Honest Mommy

Lately I’ve been reading this hilarious blog called Honest Toddler. If you haven’t seen it, you should go check it out. Well, it gave me a thought. If everyone loves this Honest Toddler so much, what if I were to become Honest Mommy?

For shits and giggles, let’s see what a day in the life of Honest Mommy might look like.

HUSBAND: Want to have morning sex?

HONEST MOMMY: I totally do. With my vibrator.

From the look on his face, I can tell this isn’t what he had in mind. I walk into the kitchen and see my three-year-old who’s dressed for the day already. I’m impressed. Oh wait, no I’m not. She’s wearing her Hello Kitty shorts with a pajama top, a princess crown and mittens. On her feet.

HONEST MOMMY: You can’t wear that.

DAUGHTER: Why not?

HONEST MOMMY: Because thanks to you I have udders instead of boobs and a muffin top, which means clothes look like crap on me and I live vicariously through the way you look.

Needless to say, the family looks a little surprised by my response.

HONEST MOMMY: Hey guys, I totally don’t have to go to the bathroom but I’m going to go camp out in there and pretend like I do so I can read People magazine cover-to-cover.

After I’ve read every single little word including the legal copy in the anti-depressant ads, I leave the bathroom and I’m intercepted by my daughter.

DAUGHTER: Can I watch TV? Can I watch TV? Can I watch TV? Can I watch TV?

HONEST MOMMY: You know, you talk so much all I hear is blah blah blah blah blah blah.

DAUGHTER: Can I watch TV?

HONEST MOMMY: Hmm, can you turn into a comatose vegetable in front of the boob tube so I can actually get some stuff done? Uhh, yes.

Two hours later I’ve done the dishes, the laundry, plucked the mortifying lone hair that keeps growing out of my chin, and we’re headed to a playdate at a friend’s house.

FRIEND: Do you want anything to drink?

HONEST MOMMY: A vodka tonic. Hold the tonic.

FRIEND: Ha ha ha.

HONEST MOMMY: Okay then, I have to go to the bathroom to chug some of your mouthwash. I saw it when I was looking in your medicine cabinet to see if you or your husband takes any weird prescriptions.

An hour later…

HONEST MOMMY: Well, it’s been nice but I’ve run out of things to talk about with you. Thanks for letting us trash your house instead of mine.

Okay, so maybe Honest Mommy isn’t quite as endearing as Honest Toddler. I guess when you’re a baby anything is cute. Case in point, this morning at Starbucks my baby let out a giant fart and the people around us laughed like it was the cutest thing they’d ever heard.

HONEST MOMMY: My baby wasn’t really the one who farted.