I’ve had a long day.  A long day, after a long week, after a long winter, and I am bone-shatteringly tired.  I barely survived the half mile drive to buy Ibuprofen at Wegman’s, and once I arrived, I plunked the kiddo down at WKids and hid myself away in the upstairs cafe section until I could handle the idea of traversing the aisles.  By the time we finally pulled up in front of our house, the thought of cooking dinner was more than I could bear, and then I remembered these:

Mmm..mmm... good?

Purchased in a fit of nostalgia (my mom used to keep a stack of these in the freezer) with a bit of prescience mixed in, I tossed these frozen dinners into my shopping cart ages ago for just this very kind of evening.  After 8 minutes of microwaving, my children sat happily on the couch, in front of the television, eating preservative-laden food on a stick.  Definitely not my finest parenting moment.

My mom always calls events like this red ribbons on the bad mommy hanger.  I have no idea where it came from, though I’m sure Bubbe Margie will be happy to tell us all in the comments.  (Ever the supportive mama, she’s an avid reader of this blog.)  Whatever the origin, I like the image.  Perfect parenting is unattainable, and we’re all bound to make mildly shameful moves from time to time.  The bad mommy hanger gives us a place to put all of these little bits of shame.  Fed your kids crap for dinner?  There’s one red ribbon.  Lost your temper when they were arguing in the car?  Another neat little bow.  Sent your preschooler off to school wearing mismatched socks for the fourth day in a row?  Tie one more on.  Then you get to put the hanger away, in the back of the closet, give yourself a break, and move on with your day.

Anyone else out there starting a nice red ribbon collection?  Tell me all about it in the comments.

-Meryl at the Goose