Guest Post from Parker: Healthy Food and Other Things I’ll Never Eat

So, it’s getting to that point in the summer.

You know the point.

Where your parents suddenly start cataloging the number of popsicles, ice cream cones, teddy grahams and marshmallows you have eaten since June 1st. And they hate themselves. And you realize the rest of your summer. Is. Doomed.

Today, Mom asked me to make a list of all the healthy “growing” foods I like to eat so we can always have them in the house. My list was: pasta, olives, grapes and raisins. She wasn’t really that happy with that list. And now that I am relaying it to you, I realize that grapes and raisins are really the same food. That probably really ticks her off. Heh Heh.

Anyway, I have this cool trick I play on my Mom. Everytime I am bored, I ask for something to eat or drink. Simply because I am always asking, I end up wearing her down to give up the Teddy Grahams by 10:00 am. Simply because I am always asking, she thinks because I agreed to an apple means that I ate it. Simply because I am always asking, she wants to silence me. And sometimes she knows the only way to do that is with food.

It’s kind of sad, isn’t it? No. It’s freaking awesome.

My sister is really no help in the food panhandling. Do you know she eats eggs? And hummus? And carrots? She really ruins the whole wearing down process and sometimes Mom gets all “I’m the boss” about how my sister eats better than me.

Oh yeah? Well, who can ask you for a treat so many times that you often offer two treats just to get him to shush? Not little blue eyes over there. This redhead. This three year old. This fine specimen of toddler, right here. 542200_10151796884286418_1079494095_n

If you want some pointers on how to adopt my amazing eating habits/Jedi mind tricks, here’s some simple rules for eating and choosing your own food:

1. Is it a carb? Okay, then consider it. Is it a carb with something wet or gooey on it? Then, nope, it’s not for you.

2. Is it’s main ingredient sugar? Then, yes.

3. Does it come in a tube or a pouch? Maybe. But not if it’s green.

4. Does it smell like cinnamon? Consider it.

5. Is it portable? This is a big plus. Consider all portables.

6. Has it been frozen? Then, probably not. I can taste a frozen bagel a mile away. But like popsicle or pudding pop frozen? Why, yes please.

7. Is there peanut butter on it? No. Just no.

8. Did a vegetable touch it? Is the vegetable corn on the cob? Then, yes.

9. Does it smile? Is it a French fry? YES! YES!

10. Is it meat but not a nugget of some sort? Sorry, no. It cannot be trusted.

Now if you try your own tricks and they also work to bringing your Mom to her knees and making her give up the junk to eat, make sure you let me know. I have been hard at work to figure out just the right tantrum to get a popsicle for breakfast. If you have any pointers, let me know. So far I’ve just been doing a lot of yelling before she has her coffee while also spilling boxes of Cheerios all over the kitchen. I think I am only 24 hours away from it. Yesssssss.

Guest Post: 10 Steps to Driving Your Mother Absolutely and Totally Bonkers

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This list is not for the faint of heart. It takes dedication and spirit to be this infuriating. But, in 10 easy steps, you can watch your mother have a thirty three year old version of a temper tantrum that is truly entertaining.

1. Saying “I’m thirsty” 127 times in a row. Before 7am. When I know she hasn’t even made coffee yet.

2. Planting my elbow/shoulder/knee somewhere- anywhere on her body so she yelps in pain.

3. Slowly. Doing. Anything. Especially when “someone” is in a bit of a rush.

4. Insisting on redoing something that really is ridiculous but playing like if you aren’t allowed to redo in, you might start foaming at the mouth.

5. Calling her back into my bedroom not once but about seven times by saying,”I just want to tell you something.” Stretches out pre-bedtime unnecessarily. One of my favorite hobbies.

6. Repeating the word she said in a hushed whisper under her breath and shouting it. “GOD DAMMIT!” That will teach her.

7. Effectively repeating Mommy so many times that she locks herself in the bathroom and said she needs “privacy” (aka Oreos).

8. Learning the way around her pathological lying. When she says the donut place “doesn’t have donuts today,” I like to make statements that will really just make her feel super guilty. “I wonder if the children in that car got the last donuts?” Do you like your coffee served with a side of lifelong resentment, Mom? I thought so.

9. Realizing that we FORGOT to do the one thing we SAID we would do at the beach/mall/playground/museum/ pool and have a nuclear meltdown. It really helps seal the deal when she gets all “I’m an amazing Mom” at the end of an outing.

10. Dumping out a bin of toys. And then promptly leaving the room and not playing with one of said toys. Not. Even. One.

If you have any questions, or need help in driving your mother bonkers, just message me here. Mom is pretty good about passing along my messages.

Guest Post from Parker: Buck up, Mom. It’s Summer.

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Dear Mom,

I’ve tried to give you a preview of what’s in store for summer, but you still seem to be in denial. This summer, you need to bring your A game. Turn off the Real Housewives, put down that book that you’ve been waiting all year to read. It’s summer. And that means you give ME your full attention. Here’s some tips of how to really make it a great summer all around for me…okay, and Celia too.

Seven Ways to Have a Great Summer with Parker Gallagher

1. Be liberal with the sweet treats. Summer is about eating ice cream and S’mores until you are nauseous. Don’t be a buzz kill and enforce any “one sweet” rules. Don’t think I don’t see the little Oreo binge you have going on when you hide in the pantry. You’re not kidding anyone.

2. Screen Time Unlimited. Let’s just pretend it means you’re a better parent the MORE TV your kid watches. Because debating show/movie/IPad games with you is really exhausting. And, just wondering, when can I have my own Netflix account?

3. Nix the Naps. I will be 4 in December. I think it’s time to face facts. You need a nap more than I do. You are the adult here, Bridge. It’s time to have an extra cup of coffee and just let me play away the afternoon. My summer memories shouldn’t include the pitiful sadness I feel when when you sequester me to my room. It’s such a sad detail for the memoir I will someday write about my childhood.

4. P.S. I know you are not working. You’re a teacher. You have the summer off. Like two whole months. And I know you send me to preschool on some of those days. How do you sleep at night?

5. Negotiations. You really need to ratchet up your negotiation techniques for summer. You are too easily annoyed these days. I’m three and a half, it’s like my job not to take no for an answer.

6. Pajamas. They should be worn all day every day.

7. Sweetie Baby. Lets make a deal, I’ll play with the little sister and give you ten minutes of peace a day if you can maybe get her to stop biting me and putting on my shoes. That would be great, thanks.

Love,
Your Favorite Redhead
Parker

Guest Post from Parker: Stop Your Lying, Mom, for real

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Here’s some gems Mom has been feeding to me lately. This woman is full of malarkey and the world needs to know about it. I mean, who does she think she’s kidding here– little miss Fire Biter over there? Let’s get real, Mom. I’m not feeling these lies.

1. “If you are not good, we are sending Buzz Lightyear on vacation.”

Pfft. Oh really? How creative! Don’t you really mean, “if you don’t stop your crap we’re going to put him on top of the fridge again and torture you all day long but then give him back to you anyway.” Yeah, you know he doesn’t go on vacation. Have you even SEEN the movie?

2. “You need to take a nap because Mommy needs to take a nap.”

Oh right! Well, this is only true if by nap you mean “watch Pitch Perfect and do her nails.”

3. “I don’t know where your trumpet went. We’ll have to keep looking.”

How many more years are you going to keep up this story that its “lost”? You threw it in the garbage and you know it. You hated that trumpet and you have forever stifled my musical talent because of it.

4. “We’ll go outside later, it’s too cold.”

Yeah, that never stops Miss Bridgette when she wants to powerwalk with the stroller to Starbucks for a coffee now does it? Priorities, Mom. Come on. I’m not the most athletic kid, do you think you could play ball with me and at least give me a shot?

5. “The Ipad is broken. Your games don’t work.”

Yeah, it must only be able to go on Pinterest and Facebook. And check your email. And listen to your favorite Pandora station.

6. “If you don’t eat your whole dinner, you won’t get big like Daddy.”

You told me I used to be a tiny baby. I have quadrupled my size and doubled my height in three years. How many inches has Mr. Eggs for Breakfast grown recently? And I haven’t noticed YOU sprouting up with all your vegetable eating.

7. “There’s chocolate in it.”

Seriously, woman. I barely eat as it is. Do you really think chocolate is going to make everything better? What about when I figure out that the “chocolate log” was actually sausage? How much therapy will help me recover from that lie?

8. “You should know better, you’re sister is littler than you.”

Okay, maybe she is shorter but she has a ridiculous right hook. She also has bitten me on every appendage and twice on my back. I sleep with one eye open and never put my back to her in the bath. I live my life terrified and you think I’m the big bully. Great, just great.”

9. “When you save enough money in your piggy bank, maybe you can buy that.”

Oh, okay. We’ll put my hopes and dreams on the back burner so you can get those new heels. Go ahead, treat yo’self Shortcut Girl, no one’s stealing from your piggy bank, right? Oh, and where did my Easter money go from Grand Mom. Nice, Mom, real nice.

10. “You can’t watch another show, your brain won’t grow.”

Ooooooooh! So that’s it! Instead let’s play watch Parker dump out all the toys on the floor. And then maybe a little game of toilet paper tag. What? Oh, I can watch a show now? Oh, thanks! (SUCKER!)

 

Guest Post From Parker: The Car Wash and Other Ways My Mom Tried to Kill Me

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Smiling with ridiculous pajamas on. It’s the only way to get her to stop.

 

I don’t want to incriminate anyone but I am pretty sure my Mommy has some issues and might, secretly, be bearing some unfortunate resentment of me. I can’t say I blame her, I did yell, “My Mommy has a vagina kind of penis!” at the grocery store the other day, but she really needs to look into some parenting classes or something. She’s a little bereft of the Mommy skillz.

Case in point, our trip to the car wash yesterday. Now, she KNOWS I don’t like the car wash. She might even delight in the fact that I get a little nervous when we go through it. She refers to the giant spaghetti monsters as “octopuses” and “sea creatures.” Well, all I know is that I am pretty sure we will one day die in a car wash. Especially since my Mom left the window open a crack yesterday when we went through it.

 

More Like Death Wash

“Close it! Close it! Close it!” I cried. Petrified of the sea monsters that were going to come into the car and eat me. She just kept saying, “I can’t close the car wash, buddy, don’t be scared.” Once the soap bubbles started flying all around the car and little pretty Celia was covered in suds, Mom the genius was singing a different tune. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry Parker.” And she rolled the window up. Thanks, Mom. I already am pretty sure that there is a man living under my bed at home while I sleep but now I have absolutely NO FAITH in you keeping me alive in a car wash. Great job there with the parental supervision. Maybe try to be a little more observant while you chat up your former student car wash attendant. Maybe take a second to keep your children out of harm’s way?

Arsenic in my Applesauce

As if that was not life altering enough, Sweet little Bridgette tried to serve me orange apple sauce. Orange. Applesauce. Do you know why? Because that little health nut thought that mixing in sweet potatoes might help me have a healthier meal. Does she know that I survive basically on milk and slices of white bread? Doesn’t she get that I have a sophisticated palette that only really enjoys the delicacies of popcorn, cookies and vanilla ice cream? I mean what kind of animal eats ORANGE applesauce? Seriously.

Eye Acid

As I am sure you can tell by now, I wear glasses. One unfortunate catch of this cute accessory is that some lame doctor has said I need eye drops twice a week. Yeah, that’s a lot of fun. Watching Mr. and Mrs. Tricky try to give me these things while I thrash, kick, pinch and bite is always interesting. I am convinced that they do it just to torture me. No matter the bribes or silly games they play, one thing is evident: clearly, they enjoy seeing me cry.

Humiliation via Pajamas

Since my Mom apparently wants more days off in order to better ruin my life- she was really, really hoping for a snow day last week. So much that she MADE ME put my clothes on backwards and inside out for good luck. I mean, it’s not bad enough she just wants to make me look stupid (more about that coming up;) but then she wants to go all Instagram photoshoot on me after. I swear that woman just capitalizes on my cuteness. When she’s not inventing new made up ways to get days off from work, that is.

Shampoo Death

And then, after I endure about all I can of the car wash and the applesauce and the eye drops, Mommy Dearest wants to put SOAP in my HAIR. From the time it touches my scalp, I can feel it running down my face headed for: you know where— my eyes. It’s like she doesn’t even want me to be happy. She just chooses a different torture based on her mood. Tough love doesn’t even describe it. This is the work of a devil.

Talking Back

So, I let her have it after all of this. I told her two things this weekend that really put her in her place.

“Here’s the thing, Mom. If you give me another time out, you will be a bad girl.” I just laid it all out there on the table. She should know her reputation is plummeting by the day.

and (my personal favorite):

“What words start with C? Celia! And STUPID! STUPID STARTS WITH C!” Now, this is funny on multiple levels. First, my mother is an English teacher. Whenever I don’t recognize a letter she goes all “Hooked on Phonics ” on me and starts talking in her teacher voice. Thinking that I have mixed up C and S actually bothers her. Which means she has to engage in a conversation with me and repeat the word stupid over and over again. And, do you see the irony her? Priceless.

If you can learn anything from this post, it’s how you should really, really not subject your children to the absolutely terrible parenting that Bridgette Gallagher is guilty of. Guaranteed your kids will be well-adjusted to car washes, enjoy foods where the ingredients are identifiable and might even have a bath without a nervous breakdown. If you are interested in helping me stage an intervention with my Mom, please contact me because I am really starting to get concerned for my baby sister at this point.

Guest Post From Parker: How to Deal With Crazy Parents on a School Break

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Can you even begin to understand the stress I am under for my ENTIRE LIFE not just having ONE but TWO parents who are teachers? That means no school breaks where I get to roam the house, eat Spaghettios and watch Scooby Doo all day, no video games, no pajamas all day and all night. Nope. Those two will be there every day of every flippin’ school vacation until I graduate.

Thanks for ruining my life, Mom and Dad. Thanks a lot.

Case in point: Last Week. It was a nice break from day care and preschool, but, really Mom? Don’t you think you should look into a prescription for Prozac? Is coloring on the kitchen tile really the cause for yelling? Let’s just take it down a notch, kay? Here’s my take on how to deal with crazy parents when you spend too many Winter days indoors.

White Fang

The best development that could have occurred this week is that my little sister became a biter. Instantly catapulting me from “bad boy” status and putting all eyes on her. Because she has turned into a Toddler version of Twilight, I was able to get away with two big cups of chocolate milk, two lollipops and no less than three Disney movies on the Ipad. You know what’s even better? The little vamp takes off my glasses and chucks them to the ground. Classic bully move and my parents are instantly horrified. Future recesses on school playgrounds flash before their eyes. And Bella the Biter (or Celia the Chomper) gets her first taste of time out…mixed with just a little bit of blood. Eh, it’s worth it.

Whenever it seems like their attitudes are ever so slightly shifting towards favoring her again, I just bust out my scary bite mark for a little sympathy. There’s nothing like laying on the parental guilt. It kills them.

 

Going Toddlerexic

Another awesome thing to do on vacations to really mess with parents is to just go on a hunger strike. No food= unhappy toddler. Unhappy toddler= whiney toddler. Whiney toddler= parents are nervous they are going to have a terrible time on their vacation. Nervous parents= bribes. The trick is to make them think that it’s their idea. For three days I ate only dirt, milk, 3 Goldfish, 2 Starburst and 9 Nutri-Grain bars. They were desperate.

 

“It was an accident.”

What really gets them Googling parenting advice is when you make them think you are not potty trained anymore. They typically search for “potty regression” “toddler bladder control” or “nervous toddler AND peeing.” All they really see is the future poopy diapers you could possibly be making them touch again. It gets inside their head, they, like panic and go all social worker on you. “Were you afraid you would not make it to the potty?” “Did you forget where the potty was?” “Were you nervous about the new potty?” No lame-o, I just happen to know that peeing my pants gets me a. a lot of attention and b. some clean underwear. It also makes you stop watching Princess cuteness over there point to her nose over and over again. Sometimes, it’s the only thing I’ve got.

 

5 More Minutes

Newsflash Mom, no one ever taught me how long a minute was so every time I tell YOU that I will do something after 5 minutes, what I’m really saying is: “I’ll do that when I gosh darn want to, so zip it.” I mean, no offense, that’s just what I mean.

 

Antibiotics

You might have thought you kept the germs away but I don’t think you know that sometimes I actually just splash water all over the bathroom and smear soap on the mirror for fun–washing my hands has nothing to do with that bathroom party. So if you think once the 10 days are up you are in the clear, you are sorely, sorely mistaken. I’ve been taking bacteria samples from all my best friend’s sippy cups all week. You’re in for it.

 

Time in!

Just so you know. Time out is bullshit. It’s just a time for you to reflect on how you are going to explain to me for the 100th time that pulling my sister’s hair is not okay. And really, I don’t have time for that. I need to figure out how I can possibly get as many stickers as possible stuck to the underside of the kitchen table before bedtime. I’ll do my job, you do yours. Why don’t you take Little Miss Chompers there and change her diaper again and make yourself useful.

 

Guest Post from Parker: I Love You Five Much

my mom is the shortcut girl

I’m going to write a children’s book. And I wanted you all to be the first to know. I thought taking over the IPad and writing this post might be a good PR move. And I know my Mom won’t even notice because The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills is on followed by Vanderpump Rules. So, in other words, I have about two hours unsupervised here. And since I already watched a replay of all the Super Bowl commercials with Dad, it’s time to get to work.

First, I want to say that although I think my Mom might use this blog to “vent” about her frustrations with parenting, you have to give me credit for being freaking ah-dore-able in the accompanying pictures. I mean, the cowboy hat picture? What three-year old with red hair and glasses can pull that off? This guy.

Back to my book. I’ve got very little planned out, but I have a title. Because I love titles. I love thinking of clever, witty and punny titles for foods, games, my sister’s stupid dolls and stuffed animals.

And I’ve got this one in the bag. It’s going to be called, I Love You Five Much.

It’s about a boy with red hair and glasses that loves his mother. And, well, he loves her five much. And he thinks that’s a lot. Like a real lot. But he knows that five much doesn’t really sound like a lot. So he kind of keeps his Mom guessing, you see? It’s a little game he plays with her. It’s a good game. And he always wins.

Would you read it?

I promise at the end there will not be an illustration of an elderly woman being held by a grown man . Because books like that are just terrible. And they make my Mom cry and get all huggie. And that’s just mean. It’s Mommy abuse, really.

I Love You Five Much will be a lighter version of the Mommy-Son love affair. Complete with the part where the red-headed boy says, “I loved Daddy first,” and “Don’t worry Mommy, Celia still loves you.” Because this book will be about getting real with your Mom. None of that fluffy stuff. When his Mommy says, “I love you to the moon and back” or some cheesy crap like that, he replies, “I love you five much.” And, although she is not sure if that is a lot or a little, she melts into a little Mom puddle, a muddle— when she hears it.

I’m not so sure what the moral of the story will be here. It may be just to make sure to tell your Mommy you love her because your Mom is an emotional sap of a woman needs to hear it. Or maybe–make sure you always quantify your feelings– no one likes an unspecfic I love you. Or— tell your Mom to suck it up and stop asking you how much you love her– she’s a big girl. Or how about— coming up with cute, just-for-Mommy sayings can really cement your relationship. Man that woman is a sap. Hmmm. I’m seeing a theme.

I’m wondering if maybe I should think about writing a self-help book instead of a picture book. Maybe Five Ways to Calm a Needy Mommy or The Happiest Mommy on the Block: Your Key to Boosting the Self-Esteem of Your Needy Mommy STAT! I mean, I’ve looked at some of the magazines my Mom reads and man, she really needs a lot of help! She’s always reading about what other Moms are doing, maybe I should be the voice of all the toddlers out there.

Sick of time outs? Read my book!

Not enough Teddy Grahams? Follow my five steps and your Sap of a Mom will be like play-doh in your little hands.

Wow, now I’m really onto something. But, I have to go because Bravo is on commercial break and Mom just realized I snuck the Ipad in bed. Spread the word about my upcoming book(s)! If you know anyone in publishing, send me a text!