awards…perfect post and moron of the year
Posted on May 1, 2007
Filed Under parenting, praise, snark | 5 Comments
Today I get to hand out my own Perfect Post Award and, since I’m a generally sarcastic, snark-filled individual, the act of bestowing blogging awards on other people is, well, entirely out of character. But I just had to play at this one after reading Oh So Tired by Whipper Snapper.
I was moved to nominate this post because, it is an ode to the frustrating sameness of life as Mom, a comment on the challenges of play dates, an admission that an afternoon with small kids can challenge even the sanest and well meaning parent all while highlighting the unconditional love and eternal gratitude an individual can have for her own children. In short, it’s the perfect synopsis of motherhood as I know it.
Any post that contains suspicious Popsicle wrappers that appear like strewn condoms on the lawn, an observation that preschoolers are really wild animals, a great synopsis of the endless routines of personal hygiene and house keeping and the cyclical nature of a child’s mood all ending with the following great dialog between mother and child gets my nod of approval…
“The other day I was in her room and we were drawing together, and suddenly I closed my eyes and rested my head on her bed. She looked up from what she was doing and stared at me with a concerned expression. “Do you feel,” she asked curiously, “like a dog? A dog on a scale that’s about to die?”
‘Yes, exactly like that.’
‘I thought so,’ she said, and let me rest quietly for at least two minutes.
It was a nice break.”
Thank you Whippersnapper for that. You fulfilled my misery’s need for company.
Also, I get to award myself the moron of the year award as, today, I am contemplating the foolishness of purchasing a $300 outfit for this weekend’s trip to NYC from a boutique that issues only store credit on returns. God I’m an impulsive idiot and sooo wish I’d talked to the BFF before making that purchase. As it turns out, my yoga pants and fleece and Adidas running shoes would have been adequate attire for the party on Saturday night because the ex-boyfriend ISN’T even going to be there. I don’t give a squat what the other high school ‘friends’ think of my suburban Mom uniform as I don’t plan to talk to them for another 15 years.
So, when I’m dangling off a high ladder with brush and scraper in hand trying to tackle the exterior of peeling paint this summer because I’ve spent all the money we had set aside for professional painters on one incredible outfit that will now languish in the back of my closet, I’ll be contemplating the danger of impulsive shopping in order to impress old flames. There should be a hot line a person can call before making such a purchase. A patient, sweet talking, practical individual would man the phone and encourage the mad shopper to go home and unearth old diaries in which they’ve recorded years of pain and anguish caused by the ex-love before slapping down that credit card. Without this ever-ready, non-judgmental phone support, the suffering just goes on and on, only now, instead of mental anguish the pain continues in the form of credit card debt and what, I ask, is the difference?
P.S. To review April’s Perfect Posts click on over to Suburban Turmoil or Mama K at Petroville.
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