In the spirit of Mother's Day coming in a month, lets talk Mothers I love to hate. These mother suck- yet I have a friend of every type. Happy Mothers Day, bitches.
The Grammar and Language Mom (or Dad in my case)
I am a shitty speler. There is no way arowned it. I say its because I think faster then I can write and I will admit I am used to my phone auto spelling (usually the wrong word) everything for me. And I swear. I don't swear in public (does in my car count?) or in front of children. But I have a toddler who thinks because daddy is gone, he can rip his diaper off and run ramped. So I need to lock myself in my closet and scream every cuss word I can think of into my pillow. What I can't stand is when I'm corrected. My husband does this to me ALL the time. But he has the foulest mouth. He loves to point out when I misspell things or when I use a wrong word. Correcting me over the internet is even worse. You are lucky there is no option to bitch slap on Facebook.
The Over Achiever Mom
The I-cook-everything-by-scratch-and-raise-my-own-chickens-while-teaching-my-kids-latin-before-building-the-back-porch mom. Good for you! Glad you have an endless wallet for all the organic non-proccessed foods and you've hypnotized your unhuman children into liking healthy crap. Im convinced you sold your soul to Martha Stewart. As another blogger said- Hi five and a slap on the ass to you. I see
you're your glare from across the room while I hand my kid a chocolate bar to shut him up for 15 minutes. I notice your murmurs as I hand him my phone to watch Squidward call Spongebob a moron. I need five minutes without having to tell Spaz, keep your diaper on! Stop touching yourself, its not a toy! So as you cook your pot roast with your personal garden veggies and bake your gluten, sugar, and fat free bundt cake, Im over here yelling for Spaz to get at the table and put down the cupcake, its time for dinner. And by dinner I mean heated up spaghetti in the microwave or chicken nuggets made out of horse hoofs. Ill have to get to rebuilding my shed next week.
The Research Mom
You have the CDC on speed dial and you like to tell me what can go wrong with my child.. Just because I don't post 20 articles on my parenting choices and shove my opinions in your face, doesn't mean I am an uneducated mother. I don't need to do hours of research to know what my gut says. When I was a kid, they didn't cover the outlets or cut my hotdog into tiny pieces. I got shot up with every vaccine possible, and thrown in a room with 20 chicken pox infected vermins. I turned out just fine folks. Kids are more resilient than you think. Iv managed to keep mine alive this long. There is hope for him yet. When Spaz would go to the beach with me, he always crapped out 10 pounds of sand from the 20 that he ate. Just last night he managed to sneeze into Moose's mouth and what did Moose do? He smiled. So while you're throwing endless amounts of statistics and articles at me, I'm watching my kid stand two inches from the TV and pick his nose.
The I-Lost-My-Baby-Weight-When-I-Left-The-Hospital Mom
I was at the gym the other day dropping off Moose (AKA ogre baby) when this skinny blonde barbie asked me how old my baby was. When I told her three months, she smiled and said, Oh mine too! She couldn't be more than 100 pounds. I complimented her saying she looked wonderful. Then she dropped her "I gained 50 pounds during pregnancy" bomb. Thanks, Tiny Tim. Im here laying on the floor in a pool of sweat,
hopefully my own, wheezing louder than a sumo wrestler after a marathon, while you are cheerfully skipping away on that treadmill thinking about how you lost your weight from breastfeeding alone. I hate you and your skinny firm ass. Is it horrible I wanted to throw a cake at her? Or maybe I wanted to ask how they treated her tape worm.
The Perfect Hair and Makeup Mom
All I have to say is, I own 3 yoga pants. I have to do laundry eventually. And thats spit up on my shirt from this morning. Maybe last night. Or last week. I lost track. Makeup? What is that? When Moose was born I chopped my hair off. A good 6 inches at least. A week or so ago my hair was down and 3 people I see every day said, "I love your new hair cut!" And whenever I put makeup on, Spaz says, "Wuss on face mommy?" First time I wore makeup and picked up Moose.... he cried.
What kind of mom am I? One that swears like a sailor, and probably jokes about drinking alone in my closet too much. Who makes inappropriate jokes about duct taping my kid to his bed, and hugs him so much he calls them Bear Hugs. Who tries to provide a healthy environment, and lets the kid jump off the couch cause, well... he will learn. Who encourages to say Please and Thank You, and bribes her toddler with M&Ms. Who teaches her baby to soothe themselves sometimes, and sings her kids to sleep. Who feeds her kids homemade meals 5 days a weeks, and watches as her toddler pulls something out of the couch and eats it. Who screws up just about everyday, but tells her kids she loves them every second.
