Mother of the Year

“Hi. I'm running for Mother of the Year, and I want your vote.”

That has been this week’s campaign message to my key constituents - all of who reside in my own home.

I hate to admit it, but in spite of the fact that I am the incumbent and am running uncontested, this year's race seems like it is going to be a tough one to win. Lately, I’ve baked batches of cookies with reckless abandon, memorized the magical powers of about a million Yu-Gi-Oh cards and even played some bi-partisan basketball in the yard in hopes of securing my seat- but still my children seem like they're on the fence.

My husband has been doing an excellent job as my campaign manager, pointing out all of the wonderful things that I've done for the family this past year - like keeping them generally well fed, well groomed and well stocked with batteries for all of their electronic gadgets and gizmos. However, even with my “More Playgrounds” platform, all three kids still consider themselves “swing voters”.

With Mother's Day this Sunday, I only have two days left to win over my decidedly “undecided” wards. I’ve been busy barnstorming with bribes of extended bedtimes and TV privileges. I’m hoping that they’ll overlook some of the empty campaign promises I’ve made before – such as the “I Will Try To Yell Less” plan I screamed about last year.

I'd like to share with you some of my credentials for this year’s crusade for the coveted award. I think that my children should select me as “Mother of the Year”, because:

… I let them have candy whenever they want - as long as they only want it on the weekends, after they've eaten a healthy dinner including all of their vegetables and they promise to brush their teeth as soon as they’re finished!

… I’m practically a Super Hero! I have eyes in the back of my head and special radar for rule-breakers! (How else would I know if they really brushed their teeth?)

… I have been known to, on occasion, pack a nutritional black-hole in their lunchboxes called an “Oscar Mayer Lunchable”. However…if I don’t win this year, I could always stock up on the alfalfa sprouts and tofu!

… I can make crafts with glitter and a glue gun that make Martha Stewart look like an apprentice!

… I've got adorable pictures of all three kids in droopy diapers and cowboy hats that, up till now at least, I’ve kept tucked away in a scrapbook.

… I've never missed my turn as snack mom for soccer. OK, it happened once - but it really wasn't my fault! I’m sure that someone had switched that day with me - although I have nothing in writing to prove it!!!

… When we come home from the mall, it's rare that any of the clothes in the shopping bags are for me - that is, of course, until they become laundry.

… I never complain about how my kids have drained my youthful beauty and how they’ve left me with a body racked with a road map of stretch marks. (What's that, Sweeties? You have heard me complain about that before? Many times? Oh.)

… I’m a benevolent dictator who politely orders them do their homework, use their manners and write thank you notes. (Trust me kiddos, you'll thank me later!)

… They’ve already told me – repeatedly – that I’m the “Meanest Mommy in the Whole World”, which is basically the “People’s Choice” award for “Mother of the Year” anyway.

But perhaps the most compelling reason my kids should crown me “Mother of the Year” at my house is because I'm the Mom & I say so, that's why.