The Mom Olympics: What Would You Medal In?
By manic motherhood on August 01, 2012
Many readers know that I have dreamt of Olympic gold. But sadly, because there is no Olympic shoe shopping competition, I have been barred from achieving my Olympic glory. It’s just not fair. If they did real-life sports -- like shopping -- instead of events like diving or gymnastics, I would be in London right now, sweeping up the gold. Also? I'd totally be trying to find Edina's house so I could share bubbly with her and Patsy.
In fact, if the Olympics had my events in it, all moms would be gold medal winners. Mothers from all over the world would be in London, proudly taking our places on the podiums as our national anthems were played -- if only they had competitions like the following:
This stunning event is done in pairs -- a mom and a screaming toddler who absolutely refuses to get her face wet in the water. Points are awarded for this event based upon the elegance of the choreography and the cuteness of the matching mother/daughter swimsuits. Extra points are given to moms who finish the event before their ears start bleeding. Any mom whose toddler stops crying before the event ends is automatically a winner.
This competition is not for the faint of heart -- or the weak of shoulders. There are three classes to this event: elementary, middle school and high school. In this competition, moms must lift fully loaded backpacks above their heads and hold them there for over two seconds. The backpacks are filled according to weight class.
Elementary packs are filled with one large reading book, a homework folder, a lunch, a water bottle and the entire contents of a child’s toy box. Middle school backpacks are filled with six textbooks, a lunch, an empty water bottle and a science experiment that either a) erupts with lava; or b) smells really bad. High school backpacks are filled with six textbooks (2 from AP classes), no lunch, a half-full soda bottle, a forged note excusing the teen from PE for the rest of the year and, the most terrifying item of all, the keys to the mother’s car.
In this event a mother is provided with two children -- a toddler in a stroller and a kindergartner. After a long day at the local amusement park, the mom must navigate approximately 24 miles to the car, while simultaneously pushing the stroller and dragging and/or carrying the kindergartner. Bonus points are given to any mother who crosses the finish line while the kindergartner is whining, crying, or trying to climb into the stroller.
Track and Field—Hurdles
This event is done in a real-life replica of a teenager’s bedroom. Starting at the door, mothers must run and jump over the various piles of dirty laundry, clean clothes, food, homework, small animals and, of course, the sleeping teenager. Any mother who loses her mind in the middle of the competition and starts yelling “Get up and clean this room NOW” at the teenager will be disqualified. Points are deducted for each mom who screams when she jumps over a pile of stuff, only to land in something unidentifiable and squishy.
In this contest, moms do not ever actually touch a volleyball. Instead, moms are locked into cabanas set on the sand and must find a way to fit into last year’s swimsuit. Once they are in the swimsuit, moms must brave the crowds and actually appear on the beach in said swimsuit without blushing, stammering or using a towel as a cover-up. Points are deducted for pareo’s, board shorts and thong bikinis.
Instead of the traditional Olympian shot put, mothers must throw a completely full diaper as far as they can. The mom who tosses the diaper the farthest is the winner. Points are deducted if the diaper opens in mid-air.
There you have them, my events for the 2012 summer Mom Olympics. Personally, I think these are more demanding than the regular Olympics. Look, lots of people can whack a tennis ball or row a boat. But add in some kids and diapers and you’ve got a real challenge.
Now, if I could just a network to pick up the television rights, I’d be on my way to Olympic glory. Hey, a mom can dream, can’t she?
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