One of the mommy bloggers that I follow recently started a fun website called World's Worst Mom. The blog's author posts worst-mom related stories submitted by her readers.
Below is my submission.
I would like to submit a story for your site. Here is the problem. I can't think of one tale in-particular. But I do qualify for the World's Worst Mom. It's really a culmination of the small things.
Like how I balled my eyes out when the ultrasound tech announced that my second baby was another boy. "Another boy?" I sobbed. "Yes!" she responded. "Oh look you're so happy that you are crying!". She exclaimed. "No" I wailed "I just really wanted a girl." I didn't stop crying for a week. I should be ashamed. I am ashamed.
Or how I have employed one Mr. Diego and one Ms. Dora as my regular babysitters even though I told myself that I wouldn't be that parent. Oh, no.. not me. My kid's won't watch TV until at least the 1st grade....
Or how both of my kids learned how to stomp their feet and say "Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" by the time they were two. Where on earth did they learn that kind of language? Hmmmm....
Or how I have abandoned my attempts at homemade baby food, and now regularly serve the kids microwave pancakes and sausage because at least they eat it.
Or how my children seem to always arrive at school looking like poor neglected babes who's mother was either too drunk or too absent minded to wash and dress them properly. (Actually, I have just taken up the motto: "Pick your battles". )
Or how I secretly dread the days when my life will be consumed with my children's sporting events. Seriously I hate sports, unless there is beer involved, and I don't think that would go over too well at little league.
Or how I sometimes forget to change the sheets on Evan's crib until they start to smell like rotten milk.
Do I need to go on? I think you get the point.
I'm top-quality-gold-metal-World's Worst Mom material!
If I actually had gold medals to hand out, I'd give you one. Unfortunately, the only thing people can do on the site is vote to give you chocolate, a drink, or therapy (not that anyone's actually going to follow through and get you any of those things. But like your mother always said, it's the thought that counts.).
ReplyDeleteThanks so much for spilling your guts and letting your loyal minions know about it. They, of course, are all angels, so I'm sure they won't have anything to say about it or to contribute.
www.worldsworstmoms.com
Rachel - you learned to say "damn it, damn it, damn it, and stomp your feet"from me! As the old saying goes: from generation to generation. P.S. Sports are VERY dangerous for children. N.Y. Times article today on brain injuries in kids' sports due to rough play and increased
ReplyDeletecompetitiveness. Can't hurt to continue to employ senor Diego and senorita Dora!
Those are too funny. I'll have to check out this blog. I probably have some stories of my own.
ReplyDeleteI thought the sour milk smell was the green card to go ahead and wash them!?!
ReplyDeleteAgreed with Lady Red - why wash baby sheets if they don't smell?
ReplyDeleteI had to have a special chat with my little guy about why 'Damn' isn't a very nice word outside the house. He cried and said "But I wuv that word"...
Love your honesty, keep it coming.....
I love it. We have all been there!
ReplyDeleteLove this. I'm now realizing that I should probably wash my guy's crib sheet since I can't remember the last time I changed it. And guess who recently discovered Yo Gabba Gabba -- that's right, me. High five!
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