Why I’m NOT Mother of the Year….Hosted by The Mommyologist & Life Without Pink

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Mary Mommyologist is at it again, folks. As if Sexy Mom Prom wasn’t enough, she is now co-hosting the Not Mommy of the Year contest with Tina over at Life Without Pink. We’re supposed to dish the dirty secrets about our real mommy life behind the scenes and why we deserve to win the coveted NOT Mom of the Year award. It needs to be said that it’s not the end of the world if our kids have Goldfish or pizza for breakfast. They will eventually eat their broccoli, and someday, they might even stop fighting. No judgement here, people. This is all about honesty, bravery, and a day in the life of The Mother Load. If you are going to call CPS, please give me a heads up so we can scoot on outta town.

So without further adieu, I present to you
not all, but just a few
of the many reasons why
The Not Mom of the Year Award should belong to me, myself, and I.
One hand,
Two hands,
Three hands,
Four.
Underneath my bathroom door.
Can’t I even poop in peace?
One big STOMP is all it would take to cease!

Red Fish and Blue Fish are potty trained
But their wiping skills have waxed and waned;
Instead of jumping up to aid them and set them free,
I sit glued to my book or laptop while they yell “Help meeeeeeeee!”

Now, if there’s one thing Not Mom of the Year must possess
It’s a drawer filled to the brim with junk and candy like this;
“Gummy fruit snacks” are nothing but sugar, ’tis true.
Doesn’t matter that mine are organic, just between me and you.

Suckers, Dora bandaids, silly bandz, gum, and Starburst
Doesn’t matter if what ails them is something that truly hurts.
The Mother Load is skilled at bribery and will tempt Abby & Izzy
With this drawer in her kitchen filled with goodies to keep small teeth busy.
This Not Mommy of the Year has also learned something she will share with you—
It is considered quite wise to have a console like this in your minivan, too.

All this sugar rots my kids’ teeth
But it quiets them down so I can stop to breathe.
And if that doesn’t work, why there’s always my medicine cabinet
Where I can surely find something to help me grin & bear it!

I also admit that when my kids throw a holy hissy fit
I am likely to throw up my hands and just say, “Oh shit.”
I know they will stay up all night and fight,
Especially if I’m stewing & they’re convinced that they’re right.

When Abby cries and gags over her veggies at dinner
I eventually throw up my hands and let her be the winner.
She gleefully leaves the table and I feed her limp broccoli to the compost bin
Because being Not Mommy of the Year means that I am too tired to try and win.

Although I kiss and hug often, I yell a lot, it’s true.
I want to tear my hair out when it comes to Thing One and Thing Two.
Some days seem so long and nothing important gets done.
Other days they complain that they’ve gotten to do nothing fun.

Some nights they are filthy and I’m on my last leg
So when “Let’s skip a bath tonight, mommy” they beg,
I collapse in relief and try not to think of the dirt in the beds.
I just sit here and wait for someone to call the Feds.

When The Father Load is working late
Or we have a 4 p.m. play date
It’s common to have breakfast for dinner.
Do pancakes with syrup at 7 p.m. make The Mother Load a sinner?

So now you know all about the real me.
They say that the truth will set you free.
But now I’m a little scared to hear
What you must think of me, my dears….

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