Long Live the Queen

There's just no way around it anymore, friends.  It's best that I just get it out there in the open and embrace the truth.  No more hiding or pretending the facts aren't the facts.

I am the Queen of Mom Fails.

If I tried to sit here and write about all the episodes of epic failure that have taken place on my watch over the past six-ish years, this would probably be the longest blog post ever.  Instead, let's just all gave a good laugh at the things that have happened JUST THIS WEEK to support my claim as the reigning monarch of laughable fails.

1.  I secretly ate leftover birthday cake for breakfast after forcing the kids to sit at the table until they finished their oatmeal.

After celebrating with an epic Star Wars birthday party (blog post to come soon!) where the kids were allowed to overdose on frosting, Cheetos, Doritos, and Rice Krispie Treats (arguably Mom Fail #1.5), I figured I really should step it up in the nutrition department on the days that followed.  Unfortunately, I didn't have the time energy motivation to go grocery shopping Sunday night after the Packer game, so I decided to just feed them whatever I had for breakfast in the morning.  Isaiah hates oatmeal, so he had cold cereal, but the younger two boys were still plugging away at their whole grains when I started poking around for something to eat myself.  While Isaiah's whining about not being able to play video games before school were ringing in my ears and I realized Thomas had rubbed more oatmeal on his head than he had put in his mouth, my eyes fell on the slices of leftover birthday cake.  Before I could even exert any kind of control, my hands had maneuvered that frosting covered hunk-o-sugar onto my plate and poured myself a cup of coffee.

I made sure the kids weren't looking, added a dollop of whipped cream to my coffee, took a photo for Instagram, and then turned my back to shove it all in my mouth without getting caught. 

2.  I spilled raw chicken juice all over my kitchen.  

No, I do not have a photo of this little gem.  I was preparing dinner on the one night during the week that we actually get to eat together as a family.  Again, the shelves were looking pretty bare because I still hadn't gone grocery shopping, so it was a "use what you've got" kind of night for dinner.  I thawed out some chicken breast in the microwave, cut up some broccoli and tossed it in the steamer, and cooked up some frozen french fries in the oven.  Evan got home just as I was finished up breading the chicken in some whole grain bread crumbs because I'm all about being super-healthy, you know.  (see first Mom Fail) He grabbed a couple of the Star Wars cups I got for 87 cents at Target and turned to me to express his delight that these cheap cups would definitely get their money's worth of use in this house!  I was apparently distracted by Darth Vader's light saber or maybe it was Darth Maul's horns, but in that second I lost my focus and moved far too quickly for someone holding a plate full of raw chicken drippings and I set the entire plate full of salmonella goo splattering all over the counter.  The floor.  Down my arm.  Up the sleeve of my sweater.  I stood there listening to the horrific "sploosh" sounds as they landed all over the kitchen that my kids run around in bare feet and I froze.  I couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't speak.  Finally I shouted at my beloved, "Would you HELP me please!!??  I'm dripping in chicken juice!!!"

3. I refused to button my son's pants so he walked around with his fly open.

First of all, we were at home so it's not like I was letting this boy run around Target with his pants at his ankles.  Micah has not really mastered the art of buttoning and zipping his pants and there are days when I feel like I just can't hear the cry of "Mommmmmyyyy!!!!!! Come button my PAAAAAANTS!!!" come booming out of the bathroom one more time without losing my mind.  On this particular afternoon, the baby had finally fallen asleep for his nap and I had completed all the absolutely crucial homemaking tasks for the moment.  No, the laundry wasn't folded.  No, the floors weren't swept.  No, dinner wasn't arranged.  But the coffee was fresh and I was caught up on my Instagram feed.  I sat down on the couch for what promised to be a blissful 20 minutes of semi-quiet before I had to get ready for work.  That's when Micah stuck his hands down the back of his pants, which is his not-so-subtle signal that he needs to go to the bathroom.  I sent him on his way and the usual holler came from the bathroom not 5 minutes later.

I was comfy.  I didn't want to get up.  I told him to button his own pants.  I reminded him that big boys button their own pants.  He didn't want to and neither did I.  So, I read my book for 15 minutes while he played with Legos with the barn door swinging wide open.

Quite honestly, I have no idea how long he stayed like that because I left for work an hour later.  


4.  I forced my son to go play.  Outside.  With his brother.

On a day when I had all three boys home all day due to a teacher development day that infringed on my favorite form of babysitting - aka "Kindergarten" - the weather was actually pretty decent for an October day and I suggested, horror of all horrors, that Isaiah go outside and play with his brother.  Micah raced right outside and grabbed one of the leftover pool noodles turned light sabers from last weekend's birthday party and armed himself for battle.  Meanwhile, Isaiah stood outside the front door, pressed his face to the glass, and wailed.  Judging by his reaction, you'd think that "go outside and play with your brother" was code for "hold still because you're about to be water-boarded."  So, I ummmm.....I locked the door. 

5.  While I write this blog post, it is nearly lunch time and two of out the four of us are still in our pajamas.

And I still haven't gone grocery shopping.  Mac and Cheese it is, boys!!!

All hail the Queen!!!