don’t give us enough time to eat sandwiches,” which we all know is absurd because it only takes about 14 seconds to eat a sandwich (#dadfact).

Now this may not seem like a big deal to you, but this is terribly offensive to me for three reasons: 1) My wife spends precious time every night making my daughter’s sandwich, time that she could easily use doing something more fun for herself like rubbing my feet; 2) The grocery store deli counter is a miserable land where souls go to die, and yet I enter that war zone each week to provide supplies for that sandwich; 3) Sandwiches are DELICIOUS. Not eating one is like spitting on a rainbow. I mean, who does that?

To demonstrate how the Passive Aggressive Note has sneaked it's way into each of the other types of Lunchbox Notes, here’s a recent set of notes I wrote in an attempt to get my daughter to eat her sandwich, not that any of them actually worked.

Monday: The Affectionate Note

Tuesday: The Reminder Note

Wednesday: The Educational Note

Thursday: The “Dad Fact” Note

Friday: The Passive Aggressive Note

OK, so most of my notes aren't really like this—in fact, most are loving notes or dad facts that my daughter actually looks forward to (and we discuss at night). But every once in a while I think it's OK to vent a little frustration in a funny way, especially when your kid is wasting a perfectly wonderful sandwich. Seriously, child: #EatTheSandwich

What’s the most memorable note you’ve put in your child’s lunchbox? I’d love to know. Put it in the comments section (or email me a picture of it) and perhaps I’ll do a follow-up post with some of the best. 

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It's Opening Day, Which Means 3 Things

I LOVE Opening Day. It's my favorite celebration (sorry, Christmas). There are many reasons Why Opening Day in Cincinnati is the Best Day of the Year and it's important that leading up to it you read How to Ready Your Kids for Opening Day: The 7 Spring Training Drills They Need to Learn. But now—after months and months of terrible weather called "the off season"—Opening Day is finally here, which means 3 important things:

1. All meals will be eaten out of small, replica batting helmets.

2. Break out the bobbleheads: They are ready to party! (They are also fully aware of the gratuitous product placement and are 100% OK with it).

3. There's a hope in the air that every day, every night, every game something magical will happen and we're able to share it with not only friends, family and people that we love, but also with an entire city. Here's to hope, and to hoping that our season ends just like this:

Happy Baseball Season Everyone! GO REDS!

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For Sale (House, Not Kids)

It's finally time. After 8 wonderful years in our lovely house, we've decided it's time for a change. This is somewhat heartbreaking for me. I love our house—it's filled us with nothing but amazing memories. It's where I started this blog. It's the only place our kids have ever called home. It's the first place my wife was ever able to use the phrase, "If you don't cut that grass soon you'll be sleeping on it!"

I also love our neighborhood and cul-de-sac street. St. Bernard is one of the quiet gems in Cincinnati. It's close to everything (thanks to easy access to 75 and the Lateral), is minutes away from XU, UC, Good Sam Hospital (my wife was thankful for that all three times she went into labor), Rookwood and downtown (Go Reds!). It has its own gym for residents (only $10 a month, no contract) and the St. Bernard swim club is cheap ($80 a year for a family). If we're lucky, we'll find another house in the area.

So if you are looking for a wonderful house in a quiet neighborhood that's close to everything and has amazing neighbors, then I have a house for you (or if you know someone looking for all of those things, send them my way). Here's a sneak peek.

This is the living room, where my wife and I once argued about what size TV it could handle. I'm happy to say that I won that argument (one of only 5 I've ever won with my wife) and our 50-inch TV, Stephen, has rested comfortably in the corner ever since.

While we normally host our family of 5 in this formal dinning room, we've fit upwards of 15 in here for dinner before. It's an excellent place to eat ice cream out of mini-Reds helmets (I'm willing to throw in a few for the buyer!)

Those kitchen counters are always that clear and never have anything on them like mail or art projects or the lunch that I packed for work and somehow completely forgot.

Here's the breakfast nook that sits right off the kitchen. I have to be honest, we eat a majority of meals in here because of its convenience to the fridge and stove.

The downstairs bathroom was pretty ugly when we moved in, so we updated the floor, replaced the awful medicine cabinet with this full mirror and added some decorative elements. 

The master bedroom is pretty big and has a nook with a large closet (in fact, you could probably close off the nook and turn it into a walk-in closet-->—no idea why we never did that. I don't know. We really liked the nook.)

We also redid the floor of the upstairs bathroom and recently had the tub reglazed.

The second bedroom is actually slightly bigger than the master suite, which worked out well for us. We were able to fit two twin beds in there and still have plenty of space for dressers and toys. It also provides an excellent number of hide-and-go seek hiding places.

The third bedroom started out as my "Reds Room," an office filled with Reds bobbleheads and other memorabilia (which explains the red and white striped walls). But for the past couple of years it's served as a nursery for my youngest daughter (and still had enough space to fit a full size bed).

Here's the back of the house. We have a one-car garage, though we use it mostly to store the ridiculous amount of bubble-blowing liquid we've accumulated over time. The driveway wraps around the house and is big enough to fit several cars, which is nice for parties. It's also a wonderful canvas for kids (and some of us grown ups) who love to play with chalk. And there's a nice little patio that we have used for a table, chairs and our grill. My favorite is to sit out there on beautiful summer nights, grilling some burgers, listening to the Reds game on my tiny radio and watching the kids as they kick a soccer ball in the grass.

So there you have it. This house has been the perfect fit for us for so long; now we're hoping someone else finds it a perfect fit for them. We've been so lucky to have such amazing neighbors and the day we move the last box out of the house, I'll be incredibly sad. But with our family complete it's time to find a house that fits us a little better (and one that has enough closet space to accommodate the mountains of shoes that come with a wife and three daughters).

Check out the official listing to see all the specs and share with family, friends and anyone else you know who may be looking for an affordable house in a lovely, quiet, cul-de-sac neighborhood. I know there's someone out there who is ready to fall in love with it like we did. 

Thanks everyone! -BK

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