More MOTY

Never fear, blog fans. I go to great lengths on a continuous basis to ensure no one is ever able to steal my Mother of the Year title away from me. I worked hard for that crown, you know. (As always, feel free to add your M(or F)OTY moments in the comments!)


* Bean has had potato chips. Three times this week. All three times it was to stop a tantrum. 


* He mostly only wears his fancy schmancy  Stride Rite shoes when we're out in public. Actual walking around outside in the mud/ grass/ leaves/ who knows what is usually done  barefoot around here. By the time he gets to high school, he should be able to run track barefoot for as tough as the bottoms of his feet will be.


* Hubs: "Why are you trying to feed him? He's obviously done with his dinner. Stop shoving food in the poor kid's face."
Me: "Because, honestly, if I stop feeding him he'll want out of his highchair. And if he's out of his highchair, I'll have to deal with him. And nobody wants that."
Hubs: "Nice. Real nice, Jen."

* I use two sippy cups each day - one for milk and one for water. When not in use, they go back into the fridge until the next meal or snack time, and are washed each night. Hubs had to call me out when it was discovered that a particular sippy cup was actually on day 2 (or so) of fridge rotation. Oops.


* "Bean what is in your mouth?! Come here! Well, never mind. You swallowed it. Guess we'll figure out what it was in the next day or so."


* I'm 99% certain that at least one obscenity left Bean's mouth today. I'm 110% certain he picked it up from me. It also happens to be one of the more offensive swear words one can use. Good job, mommy!


* While reading him his nursery rhymes book the other night, I couldn't help but notice the fairly inappropriate/ outdated/ racist overtones of some of the classics out there. A good mother would either just avoid them altogether or at least try not to read too much into it, for fear of taking the fun out of the story/ rhyme. This mother winds up on a 25 minute tangent explaining to her toddler that three grown adults should really never share a bath tub together (Rub a dub dub, anyone?). I may also have touched on the fact that Baa Baa Black Sheep would not, in this day and age, have a "master" to whom he had to give his wool. Don't even get me started on the obviously large amount of LSD it must take to understand "Hey Diddle Diddle" in all its glory. The dish and spoon got up to run away together? Just say no, Bean. Just say no.


* Me: "We should really consider finding a church to go to every Sunday."
Hubs: "Really? What's your sudden motivation?"
Me: "Are you serious? Free daycare in the church nursery. Every Sunday we'll get a few hours without Bean, and we don't even have to pay for it. And Wednesday nights too, depending on the church."
Hubs: "Please tell me you're at least going to stay for the services, then."
Me: "Is that required or something?"


Don't lie, blog stalkers. You deserve a MOTY crown too. Yours just isn't as sparkly as mine.

MOTY

As my writing unquestionably takes on a sort of condescending quality from time to time, it’s no wonder that people feel I’m sitting here on my shiny pedestal, admonishing others for their subpar behavior, and patting myself on the back for my MOTY-esque perfection. (That’s Mother of the Year, for all you non-interweb addicts.) This could not be farther from the truth. If and when I refer to myself as MOTY it is, I assure you, only in jest. I do things on a daily basis that in hindsight always make me cringe. On many, many, many occasions I have found myself extremely grateful no one was around to see something stupid I did or hear something stupid that was said. Every single day I cross my fingers and hope that Bean has yet to reach the age where he’ll actually begin to remember the things I do day in and day out. If anything, this blog actually serves as a sort of refuge for all of us non-MOTY candidates, myself being the ring leader of this bunch of misfits, to be sure.

As proof of my well-deserved nomination into the MOTY Hall of Fame, allow me to provide you with some fodder from our daily goings on around here.

* Completely out of love and as a sign of affection (really. I swear.) I oftentimes refer to Bean as “Bad Baby.” It’s always “Bad Baby want a snack?” or “Bad Baby, where did you get those batteries from??” This is all fun and games, of course, until the little turd starts to repeat what I say. The other day it was “Bad Baby, why is there a full sippy cup and a magnet in the drawer below the oven?” Next thing I know, a sweet chubby little face is staring up at me, opens his mouth, and in a questioning tone asks “Baah Bay?” Crap. He’s going to repeat “bad baby” in public, and people are going to think I’m a monster. Perfect. 

* We ran out of most of the Bean-friendly foods the other day, and it was lunch time. We could have gone to the store and picked up something wholesome, sure. Or we could have gone to Taco Bueno and split a bag of bean burritos. I’ll let you guess which one of those options this MOTY chose.

*There is a red streak on the couch cushion from a particularly exhausting Tylenol-related struggle the other night. Any day now I’ll mosey on over there and try to clean it off.

*My number one reason for agreeing with extended rear-facing car seats is simple: when your child is facing the back of the car, he can’t see you consume your delicious cinnamon swirl coffee cake and iced vanilla latte, all the while wondering when his lazy mother is going to feed him his own breakfast.

*However, as beneficial as I felt rear-facing was, (for both safety and Starbucks-related reasons), Bean went forward facing at about a year. Something about having to jam my elbow into his chest to get him to cooperate and get buckled in for every single car trip just stop being funny, and once turned forward facing, those fights stopped. 


::This is probably a good place to post this link and remind everyone that, although I am clearly a terrible parent and allow my child to be forward facing, current recommendations state you should leave your kid to face the trunk until two years old. There. Now you can't sue me.::

 Still not convinced I’m MOTY material? Let’s see…

*One of his first five table foods was a French fry.

*It’s not a matter of “if” he will repeat an embarrassing swear word in public, it’s more a matter of “when” and “how offensive a word will he choose?”

*He spent the better part of a whole week being bathed in a bathtub with a pretty obvious grunge ring because I couldn’t find the time to clean it. A grunge ring that slightly resembled a mix of motor oil and Crisco. No idea where it came from, but it didn’t seem to ruin any of his bath time fun. (Including, of course, drinking some of his own bath water.)

*I’ve given serious thought to getting him one of those dog toys where the dog has to work really hard to get the snack out, leading to hours of entertainment. Or, in the case of a toddler, at least a half hour of me getting something done while Bean teams up with one of our pups to try to figure out how to get his Elmo crackers out. Perhaps a trip to Petsmart is in order?

*I quite possibly “encouraged” Bean to take a nap he maybe didn’t really need in order to sit here and write this post.

In all seriousness though. I totally embrace my flaws as a mama. And, as long as we’re laying it all out there, I totally dig any mama who is willing to do the same. The mamas I judge (yes, I admit it. I judge.) are the ones who either 1) are completely convinced they are flawless, or 2) don’t know the difference between a harmless fault (cup of vanilla pudding and five Elmo crackers for dinner), and a dangerous fault (strapped into a car with no car seat, left alone in the tub, etc.)

Make me feel better, blog readers. What is one of your favorite MOTY moments from your own life? I promise when your kid is old enough, I will not out you to them. Cross my heart.