With the presidential election just days away, and all the blogs popping up with election related posts, I figured I should go ahead and jump on the band-wagon, because, well – why the eff not?
Except this one is going to be different. There will be no red or blue pasted on the walls of this post. No democrat or republican talk going on here. (You’re welcome. While I am definitely concerned about all of the issues, I’m just as sick of hearing, seeing, and reading about it as you are. Plus, I already voted, so I’m done caring. It’s all up to you guys now. I don’t care who you vote for, just DO IT!)
This year’s election has brought up the topic of our own election of sorts. Four years ago, during the Obama vs. McCain debacle, my oldest child (a mere seven years old at the time) was very concerned about the future of our country.
AND our household.
As we (she and I) watched the debates, she would ask me questions. Me, being the awesome and loving mother that I am, would answer said questions with as little personal bias as possible. I like my children to be thoughtful and form their own opinions. I want them to grow up thinking “outside the box”, and coming up with new ways to do things. Stretch those brain muscles! Use that damn imagination! And for fuck’s sake, use that sarcasm that I’ve been teaching you since gestation!
[To give you a little back-story on my oldest: (I know everyone thinks their kids are brilliant, but whatever. Mine is more brillianter. Yes I know that's not a word. But I just used it, so it kind of is now. Let me go to Wikipedia. I'll be right back. ^insert cheesy elevator music here^ There. Now it's a word.*) She's very sensitive and helpful and sympathetic. I could probably** go on forever, but I won't. I'll just say that I'm proud as fuck of that kid. I have a sneaking suspicion that she's too awesome to be mine, but I'm not giving her back. At least not until she hits puberty...]
She (the 7yr old) decided that since the country was going to get a president, our house should have one too. So as the rest of the country had signs all over the place and their lawns looked like this:
Our house that looked like this:
My daughter went around interviewing us in the days leading up to the election. At dinner she would sit and come up with questions for us and tell us about the upcoming scheduled debates.
It was insanely silly and thoroughly entertaining. She asked us such pressing questions as:
- If elected house president, how would you make this a better place to live?
- How do you feel about late bedtimes every night?
- What’s your favorite color?
- If you win, will you let us get a dog?
- What are your thoughts on global warming, and what do you plan to do about it?
- French fries or tater tots?
Of course our answers were always ridiculous and mine usually had to do with midgets. I still believe they are the solution to global warming. They’re so small that they can’t possibly cause big problems, right?
Time for the closing arguments.
The Manchild promised a later bed time on the weekends and a giant helping of dessert every night.
I promised unconditional love, a monkey in every tree, and a midget for every household. I also promised them that when I took over the world, their deaths would be swift and painless.*** I don’t think they bought into any of it. Which is good. That was some big talk right there. I mean – really? Who makes their ice cream sundaes that big?
Time to vote.
The ballots were hand-drawn, the collection box was made, and we had decided to tally them all together immediately to ensure that there was no cheating. Everything was ready to go.
I won. By a landslide. Out of 7 “votes”, 6 were for me. My son was the only one that voted for The Manchild. But the cat he voted for chose – me… ? Whatever.
I’M THE FUCKING HOUSE PRESIDENT, BITCHES!
Okay, so where’s my royal scepter? Oh. I don’t get one of those, huh?
Well, surely there’s a flowing robe and a sparkling tiara. No? Hmmph…
I at least get to sleep in on the weekends, right? RIGHT?!? Yeah, no.
What the bloody duck fart?
No tiara, no robe, no scepter, AND I don’t get to sleep in? What the hell good is this title again?
You know what it came with? I got to be “in charge”. Woo-freaking-hoo. Excuse me while I wet myself with excitement! So it’s basically the same thing I was doing before, with no extra perks accept for a title. How is this winning again? (Although I can’t lie – I’ve been able to veto some pretty worthy things by pulling the “House President” card, so it’s not a total loss.)
I’ve got to be honest; when the topic of House President came up last month, I was very hopeful that I was going to be able to get out of the responsibility of the title. Being in charge of everything all the time kind of sucks. And by “kind of sucks”, I mean that watching an autistic bear fight a crocodile to the death while chipmunks scrape forks on a chalkboard at a donkey-show would probably be more fun. (I’ll leave that visual up to you.)
Plus, with having two extra adults staying in the house, I figured there was a pretty good chance I could lose this time. Hell, if nothing else, my son would nominate my dad for sure! He LOVES “Gruppa”! Gruppa spoils the crap out of them! He’s the go-to guy when everyone else already said no!
Someone? Anyone? …help?
We’re not even voting this year because I am “running” completely unopposed.
Great. Just in time for puberty…
*I didn’t really make “brillianter” a word. If it ends up there somehow, it wasn’t me.
**I could literally go on forever about that kid. I actually cut out about 200 words that didn’t even begin to describe how amazing she is.
*** ~”I also promised them that when I took over the world, their deaths would be swift and painless.”~ I would make a horrible politician. And apparently, I’m not that great a mother… Feel free to use that quote.