Mother of the Year: It’s on, bitches!

Obviously, our parenting goals are lofty. We want to raise pleasant, sociable, sensible, speshul (shush, it’s a word now) little geniuses who will go on to achieve great things, including but not limited to: moving out of home by age twenty; being able to correctly spell their facebook status updates; knowing exactly what colour mould means that the bathroom really needs cleaning; refraining from burning down large tracts of state forest; and not ruining their predicted expensive orthodontic work by playing aggressive contact sports.

Mostly we try and achieve this by encouraging their burgeoning interests in vacuuming, peacefully negotiating our way through their many tyrannical demands, trying not to cause them grievous bodily harm (intentionally or unintentionally), trying not to cause them grievous emotional harm, letting them ‘free range’ in the garden a lot, breastfeeding them a lot and dressing them exclusively in organic hemp clothing woven by babylonian virgins.

On a good day this works very nicely – no one needs stitches, a maximum of one family member is crying at any given time and everyone’s needs for comfort food are met. On a bad day we have a lot of conversations that go like this:

twinkle twinkle boobies* – (answers phone, doesn’t get word in)

the beloved – I have a confession to make…

ttb – Does this involve you scoring points towards Mother of the Year?

the beloved – Do we include accidents involving fire?

ttb – What was more damaged, Titch or the house?

the beloved – Titch

ttb – 2 points. (hangs up)

*those boobies have grown a litter of children and still front up for work every day: they can twinkle, they can lure the gaze of labouring women’s husbands, they can damn near sing the national anthem

Or like this:

ttb – (loudly exclaiming) MOTHER OF THE YEAR!!

me – Hang on, let me get a pen. Right. What did you do?

ttb -Forgot to pick Sweetie Pie up from school.

me – (muttering under breath, checking the book, adjusting for comparison to other crimes) 3 points.

Or like this:

me – (shouting to other end of house) BELOVED!!!!

the beloved – WHAT?

me – DID YOU LEAVE THESE MATCHES ON THE TABLE?

the beloved – (indistinct muttering)

me – WELL? DID YOU?

the beloved – Stop shouting. I’m right here.

me – Do you see that? He knows how to strike them on the side of the box and everything!

me and the beloved – GENIUS!

______________________________________________________

But will we quietly lament our dubious parenting abilities in the privacy of our own homes?

Oh no we will not. For how would anyone learn from our mistakes? Or, more importantly, why should they miss an opportunity to revel in their comparatively excellent parenting (or potential parenting – for what childless person doesn’t get a kick out of judging parents against the beacon of their own future parenting greatness?)?

And so it is that ‘MOTHER OF THE YEAR: 2012’ was begun.

All crimes against our** children shall henceforth (and a little retrospectively) be documented in the MOTY ledger.

An updated ledger will be posted here each month.

Points are determined and bestowed by those on the MOTY2012 committee not involved in the crime, as soon as safely possible.

A final count will be undertaken on December 31st 2012.

The mother with the most points shall be crowned Mother of the Year (oh, the glory!), awarded a small trophy (assuming the sports supplies shop at the end of the road sells them) and showered with champagne (not literally – none of us can afford to waste an opportunity to drown our criminal sorrows).

**Our refers principally to the children of myself, the beloved and twinkle twinkle boobies. However, anyone can be included. Please post your submissions in the comments section and the MOTY2012 committee will add you to the ledger and bestow points. The committee also reserves the right to add people to the ledger without submission, +/- consultation with the mother in question.

POINTS THUS FAR:

me –

  • Being furious with Titch for refusing to sleep through the night…the day after I’d weaned him. Points = 3
  • ‘Helping’ Titch on a play centre slide, leading to him falling on his face and sliding most of the way down on his nose. Slightly bruised. Points = 1
  • Leaving razor on bathroom vanity. Found Titch sitting on bathroom floor, looking at his finger in wonder, saying ‘bit of blood?’. Points = 3
  • Ruining Easter for Sweetie Pie (see here) by revealing the imaginary status of the Easter Bunny. Points = 3
  • Total = 10 points

the beloved –

  • Not preventing Titch from losing half an eyebrow and one set of eyelashes, for the second time, in a blowing-out-a-candle incident. Points = 2
  • Leaving Titch alone with a box of matches. Points = 3
  • Being crossly frustrated with Boofer (aged 4 months) for crying and being unsettled all night, but neglecting to check her nappy. Points = 1
  • Cutting Titch’s toenails so short that two toes were left bleeding. He has spent the past two days periodically taking his sock off and sitting down, holding his foot, asking ‘what happened?’ in this sad, sad little voice. Points = 2
  • Total = 8 points

twinkle twinkle boobies –

  • Not noticing that The Cherub was sitting and playing in a puddle of his own wee and poo, for quite some time, because she was busy texting. Points = 3
  • Forgetting to pick Sweetie Pie up from school at the early time on the last day of term. Points = 3
  • Blaming Sweetie Pie for not reminding her. Points = 3
  • Total = 9 points
  • ps. ttb, your section of the ledger is looking suspiciously bare…is there something you’re not telling us?

______________________________________________________

So, Mothers…

LET THE GAMES BEGIN!

(and may the odds be ever in your children’s favour)

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Mother of the Year: It’s on, bitches!

  1. Just came across your blog.
    LOVE THIS!! Although I’m sure my list would be too horrifying to look at. 😛
    I’m excited to see more on this. lol

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s