Off Duty Mom

Thoughts from an exhausted mom who is NEVER really "off duty"

Archive for the tag “television”

A Shout-Out to my Homies Rockin’ it on a 19th-Century Farm

This morning, while watching the news, I was struck with a thought:  What the hell is happening to this generation?

Y’all know I’m a mom.  And, I am a high school teacher.  In my tenure in both of these important jobs, I have seen some sees.

But, lemme just tell you that what made me wonder about current culture wasn’t the fatal shooting I heard about that happened within the city limits of the school district where I worked for a decade before taking my current job.  It wasn’t the entertainment news that seemed to make it everyone’s business to care whether Beyonce is pregnant or not.

It was a car commercial.

This commercial was for a vehicle that boasted that it had “125 horses.”

It irked me for a number of reasons.

I shall list them for you not so much because I feel as though you have been waiting on the edge of your seat since July for me to post something fabulous, but rather because I loves me a good list.

1. Why “horses” and not “horsepower”?  Is this a sign of our getitdonenow times that signifies we are now just too George Jetson to be bothered with saying two extra syllables?  Is this a sign that the Orwell-ocalypse is upon us and we are paring down our already paltry American vocabulary?  Are Big Motor companies just going to start calling things “double-plus good” from now on?

2.  Why are we even referencing horsepower at all anymore?  Is there anyone on the non-Amish parts of the planet that can even identify the physics of the power of a single horse, thereby being able to fathom the force that can be generated when this energy is multiplied to represent 125 horses?  How relevant is this as a reference and what does it even mean.  I defy even ONE carbuyer to explain to me, plainly, what horsepower is in basic terms of force.

3.  Who really cares about horsepower, anyway, unless you are currently somehow living in 19th-century West Virginia and are tending to your crops?  When you know that a vehicle’s weight, the amount of friction that can occur, and basic torque are other (and perhaps better?) factors on which to judge how well a vehicle pulls, what is even the difference?  I get that some of you gun-rackers need them horsies to haul home your kill of buck for yer kin, but realistically, how much does horsepower even factor in to the average buyers’ concerns?

4.  Marketing sucks.  Big donkey balls.  Tricky wordsmithery, flashy bullshittitude, empty language, meaningless boasts:  I can’t even figure out if I really want a Diet Coke anymore or if the evil elves at Fancy Pants DoubleTalk Advertising Agency, Inc. have crept into my subconscious psyche and have fooled me.  “125 horses?” Bah.  I shant be swayed by your reference to the earth’s most majestic creatures.  (But, if it had “125-unicorn power” I might be sold.)

5.  Finally, Big Car Company:  you’re not cool.  The cool kids are all abbreviating their words so that shit is barely recognizable anymore.  Things are “totes adorbs,” and if you don’t get it, you’re probably just “jelly” of those of us who do, aight?  But, srsly, you, BCC, are comprised of a boardroom full of fat white men with whitish, thinning hair, blah-colored suits and eyeglasses.  Y’all ain’t turnt up and popular.  Stop acting a fool and use regs words, else I keep throwin’ shade at y’all.

 

Now that I have gotten that all out in the open, I do feel a tad better.   I mean, not about the world in which I am raising my children, but just better because I got to rant for a bit.  Thanks for the indulgence.

 

I’m old and out of touch, just like I swore I’d never be…

I have been making a mental list of things I don’t understand.

It’s a long one.

(That’s what she said.)

And, being both a mother and a teacher I am therefore surrounded by young people for the vast majority of my waking hours.  And, you might think that this would aid me in my quest for ultimate world domination and superiority over others, but you’d be wrong.  Being around young people just makes me realize how little I know about the world around me.

macbethI have, like, a couple of degrees and whatnot.  I’m, you know, smart ‘n stuff.  I can recite a heaping chunk of the prologue of “The Canterbury Tales” in the original Middle English.  I can recall the entire first scene of “Macbeth” from memory.  I can say the alphabet backwards.  I know all the words to REM’s “It’s the End of the World As We Know It.”  I know my IQ.  I am not telling you what it is, but let’s just say that I’m not not telling you ‘cuz I’m embarassed, but because I don’t want you to feel bad about yourself.

And, yet, since I am swimming in a sea of Disney-Beiber-CallofDuty-Miley-Legos-XBoxLive-ness, I too often feel like a dipshit.

maniacsI remember being a teenager and just “knowing” that my folks were so out-of-touch.  They didn’t know ANYTHING about REALITY because they thought that 10,000 Maniacs were an LA gang and that Nirvana was Viking heaven.

Of course, my parents felt that their lack of knowledge of popular culture was irrelevant and that the real REALITY was, you know, mortgages and car insurance and W2s and that sort of thing.

I agree that personal finance is closer to relevant than knowing all of the stock characters on Saturday Night Live might be.  Nevertheless, I feel just a little silly and old when I realize how much there is that I don’t know.

galtLike this:

Who is Benedict Cumberbatch? (I know who John Galt is, but for some reason that doesn’t seem to matter to the people on Pinterest as much.)

Wasn’t “Dr. Who” a TV show in the 80’s?  Why is everyone talking about it now?

Name one song by Macklemore that isn’t “Thrift Shop.”  I dare you.  (Actually, don’t.  You probably can name 20 and then I will just feel worse.)

Who the fuck is ASAP Rocky?  (And why does one student keep insisting he is better than Tupac?  I never even heard the name ‘ASAP Rocky’ before, but I can tell you that it doesn’t matter.  There is no fucking way he is better than Tupac.)

Does anyone actually believe that Katy Perry, Beyonce and Miley Cyrus are feminists?

greeneAm I the only person on the planet who hasn’t yet read The Fault in Our Stars? (I’ve read almost everything William Shakespeare has ever written.  Aren’t I done reading things yet?)

At the end of the day, though, folks, I have to admit that I love learning.  So, if anyone out there can enlighten me regarding any of this or can share some wisdom with me about our world, I am more than interested in hearing about it.  Feel free to share the answers to these pressing questions in the comments section or pose a few of your own.

Thanks for reading!

In Need of a Chainsaw

I have realized that my life would be a hell of a lot easier if there were two of me.

Wow.  That seems so obvious.  I could be so efficient.  I could do twice as much laundry.

chainsaw post2Let’s be honest, though, if there were two of me, I’d probably just creep twice as much Pinterest and drink twice as much snobby craft beer.

But, what I started to come to understand is that on days when the going gets rough, I could really use a metaphysical chainsaw to slice myself into two beings:  one who will lovingly care for my kids and the other who will get a pedicure, shop for handbags and have a long lunch at a restaurant with tablecloths.

‘Cuz here’s the lowdown:  I love my kids.  I also love not being asked 43 times in a day about Super Mario Brothers and Thomas the Tank Engine.  Some days I feel a little run down.  And maybe I cry a little.  Or  a whole lot.  But, when I get a little time to myself, one of two things typically happens:  either I completely waste it by doing absolutely nothing of any value whatsoever, or I spend it wondering what my precious babies are doing, smiling longingly at every beautiful child who passes me at the mall.

Mom said she wishes there were two of her.  Let's practice being helpful.

Mom said she wishes there were two of her. Let’s practice being helpful.

So, it would really be great if there were two of me – not so I could be Supermom and start baking more or inventing cool crafts that involve pipecleaners and homemade slime – but so that one of me could chill the fuck out somewhere, maybe read a book, go tanning, or visit a friend, while the other joyfully absorbs the peace and tranquility radiating from the other’s blissful calm and is able to appreciate every fabulous moment with a couple of terrific little boys.

I decided when founding Off Duty Mom that I was going to be honest about the good, the bad and the ugly.  So, let me go ahead now and tell you where my chainsaw thoughts are coming from.

The other day, when I pulled my car into my garage after a long day of trying to educate the very unwilling youth of America, I turned off the ignition and just sat there.  For a good, solid five minutes or so.  I just sat.  I couldn’t bring myself to get out of the car.  I didn’t want to go inside my house.  I knew that as soon as I did, two children would be bouncing and running and yelling and tossing toys everywhere.  My car was so quiet.  I had a very difficult time walking away from that quiet.

I felt pretty shitty.  The guilt was significant.  What kind of mother leaves her babies all day and then isn’t running into the house at the first chance that she gets to see and spend any quality time with them?

This gal.

And, I felt crapilicious about it.

A good mom, I told myself, is thrilled to come home and wrap her arms around her children.  And then I cried.

But, I pulled my shit together and came into the house.  My kids ran up to me and yelled, “Mommy!” and hugged and kissed me.  It felt so good.  But, it didn’t change the fact that I was so tired.  So.  Very.  Tired.

But yet, I played and I cooked and I sang and I rocked and I bathed and I brushed and I read.  It was lovely.  And exhausting after an already long day.

I thought again about how I’d love to split into two so that one of me could go get a massage.

Now, I have a pretty terrific husband who gives me time to do the things I need to do.  I have regular chiropractor appointments and stuff.  But, things would be a heck of a lot cooler with another “me” around, anyway.  And, since I am so lovable and adorable, I am sure my husband would agree that two of “me” would be pretty sweet.

chansaw postBut, I suppose that like money and time, if I had extra “me” around, I would probably just waste it.  That lazy bitch would probably just take naps, eat BBQ Pringles and watch SVU repeats all the damn time, anyway.

Ugh.

I wish someone would have warned me that parenting was going to be this hard.  Spread the word, people:  parenthood makes you think about chainsaws.

This has been a public service announcement sponsored by the marginally insane.  Thanks for listening.

Coulda Done Without…

Tell me, friends:  who among us cannot appreciate the beauty in the little things in life?

Ah, the beauty of the world around us.  Some days I just can't fucking find it.

Ah, the beauty of the world around us. Some days I just can’t fucking find it

I can’t.

Sometimes even the voices in my own head are of people I’d like to punch in the trachea.

The past two days have been days like that.  I have felt a permanent snarl on my face.  It isn’t iconic like Billy Idol’s or quirky like Elvis’ or cute like a puppy’s.  It is the physical manifestation of disappointment in the human race.  It is the muscular byproduct of my involvement in a culture of stupidity.

Let’s explore some things that are wacky, ridiculous, senseless or just generically aggravating for thinking people.

Strange Days, indeed

Strange Days, indeed

1.  Television.  I have before chronicled my irritation with some modern-day children’s programming.  What has happened?  Where are the Snorks?  Can I get some Great Space Coaster up in here?  I miss my Electric Company.  I feel sorry for kids today who will never learn who is “bouncing here and there and everywhere,” with “high adventure that’s beyond compare.”

2.  Modern technology and inventions.  Now, I am not going to bitch about kids who try sexting, or about the problems with Windows 8.  I am going to complain about the inventions of items such as antenna balls, the Snuggie, the ShamWow, The Shake Weight, the Flowbee, the KFC “Double Down,” and the laser disc.  Where are we going, world?  I don’t want to know what is next up for a world that has invented the wearable DVD player, “Two Broke Girls,” and those little decorative pieces of junk that you cram in the holes of your equally stupid Crocs.

3.  Baby Names from Mars.  What are some of you thinking?  Now, I am really sorry if you are the proud mother of an Orangejello, Nevaeh, Q’Daunteus, Le-A, Yummalewis, Princess, Rambo, Angelbaby, Cha Cha, Kredonshea, Sugar, Zither or Falopiana.  Actually, I am sorrier for your kids.

4.  Prissy Drinkers.  When I was in college, I was repeatedly annoyed by girls who would go to frat parties and not be willing to drink beer.  “I don’t liiiiiike beer,” they’d twirl their hair and whine.  Really, assclown?  You came to a FRAT PARTY.  Oh, yes, Sweet Cheeks, let me get you a Pomegranate Cosmo.  You’re 19.  Drink Schlitz with the rest of the crew.  And, get your hands on that barrel and your feet in the air and be fun, dammit.

5.  The Discriminatory Childless.  Everyone’s an expert, right?  There is no shortage of people out there who have no children of their own, but who will roll eyes, scoff, or even offer unwelcome advice about you and your kids.  Now, I used to be one of the Discriminatory Childless.  And, then I had two kids.  And, now I am sorry to that mother I yelled at at Wal-Mart that one time.

Tell that to the perky-perks.

Tell that to the perky-perks.

6.  The Habitually Optimistic.  I am a grump by nature.  It is just who I am.  My husband asks me all the time “what’s wrong” or mentions, sweetly of course, that I “look miserable.”  Most of the time I am not what I would say is “miserable.”  But, I am adorably misanthropic.  Well, at least that is how I like to think of myself.  But nothing makes me grumpier than when I am faced with a perky, doe-eyed happy-cat.  You know the type.  Ever see “Office Space?”  I think about “Accounts Payable, Nina Speaking…JUST a moment!” repeated enough times to make me want to vomit all over her rainbow-colored world.

Feel free to share with me the things you could do without in this world.  Grump with me.  Try it.  First one’s free.

 

Many Thanks!

Off Duty Mom has reached its one year anniversary blogging at WordPress. 

Thank you so much to all of the readers who have helped motivate us to talk incessantly about varicose veins, the Lazy Town acid trip, potty training, wine consumption, bow hunting, Pinterest, sexual fantasies, snot, exhaustion and Snoop Dogg.

It has been a great year.  The Off Duty Family appreciates your support.  We thank you for visiting us on WordPress, Twitter and Facebook. 

Happy Holidays!

Welcome to Fifteen Minutes Ago, Today Show

The Today Show has noticed that parenting is hard.

Duh.

We’ve been talking about this for a long time now.

Check out the segment here:

http://moms.today.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2012/04/04/11006197-5-best-scary-mommy-moments

Owning Up

In a recent post, I lamented the fact that popular culture has generaly sucked of late and that my children are, essentially, growing up in a vacuous abyss of mindless, useless, thoughtless “entertainment.”

I admit today, publicly, on the internet, that it’s, like, not all bad or all that new.  In fact, I will admit here, for the first time, that I have, um, actually enjoyed the abyss.  A little.

Since my youth in the 80’s and 90’s, I have been interested in movies, music, books, and television.  Perhaps I have been too interested, really.  Nevertheless, I admit here today that there may be in inherent cultural standard for television-watching, or that there just may at least be some kind of a benefit to brain-rotting entertainment media altogether.

If I hadn’t had baseline familiarity with The Smurfs, Blossom, Saved By The Bell, and Saturday Night Live (when it was good), there would have been a whole slew of conversations in which I couldn’t participate.  The 14-year old version of water-cooler-conversations included chats about The Real World (the ORIGINAL in New York — how cute was Eric?) while we sat on the bleachers trying to do as little as possible in gym class.  It was hard enough just growing up.  Period.  But, to add in additional awkwardness and ignorance of youth culture and contemporary society was probably no better for my upbringing than watching too much Spongebob Squrepants would have been.  So, being the pop culture junkie that I am, have been, and always will be, I will now admit to a list of 10 awesomely awful things I admit I LOVE, even though throughout my lifetime of the late 1970’s to today, I have likely watched, seen, heard or read far more stimulating, interesting, valuable and relevant examples of American media.

Whodunnit?

1.  Clue – This is just about my favorite movie ever.  I can’t even pretend to be able to give you good reasons why it ought to be or why you should remotely agree with me.  It’s campy, pointless and was likely produced for $23.  AND I LOVE IT.

2.  America’s Next Top Model – This one hurts a little.  And, I would be lying if I said that admitting to enjoying this show wasn’t made easier by the fact that I am totally anonyous on this blog.

3.  LMFAO – IAM sexy and I DO know it, y’all.  This makes me dance in my car.  I hope they keep coming out with ridiculous music so I can blast this and sing loudly when I drop my kids off at school one day.

Ahhh..a sea of khakis, hair product and teen angst...

4.  Dawson’s Creek – I didn’t get into this until after it had really picked  up momentum, and I was a little older than their target demographic, but whatever.  Dawson.  Pacey.  Joey.  Awesomeness. 

5.  James Bond (even with Daniel Craig) – I am desperately in love with James Bond.  The character.  No matter who plays him (except maybe Roger Moore.  And Timothy Dalton).  And, he loves me, too.  I am sure of it.  Why wouldn’t he?  I am very lovable.

6.  Debbie Gibson – I am not so much of a fan today as I was at the height of both her fame and my adolescent awkwardness, but I was the ULTIMATE Debbie Gibson fan.  My first slow dance was to “Foolish Beat.”  The boyfriend with whom I shared that dance also loved the song.  And now he’s gay.  True story.  Not saying one thing leads to another.  Just sayin’.

7.  Jimmy Fallon – He laughes at his own jokes, breaks character, and is getting a little old for his man-child persona.  But he makes me laugh so hard I sometimes pee a little.  To be fair, though, after having two kids this is not hard to do.

8.  Entourage – No, people, it never sucked, never ran out of steam and never lost its edge.  And, I DO hope there’s a movie.  And, it WILL be better than the “Sex and the City” movies.  (How could it NOT be?  How could ANYTHING not be?)

9.  Real World/Road Rules Challenges – I DVR this and have the priority for it set on “high.”  I can’t get enough.  I am likely the only person who watches it religiously who knows what “Road Rules” even was, but that’s okay.  I have come to a place where I am at peace with my love of Johnny Bananas and Mr. Beautiful.  I really don’t need counseling for it at all.  No, really.

Tommy want wingie. Off Duty Mom want more Tommy.

10.  Tommy Boy –  yes, really.

There you go.  Therapy complete.  I feel better now, thanks.

You know, anyone can admit to liking John Hughes movies, Justin Timberlake, and Modern Family (which I do).  But only someone who is ready for real honesty will put it on the internet that she once owned a pink, knit Debbie Gibson hat.  Yup.

Laying down the law

 Having posted recently about not understanding some people’s affinity for some of the worst popular music of all time (which I insist was all made after 1995), I started thinking about pop culture more.

Truthfully, I am obsessed with movies, music and tv from the 80’s and 90’s.  I even tried out for VH1’s “World Series of Pop Culture” with a team of other pop-culture addicts.  I am still floored that we didn’t make it past the first round.  There just couldn’t have been anyone better than we were.

But, in my pondering about the pop culture of my youth in that last post, I made reference to the fact that my parents banned hardcore rap in my house right at the height of the gangsta rap movement when everything was very political and driven.  They, of course, never listened much to the lyrics to know anything beyong the fact that they were violent (or so they had heard) and used racial slurs.  A whole lot.

That has led me to think at length about other things my folks banned at our house.  Warning:  this list is odd.

1.  The Simpsons — My mother insisted that Bart Simpson (who she didn’t know by name, but instead referred to as “that child”) was “disrespectful.”  Most of my questions, however, regarding her reasons for disallowing this program in her household were simply met with a pursed-lipped sour scowl and disapproving head shake.  So, I am still not 100% certain what her beef was, but I think that she probably heard the “Eat my shorts!” tagline once and decided that it was NOT for her precious baby girl’s ears.  It’s funny how philosophical, political and deep the social commentary is on this show, though.  It’s a shame mom never got the chance to learn that guns are “for family protection, hunting dangerous or delicious animals, and keeping the King of England out of your face!”

Is that Immanuel Kant or a Tracey Ullman spin-off?

2.  Married With Children — This show was notoriously forbidden in my home as a kid.  I never really showed much interest in watching it, though, so I am not really sure why my mother so vehemently protested against this in my presence.  It kinda made me want to watch it, actually, though, so let that be a lesson about getting your kids to do (or not do) what you want them to do (or not do).  But, I always thought that the show was a little…contrived.  At my age as a young teenager, I didn’t really get the winky humor.  My husband would now cringe since he was actually a big fan, but honestly, I just never really found it that appealing. 

Keepin' it classy.

Hey, Baby.

3. Dirty Dancing — Now, I know that the only reason I was not allowed to see this movie was because of the title.  I know this, of course, because my mother told me that “no child of mine is going to watch something called Dirty Dancing!”  Fast forward to a few months after the movie’s release when on a chilly February night I showed up at a friend’s house for a huge sleepover birthday party where the featured presentation involved Patrick Swayze’s gyrations and a botched back alley abortion procedure.  Scandal.  I thought for sure mom was going to turn me right around in the doorway and march me back home where everything was safe and we could peacefully watch “The Cosby Show” snuggled on the couch as a family.  But, she didn’t.  I stayed.  I saw the movie.  I had a nice time with my friends. I didn’t subsequently become a mass murderer.  Crisis averted.  And, now it’s my mom’s second favorite movie.  First is still “White Christmas.”  Nothing’s ever going to trump that.  Not even shirtless foxtrots.

NOOOO!!!! Casual shopping!!!!

4.  The mall — Well, to be fair, the mall itself wasn’t completely off-limits.  I just wasn’t allowed to drive there, be driven there by anyone who received a license after Nixon’s resignation, be left alone for any length of time there, or “hang out” there without a specific purpose.  To this day, I cannot browse.  It isn’t in my nature.  The desire for it was sucked out of my soul via my mother’s version of the  Ludovico Technique, apparently.

5.  Earrings — The rule in my household was that I would not be permitted to have piercings of any type until my 13th birthday.  Granted, piercing anything other than one’s ears was  not heard of in 1989 among the suburban masses, so their intention wasn’t to ban my becoming a punk, but was to ban my growing up too quickly since earrings somehow signified (perhaps to my father more than to my mother) maturity.  My mom’s needle-phobia wasn’t putting her in a position to want to rush me out to Piercing Pagoda to watch a dart gun press metal alloy through her daughter’s flesh, either, I am sure.

As a parent myself now, I wish I could say that I am more reasonable than my parents were, but that would be a lie.  I am totally irrational and have ridiculous rules and look forward to embarassing my children by dancing at their school dances.  One might say that I have learned NOTHING from my parents’ example.  They made things difficult for me and they made me want them to walk three steps behind me in public.  But, I maintain that they taught me everything I needed to know about how to have a loving marriage and how to raise a clearly briliant, thoughtful, well-adjusted child.  Who is also beautiful.  And a genius.  And just awesome.

They don’t call it an “idiot box” for nothing…

Ever stop to really check out what your kids are watching?

Of course you have.  That’s why you know all of the words to the Wiggles theme song and why you wake up in a cold sweat wondering where you put all of Jake’s gold doubloons.

There’s really something out there for everyone’s little ones.  

For the spawn of fomer club kids, there’s Lazy Town (Sprout).  It has everything.  Girl in Katy Perry wig?  Check.  Superhero who fights crimes with Cheer Dance?  Perfectly-coifed, chisel-chinned villain with high-waisted pants that are, frankly, so fabulous that they deserve three snaps in a “Z” formation?  Check and check.  Plastic puppet people?  Check.  Seriously.  I can’t tell if the people who invented the show are all on ecstasy, are very, very gay (not that there’s anything wrong with that), or are just European.  One look at the credits and their overabundance of “S”s (names like Samuelsson, Karlsson, Joahnsson) tells me that it is door #3.  

Hmmm...

Speaking of drug-fueled children’s entertainment, ever seen Yo Gabba Gabba (Nick Jr)?  If those folks aren’t on acid, then Gordon the Express Engine isn’t the fastest steamie on the island of Sodor.  Wait.  Oh, preschool entertainment is all becoming a jumble…  My mind is mush.  Calgon, take me away…

But, there’s more.  Want your kids to love James Bond as much as you do?  There’s Special Agent Oso (Disney Junior).  One part 007, one part Get Smart and one part Teddy Ruxpin, this “unique, stuffed bear” is actually very cute and offers something for the parents and the grandparents with its wink and nod to the bygone spy genre. 

When you were a kid, did you love Sesame Street  (PBS) and think that that new red monster, Elmo, was kinda cute?  Good.  Watch Sesame Street now.  He’s staged a coup and is pretty much all that is on that show anymore. 

Remember how Jem was truly outrageous when you were little?  Well, girl power has come along way and now the kids have Dora the Explorer (Nick Jr.).  A little girl of unknown Latin origin helps your kids learn Spanish and learn about the world with the help of a moderately annoying monkey.  The preschool set (particularly the little girls) find it totally addictive.  You’ll find it tolerable, at least.

Someone let me know if you figure out why Caillou is bald, okay?

Want to see what the perfect child is like?  Watch a little Caillou (Sprout).  While you will find that this theme song will haunt your dreams, the show is kinda cute.  Except the title character (what the hell kind of name is that, anyway?) does things like turn down an opportunity to turn on the siren on a fire truck because it’s his friend’s “turn” to do so, and he comforts his little sister while she’s teething.  He also, of course, totally understands when he is too sick to attend his beloved preschool and perform his much-anticipated puppet show and he doesn’t whine, stomp, cry or bitch – EVER.  Just like my kid.

Want to watch a show where you won’t understand a damn word that anyone says, even though it is all in English?  Try Fireman Sam (Sprout).  Want to help your kids appreciate They Might Be Giants?  Watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse (Disney Junior).

Honestly, there is something out there for everyone so that we all can plunk our kids down in front of the boob tube and go do shots of tequilla in the kitchen to numb the pain of ears that are bleeding from hearing “mom — mom — mommy — ma — mom — mom — mommy — MA!! — MOMMMMMMYYY!!” a little too often.

Any thoughts on other totally interesting children’s programming?  Feel free to comment here.

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