Okay, Bad Mommies, I'm waiting... bring it!! It's the meme of the year. Only one of you gets to sport this beauty on your blog:
DISCLAIMER: This is not an actual contest. No prizes will be awarded. This is not something to be proud of, and why we all insist on bragging about our parenting mishaps is beyond the author of this blog. Speaking of whom, the author and any hilarious readers who comment are not responsible for injury or death to your children or the children around you as a result of this blog or your stupidity. Please do NOT injure or put your children in harm's way for the sake of this fictitious contest. This is a joke. The author of this blog, in voluntary cooperation with her readers and absolutely no authorities, has developed this fake contest to give you a tiny smile this morning. If this had been an actual contest, you would have been instructed to visit the author's PayPal account and deposit a large sum of money for official rules and entry information. This author serves the Twin Cities area, her child, her husband, her dogs and you, her faithful readers. This concludes the joke.
10 comments:
I call this phenomenon Negligent Mommy. I always seem to get those moments on tape. I have a great (NOT!) video of B-Dogg riding his rocking horse... and then taking a header into the floor. What should have been a lovely video went awry. (He was fine.)
How sad to think that disclaimer was a good idea.
I think we sometimes point out our own faults before others get the chance. If we confess, it's not as bad as being found out.
Okay, seriously, do we get to put this blog bling in our sidebars or what? I must have it. I'll certainly link back to your post of choice... ;)
At the very least, can I post it as your inspiration? Well?
While photographing little kid, he has fallen face first off of THREE different chairs (Neither him nor I are quick learners) and once had a stack of textbooks fall on his head. I have whacked his head on countless door frames and pinch his fingers in something at least once a week, usually not even on purpose. He has fallen off the couch while I've been busy typing on my laptop more than once.
Gosh, there's just too much to list. I know I deserve to win though.
...void where prohibited by law.
I sent Mr. Sasha and our Politician (age 4) up to Day With Thomas without me because I couldn't get off work. Only problem, the tickets I bought were for the next day, not the day I sent them on a 45 minutes drive- Thomas wasn't even in town yet. Tell me that doesn't earn me Mom of the Year.
Oh, I have you all beat, for sure. One day, last year, I was at the end of my rope. So I told my girls (then 4 and 2) that I was going to take a short bath, ten minutes, and to be good while I took a mommy-time-out. I put on a video, hopping the bath and enjoyed a delicious ten minutes.
When I got out, I found my two-year-old sitting on top of the stove (it's one of those glass top ones), eating sugar out of the sugar bowl, with a knife. (It was a butter knife, but still.) I was so shocked I couldn't even get mad, after all, it was my fault for thinking I could take ten, right?
I love books almost as much as I love my daughter. When she was 7 or 8 months old I took her to a book store in her brand new Maclaren stroller. I kept finding book after book that I wanted to buy and I was piling them onto the sun shade thingy... yeah... you can see where this is going...
One book too many and the whole stroller tipped backwards, with the baby in it, spilling books all over the place. Somehow most of the books hit her on the way down as she lay there screaming.
I'm not proud to say that I didn't know whether to pick up the stroller, kid, or books up first.
For months she wouldn't even let me tip the stroller back to go up a curb.
I think I've got you all beat: http://dizzilizzi.blogspot.com/2007/04/there-goes-my-mom-of-year-award.html
Just tonight I was standing over my son, flipping my head back and forth so my hair would brush his face, he has this really weird fetish about my hair. He actually likes to run his bink through it and make what we call a hairbink, but I digress. Anyway, he was hysterically laughing so, I started whipping faster and faster. He reached for my hair without me knowing. He got caught. I literally sent him shooting across the room into the wall. Ouch!! Luckily, I tucked him in my arms, let him suck on a dirty strand, and all was forgiven. Please can I have that bad-ass button????
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