Hot dog hot dog hot diggity dog. Now we’ve got ears, it’s time for cheers.

Oh the Mickey Mouse club house! How I currently loathe you. We don’t even watch a lot of TV. But when it’s 5 PM and I’m trying to cook dinner and every one is trying to climb back up in my vagina, Ya… I turn on the TV. It’s called “witching hour survival mode.”

It is unanimous in my house that the only TV show that should exist is The Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. It is toddler crack. I turn on the clubhouse at times to buy myself ten minutes to make coffee. When I come around the corner with my warm cup of goodness, I have to chuckle to myself. They look like a couple of crazy people at burning man. Both hypnotized by the colors, one with no pants, another with fluff in their hair, both unaware that they had soiled themselves. Yet so happy.

I don’t get why people let their kids watch TV all the time. Or just leave the TV on all day in general. I’m not judging you. I just feel like you are missing out on a good opportunity. I purposely don’t put the TV on. So that when I am dying and need rescuing. Or to go carry in $200 worth of groceries in the rain and not have people trying to escape every time I go in and out. That’s when you put it on! Then it works like a wizard. Well at least that’s what happened for me. But every kid is unique, blah blah..

But in my house if you want to please the inmates you always put on Mickey.

“Do you want to watch Thomas?”

“No I’ll watch Mickey”

“Do you want to watch Nemo?”

“No I’ll watch Mickey.”

“Do you want to watch Elmo?”


Now if you are in the 1% of the world that has never seen Mickey Mouse Club house, I’ll catch you up to speed:

Basically, it’s babies first glance at stereotypical TV sitcom characters.

Mickey and Minnie are that couple you’ve known forever and have been together since high school. The people who are blowing up your newsfeed with pictures of hiking and apple picking. Marshall and Lily, if you will.

Donald is Mickey’s dumb best friend.

Daisy is the stereotypical hot girl.

Goofy is that person who is always at social events but no one is even sure who really invited him. I mean, he’s a dog who has a pet dog.

Is any one else concerned that Pluto doesn’t speak? Every one else get’s to be a talking animal. Yet he’s still just a doggy dog. Is he really a kid on a back pack leash? Hm. We may never know.

Pete is that over zealous guy that you always see randomly at social occasions. Needing to be loud. Maybe a close talker. Maybe even a sweaty hug.

Now the character I would really like to talk about in this baby fantasy world is Toodles. Toodles is a machine-friend that brings them anything that they could possibly need in any sticky situation, anywhere, at any time.


You need a bicycle pump? You got it. You need an extra car seat? Toodles has your back. You want a mystery tool that you didn’t even know would better your life? Um, Yes please. All these friends need to do is shout “oh toodles!” to get this kind of service.



Now, I know what you are thinking…  Why in the world am I putting all this thought into the social dynamics of imaginary children’s show and what their robot friend does for them? Fair question.

Maybe it’s because it’s 4:00 AM and both my toddlers have lost their way and believe that it is the beginning of the day. Mostly because they pooped and instead of the Dad changing them, he brought them in our bed and threw them on top of me. He didn’t “realize they had pooped” I found out this morning. Hmm… no judge is going to believe that story.

In the co-sleeping vs. crib debate, we don’t even get to weigh in. Our vote doesn’t count because it is decided for us. My kids like their cribs. When I try to get them to lay down with us as a desperate last attempt at sleep, they usually just slap me in the face and giggle for as long as I can stand it. “Okay ahhh I’m up. I’m up.” Therefore, if you remove them from their rooms, they assume we are at all systems go! Day begins.

Or maybe it’s because the coffee has not even started to kick in yet. You know the type of morning that you don’t realize until hours later at 7:30 AM that you have eyeliner make up all under your eyes and you look like a serial killer. Like wow, your kids really love you for you. They could give a shit if you look downright murderous, as long as you keep fillling their red cup with milk. Don’t hand them a blue cup though. That’s betrayal.

You see what kind of parenting morning I am talking about?

The kind that you drag your bed comforter down the stairs with you and the children. So you can wrap yourself in it and drink coffee while you work on waking up.


You get the picture. People will step on your neck to do a sweet jump over the couch. 4 AM is the worst time. It’s a time I don’t want to stay up until or get up at. It is a time for slumber.

So in my delirious Mom haze I started thinking about all the times this week that I needed Toodles to come and bring me some shit. To help me with my #momproblems. I’ll give you a few examples:

  • 10:15 PM  Sunday night: I have just gotten out of work and I am alone in a dark parking lot. It is Winter in New England. It is so freezing that I’m pretty sure my nipples have frozen,fallen off, and rolled down the street. There is ice all over my wind shield. I opened my Jeep door to grab the ice scraper.  A memory flashes across your brain. Yesterday your two year old was carrying it around the driveway. You grabbed it from him once you got every one to the mud room. Set it down next to the coat rack. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. You can clearly remember saying to yourself, “Gotta remember to put that back in the car on my way to work.” Then continued beasting every one inside to get them down for nap time. Noooo!

OHHHH TOOOOOODLES!!  I’m using my sons snack cup to de-ice my windshield. You mind dropping me off an ice scraper? That would be great thanks.


  • Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Various times: Peeing your pants.

OH TOOOOOOOODLES!!! I need new pants. That sneeze took me by surprise and I was not able to effectively cross my legs and sit down in preparation. I already used my emergency Jeep pants yesterday. Hook a Mom up my friend.

  • Most days: Every type of mess you could imagine.

OH TOOOOOODLES!!! Get the hose!



  • Friday NOON: Took my kiddos to the new discovery center in my town. Hip hip hooray for learning. Spent two hours there. The tides turned when we left this kid heaven. My one year old was so tired that he was like a lazy, droopy, 28 lb. sack on my hip. My two year old was feeling pre nap michevious. Once we walked out of the building, he proceeded to try and escape me at all costs. We were about 200 yards from my vehicle.

I had to catch one, while holding one, and my stupid big purse I brought with me. So toddler #1 takes off. Toddler #2 is clinging to me like he will never love another woman in his life. I capture #1 by the back of his hooded sweatshirt as he is bolting across the ice covered grass field. I attempt to pick him up. He is screaming at me now. I’m waddling forward with one on my hip and simultaneously picking up the other one while standing on an icy grass area.  Cursing them under my breath. Why are you both so large? My one year old is 28 lbs and my two year old is 32 lbs. Ridiculous!

Finally as my sciatic nerve felt like it was going to rocket blast out of me. I was like. “Okay buddy, time to walk like a big kid.” This suggestion was met with #1 now needing to cling to me for dear life. Ahh, okay so we swap and #2 goes down. Now holding an exhausted one year olds hand and walking across a parking lot can be quite time consuming. He was moving super snail speed. On multiple occasions he even tried to sit down and take a break.

So I pick baby # 2 back up and again I say to the other, “Com’on buddy. Time to show me your a big kid and walk with Mom.” Immediately he throws himself on the ground and is crying face down into the paved side walk. A man walks out of the school and looks down at said crying kid. I point at the screaming 2 year old and ask the guy, “Hey is that your kid or mine?” The screaming child takes off his winter hat and throws it to make sure I know that I am not funny.

After making sure captain meltdown is in not in any harms way, I strap sleeping one year old in his seat. He smiles at me and says, “I poop.” I’m like of course you did buddy. I scrape my two year old off the pavement. He yells “I go outside!! I go outside! I stay here. I stay here.” in my face the whole time I’m strapping him in. He attempts the stiff as a board, back  constriction technique as a last resistance. Ultimately, he gives in and starts singing along with Marty the Moose.

I start to drive and think hateful thoughts to my past self for deciding it was too much work to pack up the stroller just to walk in and out of a building today…

My thoughts are interrupted by my two year old, “Mom I did a poop too! Don’t worry, I clean it.” Then I looked in my rearview mirror just to see him smiling and pulling his hand out of the back of his jeans. A whole hand covered in poop.

Long story short, TOODLES.



OH TOOOODLES! Lastly, can you get a  time-freeze gun? So I can go back to this moment forever and remember them just like this. Poop and all <3


So I guess in the end, I’m Toodles. Every Mom is Toodles. I need to bring, gather, find, make work, prepare, and rise to the occasion for my little friends. No matter where we are or not matter what sticky situation we find ourselves in. Today, two people need me to get through their day. Therefore, I will always be there when they need me. ♥

I had no idea

it would be

this much.

I had no idea

I could handle it.

I had no idea

how beautiful

it all actually


-Tyler Knott Gregson-



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