I love Fridays. The sense of possibility and hope, sweet hope, that maybe this will be the weekend you will finally score a nap, the shared fantasy of parents worldwide. Eh, if it doesn’t happen, OH WELL. But at least Friday delivers the dream. It’s all about the dream, people!
I especially love this particular Friday because I am hosting a too-fun guest post from one of my very favorite bloggers, Synnove from Don’t Chew on the Dinner Table about why she is a Mom of the Year. I have been crushing on Synnove’s blog for a long while now. She was one of the first bloggers I fell for. Her wit and humor are perfectly my style and this gal ALWAYS delivers. Please check her out and say hello. I really, really like her. Her writing will speak for her and laughs are promised (fair warning: pee before reading this post so you don’t wet yourself while guffawing). Without further adieu, here is Synnove to kick off this Friday on the perfect note of funny!
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When the lovely Meredith of Mom of the Year contacted me about doing post to explain why I was a “Mom of the Year”, I thought to myself “What wine is she drinking?” and then “I have got to get me some….”. You see, most days I feel like a loosely controlled avalanche of mommy-ness rather than a granite cliff of stalwart Motherhood. Then I read on and realized that this was about being great despite my many, MANY …ummm… other things. For example:
- I am a Mom of the Year because my son dropped his ice cream cone in the gravel so I picked it up, wiped of the largest of the crunchy bits, and handed it back to him. I avoided tears AND helped bolster his immune system. WIN! (Did I mention this was at the faire?)
- I am a Mom of the Year because sometimes I just let my 20 month old daughter suck on the sidewalk chalk. I mean, who am I to tell her that “pink” doesn’t taste as delicious as it looks?
- I am a Mom of the Year because I correct my son when he says “Dat mannequin has boobs!” loudly in public. “Those are breasts, sweetie. Breasts.” Correct terminology is very important.
- I am a Mom of the Year because I let my children run around barefoot outside. You are not truly Southern until you have been wormed… and stuck cicada skins in Grandma’s hair. We will work on the last one.
- I am a Mom of the Year because I encourage my children to flirt unabashedly with servers of both sexes. Nothing gets you service faster than a pair of adorable, googley little eyes and some chubby little finger waves.
Buuuttt… as much as I like to make fun of myself, I am not ALL awkward moments and facepalms. For example:
- I am a Mom of the Year because I know the difference between a Parasaurolophus and a Platybelodon… and I like it.
- I am a Mom of the Year because I make a mean kielbasa and potatoes. Perfect. Winter. Food.
- I am a Mom of the Year because I believe that learning to understand and use sarcasm is a critical part of understanding language and society.
- I am a Mom of the Year because I can recite “Good Night Moon” from memory, as well as “There Once Was A Puffin…”
- I am a Mom of the Year because I made the effort to learn the difference between Deceptcons and Autobots. And this one was huge, ya’ll, because I really … don’t…. care.
So as you can see. I am clearly a contender for Mother of the Year!
(If you are a member of the Department of Children’s Services please don’t call me… they are fine. Really!)
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