Category Archives: Lackluster Parenting

Funny Search Terms: You Are What They Look For

Posted on January 22, 2011 | 22 Comments

A strangely addictive hobby of many bloggers is to look at the search terms that bring people to their site. This is mostly amusing, sometimes sad, and occasionally frightening. (If you’re any of the people who found IronicMom.com by googling “what to do child choking,” I’d like to officially say, Call 911 and get off your computer. In that order. But this advice is likely a bit dated now).

I’m lucky that I haven’t received that many psychotic results, but the search terms that bring people to IronicMom.com have led me to conclude that, in general, you are what they look for.

Perhaps you can be the judge of that.

Here are 12 terms that brought people to my blog this past week:

  1. neglectful parenting
  2. i manipulate my kids
  3. i hate crafts
  4. i hate childrens bday parties
  5. what to do with parents at birthday parties
  6. crap toys
  7. macabre baby names
  8. caged monkey under the table
  9. crime scene
  10. parents middle fingers
  11. belly after two babies
  12. trying to be funny

Last time I reported on funny search terms, I annotated them. This time, I’m leaving it to you. The comment section is yours. No need to be kind.

Photo credit: Horia Varlan (cc) Flickr

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Posted in Lackluster Parenting

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Jekyll and Hyde: my roles as a mother

Posted on January 12, 2011 | 21 Comments

My kids love their stuffed animals. They have a menagerie, and most of their beloved stuffies are named. There’s Rainbow, Heartsy, Thomas, Apple Sauce, and Milkshake, to name a few. Mostly, these toys cause little controversy, as one would expect from sewn fluff balls. But two recent anecdotes illustrate my role as a Jekyll and Hyde mother.

I Am Jekyll

Before the onslaught of cheap plastic crap invaded our home on Christmas morning, we did a toy cleanse. Vivian and William were both quite happy to donate some of their action figures and stuffies to other kids who may have less. Vivian was particularly eager. I kept saying, “Are you sure you want to get rid of that?”

“I’m sure,” she’d reply, and place it into the box.

Fast forward two weeks. It’s past bedtime, and Vivian, sobbing through hyperventilating breaths, finds me.

“I…I…I..miss Rainbow Bear,” she says. “I shouldn’t have given her away. William’s playing with his Rainbow so nicely. I miss mine, a lot.” Insert quivering lip action.

“Are you sure you gave Rainbow away?” I asked. “I don’t think you did.”

“I’m sure.”

I lifted Vivian up, assured her that some child was so happy with her stuffy, and carried her back to her room.

“But I miss her, Mommy,” she cried. “I made a mistake. A really big one.”

“I know you miss her,” I said. I tucked her in, and then I opened her closet door. Bingo.

“Is this who you’re missing?” I asked, holding Rainbow.

“Rainbow!” she said, grabbing her lost bear. “Thank you, Mommy!” We hugged. Then later she said, “But I put her in the giveaway pile.”

“Well,” I said, “I pulled her out. I thought you might miss her.”

I am Jekyll.

Perhaps. Or maybe…

I am Hyde

Just to assure you I haven’t gone all life-is-perfect on you, here’s the evil anecdote.

Vivian, clearly bored that I won’t play school with her, decides to hand wash her stuffy, a lamb the size of a pork chop.

She brings me the soggy thing, wrapped in a towel.

“The fastest way to dry her,” I explained, “is to put her on the vent.” Is was -20 outside, so our furnace was working overtime. I placed the stuffy on the register.

Vivian waved her hands over the heat, smiling at our experiment.

I too smiled. Then I said this:

She'll be citing this in therapy someday.

It's not quite a barbeque...

Vivian paused and looked down at her helpless stuffy while she processed what I said. “Mommy!” she yelled. “That’s not funny.”

But it was to me. I’m still laughing, a devious mommy cackle.

I am Hyde.

*

It’s Whiteboard Wednesday, so I ask:

What bizarre things have you heard or said this week?

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Posted in A Therapy Moment, Lackluster Parenting, Whiteboard Wednesday

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The Navel-Gazing Holiday

Posted on December 31, 2010 | 5 Comments

From our crazy household to yours...

Well, it’s the Navel Gazing Holiday, that time when you look back and dream forward. Since my belly button sagged to a smiley face after I gave birth to over thirteen pounds of babies, I don’t particularly like gazing at my navel.

Still, like I did last year, I will stoop to use the length of a Tweet to reflect on my year. Here is my 2010-in-review in 140 characters or less:

Ironic Mom goes sappy (and, even scarier, starts referring to herself in third person)

If you’re looking for my resolutions, you’re going to have to click through to the column I wrote for The Calgary Herald yesterday, “New Year’s Resolutions for a Lazy Parent.” I am, after all, the poster mother for the Lazy Parenting Movement.

If you are looking for what my kids believe my resolutions should be, you’re in the right place. Last year, Vivian wrote her resolutions in kindergarten class. This year, when I posed this question at the dinner table, Vivian chose to focus on what I need to improve. In the midst of chewing her burger to a pulpy paste, she said, “You need to stop interrupting.” Fair enough.

Because I know the best offense is a good defense, I switched the topic to her talking with her mouth full, she added, “But I see you guys doing that all the time.” She’s quick at the defense-to-offense transition game.

The conversation went into overtime when I asked what resolutions their dad should make.

William, fresh off the bench, said that Daddy should toot less. In our house, tooting is synonymous with farting.  It’s done and said a lot.

I agreed with William’s assessment.

My husband laughed and wiped his goatee with a napkin. Then he leaned over to William and said, “You smell like toots.”

More laughter, especially from Vivian, who enjoyed watching the other team play.

William sat up straight, ready to run the offense. “You smell like dogs,” he said to his dad.

I’m not sure how the game ended, but that’s how dinner usually plays out at our house: manners, tooting, and laughter.

Happy 2011. Thanks for reading.

*

Any resolutions out there?

How was your year, in approximately 140 characters?

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Posted in Lackluster Parenting, Slice of (My Psycho) Life

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