Monday, September 16, 2013

The Mother Awards.

I wrote my Academy award acceptance speech when I was eight. I believe that I recieved it when I performed a stirring reenactement on "Neverending Story" where I played the lead, Atreyu, while standing in a radio flyer with my sleeping dog tied to the handle.
The crowd was silent--too moved for words--after my performance (the minor detail being that my audience, said pooch, was alseep). I never knew what happened to that award speech, but I imagine that the delicate words, scrawled on the even more delicate toilet paper, drifted into the ether.

We are all famous when we are eight. We come home with prizes and awards when we are children (all except for the award for sitting quietly in class which was given to the girl that is probably winning the Nobel Peace prize today).

Today, the mothers of the world take home far more interesting prizes. Just today, I was given an award. The trophy looked like a tall, slim gray angel. It was the "dirtiest soccer sock in the world" award, granted to me by my daughter. "Look what I found!" she said as she triumphantly yanked the all-but lost petrified thing out from under the car seat. "I can't believe it!"

Neither could I, because I was given a similar award not two weeks prior. On the bright side, the car smells less like death and sweat-socks now.

Another or my accumulating mother trophies is the "your child finally remembered to bring home their lunchtime tupperware award" or as I affectionately call it, "the trojan horse."  This one sits on the back porch like a shining land mine. "DON'T TOUCH IT!" I screamed to a girlfriend who came by a few days ago. "It's either a trophy, or a land mine."

Just yesterday I recieved the "next person to clean the dog" award. As Rover came trodding over to me, dumb smile skidded acrossed his face, I knew there was something wrong. Being downwind of him, primed me to the honor I was about to receive.

I'm also up for the sock-matching award, the kitty-litter award and the peeling-clothes-out-of-the-bottom-of-the-hamper award.

So tonight, I gave myself a you-made-it-through-the-day award. It was not crusted with sweat or a damp shoelace knot. Oh, no. This trophy resembled a large glass that was filled with wine. Sometimes we deserve these shining moments worthy of celebration. My cat was kind enough to grant me yet another award for the day. "No, thank you," I said, nearly overwhelmed with the kudos and accolades I had already received throughout the day.

Too late. I'm already dealing with the "clean the wine off the couch" award.

Someday, I'll begin work on that speech again.

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