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Forget Being the Norm. I Would Much Rather Be the Carla. Or the Woody. Maybe Not the Woody…

I was reading the Sunday paper and came across this quote in an article about the recent spate of parenting books written by inept moms, “There wasn’t this acceptance about being this sort of less-than-perfect mother, but all of a sudden it feels like that is becoming the norm, rather than the exception.”  This was spoken by Jill Smokler of scarymommy.com.

Well, that explains what I’ve been doing wrong.  I need to stop talking about what I’m doing wrong, and start talking about what I’m doing right because there are far too many other people who are talking about what they are doing wrong, and they are doing it far better than I am.  The wrong, I mean.  Well, and the talking.

So, from now on I pledge to stand out from the pack and tell you all of the things that I am doing right as a mom.  Starting today.

1.)  My daughter has eaten hamburgers three days in a row.

Why is this right?  Well, I am so glad you asked.  Even though I would think it should be obvious.  It’s right because my daughter has eaten three days in a row.  Duh.  Plus, she loves lettuce and cheese on her hamburger.  So, there you have it – all 10 food groups in one meal.  Three times.  Two more and I will have Food Bingo.

2.)  I bought my daughter a dress for her 5th grade graduation while we were shopping for clothes for me on Mother’s Day.

Why is this right?  This is another no-brainer.  We made one trip to the mall, and now I don’t have to make another trip to the mall until August.  Possibly even September if I can find a post on Pinterest on how to transform a yellow lacy dress into a backpack.

3.)  Oh. My. God.  That is the best idea.  Ever.  I am going to quit my job and support my daughter by making Graduation Dress Backpacks.

Why is this right?  Because my daughter will see how important it is to pursue your passion in life instead of saving up for retirement.

And then, she will be happy to support me in my twilight years (although I may have to explain that this is a different kind of “Twilight”) as she pursues her lifelong passion to teach bulldogs synchronized swimming.

And then we will bond even more.

I rock.

Wonderbutt pays close attention to his coach during his first synchro lesson.  To a layperson this may appear unsynchronized, but they are both actually doing the same exact thing - ignoring me.

Wonderbutt pays close attention to his coach during his first synchro lesson. To a layperson this may appear unsynchronized, but they are both actually doing the same exact thing – ignoring me.

Why Apple Paltrow-Martin May Never Have to Worry about the Paparazzi

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I’m not a big fan of that.” This is what Dimples says when she does not like something – usually the food placed in front of her on the table.  What she really means, of course, is that she wants to know how exactly much of this vile food she must force down her throat in order to qualify for dessert.

It would be easier for me to list the foods she is a fan of, than to try to log all of the ones that disgust her.  Scratch that.  It would be easier to list all of the nutritious foods she likes (all three of them) than the ones she pushes around her plate indefinitely.

It does no good to remind her that she claimed to like that particular food two weeks ago.  Or to point out that one of the foods on her current short list of favorites was actually a deeply detested food the first three times it landed on her plate.

As picky eaters go, Dimples is actually pretty good about it.  She might declare that she’s “not a fan”, but she still grudgingly sits through the movie, so to speak.   She just makes sure we are aware of her distaste and then takes as long as possible to ingest it – leaving herself more time to make a deal with her father regarding what percentage must end up in her stomach instead of the plate.  (I let her father make the deals, because he’s usually the one who served her up triple sized helpings to begin with, apparently either suffering under the delusion that Dimples is a 300 pound cowboy who needs to keep up his strength for bull riding or fearful that our daughter will die of malnutrition before her next meal.)

So, I’m trying to think of a clever retort for the next time she publicly denies fandom to a food item.  How about one of these:

“You don’t have to post the picture on your Wall.”

“I’m not asking you to friend it on Facebook, just eat it already!”

“Just eat it, don’t Tweet it.”

“The last I checked, Yelp wasn’t asking for ratings of your mother’s cooking.”

…Oh my God – there’s not an app for that, is there?

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