Why My Mommy Is a Good Mommy

This post is so special to me, so I decided to use it as a landing for my Thursday hops too (in addition to my Wednesday hops).  

Last night Miss Chatterbox was especially chatty, and true to my World's Worst Mom nature, I just wasn't feeling up to answering all her questions.  So I did what every [lazy] mom did, I asked her to type a little something on my computer, about why she thinks her mommy is a good mommy.  I know... I know... a *good* mommy, of all things!  

Below is what she typed:

 

Isn't it perfect for a not-so-wordless wednesday post?   Here is the "wordy" translation, just in case... ;)

"Why I think My Mommy is a Good Mommy"
by Miss Chatterbox

Because she is smart, can do automatic things by computer and, she can write and read well.  She can do cool things by computer.
She is kind and beautiful.  Wen I was sad she always make me happy.  She likes to go shopping with me. And I like it too.  She gave me a school bag that is big and nice.  She is thankful.
She likes to go driving with me. And I like it. She uses some of her money for me.  And I am thankful for it.
She has a lot of tattoo on her body that I like.  And she likes and loves me.  She takes me anywhere that I like.
She likes sweet and I like it too. She takes cares of me very well.   She cares about me.  And I care about her.  She's honest to me ……… 

 Love,  Miss Chatterbox.  

Now, I'm just gonna get me some tissue papers before I start bawling...  

 Linking up on Wednesday with Project Alicia, Live and Love Out Loud, and Seven Clown Circus

Linking up on Thursday with Obviously MARvelous and SmookieStyle 

WAHM Resource Site and  My Life as Mom and Wife

I Want It in COLOR!!! - "This is Me" Meme Gone Awry

Date: 15th April 2011

Time: 10:43 am

Last blog post: 3 hours ago

Comments on last blog post: 3

Title of last blog post: "5 Question Friday" (it's a blog hop. Over a hundred entries. Yep, 3 comments).

Duh.  Obviously, I was in a grumpy mood.  So I decided to check out other blogs that some friends had recommended to me earlier, which was NOT a good idea, because they turned out to be great blogs, and they have, like, gazillion followers, which then made me feel even more unworthy and wanted to commit a blog harakiri.

Ok, so here was where stupid does what stupids do.  One of the blogs I visited was Good Day, Regular People, otherwise known as the Empress' blog.  Uh huh, now you're starting to understand the depth of my stupidity.  For those who doesn't know what I'm talking about, go check out her blog.  It's awesome. 

Anyways, I came across one of her posts titled It's Everywhere - Baby E Post, and thought, what a marvelous idea!  It was a cute meme where you ask your child to draw a picture of you. Here's what you do:

• Ask your child to draw a picture of you. It doesn’t matter how old they are…
• Post the picture on your blog
• Call it the ‘This is Me Meme’
• Go here and add your cartoon likeness to the linky.

Easy enough, right?  So with a renewed sense of purpose, I decided that's what I was going to do right now.

I called my 6 year-old daughter, and relayed this simple instruction to her: "Babygirl, could you draw a picture of Mommy?"  Like a good girl that she was (fine, she did look at me curiously in the beginning), she immediately went on her way to accomplish this task.  By now, I was quite excited already; I couldn't wait to see the beautiful masterpiece that was about to unfold before my eyes.

Wait a minute... Why only a pencil and an eraser?  No colored pencils?  Hmm... 

"Sweetheart, where's your colored pencils?" I tried to hint. BIG hint there as you can see.

  

"I'm going to use pencil, Mommy, so in case I made a mistake I can erase it."

I thought to myself, that made sense, she wanted to make it as nice as possible.  Aw, this was gonna be great!  

12 minutes and 32 seconds later...

Whaaaaaaaaat?  Holy shitake, that's not how I looked like!?!  That's Adolf Hitler!  With long eyelashes!  And what's with the black and white?  Why no color??

Classic, neurotic me.

This was SO not my day.  At least she can make it in color!!!  Yeah, that must be it.  Color was what it needs.  I. WANT. COLOR!!!!!

I tried to be reasonable about this, but as you know, reasonable is NOT my middle name.  It's never been my middle name.  So I sulked.

I sulked, and sulked, and sulked.  Until it was time for my daughter to go to sleep.  As she was about to kiss me goodnight, I finally blurted it out, "But I want color!!!"  She looked at me and I knew that she knew,yep, mommy's having one of her "episodes."

"I tried my best, Mommy.  I really did."

"But why is it not in color?  I want color!"  Still sulking.

She looked at me and was quiet for a moment.  I shifted uncomfortably on my seat, on one side realizing my own absurdity, not giving a crap on the other.  Of course my stunted maturity-side won.  So I sulked some more.

My daughter suddenly went to her room, grab her colored pencils and a piece of paper, and started drawing.  Oh hell, only then did I start to feel really bad about the whole thing.  What the fug was I doing?  This was supposed to be fun.  Why was I giving my daughter such a hard time?  I was ashamed, truly and wholly ashamed!  As I saw her on her knees, drawing on the coffee table what I was sure of was for me, I  wanted to cry.  Still, I didn't stop her.  I was too proud to admit I was being childish.  What a mess!  Thank goodness my husband was out late with his friends; otherwise he'd probably refuse to talk to me for a whole week knowing what I had just done.

9 minutes 18 seconds later...

My daughter brought what she had just drawn to me.  It was a "rainbow butterfly."  It was a butterfly drawn on a small pink paper, this time she made sure she put colors.  There was not a space in there that wasn't colored.  Smart girl.

She said to me, "I'm sorry, Mommy.  I didn't think I could draw your face nicely, so I used a pencil.  But if you want colors, here I just draw you what I know I could draw best.  It's a pretty butterfly.  This, I could make in colors."

Boo hoo hooo... harakiri here I come!

I wish I could write a better post about this, but hey, this IS me.  That is exactly what makes the Empress' blog hers, and what makes my blog mine.  Not that I'm comparing (yeah right, get me some life, people!!!).  So I guess this is my "This Is Me Meme," and how it turned out to be more than just an eye-opening experience for me.  

Oh, and here comes the picture (folks, this is another good reason why you should take the Pledge, by the way).

Of course I can't resist posting how Daddy looked like, because the only thing that made me just a tad happier about this whole thing was how Daddy looked even worse than Mommy!  Ha, take THAT sucka!!!

And here is the peace-offering (very colorful and safe subject, can't you tell?)

I'll Stand By You Part 2 **Warning: It's a Story Involving a LOT of Shit**

(continuing from Part 1)

Satisfied with all the preparations I've made, I entered the bathroom, closed the door, and made myself comfortable.  I flipped through my first tabloid magazine, not forgetting to flush the toilet every now and then as was my habit.  Can't stand the thought of having those brownies piling up only inches from my butt, you know.  Eww, gross!  (if you think that's gross, then wait til you read this...)

Halfway through my second tabloid and a few toilet flushes later, I had this peculiar feeling that something was off.  By then I had finished my business anyway, and was only there because I wanted to read in peace.  With reluctance, I started to clean myself up.  With one final flush before I go, I stood up and was just about to leave the toilet cubicle when something caught my eyes.

Turned out that all those times that I had flushed, the little shits (literally) didn't go down.  The toilet was blocked, either by all the tissue paper I had so poorly disposed of earlier, or by the motherload I had just dumped into the bowl.  Either way, the situation was quickly getting out of hand, because it became obvious to me that this shit ain't going down anytime soon.  In fact, it's slowly rising and I didn't need to be Einstein to figure out that the final outcome will NOT be pretty.

Rendered motionless by the horror of it all, I was torn between calling the hotel's maintenance pronto, or cleaning after it myself.  If I called the maintenance, how on earth was I going to explain my situation?  "Err, hello, this is room 313, and I'd like to report an emergency.  There's a rising pile of shit that's about to overflow your beautiful bathroom floor?"  How was I ever going to save face when the maintenance crew came knocking at my door?  How could I ever look those nice, friendly Balinese people in the eyes once they've seen the things that came out of my butt??  I felt like that kid who had just been caught stealing with her hands still inside the cookie jar.  There was not a single lie that could cover the predicament I was in.  I was doomed to be "that woman whose shit blocked the toilet and flooded the bathroom's floor" from here on forward.

 "No, there is NO friggin way you're gonna clean it yourself! How? Don't tell me you're gonna be scooping poop out of the toilet bowl.  Even if you do, where are you gonna dump 'em?  You're not seriously thinking to do it with your bare hands, are you??  You're OCD, remember?!??"  I was practically scared shitless (no pun intended).  I couldn't think, I couldn't move.

Finally, sounds coming from the TV outside broke me out of my stupor.  I shut the bathroom door, grabbed the nearest phone, and called maintenance.  After I told them to hurry, I just HAD to add, "I'm so sorry...  but you know how it is with 5 year olds... "

Did I just LIE?  Was that me, pointing my finger at my sweet, innocent daughter?  Bad, bad, BAD mommy!  You'd think I'd get down on my knees and repent to God Almighty right there and then.  But it's me we're talking about here.

Blinking lights, ladies and gentlemen, World's Worst Mom moment coming right up!  As soon as I hung up the phone, I told my daughter that the maintenance people were coming to fix the toilet.  I explained to her why she must open the door when the doorbell rings.  I even gave her the tip money, wrapped in paper, to give to the maintenance crew once they completed the job.  And where would Mommy be when this happened?  Well, Mommy's gonna be outside in the patio, behind that little screen right there (because Mommy is a coward who's gonna hide her sorry bump where nice, friendly Balinese people can't find her).

 (please continue to Part 3)

I'll Stand By You Part 1 **Warning: It's a Story Involving a LOT of Shit**

One thing you probably don't need to know about me, but I've got to tell you anyway since it's relevant to this story, is that I have a hard time poo-ing when I'm not familiar with the surroundings.  The same thing happens whenever there's too much commotion around me.  Like when there are guests coming over for dinner or when my daughter's having her playdates (picture little people running around the house screaming and shouting).  Also included in my blacklist are public restrooms, where the toilet cubicles are surrounded by walls that are not completely enclosed.  You know those "neither here nor there" partitions that are supposed to give you a sense of privacy?  Privacy my arse. Having to smell other people's shit on top of yours does not qualify as privacy in my dictionary.  Second, doing my business while having to hold my breath at the same time is just plain wrong.  It contradicts the law of nature, not to mention detrimental to your state of consciousness.

Another thing I probably should mention, is that last year, my 5 year-old daughter had to memorize lyrics to the song "I'll Stand By You" (by the Pretenders) for her school's Christmas performance.  I had her practiced that song enough to know that she had most of the lyrics memorized.


So with those little trivias in mind, I begin my story.  Let me warn you, it's a story that involves a lot of shit. 

Sometime last year, our family went on a holiday in Bali.  For those of you who'd been there, you would know that Balinese people are well-known for being polite and hospitable.  We were staying at our favorite hotel, the one we always stayed in whenever we visited the island.  Familiar with the hotel layout and room setting already, I was able to relax immediately after we finished unpacking.  I remembered the day as being a bit too hot for my liking, so I opted to stay in our room with my daughter while my husband went down to sunbathe by the pool.

Sensing the peaceful tranquility all around me, my rowdy husband out by the pool, it didn't take long before I felt the first stirrings of nature calling in my tummy.  Not wanting to lose the momentum, I quickly set out to prepare my pre-flux routine without delay:

• one or two tabloid magazines to entertain myself while I'm doing my #2 (checked).
• my blackberry, on silent mode (checked).  We don't want any sudden outbursts of my Eminem ringer to muck up my bowel movements now, do we?
• liquid soap and a 3 liter plastic bottle filled up with water for me to wash up afterward (checked).
• TV set on Disney channel to ensure no mid-poo interruptions from daughter (checked)
• yummy snacks for my little one to munch on while watching TV (checked)
• a small plastic cup of water for her (checked). 
• lock entrance and patio doors (checked)
• windows all closed and secured (checked)

I proceeded to prop my daughter, who was five years old at the time, comfortably on the sofa bed, her snack and water cup well within her grasp, making sure she had the best unhindered view of Disney Channel from where she's sitting.  Finally, I informed my daughter that Mommy had some "business to attend to" in the bathroom, so please do not--I repeat, do NOT--interrupt, barge in, or come within ten paces of the bathroom door unless there is a real emergency.  By now she's only too happy to obliged, her eyes already glued to the TV screen.

(Please continue to Part 2)

World's Worst Mom #100 Part 2

If you haven't, please read  Part 1 first

With gratitude to World's Worst Moms, who has given mommies with deficient parenting qualities, such as me, the chance to shine.

To my dear 6yr-old daughter,  here are 100 37* reasons why your mommy is the World's Worst Mom:

1. I secretly think that if only you look more like me instead of your daddy, you'd be a better looking kid.
2. Do you remember those times when I said I was BUSY? I was busy online shopping.
3. I keep the best chocolate cookies hidden in my closet so I don't have to share them with you (or daddy). 
4. The other day, when we were both walking and it suddenly rained, I quickly fumbled to open my umbrella, not because I was afraid you'd get wet, but because I didn't want to ruin my newly purchased handbag.
5. I want you to love me more than you love Daddy.
6. When you were 5 months old, I fed you bitter gourd to stop you from sucking your little fingers.
7. Whenever I don't want you to eat something, I lied and told you it's allergic and it will give you an itchy rash. 
8. I searched the net for pictures of the worst dental cavities ever and told you that's what's gonna happen when you don't brush your teeth at least twice a day.
9. I refused to take turns and listen to your choice of songs in the car.  I just couldn't listen to "All the Single Ladies" from the Chipmunks 2 anymore.  In fact, if the CD went missing one day in the very near future, that's probably because your mommy smashed it to pieces and hide the evidence.
10. I was so happy when you're at that age when you were so eager to help out because now I have you to fetch me stuff whenever I was too lazy to lift my butt off the couch.
11. I lied when I told you, "I'm sorry honey, but your friend from school could not have that playdate with you.  Her mom said she had something planned that weekend."  First, I never asked her mom.  Second, I simply wasn't in the mood to have to clean up after one extra child. 
12. I forgot my promises to you because when I made them, I was checking out my friends' facebook stats on my blackberry
13. When you asked me questions, and I answered them, half the time I didn't know what I'm talking about. 
14. I pretended to be deaf  whenever you ask me questions that would require long explanations.  That's because I'm just too lazy to explain, and why I'm willing to pay $$$ for your schooling.  So that somebody else can answer your questions.
15. I never volunteer to do anything in your class because I don't like your homeroom mom and I think she's annoying and I can't stand her guts.
16. I was determined to make you wear that itchy christmas dress--not once, but as many times as possible--because I thought you looked so cute in it and I wanted to make sure I've got my value for money.
17. Same reason why I made you wear that Halloween costume for at least one whole day.
18. Sometimes I make up rules for you to follow just because I can.  Hey, I'm your mother!.
19. For the last six years, I've been blaming you, not my sweet tooth, for the state of my current waistline.
20. Every night, when it's time to read you a bedtime story, I covertly glance at the book you've picked.  If it has small fonts and more than 8 pages long, it's Daddy's turn.
21. I really, really hate your super active bowel movements.  How could such a small person produce so much crap?  Believe me I tried, but the smell of your poop... it's honestly a smell not even a mother could love.
22. You're my favorite go-to excuse for canceling my appointments at the last minute: "I'm really sorry, I was just about to leave when my little girl decided to throw a fit right now.  Yes, in fact the little monster's gnawing on my left leg as we speak."
23. I made you drink that extra glass of milk because I was having too much fun at the mall and then realize it's 4pm and I've forgotten to feed you lunch.
24. I let you play with my Itouch so you would forget that mommy forgot to feed you lunch.  Right up til I can fix you that extra glass of milk.  Then it's back to "What did I say?  No electronic games."
25. That one time (fine, fine! a few times!) I really, really needed some small change. So I stole some from your piggy bank.
26. I told you that Santa and Tooth Fairy are NOT real.  You were 3 years old.
27. I always bought your birthday and christmas presents at the last minute because that's usually when I remembered them.  Which was why when mommy went to the toy store, things were out of stock and most likely you ended up with something entirely different that what you've wanted.
28. While helping you with your homework, there were times when I thought, "God, she's cute but why is she SO dense?" 
29. I stopped you in the middle of your favorite cartoon when I found out that RPattz (a.k.a. Edward Cullen) was on another channel.  Sorry baby girl, but Robert beats Phineas and Ferb anytime.
30. I almost took you to watch Twilight because nobody else wanted to watch it for the 5th time with me in the theaters.  Daddy had to remind me that the movie was PG-13, and that you were only 4 yrs old at the time.
31. I told your daddy: no dating until she's 18yrs old and forget about marriage until she's at least 30!  To which he replied, yeah, before you know it she'll be 45, still not dating, then what would you do? I told him, what's wrong with that? Sick, I know.
32. I sat you down for a serious mother-daughter talk on "why little kids cannot have boyfriends."  This time, you were 5 yrs old.
33. Then there's THAT Disneyland thingy.
34. I didn't correct you when you mispronounced frog "fug, fug!" because I thought that was hilarious.
35. Remember when I thought I could teach you how to swim, without professional help?  It began with a very positive, "You can do it, sweetie!"  and less than 15 minutes later you were bawling your eyes out, refusing to let go of the sidebar with me yelling, "If you don't get down here right now, young lady, you can kiss your dessert goodbye!!!"
36. I made you sit absolutely still for 1.5 hours, with your head fixed to one side, all because I wanted to practice my french braiding skills.  "But I don't want my hair braided, Mommy..."  Trust me, you do.
37. Because in every single time that I've listed above, not once did you ever deserve what your mommy did to you.

Let me end this post by saying, that by some miracle, this World's Worst Mommy #100 is blessed with the most kind-hearted, forgiving, and amazing 6 yr-old daughter a mother could ever wish for.  I'm not joking when I say she has never ever thrown a tantrum, gotten angry, or disobeyed her mommy.  Instead, in every one of my world's worst mom moment, she has never once hold a grudge, always forgiving, and ever ready to give her mommy the biggest smile and hug a 6 year-old little girl could give.  

*Originally, my intention was to write 100, instead of the meager 37 reasons, to commemorate World's Worst Mom's "Big One Hundred."  As you could probably predict, my fixation with even numbers, my secret desire to always be remembered as THE number 100, coupled with my compulsion to sweat the small stuff, make for one heck of a recipe for disaster.

By the time I got to the 37th reason, I was tired, grumpy, and no longer enjoying writing this post.  In other word, it was quickly turning into a World's Worst Mom moment all on its own.  I found myself wishing I was the 37th follower instead of the big 100th; that way, my 37 reasons would be perfect wouldn't it?

Anyhow... boy am I glad to have finished this post!  One thing I've learned from writing about my own worst mom moments is that it honestly sucks. big time.  Which leads to my second discovery: once you've read other moms' worst moments, yours suddenly don't seem so bad anymore. Here's to World's Worst Moms hitting the big one hundred!  And for all the moms here, whose inadequacies and failures are helping others feel better about themselves!  A big LOL to all of us!

World's Worst Mom #100 Part 1

This is a post I wrote for the World's Worst Moms, who hit 100 followers last week.  For you who haven't heard or not familiar with the blog, I urge you to check it out.  It's a place where civilian mommies like us can write about our not-so-fine moments, or read about others' better-forgotten moments.  Either way, the site is guaranteed to make you feel better about yourself, be it simply from having vented out your frustrations in words, or just from realizing that yes you suck, but at least you're not the suckiest.   

The jury's still out on whether or not it's a sign of luck, or that in fact I'm running out of luck, but whatever it was, I happened to be World's Worst Mom's follower number 100.  So in the spirit of hitting the Big One Hundred, I decided to submit a post about why I'm a World's Worst Mom. Hopefully, after reading it, you'll realize that you're not so bad after all.  In other words, yes, I know I suck. Big Time.

Please continue to Part 2