Thank You, Mrs. Federline

Ahhh, I am feeling pretty good about my parenting skills today.

You see, a few days ago Peanut attended his first hockey game. It was the local hockey league in my dearly beloved's home town. The entire small community crammed into the tiny, small town arena and hooted and hollered as the men pushed, shoved and glided around on the ice. Dear lil Peanut spent the entire game rolling around on the tar black floor, sticky and covered in layers of unidentifiable filth. The same child who will not eat chicken or peas or potatoes at supper will gleefully scavenge for broken hard candies lying under the vending machine, or a mushed french fry pried from the seam of two black rubber floor mats. I just don't understand this kid. He had a total meltdown when I wouldn't let him pick up a discarded snotty Kleenex he found on the floor. He laid on the ground and screamed bloody murder when I removed a jagged piece of scrap metal from his reach (why in the hell they have crap like this laying around is beyond me). By the end of the 2.5 hours I was utterly exhausted and Peanut was coated in a layer of black grime. He had a sticky coloured ring around his mouth from the licorice and Blue Whale candies his Gramma snuck him. And stuck in this colourful ring were tufts of stray hair and dirt he picked up off of the floor like a mini Swiffer. I truly felt defeated and a complete failure as my child screeched, hollered, cried and yelled throughout the entire game, often to the shocked and horrified stares of bystanders. Oh, woe is me and how did I end up the mother of a wee Rink Rat??

So it was with my satisfaction today that I had a chance to sit down and read a little gossip about Ms. Britney Spears/Federline. You see, her darling Sean Preston is a few weeks older than my Peanut. I suppose you could say that Britney and I are kindred spirits. In fact, we just might be members of the same Mom and Tot group if we lived closer to each other.

Of course, that would be short lived because I am sure I'd dropkick her in the esophagus shortly after the first meeting, and she'd probably quit attending after that. Or I'd be incarcerated and unable to attend...you never know.

Anyway, back to my original point. I found myself reading this magazine today and getting all the dirt on Britney (more on how I came to be sitting down and reading a magazine to come...) The magazine was celebrating Sean Preston's first birthday. Now, for Peanut's first birthday we had a giant cowboy-themed family gong-show. Poor Sean Preston, was not so lucky. He was roasted by this magazine, which really isn't all that fun when you are one. The magazine went on to describe all of the horrors the poor kid endured from being nearly dropped when his mama tripped in high heels and ridiculously long jeans to driving around town (literally, he was driving) to falling from his high chair and cracking his skull.

Ahhhhhhhh, yes. Thank you Ms. Spears/Federline, for making me feel like a competent, saintly Mother. My kid thinks the four main food groups are Licorice, Cheese, Kethcup and Cookies, but he has yet to sustain a brain injury due to my parenting skills (or lack thereof). My little guy might only speak in tones of barks and meows, but he certainly hasn't been mocked for his fashion choices as the Worst Dressed Man of 2005. So AMEN and HALLELUJAH (where's the Tylenol)...thank goodness for Britney Spears. Its great to have a gal like her around when one starts to feel a little down and out. And I don't mean down and out in the "Sorry, man, I can't spare a quarter, I'm down and out" kind of way (a comment which nearly got my Dad punched out by a homeless man). More a "Maybe I am the world's worst mother" kinda down and out. Then, like a glistening beacon of worse-suckage, there is Britney. Ahhh, God Bless ya.

Now, back to the previous mention of WHY was I reading a magazine today. It isn't often that I end up sitting still, uninterrupted with a magazine. Well, yesterday Mr. Love o' My Life, Peanut and I came rolling home from our Christmas Vacation (and YES, it was very National Lampoon's-esque). Dearly Beloved decided he'd best shovel the walk a bit so lil Peanut and his lovely wife wouldn't take a tumble and smash on the hard, frozen ground. He was shovelling in a mad fashion, flinging snow left and right with the shovel. Somehow in this burst of energy he dropped the keys out of his hand and in a single "swwwwwoooooooosh" of the shovel he launched them into the snow. And that was the last time we saw the keys to the Vue. The back door of the Vue was locked so we were unable to get any of our luggage out. Dearly Beloved flew into a rage and searched high and low and even employed a giant magnet intended to pick up stray nails. No luck. He then rushed out to the Vue to find the registration papers so he could get a new key cut at the dealership. He ran into the house, and somewhere between our driveway and the front door he misplaced the papers. So in a 15 minute span the man totally obliterated our keys and vehicle registration. This is a guy whose career is based on minute, stiflingly-anal details so you can imagine the state of frustration he was in. I ended up calling our insurance broker who promptly emailed a copy of the registration. Today we drove into town in the busted up jalopy farm truck to the dealership and had a new key cut. And that is when I had the opportunity to sit for a few moments and gloat over my motherhood victory over Britney.

The lost keys/registration fiasco turned out to be quite a blessing in disguise, actually. Dearly Beloved and I had a nice leisurely day of shopping, matinee and an adult WARM meal in an adult restaurant...what a treat! Its not often that I am served food at a place where toys aren't included. Lil Peanut spent the day with his grandparents (and yes, occasionally they've been known to attempt to "Sean-Preston" him, but God Bless 'em anyway). And by the end of it all I was so ready to come home and give my sticky little ketchupy Peanut a big hug. Its great to be home.

Tam