Always a winner

I don’t have any trophies. Well, not anymore. I used to have some from ponytail-league softball (like, from when I was 10). I even had a few cheerleading medals—but isn’t THAT a story for another time.

Now: nothing.

As an adult I’ve managed to go without recognition. Some might think this is wise: flying under the radar and all. But my neglected ego (stop laughing) could use a little faux gold bling on the shelves. Something to let me know just how fabulous I am.

And so, I’m creating my own: the Deadbeat Mom Awards.

Being a Deadbeat Mom comes more naturally to some than others. Some probably learn from their own moms. For some, maybe it's just their cultural norm. For whatever reasons, most of the women I spend time with don’t really fit the image (see above). They’re all cute. And fashionable. And super into buying overpriced-organic-anything-as-long-as-it-fits-in-their-reusable-canvas-bags. They do whatever it takes to make sure their kids are healthy! And fit! And ready to take on the 10+ club activities crammed in post-preschool.

Still...I contend that while no one really aspires to be a Deadbeat Mom, we are all part of this group every once and a while. You just get caught off guard and WHOOPS! you drove home forgetting to buckle Junior into his carseat (and you don’t realize it until you are—thank God—safely home). Or YIKES! I totally didn’t mean to throw the baseball that hard, and no I wasn’t trying to give you a bloody nose while we played catch.

There’s the time Liam fell off the top bunk, and instead of racing him to the ER, I nonchalantly informed him that with my Mommy Powers I could “kiss it and make it all better.” Xrays about a week later showed that he did, in fact, have a broken arm. My Mommy Powers: sucky at best.

Then last week I caught Zach watching True Blood. Yeah, he’s 5. And at 5 he really shouldn’t be watching a show filled with violence, blood and frenzied vampire sex. Unfortunately Husband’s series recording picked up the East Coast airing and thus cut off the episode of Dragon Tales Zach had been previously watching. Awesome.

So, come on, ladies, time to fess up. You can put on your Jackie-Oversized sunglasses and hide behind your huge Orla Keily bag all you want, but I know you are out there. Won’t you stand up with me and accept your award with whatever dignity is left? And, yes, while might all wind up in Hell, at least we'll be there together. (I’ll bring the boxed wine.)