Humble-brag

Well, it finally happened. After years and years of prepping my ‘Mom of the Year’ application, finely tuning my craft by yelling patiently explaining things to my girls, and pretty much raising well-behaved, respectful children – well, I finally got the recognition I’ve been not-s0-patiently awaiting. Because – you know.

I’m super-impatient.

Drumroll, please …

 

 

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I. Mean. COME ON.

RIGHT?!?! I’d like to thank my parents, my husband, my extended family …

Oh, wait.

This mug right here?

The one that reads: Best. MOM. Ever.

Wasn’t actually given to me by my supposedly loving children. It was given to me at a gift exchange the other night. A BLIND gift exchange. Meaning? I pretty much got it by the luck of the draw (although, Chrissy Sweigart, I’m POSITIVE you had me in mind when you bought this). The fellow women there graciously didn’t try to steal it from me. It’s like they could just SENSE how much I needed this. Also, they probably got the hint when I verbally threatened/dared someone to try to take it from me. I’m such a sweetheart.

I love it more than anything ever – for the following reasons:

a) I have ZERO chance of ever actually winning this award. You know it. I know it. My girls sure as hell know it. I mean, just this morning, Paige lovingly screamed into my face, “Well, I guess you just hate me then!!!” Because I asked her to please brush her teeth. I even really said please this time. So there’s that.

b) This mug is GINORMOUS, and the only thing I like better than ginormous wine glasses? Ginormous coffee cups.

So, rest assured, all you better moms out there. So, basically, all you other moms out there. The award for 2016 has not yet been chosen, and I’ve officially decided to take myself out of the running this year. Mostly because I’m afraid the school nurse will remind the judges that I have had to have her call Paige to her office at least once a week because I’ve forgotten to give her the ADHD medicine she’s supposed to take before school every morning. And because for the past 3 weeks, I’ve forgotten to have Blair do her Sunday night homework of finding a picture starting with the letter of the week.

You’re welcome.

#BestMomEver

A Little Game I Play

I’m going to let you in on a little secret about me – my brain works in weird ways. Like, really weird – I try not to say everything I think out loud, but as many of you know, that RARELY works.

So, I think it’s time I taught you about a little game I like to play. Now, be fair-warned: once you read about this, it’s highly likely that you will begin doing this throughout the day. Every day. Or, maybe you already do it. In that case, I knew I liked you for a reason, friend.

Here goes.

I like to take kids’ behavior on any random situation and imagine what it would be like if it were actually an adult exhibiting said behavior. (Not to be confused with looking at an adult and imagining what it would be like if a child behaved that way – I’m looking at you, Mr. President-Elect. You’d be in your room for a LOOOOOOONG time if you lived in the Feldmann house. And our bar is SUPER low when it comes to bad behavior.)

It really only works when the behavior is outlandish or irrational. So, for those of you with children – it works all the freaking time. Below are a few examples to get you started – then, imagine away. I had to limit it to a few recent faves, because I seriously could go on forever.

  • Today, I went on a field trip with Paige and the entire 2nd grade. We visited the home of President Benjamin Harrison. The kids have been learning all about him for a few weeks, and were super-excited to see where he used to live. (Okay, I’ll be honest – they’re Catholic school kids who are dropped off and picked up everyday in carpool but their parents. I’m pretty sure they were just excited to ride the school bus, but I digress.) About an hour into the tour, Paige’s teacher and I were commenting on how good the kids were being, and how much they seemed to be learning. I’m not joking when I say LITERALLY 10 seconds later, two kids walked by us. One turned to the other and said, “Is this Benjamin Harrison’s house?” The other replied, “I don’t know.” Guys? As adults? This equals a one-way ticket to the Memory Care Unit.
  • Earlier this year, I went into Blair’s class as a Mystery Reader. I sat down before 21 little kids and began reading stories. All of sudden, one of the kids in front of me toots. LoudlyWhile making eye contact with meAnd homegirl just did nothing. Nada. Until it happened again. Yup – just as loud. She then raised her hand and informed the teacher that she needed to poop. Also? This happened when I did this in her preschool class. MULTIPLE times. I mean, I’m laughing as I type this – can you imagine that happening during a presentation you were giving? Try to – and tell me you’re not laughing now either.
  • This morning, we were running late to get to school (I know – HUGE shocker). After asking the girls about a million times to get their socks and shoes on, I looked at Paige (who was completely ready to go, including her coat and backpack), and then at Blair (who was standing barefoot in the kitchen, with nothing else ready to go). I took a deep breath and lost my shit calmly asked her to go get a pair of socks. For the one million and one (oneth? one million and first?) time. Apparently, I had poked the Honey Badger and this was a ridiculously unacceptable request. And she screamed, ran up to her room, and threw about 15 pairs of socks down the stairs – then threw one at my head. Let’s just say the situation resolved itself and both girls made it to school. (Disregard her tear-stained face, principal – the cold makes her cry, I guess.) But, I mean – can you IMAGINE? If I asked Derrick to put on some socks and this was his reaction?!?!?
  • My last example involved my nephew, Nate. He’s such a sweet little boy – just a few months younger than Blair. And this kid can eat like I’ve never seen anyone eat. In fact, I frequently tell his mom that she should enter him into some sort of competition. And he’s only 4 years old. The first point of Nate is that, when he eats, he ends up with food ALL over his mouth, shirt and self. Not just a dab or two you discretely point to with your napkin. Like, ALL over his cute mug. Every time I watch him eat it makes me laugh to imagine sitting across from an adult to whom this same thing would happen. Imagine a first date setting. Or a business lunch. Right??? Also, sometimes ol’ Nate-Dogg shoves so much food into his mouth that he pukes. And when I say sometimes, I mean multiple times a week. Picture your husband or wife – MULTIPLE TIMES A WEEK – putting so much food into their mouth that they puke. Sometimes right at the table.

So, there’s your new challenge – if you think it’s stupid, then don’t do it. I really don’t care one way or the other. (That’s a lie – if you think it’s stupid, then I think your sense of humor is stupid.). Good luck – and get out there to those holiday parties to fart and smear food all over your face.

Game on.