The baby is almost 7 months old, and today I finally got around to framing and displaying pictures of him. I think it’s probably obvious that I’m not the kind of mother who scrapbooks or writes down the things I should write down, like first words and first steps.

No … instead I write this blog and I talk about the completely weird and redundant things my children (and I) do. Not milestones. Just things for my own entertainment.

So one day, if one of them asks me “Mom, what was my first word?” I will say to him, “Honey, I don’t know. But one time when I was pulling weeds in the backyard, you stripped down naked and peed directly on your sand pile and monster trucks before I could stop you … so I decided to continue pulling weeds and pretend that it didn’t happen. Also, later that day I discovered that a cat had been pooping in your sand pile. But don’t worry … I dug it out with one of my wooden spoons and flung it over the fence.”

At this point in the conversation, my son, whichever one of them it happens to be, will probably walk away. 

I also fully intend to be one of those moms who talks openly to them about everything. Husband has instructed me to steer clear of attempts to have any sort of sex talk with either of our sons, but I am afraid that he will muff it up and they won’t leave the conversation with THE FEAR (of me and Husband, of God, of venereal disease) in them. I wish for them to have THE FEAR. At least until they are of age. It is because of this that I intend to have a very in-depth conversation with them about women and I hope to make us sound absolutely terrifying.

For these reasons and more, I hereby nominate myself to be Mother of the Year, 2012. Thank you.