Excellence in parenting

If I’m going to feed them perfectly balanced meals that consist of this:

What right do I have to complain that their fingers end up looking like this? (I tried taking pictures of their smeared faces but I couldn’t get them to stop shoveling peanut butter/chocolate sauce into their mouths long enough to say cheese.)

And yes, my countertops are this neat and organized at all times. After brushing our teeth we always return our toothbrush to its proper place. And we never leave school books, hair ties and cell phones lying around.

So as you can clearly see from this post about nutrition and organization, I am the perfect mother.

My pets...

moar funny pictures

Deez r mai sillee leetle petz. I luv dem becuz dey r kyoot and fuzzee. Even do dey peez on mai cowch and skweekz 2 much.

I give up.

I don't talk lol. Even though I desperately want to more than anything in this world.

Some days

my precociously exasperating Toddler drives me to the brink of madness and back again. Some days I tightly grasp the edges of my sanity, watching the minutes tick agonizingly by as bed time creeps ever closer. Some days I feel as though I can no longer maneuver the parenting plane without a constant co-pilot. Thankfully, ‘some’ days are far out-numbered by ‘most’ days.

Most days my delectable bundle of energy and curiosity loves his pencils and songs about the Number Five.

Some days I find my usually lighthearted Boy brooding with his head buried in books filled with tales of dragons and brave knights. Some days he’ll cop a ‘tude over the Xbox and no amount of stupid mother tricks cracks his smile.

But most days he compromises. I allow him control over his hair while he completes his work and unloads the dishwasher with minimal groaning. Most days the dirty laundry basket is emptied without my asking. Most days I’m able to find his unbearable tickle spot and steal a kiss.

Some days I want to stuff this child into a box, wrap it with duct tape and send it priority mail to Connecticut. Some days I scream into my pillow from the overwhelming frustration and denial of knowing she’s EXACTLY LIKE ME.

But most days I kiss her plum-flavored cheeks and marvel at the young lady she’s blossoming into. Most days I want to bottle her just as she is and keep her in my pocket. I’m besieged with panic just thinking about her stepping out onto her own. Most days she grabs the globe and finds the most obscure island in the most remote body of water in an effort to stump me. Most days she does stump me – in all senses of the word.

And then some days I just sit around while guinea pigs climb all over me

Love is

not eating my children after, against my better judgment, allowing them some free-range, tactile, Montessori-type play with styrofoam peanuts – while foolishly remaining under the impression that the mayhem would somehow be contained to the inside of the cardboard box. Love is having the foresight to grab my camera as opposed to grabbing my hair and shrieking.

Love is graciously taking the broom from your mother’s white-knuckled hands, sweeping up the mess you made, and not blaming it on the two year old.

Straddling

He’s a dazzling up-and-comer with a fresh set of fists for fighting his way into the white house. His magnetic charm makes ignoring him virtually impossible. Her Clinton Era experience lends a comforting air of familiarity that I don’t find with most seasoned politicians. I can’t discount her diplomatic abilities and I can’t suppress my excitement about his refreshing charisma. New face? Old face? Barack O’Boyfriend? Girl Power? (although what I wouldn't give to have the Big Dog back in da house......and exhale)

No matter the outcome of Tuesday, I’ll be happy with the nominee. My heels are dug in and I’m ready to start my crusade for whoever it may be.

Optimistically anxious.