Cindy

Droog

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December 25, 2008

Mother of the Year? It Sure Isn’t Me

I realized last night that I’m going to have to rescind my Mother of the Year award application.

It’s true. Another year has gone by, and although I’ve only technically been eligible for the award for the past three years, each December I look back and realize that as much as I tried, I am not worthy.

I shouldn’t be disappointed, as this is no recent epiphany. Back in July, I found a perfect-circle-shaped stain on my son’s favorite children’s book. I tried to remember: Had I opened a can of Spaghetti-O’s in the living room and left it sitting there, with preserved-and-super-thin tomato juice dripping out of it?

Had I sat down a sweaty ponytail holder on the book, after pushing the 50-lb. double stroller up the hill by our house?

No. Because those occurrences wouldn’t have taken me out of the running. What really happened was that one particularly stressful evening, after the kids went to bed, I opened a very dark beer and used the book as a coaster.

We don’t keep real coasters in our house, because small boys can use them as boomerangs, only the kind that bounce off each other’s foreheads before coming back to the original thrower.

That stain shall forever serve as a reminder that Sandra Boynton books are not waterproof, and I think they do make softer, cork coasters these days – sort of like the ones they have at bars, only hopefully without the Mike’s Hard Cranberry logo. That doesn’t match our décor.

I felt the award slipping away again in early November. I’d planned a business trip for my entire staff for later that month. Corporate jet? Secured. Limo service from the airport to the training seminar? I’d even ordered cheese and crackers for the ride.  

All was well, except for one thing. The trip was on my youngest son’s first birthday. I bailed, and sent the staff went without me. They all completely understood. Still, the fact that I went through all of that work – looking at the calendar, scheduling the speaker – without realizing the conflict with that date, has haunted me ever since.

I now have nightmares about forgetting that it’s Christmas, being out of town on the first day of kindergarten and oversleeping during my son’s wedding.

Speaking of birthdays, I took another step toward award ineligibility when my oldest turned two, and I went to Toys ‘R Us and purchased the exact same things I just saw my friend Jenn’s son get for his birthday.

The kids do have a lot in common. He seemed very interested in those gifts at that party. But in reality, no place gives me more nightmares than Toys ‘R Us. I walk in. I look around. I don’t know where to go. Doubt seeps in. I feebly lift a couple of toys off the shelf only to realize they’re too old. Too girlish. Too made in China. 

Indecision turns to paralysis. I turn and leave.  

Add all of this to my lack of scrapbooking skills, and that’s it. The committee’s reaction to my application? Laughter. My nomination? Rejected.

Thank goodness my kids don’t know the difference. They also don’t know that I took a demotion at work so I could spend more time with them. That I’ve skipped book club (or reading at all for that matter), running club, Economic Club and a host of other non-essential clubs so I could be a decent mom.

I may not be Mom of the Year, but I’m also the hardest on myself. They’re stuck with me, and I’m pretty sure we can make the most of it.

© 2008 North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.

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This is Column # CD117. Request permission to publish here.