I don’t need your award anyway.

I started a post last night that I thought I would finish this morning and put on here for your entertainment. But when I re-read it, I realized that I must have been in a very cranky mood. And then I thought, holy crap, I can’t post that. The internet will think I’m awful! So I’m deleting it. I’m saving you from a post titled, Why They Are Taking My Name Off Of The Mother of the Year Award. Let’s just say that it included things I have said to my children lately that may not have been very nurturing, and leave it at that. Trust me, it’s better this way.

So now I’m left with nothing much to say. Because yesterday I did nothing exciting. I took the kids to the playground (TWICE!) and pushed swings. I played in the backyard, and I did homework with my son. See, nothing exciting.

I also took the kids to the market just up the street and let them pick out junk food that pretty much ended up being their dinner. Yeah. (That means they are not going to give me Mother of the Year next year either – because they have already taken me out of the running for this year, now they’ve got to reach into future years.) My daughter had a Tootsieroll Pop and Apple Jacks, my son had Cheetos and Coke (and he also had a piece of cold pizza.) My husband was out of town (again) and I was too tired to make sure my children ate well. That’s my rationalization for giving them preservatives and junk. Works for me.

Lets talk about this “out of town” thing my husband does. He goes to Charlotte. He goes about once a week, sometimes every two weeks. I’m beginning to wonder if this Charlotte is not a place, but maybe his other wife. But I’ve seen his paystubs, and the kids and I suck all the money out of him at an alarmingly fast rate. So I know he can’t possibly be supporting two families. That has made me think that maybe this Charlotte is his independently wealthy other wife. And if that’s the case, I say bring her home! I will welcome her and take her shopping to celebrate! I will let her lavish me with expensive gifts and share the housework with me! But then again, this Charlotte may actually be a place. And that’s just not fair.

Oh, and read this. She makes me feel like I am not alone.

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