Your Mom’s Application for Mother of the Year


Dear Sir or Madam:

Thank you for this opportunity to apply for your 2016 Mother of the Year award.  I believe that after reviewing my credentials, not only will you decide that I am, indeed, the Mother of the Year, you will decide to retire the award — as there certainly will never again be a candidate as worthy as I.  Per your instructions, I address each of the selection factors below.

My Parenting Philosophy — I believe in surrounding my child with sweetness and light at all times.  Yep, that’s what I believe.   Of course, my beliefs and my reality have absolutely no relationship to each other.  Whatsoever.  It turns out that I can be a little dark and irritable at times.  Also, annoying pretty much all the time.  Just ask the people at College Confidential.  So my parenting philosophy is pretty much bulls**t.    Much like my belief that one should never, ever use swear words.

Methods of Discipline — My methods of discipline have evolved over time.  When she was small, I effectively ceded control to Boo.  Because let’s face it, sometimes it’s easier just to give in to the terrorists.  When she was a little older, I used strategic annoyance and embarrassment methods.  For example, I used to talk all the time about the Hunchback of Notre Dame and pronounce “Notre Dame” like the name of the football team that has a university attached to it.  That drove Boo up the f**king wall.  She would correct me with the French pronunciation over and over, and she was completely mortified that her mother was an absolute moron.  Generally, that would cause her to retreat to her room in frustration and humiliation.  Now that she’s an “adult,” I need only remind her that I have a blog, and I’m not afraid to use it.

Family Involvement — Because I’m  a single parent, I’ve always made an effort to include extended family in Boo’s life.  My family has played an important role in Boo’s development and education.  For example, one of my cousins taught Boo how to say “motherf**ker” when she was 15 months old.  Because that’s what family does.  You just don’t get that sort of caring and useful involvement in your child’s life from strangers.  BTW: this cousin is now the father of four kids under age 6.  I can’t wait until the next time I see his family; I have a few things to teach his kids.

Home — Our home is a place of serenity.  And squalor.  Only without the serenity.  And with a little extra squalor.

Health and Nutrition — Well . . . for approximately two years, Boo ate nothing but chicken nuggets and apples (without the peels dammit!).  She survived to adulthood.  Mission accomplished.

Recreation — Boo is a musical theater geek — which means that through the course of her childhood, I sat through approximately 600 amateur performances of “Annie.”  And Boo was not in a single one of those performances.  I think I deserve a medal just for that.  (On Sunday, we’re going to see “Hedwig and the Angry Inch” — which is definitely not about a spunky orphan.  Yay!)

Service to the Community — I baked. I drove. I sold. I canvassed. I brought treats (mostly chicken nuggets). I delivered Girl Scout cookies.  I ate Girl Scout cookies. I served on boards.  I went to PTA meetings.  I plotted. I schemed. I kvetched.  And most importantly, I wrote the definitive Guide to the Hippie Colleges of America.  You’re f**king welcome.


Your Mom

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2 thoughts on “Your Mom’s Application for Mother of the Year”

  1. Brilliant!!! Absolutely pure genius!!! I’m can just add the we have been fortunate to have had you along the way to consult with in parenting and to serve as a role model and guide for our children cause afterall it takes a village

  2. Automatic reject. Should be addressed: “Dear Sir or Madam or Gender Neutral Term of Your Choice.” Or, you know, “Dear Selection Committee.”

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