Well guys, I guess it’s time to admit that I am once again out of the running for Mother of the Year. Yes, I know it’s a huge surprise, but I’ve just made too many mistakes to think anyone would nominate me.

Don’t believe me? I submit the following:

I allowed O to practically inhale an entire chocolate bunny on Easter morning. Sure, it was a smallish one, but chocolate for breakfast? That’s a mommy no-no for sure.

Exhibit A.

Exhibit A.

I have also given my child donuts, birthday cake, and cookies for breakfast. Not all the time, of course, but with enough frequency to make the Mother of the Year prize out of my reach. But come on, who doesn’t eat leftover birthday cake the day after their birthday?! Or the day after anyone’s birthday, if they send some cake home with you.

Exhibit B.  No, he didn't eat all of it...His was the chocolate piece.

Exhibit B.
No, he didn’t eat all of it…His was the chocolate piece.

And I guess, while we’re talking about food, my kid has had McDonald’s, Wendy’s, Burger King, and Arby’s. He really loves the chicken nuggets. And fries. Once again, only occasionally…But the fact that I have allowed him to consume MECHANICALLY SEPARATED CHICKEN GOO that has been deep-fried to oblivion probably booted me out of the running.

Exhibit C.  These are actually fish nuggets. Still fried, though.

Exhibit C.
These are actually fish nuggets. Still fried, though.

I also let him play with the sweeper, mostly in hopes that he will accidentally turn it on and scare the crap out of himself. I can’t help it, that’s damned hilarious.

I’ve forgotten to tell him he can get up when he’s in trouble (I refuse to call it time out), only to remember 20 minutes later.

I’ve lied and said we were out of a snack that he asked for because I really wanted to eat the last one.

I don’t let him flush the toilet eleventy billion times.

He really needed (his words) a blueberry breakfast bar but I wouldn’t let him have one because he didn’t eat his lunch.

And then…

This morning, he came in the bathroom when I was brushing my teeth. He wanted to brush his, so I picked up his toothbrush and started to put toothpaste on it.

WRONG.

He wanted to do it himself. In an attempt to avoid a tantrum, I held the toothpaste and brush out to him…But the damage had been done. He turned and ran to the living room, threw himself on a chair, and sobbed for five minutes over the injustice of it all.

“Am I the worst mommy on Earth, buddy?”

He sniffed, rubbed his eyes, and said, “Yes Mommy. I fink so.”

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