Mommy Mondays - Mother of the year

Well today is officially a Monday... Of course Mondays are ... Well... Mondays, and as with any Monday of course I am sadly running behind, but the good news is that  I have another really awesome guest Blogger : ) I couldn't be more happy to introduce Christy from - Mother of the Year  she like me is a bit unconventional "anti mom" she blogs about things like taking the easy way out, and shares my dislike of mini vans... I am really excited to have her hanging at my place today, and hope that you will all go check out her site and let her know that the crazy girl from Mommys Rambles sent you... So without further ado, I introduce Christy ---

I’m Christy, AKA the Mother of the Year. Add in “Worst” in front of the Mother of the Year part and you have an accurate understanding of my mothering. As a guest blogger today, I’m going to give you a small preview of my life and what I blog about. Check me out at www.worstmotheroftheyear.com when you’re done here. 

When my oldest was 2 years old, she was a terrible two-year old. That cliché nickname is no joke. The only age worse than 2 is 3. I’m not sure why 3 doesn’t have a reputation for being terrible as well because that age is worse than 2. I plan to make it my life-long goal to inform expecting mothers that the 3’s are equally, if not more, terrible. More awareness needs to happen. Either way, my terrible 2 year old (who is now five and not terrible), locked me outside one day. She basically said (without words), “I’ll show you what happens when you make me stay inside!“ I originally politely asked her to unlock and open the door. All I could hear was giggling on the other side. I started to get a little panicked. Who knows what she could get into without me following her closely around the house, watching every move like a hawk.

I then moved on to polite threats of time-out. This brought nothing but more giggles. Getting more frustrated, I started the super scary threats; “You’re going to be in so much trouble if you do not open the door right this minute!” I also used her whole name to prove that she was in HUGE trouble. Even the whole name threat didn’t work. I sat for a moment. Ah ha! An idea came to mind. “If you don’t open this door right now, I am turning off Elmo from out here!” The giggle stopped. I heard the lock click. She opened the door for me. My plan worked. This was the one and only time in 5 years that I have been able to out-smart her. It was also the beginning of my style of parenting; “Taking the Easy Way Out”. 

To the PTA and mini-van driving moms, I pretend that my parenting style is more of a, “Pick Your Battles”, but if I’m going to be truthful to myself, it’s definitely more me taking the easy way out. If I’m working really hard on writing and Savannah wants a chocolate frosting sandwich for lunch, I might give one big plea for her to eat something better, but then I’m throwing in the towel and….taking the easy way out. Frostin sandwich is it. It will be on wheat bread though…I’m not a total crap mom. This of course is assuming that we have wheat break. If not, whatever we have will do. There’s no need to drive to the store for healthy food. That would go against all my morals of taking the easy way out. 

My biggest offense of taking the easy way out is when Savannah asks a question. She isn’t a normal kid who asks why the sky is blue. We’ve all heard of kids asking this question so we have all prepared ourselves for the day that we have to answer that. My daughter asks questions like, “What color is this straw?” It’s a clear straw. How do you answer that? If you think answering that it’s clear, which is not a color is good enough for my daughter, you are a damn fool. You have to pull out college textbooks, power point presentations, diagrams, and documentaries for her to be satisfied. Yes, she is that complicated. So when she asked what color the clear straw was, I answered white. She went about her business and I went about mine. I’ve been taking the easy way out since 2008 and I’m proud of it….even if it means I won’t ever win Mother of the Year.