Well, it’s obvious I haven’t been on and able to write in a while, and I’m sure you’re all thinking, “But how am I supposed to feel better about MY chaotic life in comparison to yours??” For that, I apologize. I’m sure I have been the cause of so many of my readers’ slip off the edge of sanity and in to the realm of “bat shit crazy”. Nonetheless, I’m back and am ready to share with you all the tales of my half-assed parenting complete with failures and accomplishments. So, grab your 22 ounce wine glass, sink into that dry bath tub, lock the door, drown out the sounds of your own shit machines begging for food and attention, and read the Holy Grail of things that we most definitely do not want our kiddos to receive for Christmas… or ever.  If you resonate with this list, please feel free to send copies to YOUR parents and close friends as well!

#1. Legos. Fucking Legos.

Yeah, I know it  goes without saying, especially if you have tots from the ages of 2-34. Do you have any idea what hurts more than stepping on a Lego? Kneeling on one! Let me paint  you a picture:

You start the dreaded task of cleaning a bedroom that looks like a scene straight out of “Twister”. Several thoughts cross your mind. Where do I even start? What the F*** is that smell? WHY are my sons socks so crusty? (uhhhh.*cough* nevermind, we’ll save that one for another time) Why am I stepping on soooo many books when they refuse to read any of them? I just washed this shirt and put it away 30 minutes ago, so why is it in the dirty laundry hamper?? Why do my kids try to ruin my life? I digress though. You bend down to pick up *most likely* clean clothes setting atop a bowl of soup, and wonder… eh, forget it. You see your favorite winter hoodie underneath a bed and before you have a chance to really think about the occupational hazard you’ve 70% willingly put yourself into, it happens…. You kneel down right on this teeny tiny little Lego figurine ironically smiling back at you. With zero reaction time, you let out this loooong, silent wail (you know the kind. The kind your two year old lets out in a dramatic fit when you won’t give her box cutters she absolutely NEEDS for whatever two year olds need box cutters for), peel the face of torture from that soft spot in your kneecap, you roll over onto your back and you start to pray. If there is ever a time for prayer, this is it. Everything gets quiet and cold, and you’re surrounded by this weird numbness and solemn-ness and you think about all the things in life you’ve accomplished and the things you haven’t accomplished and this, guys, is called shock. This is a real and true out-of-body experience. Would you wish this on your very worst enemy? If the answer is yes, well then you’re a F’ing monster.

#2. This. There are so many reasons I don’t want my daughter to own this little gem manufactured by Mattel, and here’s why.

Okay, firstly.. Why Mattel executives? Why?? What possible reason did you have to reproduce (quite literally) this monstrosity? If  it was made to be used as a form of contraception for those over-eager teens you see on Jerry Springer, I’ll give you a couple of reasons it just doesn’t work.

Why does she look so complacent; so content? Barbie is in no pain. She’s giving natural child-birth with a look on her face that resembles the look on my face when I’m driving long distances and zoning out on the screaming kids in the back seat. That’s not a birth giving type of face. Another reason this doesn’t work, in the real world, with real mothers giving real birth and having real C-Sections (which you CAN assume is happening in the third photo), you don’t just lift off a pregnant belly, take the kid out, and then snap on your washboard abs again.Sorry to burst your bubble, but it’s just not how it works, girls! Why are her boobs STILL so perky?? Now let’s try a simple math problem. If Barbie is a darker red-head and Ken is a darker brunette and their baby comes out looking like a golden retriever, what does that make Barbie? The correct answer is whore. That makes Barbie a whore.

Like for real though, aside from all the reasons this toy doesn’t work as birth control, what the literal fuck is that coming out of Barbie’s va-jay-jay? Is that the after birth? Is her hoo-ha just falling out along with the baby? Is it true and honest baby gunk and blood? That’s appropriate.

Thank you in advance for not buying “real life” Barbies for my kid.

#3. Any toy that makes any kind of noise ever, and any toy that requires a microscopic screwdriver and three hands in order to take the back piece off to get batteries out.

Like this product and there isn’t a whole lot of ranting to go along with this image. I think it really does speak for itself here.

But then, of course, you try to take the batteries out of the back and trick those little shit stains into thinking that it broke and the only way it’ll make sound is through their imaginations, but they have these tiny little battery doors with these tiny little screws that are literally impossible to get open unless you have a degree in rocket science. And batteries. Please don’t give us batteries, as it totally defeats the purpose of killing their toys.

Lastly, in the “things that make noise and destroy your life” category, we have the musical recorder.

I bring this up forgetting how annoying they really are. The last time I heard one was when I was in the Fifth grade and it was mine, so.. you know.. UNTIL we went to our fifth graders Christmas concert and OH MY GOD in the very moment they hit that very first note, my eardrums burst and the stained glass window behind us shattered. I promise I am not shitting you. I am not. Your ears start ringing and you immediately feel this throbbing pain above both ears, and you cringe, but with a slight smile as to not hurt any kids’ feelings. What is the music teacher thinking??  Is he tone-deaf? Does he enjoy this sound?? Does he enjoy sending them home with this contraption to ruin our winter breaks? What goes on in the mind of an elementary school music teacher? What goes on in the mind of any elementary school teacher??

#4. Glitter. I absolutely flipping DARE you to give my kids glitter and I will give your kids a gift YOU’LL never forget. **Please refer to gift #1**

This is just horse shit, whoever thought this would be a swell gift idea. Okay, so I’ll be truthful and say, yeah, I gave someone’s kid the gift of glitter once. So what? You know WHY? Do you really want to know why? She gave my kid a Lego set that inevitably  got stepped on, knelt on, slipped on in the shower, vacuumed up, and kept getting found in every crevice of the house for 6 years. I also gave her other kid under water moon sand for good measure.

I know I don’t even have to tell you why GLITTER is annoying, but I will. It gets everywhere and doesn’t come out of anything. You can vacuum the same spot for the next 46 years and that same fucking shard of glitter (yeah, shard because it’s basically microscopic colorful glass like paper that will, yes, will give you paper cuts) will still be taunting you from the same spot it landed long ago. It doesn’t take much glitter either. To put this into perspective, some glitter rubbed off the toddlers Halloween costume and it’s still in the same corner of the area rug as it was on October 31st, with absolutely little to no hope of moving at any point in our lifetime. Today is December 9th.

#5. Things that come with remote controls. Sure, they can be super fun for like 10 minutes until they break, or they break a piece of furniture, or they get stuck down inside a sewer drain, or fly into the neighbor’s yard and gets eaten by their dog, etc…

You get the idea. Things that require a remote control suck. They really, really suck. These include, trains, helicopters, race cars (with and without) tracks, robots, monster trucks, tiny drones…

The problem with these toys are that they require so much of your attention. Even more attention than your own rugrats. More attention than house plants. Some come with rechargeable  batteries that take up to 3 years to fully charge with about 10 minutes of play, and until it’s finished charging, the only thing you’ll hear besides them begging for snacks every 15-20 minutes is “Mom! Is my remote-controlled truck done charging yet??”.

Kids like to crash them into things, like walls, doors, wooden furniture, the miniature yorkie, down the stairs, in the street. They get broken or get lost or I break them into a gazillion pieces in a fit of rage because it got rammed into my shin or my brand new oak coffee table, and then I feel bad after I calm down and then have to deal with the devastated kid hunched down in a corner crying and yelling that he wishes he lived with a nice family. I mean, not that THAT scene has happened in this household, but you get what I’m steppin’ in.

Not too bad, huh? Only five things I really, really, really don’t want my kids to have in my household at any given time. Ever.

If you like these a little bit and want to read more, please subscribe so you never miss another HILARIOUS rant. If you want to see more funny pictures of my dirt machines and more posts PLEASE like us at www.facebook.com/dirtmachines.