“Parenting Without Perfection” or “How-I-Stack-Up-When-Compared-To-Fictional-Dryer-Sheet-Commercial-Worlds-of-Reality. Take One”

Yup. (Photo Credit: Google Image Search)

Oy Vey.

I have been reading parenting blogs lately. They are sometimes really fun to read but at times I get really sick of the:

  1. Bragging Blogs “my child is an angelic bundle of cherubic innocence who, oh by the way, is working on her fourth language before the age of 4″  Psh. Whatever. My kid almost always gets her colors right. So HA!
  2. The Alternative Lifestyle Advocate Blogs “we have discounted most modern marvels except the internet and are seeking to raise our child in the harmonious and peace-filled idyllic lifestyle of hemp-clothing and tree-house living”
  3. The “Cry For Help is Hip Now” blog “Today, vodka was mommy and I was her slave.” 

I mean, that is all well and good. It takes all kinds. Far be it from me to state that I have all the answers. Ohhhh no.  For the record, my child is 2. She speaks English. Most of the time. She can swear fluently in 3 languages though and she can also count to 20 in Spanish. I am pretty certain she cannot do that in English but dang she can sing a mean version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. COMPLETE WITH DANCE MOVES. Woohoo. I am expecting her to be an averagely adjusted preschooler. She will probably lose citizenship points due to her need for attention. I am ok with it.


I would die if I lived in a tree-house and I am not sure what hemp-clothing entails. It sounds a little rough. Too much harmony and peace in my life gives me a rash. I like a little chaos. As far as vodka-enhanced parenting…I have a cardinal rule against the consumption of hard liquor around my kid. I am quite happy when drinking but I stick to the less potent marvels of wine and beer, and only in moderation, when kidlet is in “impressionable reach.”

Woohoo! Parenting.

That aside, the last 24 hours have been the antithesis of “cherubic and harmonious bliss” in the Bekah household.

You ever have one of those days where you wake up and you think it’s going to be like a dryer sheet commercial? You are going to wake up, the sun is shining brightly. You immediately smile and your hair looks ever so glossy and bright and you dress for the day in a stunning business casual ensemble from J.Crew (or maybe Land’s End). Your darling progeny is waiting, patiently, in her Pottery Barn decorated room and together you breakfast on low-fat blueberry muffins while reading happy anecdotes from the HOA newsletter. You then go to the spacious and well-lit laundry room, with your state of the art matched set of washer dryers and pull out a fresh and fluffy 5 million thread count pillow case and inhale the lovely scent of lavender dryer sheet goodness. You are a perfectly coiffed domestic goddess, raising the next Junior Cotillion Princess.

If you are like me, you probably just spit out some of that precious nectar of the Gods aka COFFEE all over your computer screen.

Go on, get a rag and clean it up.

I can wait…





I have yet to have one of those days. Obviously.

Here was our yesterday:

BUTT CRACK OF DAWN O’CLOCK: I am awakened. My progeny, although adorable, had escaped from her room and was jumping, on my new bed spread, bare-ass naked and holding her pull-up. She was screaming “I GO POO-POO” What a way to wake up. Turns out she DID in fact go…on the floor. Stumbling bleary-eyed to the bathroom, I step on a Lego that was for sure NOT there the previous evening and very accidentally teach the toddler the phrase “SON OF A NUTCRACKER.” She repeats it all day. Sometime after the changing of the toddler and pre-treatment of the floor and the end of my altogether brief shower, the dog gets let out prematurely from her cage. The dog craps on the floor. Awesome. (Is it my lot in life to clean shit off the floor forever??) Toddler tries to clean it up…It’s a lot of mess before 7am. WHERE THE CRAP IS MY SHINY HAIR AND PERFECT OUTFIT, WORLD?!

7AM:. All un-housebroken beings in my house have been cleaned and washed. It is time for that idyllic breakfast, right? No peaceful muffins today. No. We have the screaming match of, “NO KIX, WANT CAKE!” and the dog hawking up a sock. MMmmm. Appetite gone. Toddler wins this round, is allowed to have girl scout cookies for breakfast so long as she drinks all her apple juice. Don’t judge. I WANT MUFFINS!!

11AM: Toddler flushes dog toy down toilet. My morning is spent with my new zebra print dish gloves on, elbow deep in the toilet. I haven’t been this up close and personal with the porcelain god since morning sickness with pregnancy…or that one time in college where I discovered my tequila limit. Let me tell you, I have new respect for plumbers. ICKY job. Toilet is unplugged. Weird smell in bathroom is masked with copious amounts of Febreeze. Sinus headache ensues.

Is it naptime yet?

Nope. Only 11am.

11:15AM: Weird smell continues to cause alarm and, being roommates with two small and compact makers-of-weird-smells, I investigate. AHA! Burned a lid in the dishwasher. Awesome. Burnt plastic mixed with a tropical mango candle + Febreeze is QUITE a scent. Let me tell you. It is…hard to describe.

Rescue lid. Who needs Tupperware anyway? I just prefer to throw it out or eat it all in one sitting. Must remember to go to the dollar store again soon to replace it.

11:35AM Turn on Elmo so toddler and dog can presumably occupy themselves on the couch so I can fold my bargain-basement sheets in peace.

Folded sheets while harboring evil thoughts about children’s programming. I wonder if some of the programming is actually a secret government plot to investigate how parents snap…Seriously.

NOON: Lunch food battle begins. Toddler wins by throwing food on ground. Dog also wins that round by eating it. Time out is utilized for longer than “Super Nanny” recommends. Bite me, Super Nanny!


Well. Nap Battle.

1:30PM: Battle still going on. Child is making an impressive array of animal noises inbetween the screaming like a banshee.

2:00PM: “NO NAP!” is still the prevailing wail. Gotta give the kid credit, she could sing opera with those lungs. She does break it up with, “I WANT SNUGGLE MOMMY! SNUGGLE IN MOMMY’S BED!” The kid has game.

2:25PM Finally, silence. I peek in to check on the screaming mimi and what a big surprise…she isn’t in her room.


Nope. Dogzilla the sock-eater and Diva are asleep. Together. In my bed. As in DOG under my sheets. ::shudder:: I don’t mind pets in the house but my cardinal rule has ALWAYS been, “stay the hell off my bed!” I barely want kidlet on my bed! I am not a good space-sharer. I covet and protect my own space. Grrrrrr….

2:45PM: More laundry it seems. Dog is evicted and spends the rest of the afternoon staring malevolently at me from under the desk. Do not even start with me, dog. Today is not the day.

3:30PM FedEx comes by. Our FedEx guy is named Johnny. He is really nice. He looked a little frightened of me…when I looked in the mirror, I discovered why. Business casual? Matching cardigan sets with freshly pressed khaki’s? HA. No. Try ratty sweatshirt, questionable lounge pants and a rather prominent zit on my nicely shaped eyebrow. (Has my left eyebrow always been longer than my right one? Hmm. I guess that’s what you get for patronizing the beauty school for eyebrow maintenance. Like your car, facial waxing should only be maintained by professionals. Good to remember.)

Is it dinner time yet and can I eat ice cream for dinner?

“Diva, what do you want to eat?”


“How about pasta?”


“What about…grilled cheese and soup?”

Child sits in dog’s water dish. “I TAKE BATH!”

“Get out of the water dish, I am NOT going to tell you again.”

*cue meltdown that could rival that snarky piece of work from Dance Moms… the coach from hell*

Dog starts to bark.

Friend calls to tell me about her pregnancy and how excited she is to be expecting after trying for 2 years. Her exact words, “Isn’t being a mom the most amazing thing you have ever done?”

I can’t be sure, but I think she might have suggested putting the shrink on speed-dial thanks to the level of maniacal laughter that erupted from me at that comment.

OHhhhh dear.

What can I say? Some days you get the dryer-sheet commercial….other days you get Wipeout…and still other days it’s a mix between Big Bang Theory-Fear Factor-Fox News (for the irrational toddler logic)-and The Sound of Music meets a tsunami.

Peace, Love and dryer-sheet days,


4 Responses to ““Parenting Without Perfection” or “How-I-Stack-Up-When-Compared-To-Fictional-Dryer-Sheet-Commercial-Worlds-of-Reality. Take One””
  1. amomnextdoor says:

    Dryer sheets are overrated. I once opened the door for the UPS guy with a dryer sheet sticking to my butt. My two-year old said NOTHING, just watched it all happen, then went and bit the cat. Thanks for making me laugh out loud.

    • simply.bekah says:

      Hahahahaha, oh man. I have also had that happen, although not with a dryer sheet. I had something questionable and baby related in my hair. The UPS guy pointed it out. I don’t remember what I said but I am pretty sure it was along the lines of “GIVE ME THE DAMN PACKAGE.”

      Our glam filled mom lives, right? Always glad to make someone laugh at the ridiculousness that is my oh-so-uncoordinated-life! 🙂

  2. Amanda says:

    “Diva, what do you want to eat?”
    “How about pasta?”
    “What about…grilled cheese and soup?”
    Child sits in dog’s water dish. “I TAKE BATH!”
    “Get out of the water dish, I am NOT going to tell you again.”

    Yeeeaaahhh… your daughter and my son are so similar to each other in so many ways.

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