And the Mother of the Year Award Goes To….Not Me!

*Sob* You just don’t *sob* know how much this *snort* means to me! *Sniff* I’d like to thank the *Snort* little people for this *Sob* Mom of the Year Award…

HA HA HA.  The above picture?  Not me.  I don’t look like Gwyneth Paltrow-I’ve actually eaten food that isn’t supernatural organic and casts a shadow.  And I certainly won’t be receiving any sort of mothering awards any time soon.

I do believe I have pointed out the scary reality of being an ADD parent of an ADD child.  Or just me being a parent in general is a pretty scary thing.  I really try.  I do.  But more often than not I miss things.  Things that I probably shouldn’t miss.  The fact that I am largely the brains of the operation here really freaks me out sometimes.

There are so many instances where I miss stuff.  Take the other night.  We had my son’s open house for school.  Remarkably, we got out of the house, all four of us, and arrived not at the last minute but with time to spare.  As we exited the car, I noticed my son’s shoes were untied, and on the wrong feet.  As he sat down to swap shoes and then tie them, I noticed he was also missing socks.  And his pants were presentable but definitely had paint from Art, his special for that day.  His glasses were probably all smeared up too, but I didn’t think to check, seeing as that I was so horrified by what else I had already missed regarding his appearance.  And here we were going up to the school behind impeccably dressed children and their even more well dressed parents.

Once again, I lose the Mom of the Year award.  Not even close to runner up.  Might I also mention that my daughter had a light layer of glitter glue all over her shirt.  I was thankful that I at least remembered to brush her hair and get her a headband to put in it.  She was wearing it like Rambo, but at least she had something in her hair.

Having one that doesn’t notice the things and one that fights everything is a losing battle.  Sometimes I don’t know why I even try.

I’m trying to teach them the basics of picking out their clothes.  The Professor often will try to leave the house dressed in Christmas colors-usually a green shirt and red pants.  Why any child has that many pairs of red pants is beyond me.  He gets very aggravated with me when I ask him to please pick out a different (insert clothing item here).  He also is famous for somehow finding pants in his room that are way too big.  He will walk around the house, grabbing his pants and hiking them up to his chin every three steps until I ask him to go find something that fits.  In addition he somehow gets his sister’s pants mixed in with his and tries to wear them-he doesn’t notice that they are five inches too short.  These things, thankfully, I tend to notice.  He does, however, go to school at least twice a week wearing his pants backwards.  He has a love affair with athletic pants, so this isn’t very noticeable.

Sometimes he gets away with stuff that, well, I should notice. One time we went down to the state capital to do some shopping.  We had just come out of a store when I noticed him hiking up his jeans.  That was because they weren’t buttoned.  It was also because they were on backwards.  We asked him if he noticed something very wrong about his clothing.  He just looked at us and shrugged.

The Princess loves wild prints, especially two different ones together.  A flowered shirt and rainbow striped pants, for example.  And the color matching thing is lost on her to a point as well.  She manages to find the green flowered pants and the red shirt.  And then there’s the pink.  If she wears pink, it has to be ALL PINK.  Often three different shades of pink that really clash.  And the shoes must not match the outfit in any way whatsoever.  Someone gave us a pair of dark pink slip on shoes that look like ballet flats.  I made the mistake of putting these in with the rest of the shoes.  She only wants to wear those.  Nothing else.  Sometimes I can persuade her to put on her pepto-bismol pink sandals, which she thinks go with EVERYTHING.

The other fight we have is her hair.  She has long hair.  This is partly because it is like mine.  The shorter it is, the harder it is to manage. I’m not kidding.  When I cut my hair short, I look like some sort of mutated Little Orphan Annie, only it’s not curly, it’s just wavy and very thick.  Occasionally I make the mistake of thinking I will like it short.  Then I regret it.  I’m currently growing it out until I’m like Rapunzel.  Princess too has the hair, and she WANTS to be Rapunzel.  But unlike Rapunzel, she will not brush her hair.  She often looks like a little orphan girl, partly because she doesn’t like her hair brushed, partly because I forget until we’re out.   We do ponytails, when I can catch her.  But nothing stays in her hair either.  Nothing.  Barrettes just slide right out.  The only thing I have found that really works are the little clips they sell at Hobby Lobby.  I have made her some pretty hair things. She thinks they are so beautiful that she takes them in her room and hides them.

I’m lucky if I remember to brush my own hair, let alone hers.  Heck, if I remember to put a bra on, it’s a good day.

This hasn’t happened, yet…

The guys in the family at least are a bit lower maintenance.  Short hair, wearing baseball hats.  It’s all good.  One less thing to remember.  In our house, that’s a very good thing.

So if you see two somewhat unkempt but very cute children wandering around with two unkempt and not as cute parents, it might be our family.  Just remember that I try.  Sometimes that’s all I can do.