Bad Mom Cards - Christmas Edition

Have you heard about Bad Mom Cards?  They're a group of cartoons from the New Yorker, with depictions of bad moms and an explanation of the deed they did that was so terrible to merit a collectible card.  One says "#35 Martina F.: Didn't put up St. Patrick cards one year."  Another says "#61 Deborah Z: Has never even tried to make Play-Dough from scratch."  My personal favorite is #89 - I don't want to spoil it so you have to click over and look at it.  The illustrations are hilarious, too.

I love them because it's a good way to get rid of mom guilt.  All moms make mistakes, and the things we do that we feel the most guilty about are probably not a big deal.  When I do something worthy of a bad mom card, I remember those cards, have a laugh about it, and try to do better next time.

So here's mine:  "#96 Dorothy W.: Did not get child a stocking for Christmas."

I feel so bad about it I kind of want to cry.  I really meant to get her a stocking.  I planned on getting her a really cute one and ironing on a pretty "S" and filling it with cool candies and little toys and fruits and nuts.  But I didn't like any of the ones I saw when I went shopping for one a couple of days after Thanksgiving.  Then I contemplated sewing one myself (I've never really sewed anything in my life and I don't have a sewing machine, so who knows why I thought that might be an option).  Then, these past couple of days, I planned on doing it for sure.  But Nathaniel needed the car to get to school to work on his paper, and by the time he got home it was dark and cold and snowy outside and who wants to go to Walmart then?  So today, I thought I'd get one after we got to Nathaniel's parent's house.  But by the time we got to Farmington, ate Christmas Eve bread and cheese dinner, and filled up the gas tank, Walmart was closed.  It was 9:20 PM on Christmas Eve, so I wasn't surprised.  I just drove through the parking lot, feeling tears well up in my eyes, imagining my daughter who has been a model child this past year waking up on Christmas morning to see everyone else joyfully dump out the contents of their stockings and then realizing there wasn't one for her.

So I went to 711.  I figured that even if Summer couldn't have the beautiful stocking I'd envisioned, she could at least have some good candy.  I bought her Pop Tarts, Pringles, Nerds, honey roasted peanuts,  Ritter Sport chocolates (okay, those were at least partially for me), TicTacs, and some of those dumb plastic bracelets that change shape.  I went home and put it into a plastic Christmas bag we used to transport my homemade crackers.  So lame.

As I wrapped Summer's Pop Tarts, I thought what a bad mom I was and remembered the Bad Mom Cards.  Okay, so it's really lame I didn't get it together enough to get Summer a freaking stocking.  But when I ask Summer what Christmas is, she says, "Jesus burfday."  When I ask Summer what song she wants me to sing her, she says, "Jesus Christmas music."  She likes the trees and the ornaments and the lights, but I think I've done a good job teaching her that the reason behind Christmas is the Savior, and it doesn't matter if her stocking is a used plastic bag.

Merry Christmas everyone.