Parenting, Snark

Mother of the Year: Anyone but me

Opinions.  Everyone has them.  They seem most abundant when women get together and begin measuring up mothering skills.

You’ll have to pardon me if I don’t participate.

I’ve come under fire lately because my youngest child doesn’t eat vegetables much.  I’m lucky to get him to eat raw carrots, corn and, on rare occasions, salad.  Any other vegetable may as well be a steaming pile of excrement for all the luck I have getting him to eat it.  And, sorry, but if I won’t eat a disgusting Brussel sprout, I won’t expect my kid to.  That’s some really foul shit disguised as pee wee cabbages.

I’ve come under fire because folks believe I feed my kids unhealthy food.  I do cook, people.  I cook quite a bit.  I cook things like roast, meatloaf, tacos, stroganoff, and spaghetti and meatballs.  Admittedly, most of what I cook gets shoved into a crock pot because I do not enjoy the task of meal preparation.  On some days, when life gets in the way and I have no time to prepare a large meal–crock pot or otherwise–I will get my kids the occasional cheeseburger to eat.  If I’m feeling particularly lazy, we’ll eat hot dogs.  It’s an adventure, really.  We start a fire in the fireplace and roast those puppies.  The kids think it’s great fun and everyone is responsible for their own dinner.  Win-win, if you ask me.

The one that makes me laugh are the people who don’t get it when I write a humorous piece about my kids.  NO, I do not really think of choking my kids.  NO, I don’t fantasize about murdering them.  They do drive me crazy on many days, sometimes multiple times in a day.  When I write that I hide from them to keep from strangling them I’m being snarky.  Funny.  Perhaps you didn’t get the joke or your sense of humor has been surgically removed.  Please don’t rush out and contact Children’s Services.  They are tired of hearing about how my horrible mothering has resulted in my kids having a good work ethic and earning the money they get each week.  It’s sad really.

The one that takes the cake for me lately is that I am “abusing” my kids by not getting them their own phones.  Evidently, I missed the memo about how kids need to be contacted, or at least have the ability to be contacted, at every moment of every day.  I guess the phones at school don’t work or something.

All of that aside, it’s the insinuations behind the observations that piss me off.  Why do you feel the need to point fingers, and register my every perceived failure?  Why do you care if Tony eats green beans?  Why do you care if I buy their dinner or make it?

Not that you deserve or need an explanation, but here goes.badass

1.  Tony takes a vitamin every day of his life because I, like you, worry that he isn’t getting all the nutrients he needs from his food.  Somehow the kid seems to be magically growing despite all those vital elements of which I am depriving him.  Go figure.

2.  Jimmy is 14 and has already broken 6 feet tall.  He has about five good years of growing still to do, and while I’m pretty sure it’s not genetics on my end (a stout 5′ 4″ here), I am relatively certain that his tall daddy (The Hub is 6 feet on the button) may play a part in it.  I’m also more than certain that my pantry’s vacuous appearance might also shoot down that diet-comprised-of-fast-food myth.  My wallet can attest to the pantry having been filled on multiple occasions.  I seriously have lost an entire brisket that I made in the crock pot last week and froze.  When I went to thaw it to make barbecued beef for dinner it was missing.  The Hub suspects Jimmy ate it all by himself.  For breakfast.

3.  No one, and I do mean no-freaking-one, will ever love those boys more than I do.  I cry when they hurt.  I cry when they’re happy.  I cry for them when I’m proud (which is often).  I ache when I think some high school harlot has broken my Jimmy’s heart.  I weep when Tony’s fish dies because he takes it so personally, thinking he just didn’t do enough to save the 99 cent pet that he spent over $20 to medicate and quarantine for six weeks.  I hug them as often as the Teenage Code of Embarrassing Parental Actions will allow.  And then I hug them some more, because fuck the rules.  They are my babies and I love them so much it hurts.

4.  They do not need a phone.  They walk an astounding two blocks from the bus to home.  They have friends with whom they visit that have this strange device called a land line.  I have every friend’s number.  I know where each of them lives.  When my kids are old enough to hold down a steady job, they can have a phone.  They’ll be old enough to pay their own phone bill then.  I don’t need another one, myself, thanks.  And if that insinuation is that my kids have needs that aren’t being met, I have this to say:  They have everything they need and 95% of what they want.  Go pound salt.

5.  Do NOT threaten me with contacting Children’s Services.  Aside from the fact that they will laugh at your paltry attempt at making my life miserable, I don’t find it funny.  There are kids out there whose parents beat them black and blue.  There are kids out there who go without things they need and never see anything that they want.  There are children who starve in this country.  There are children who are unhealthy because they don’t have access to any meals or adequate healthcare.  Don’t waste the time or valuable services of any institution that is set up to take care of major problems that befall our smallest citizens.

I am not in the running for Mother of the Year.  I never have been, and I have no desire ever to be.  And, the last time I checked, it’s not even a real award.  Someone made it up.  So all you Type A Mom’s can give up the ghost.  Unbutton your pants and let the muffin top free.  There’s no prize at the end of this gig.



13 thoughts on “Mother of the Year: Anyone but me

  1. A whole brisket for breakfast…Well brisket regardless what time it is – is delicious, I know I CAN eat a whole meatloaf. Yet this is under a lb of meat.

    Three cartons of assorted flavored ice creams. Kevin, my cousin, when he was 10 sat infront of the TV and ate ALL of that by himself. I don’t have kids but I’ve seen how hard it can be to make them eat vegies, and then those kids turn adults – its nightmarish.

    The worst thing you can do is force them to eat it. They become resentful/spiteful and make it harder when adults to choose the better option. Do they eat beans at all? I figure as long as they get a good source of Fiber somewhere and then Vit K from a dark leafy source – its OK.


    • Lettuce is the only green thing that kid will eat! Once in a while I can get him to eat a cucumber. Now a pickle is his fave thing to eat, but seriously: how many pickles can you eat before you start hating those? ……..I lovingly refer to my kids as the locusts. They devour everything in sight as long as it’s bad for them.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Jamie Uliano says:

    I love this! Thank you for writing it!
    My son is also a very picky eater (he will only eat raw veggies & not a huge variety…he will NOT eat cooked veggies). I have gotten many stares & evil glances when we eat in public (and “helpful” comments from family members), as if I am a bad Mom because he is picky. I try to make him eat more of a variety, but he is a gagger & it is often more trouble than it’s worth…he has more than once gagged himself into throwing up due to the texture (not the taste) of something. I figure he will eventually grow out of this…until then there are multi vitamins!
    It was refreshing to read about a real world mother, not someone who fancies their life up to impress the readers. 🙂


    • I am glad you liked it! I get a little “ranty” when I feel judged, especially when it comes to my kids. I was a kid who threw up when forced to eat something I didn’t like and that memory has stuck with me. I don’t think it’s right that I should “force” my kid to eat and throw up. That does more damage than not eating the damn things in the first place. Thanks so much for reading!


  3. Julie says:

    #3. That right there says it all. I have said that time and time again. It would appear that we are from similar parenting beliefs. My ex did provide the kids with phones, in my opinion they were too young but he did it anyway. The kids had cell phones before their mom did! Funny, they always were able to get a hold of me before my cell….


    • What is the obsession with cell phones and kids? I just don’t get it! Who do they need to call? 99% of the time, calling me requires only a mouth, not an electronic device. I do have a cell phone but it’s more like the Bat Phone. I have it just because my youngest has many health issues that require I be 100% reachable 100% of the time. It rings and I flip out!


      • Julie says:

        I KNOW!!! If mine rings I jump outta my skin! I have a ringtone dedicated to just my kids, (they are grown now, 23 and almost 22) but it scares the liver out of me. Simply because I instantly go to worst case scenario. Mr Wonderful got them phones as a way to thumb his nose at me and my thoughts (too bad, I got them phones) if I recall correctly, they were supposed to be kept secret from me as well, and then it became the kids responsibility to call HIM. Cause, you know, they should be responsible and call him daily. He doesn’t really need to call them, he is the “adult”. Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to go there. Jerk.


      • Julie says:

        Yes.. I truly believe my children’s lives were greatly enriched by not having to live with him. I think they are happier, and better adjusted, and all around better people with out the steady influence he would have been had we stayed together. It was very hard at times to remember not to bash him in front of them. I finally found my answer for them, that was honest and that I could say without fear of throwing up or being struck by lightening. “Your father loves you as much as he is capable of.” Which isn’t much. but I let them figure that out on their own, they didn’t need to hear it from me.


      • Good for you! I think that has to be the hardest thing when dealing with kids: being diplomatic about someone that makes your skin crawl. TOTALLY know how that feels. I fail at that much too often.


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