Mother of the Year

When I accept [graciously] my award for Mother of the Year, I want to make sure some special people are recognized for their supporting roles. It’s not easy working full-time under the harsh conditions I am subjected to: flexible schedules, permitted casual attire, tolerated internet browsing, and my flagrant usage of curse words overlooked; then to have to come home and do this whole “parent” thing? Bollocks! I can’t be expected to this alone – and I don’t. I must give credit where it is due.

I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself. I have an idea for the dress that I’ll wear and the preliminary draft of my acceptance speech is done, but I’m not sharing. No spoilers - assholes! There is an art to keeping people in the dark about certain things; surprises and your true intentions or hidden agendas are among them. I excel at this. Ask my parents or therapist.

You may ask yourself why I’m being bestowed this distinguished award. Don’t be a dickhead! It’s clear I’m rearing the most awesome 10 yr. old man-child to walk the face of the planet. Disagree with me and I will punch you squarely in the nose then proceed to kick you in the shins; and assuming you are of the male persuasion – I’ll tweak your nipples really hard before poking you in the eyes. If you’re a woman, I figure you’ve already suffered enough; we can agree to disagree.

So, in wrapping this bitch up in a nice Christmas package, I’d like to thank the following:

-         Kraft Mac n’ Cheese: Lunch and dinner from toddler to adult. So versatile. “Look honey, I added ketchup and ground beef, now it’s fancy.”  [alright, it’s the store brand, but I think Kraft may be more generous down the line for their honorable mention]

-         Children’s Benadryl: Judge me like you haven’t done it. Jerk

-         Harry Potter: I really don’t think I need to say much else here.

-         The Beastie Boys: I’ve had a great time educating him in the ways of Paul Revere and putting his “root down” but also know that the time will come when he’ll want to “fight for his right to party” and be all about “girls.” He’ll think he’s rebelling when he slams the door and blares the music. He won’t see me dancing in the kitchen. It was my diabolical plan all along.

-         Walmart: Thanks for providing ample examples of why it’s important to stay focused in school.

-         Kevin: Thank you for helping me raise a boy. Thanks for showing him how to do “guy” things without electrocuting himself, cutting off his fingers, or throwing like a girl. Battery acid is not an exfoliant and cable ties are not just for bondage; thank you for being a part of his learning process.

-         The public school system: From the bottom of my dark and cold heart, thank you for taking this little beast off my hands for at least 6 hours a day. Thank you. Bless you. You are all in my prayers each day. Each and every one of you.

-         Sriracha: For that one time that Curran thought that you were ketchup and dipped his McNugget in you as a child. Sounds horrifying, and I’m sure it was, but that shit was fucking priceless too. That alone was worth all the tantrums in public that I have ever had to deal with. [admittedly my child is rad and I’ve really only ever had like 3 public meltdowns – but still]

I know that some you will be upset that you didn’t make the cut. I don’t care. This is my award ceremony and I will acknowledge collaborators to my success as I see fit. So there! *makes ridiculous “so there” face* Yep…mother of the stinking year.  

I have an amazing child. I know this without a shadow of a doubt. I have a small part to play in this. He is, all on his own, a good-natured boy with a good heart and a gigantic brain. He can do anything that he firmly sets his sights on. That kinda shit scares the holy bejesus out of me. I’m a stubborn woman but not terribly bright. I’m raising an intellectual with ferocity and drive that exceeds my own. Lord, let this child continue to walk in the light. If he turns to the dark side, I’m gonna have a hell of a time tracking down a Wookie and Jedi to handle my business. I’m inherently lazy by nature. I prefer the comfort of my couch and chosen blanket adornments; if I have traverse the universe looking for a savior, I’m going to be pissed!

Yeah, so Mother of the Year award goes to me. I’ll be looking for a personal trainer to help me get this bat-wing under-arm fat under control and maybe help get my ass looking a little sweeter; it’s already pretty choice. I’m not looking for any elective surgery, but maybe a weave??? Is fake hair still a “look?” Do celebrities still do that? Do they steal hair from people that really need it, or is it just animal hair? On second thought – neither of those options sounds particularly appealing. Fuck it, I’ll just go as-is on the hair front. Believe the rest of me is going to be flawless for my ceremony though – but I haven’t over-thought this at all. Nope…not at all.