Award Winning Moments
Congratulate me. I am officially THE Meanest Mommy in the World. Yes, yes, I am. If your kids have told you that you in fact are the meanest mommy, they were either misguided, naive, or flat out lying. The title belongs to me. Me and me alone. Meanest.
Sure there are other mothers are there that are cruel or abusive. I know there are more neglectful mothers out there, although given my internet addiction I think I might rival a few. I am by no means Mommy Dearest (I do, however, admire her work). Hell, I don't even smoke in front of my kids (or while pregnant for that matter).
But I am the meanest.
How did I accomplish such a feat, you ask. Well, I cleaned up my kids' toys. And put them in bags. Garbage bags. Four garbage bags to be exact. All the toys that were not put away. All toys that had been dumped from their bins throughout the day. All the toys cluttering the floor, the beds, strewn on my couch and under my dining room table. Thomas trains and dollar store dinos. Pretty Ponies of all shapes, sizes, and fragrances (yes, you read that right, fragrances). Including Roman's Eddie (one of many, I assure you) 
without whose hair placed lightly in Roman's ears or nose, my little boy just cannot fall asleep (that oddity, by the way, is a posting all its own for yet another day). Yes, even the ever so precious, Santa-given, newborn baby panda named Blint wound up in the trash bags. So did many books including Roman's current favorite Toy Story 2 (or as he calls it "Woody's Wound Up book") and Reilly Kate's Fairy book containing her world famous Fairy Cakes recipe. Most likely if you have given my kids a gift in the last three years, it is in one of those bags. Gone, gone, gone.
I had given them ample warning, if you consider 5 hours ample. Repeatedly, time and again, I told them to clean up their toys. I gave them specific instructions. "Roman, put the trains in the train bin. Reilly Kate, put the ponies in the pony bin." The bins, by the way, are all marked, complete with words and pictures so they know what goes where. A retarded Hawaiian nene bird could figure it out (although, it may have trouble with the actual picking up and putting away). This isn't a new system, either. They've just fallen into the whole Mommy is pregnant, tired, and lazy and so we can destroy the house and leave it that way mode. So far, it's been working for them.
But not tonight. I may be pregnant. I may be tired. I sure as hell am lazy. But I am a toy hating bitch with an ax to grind, empty trash bags to fill, and a house filled with toys that seem to multiply faster than pubescent rabbits on Viagra. Look out. Here she comes: The Meanest Mommy in the World.
I told them all day long that I was going to toss the stuff laying about in the trash. I finally gave them a countdown. Then the ten minute warning. Then the five minute warning. An additional five minutes. Then the time-to-scramble-and-do-something-because-here-she-comes-with-the-trash-bags alert. Nothing phased them. Until I actually started dumping things in the bags. Then, you should have heard the howling. In fact, if you were awakened at about 3:30 AM Chicago time by what you thought was either an air raid siren or howler monkeys on your back porch, that was them. If I'd been in the States, I surely would be getting a visit from CPS tomorrow. Without ever laying a hand on them.
This is a particularly harsh punishment falling on the heels of my collecting their L-Max Leapsters and putting them up for auction on Ebay last week. But this is what happens when you don't take care of very expensive toys that Grandma buys you. Mama puts them on Ebay to make a little pin money. Hey, I've got to get my slot machine coins somehow, right? What does a two year old need a $100 game thingy for anyway.
My problem is this. While surely I am the Meanest Mommy in the World tonight as they sleep, in reality I am the Softest Mommy in the World. I won't throw those toys out. Nor have I put those damn electronic gizmos up for sale. It's a ruse. That of it is just being stuffed into my closet where it will sit until I find a way to give them all back without, as the Koreans say, losing face. Most likely they'll have to earn the toys back, starting with Blint and Eddie. The sad part is my kids have so many toys that after earning back their Blint and Eddie, they probably will forget about the rest of the crap in the bags and it will no longer be a good bribery tool. Instead it'll just be junk in my closet.
We don't have a garage. Maybe I'll have a closet sale. Wanna buy a slightly used Eddie? I hear putting his hair in your ear is really relaxing.
Sure there are other mothers are there that are cruel or abusive. I know there are more neglectful mothers out there, although given my internet addiction I think I might rival a few. I am by no means Mommy Dearest (I do, however, admire her work). Hell, I don't even smoke in front of my kids (or while pregnant for that matter).
But I am the meanest.
How did I accomplish such a feat, you ask. Well, I cleaned up my kids' toys. And put them in bags. Garbage bags. Four garbage bags to be exact. All the toys that were not put away. All toys that had been dumped from their bins throughout the day. All the toys cluttering the floor, the beds, strewn on my couch and under my dining room table. Thomas trains and dollar store dinos. Pretty Ponies of all shapes, sizes, and fragrances (yes, you read that right, fragrances). Including Roman's Eddie (one of many, I assure you) 
without whose hair placed lightly in Roman's ears or nose, my little boy just cannot fall asleep (that oddity, by the way, is a posting all its own for yet another day). Yes, even the ever so precious, Santa-given, newborn baby panda named Blint wound up in the trash bags. So did many books including Roman's current favorite Toy Story 2 (or as he calls it "Woody's Wound Up book") and Reilly Kate's Fairy book containing her world famous Fairy Cakes recipe. Most likely if you have given my kids a gift in the last three years, it is in one of those bags. Gone, gone, gone.I had given them ample warning, if you consider 5 hours ample. Repeatedly, time and again, I told them to clean up their toys. I gave them specific instructions. "Roman, put the trains in the train bin. Reilly Kate, put the ponies in the pony bin." The bins, by the way, are all marked, complete with words and pictures so they know what goes where. A retarded Hawaiian nene bird could figure it out (although, it may have trouble with the actual picking up and putting away). This isn't a new system, either. They've just fallen into the whole Mommy is pregnant, tired, and lazy and so we can destroy the house and leave it that way mode. So far, it's been working for them.
But not tonight. I may be pregnant. I may be tired. I sure as hell am lazy. But I am a toy hating bitch with an ax to grind, empty trash bags to fill, and a house filled with toys that seem to multiply faster than pubescent rabbits on Viagra. Look out. Here she comes: The Meanest Mommy in the World.
I told them all day long that I was going to toss the stuff laying about in the trash. I finally gave them a countdown. Then the ten minute warning. Then the five minute warning. An additional five minutes. Then the time-to-scramble-and-do-something-because-here-she-comes-with-the-trash-bags alert. Nothing phased them. Until I actually started dumping things in the bags. Then, you should have heard the howling. In fact, if you were awakened at about 3:30 AM Chicago time by what you thought was either an air raid siren or howler monkeys on your back porch, that was them. If I'd been in the States, I surely would be getting a visit from CPS tomorrow. Without ever laying a hand on them.
This is a particularly harsh punishment falling on the heels of my collecting their L-Max Leapsters and putting them up for auction on Ebay last week. But this is what happens when you don't take care of very expensive toys that Grandma buys you. Mama puts them on Ebay to make a little pin money. Hey, I've got to get my slot machine coins somehow, right? What does a two year old need a $100 game thingy for anyway.
My problem is this. While surely I am the Meanest Mommy in the World tonight as they sleep, in reality I am the Softest Mommy in the World. I won't throw those toys out. Nor have I put those damn electronic gizmos up for sale. It's a ruse. That of it is just being stuffed into my closet where it will sit until I find a way to give them all back without, as the Koreans say, losing face. Most likely they'll have to earn the toys back, starting with Blint and Eddie. The sad part is my kids have so many toys that after earning back their Blint and Eddie, they probably will forget about the rest of the crap in the bags and it will no longer be a good bribery tool. Instead it'll just be junk in my closet.
We don't have a garage. Maybe I'll have a closet sale. Wanna buy a slightly used Eddie? I hear putting his hair in your ear is really relaxing.
posted by The Histrionics of a Fat Housewife at 7:29 AM
4 Comments:
You are, in fact, NOT the meanest mommy, since you will give your kids the chance to earn them back. I, on the other hand, have taken several prized possessions (including 5 of Alexis' favorite scooter skirts that were the core of her wardrobe) and promptly donated them or thrown them in the garbage, never to be seen again. Sobbing, hysterics and screaming have no effect on me!
Stand firm! Donate those toys to the Korean equivilent of Goodwill. That way they will know you mean business!!!
Amy aka Mommy Dearest
I say charge them a coin for each item they want back. I think it would shake up Reilly Kate's world. She does love her coins. Roman.. hhmm.. now that could be a challenge.
I SO relate to you. I've done the same thing and when they tell me they hate me and all that other hoo-ha, I say "That's right. You hate me until you need something. So when you need something, you make sure you come to me and apologize first because I don't do favors for people who hate me." It always works. They run to me and tell me they love me and give me sticky icky kisses and I tell them that if they're good, in time they'll get their things back and in time they do.
Kudos to you for sticking to your guns!
I used to tell mine that I had a MASTERS DEGREE in Mean and I was going back for my Doctorate.
There was this time I put her on a behaviour modification program to EARN her Church camp money She has some real heavy duty anger issues (this worked by the way and we developed some very good habits along the way too) Anyway her camp fee was scholarshiped to her by anonymous donation and the director of Christian Education didn't understand why I was still making her earn it
That was UNTIL I called her at home during a full blown anger fit and let her hear first hand what I was dealing with... still the ol' softie said to me later.... "you would still have let her come right..." ABSOUTLY NOT.
I have also done the trash bag thing with stepchildren refusing to pack.... LOL they (7-9) would lay there and scream rather than get up and pack the shit.... OK by me.... The screaming got their father to get up and pack the shit.... Let him deal with it as it is not my place to discipline HIS kids.....
GOD FORBID they turn out like mine who went from Anger Child to 4.02 Phi Betta Kappa Summa Cum Laude Student Council, Student Congress, and Patriots Relate w/ Advanced leadership training... oh yea and all that while running Track and Cross Country.... She is in University now. GOD FORBID HIS KIDS TURN OUR LIKE MINE!!!!!!!
Thanks for the rant!
Post a Comment
<< Home