Feel Free To Judge Me

Mother of the year? Nope, not me. In fact, throughout my mothering career I have been the Susan Lucci among those in the running for this impossible to obtain award. But, I'm cool with it, and so are my kids. As a matter of fact, I rock as a mom...and I am quoting my children when I say this. It may have to do with the fact that the judgement which is passed upon me (obviously by those who have won this award in the past) is wasted on someone who doesn't give a rat's ass what they think. What am I doing with a rat's ass you ask? I'm not sure, but I do know that I am not giving it up.

Don't get me wrong, I admire what so many moms are able to accomplish with their kids...especially when it comes to nutrition. My kids suck to feed. Oh sure, it was all fine and dandy when they couldn't speak yet, or throw offensive foods off their highchairs. I could feed them whatever I wanted. Plenty of fruits, veggies, and protein. Now, forget it. They are small versions of their father whose main staples consist of pasta and pizza. He's about as plain an eater as they come. Mr. "I don't want any 'chunky things' in my pasta sauce" and god forbid there be a vegetable on his plate. Me, on the other hand, I will try anything... and I mean anything. My husband probably wishes I was as experimental in the bedroom. I even prefer to try things before I know what they are, just in case knowing what it is may ruin the experience. I'm back to talking about food here people, not my sex life...dirty, dirty minds.

Here is where the judgemental part comes in for a lot of people. I feed my kids whatever they ask for. Period. Of course I don't allow cake and cookies and such for dinner, but a majority of their dinners consist of chicken nuggets and french fries. I've even gone so far as to by a deep fryer which cooks those things up in a matter of 2 minutes. I'm going to lose my mind if one more person tells me that I am making more work for myself and that they should be eating whatever I make for my husband and I to eat. Right. If I tried to enforce that rule my days would be spent listening to hours of moaning and complaining that they don't want to eat what I made. They are stubborn little shits (they get that from me) and they would sit there until the cows came home. Yes, I also have cows that come home when things take forever to happen. Then before they went to bed they would look at me with sad little eyes and say "I'm hungry". I wouldn't be able to stand sending them to bed that way so I would cook something for them to eat, two hours after I made dinner. So you see...judges...this would actually make more work for me. Feel free to leave comments and motherly advice as to how I can change this, which I will promptly delete and mentally file under "Who Does This Bitch Think She Is?"

I read about all these mother's who are able to feed their kids tofu, whole wheat pasta, and sugar free everything. No doubt these are the same mothers that gained 15 pounds during their pregnancy while they did yoga up until the day they gave birth. I was sabotaging my award chances right from the get go, as I slept for most of my pregnancies or sat on the couch with a gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream and a spoon.

Here are some other moments that tainted my relationship with the judges:

- I've been know to pull over to the side of the road to have them exit the car, leave their door open as a type of shield, and pee

- I've taken them to see a band and brought them home well past what would be known as a "respectable" bed time

- Occasionally I skip an evening bath or bedtime story

- I once forgot that my sons tooth fell out and the tooth fairy did not arrive. In my defense, he lost it in the middle of the night. Therefore my story that the tooth fairy had already planned her trip by the time it came out was sufficient.

- I reward them with time to play video games

- I've taught them the rules of a few "drinking" games and allowed them to play with water rather than alcohol

Overall, I've come to terms with the fact that I will never even be considered for mother of the year. I don't really care either. The bottom line is that I love my children more than anything in this world and I would do anything for them. I am here-by bowing out of contention. Please continue to feel free to keep judging me though...I don't give a flying fuck. And what is that? Don't know, but I store them right next to the rat's asses.