I am not a “MommyBlogger”. I have to admit that mommy bloggers make me want to eat my own eyes out of my skull. No, I do not think that every single thing my children do are precious. Frankly, they annoy the piss out of me on a daily basis. I come from the Roseanne Barr school of mothering. I gave you life…what the fuck more do you want from me. If by the end of the day, you aren’t dead…then I did my job.
I really tried to get into the Mommy Blogger community, but apparently, if you have teenage children or worse yet, adult children who are married and on their own, they have no use for you. You can’t compare diapering tips on a 14 year old who had died in Xbox heaven. And, you certainly won’t get any compassion if your 22 year old is on her second baby in the course of her three year marriage.
So, I tried Granny Bloggers. Well, most of them are too old. They knit shit and bake cookies shaped like little pine trees with green Christmas sprinkles. I buy the pre made dough and then eat most of it before the cookies even hit the oven.
I got to wondering…does this mean I am doing a shitty job with my kids. And I am here, now, on no sleep for a day and a half to say this:
I am a pretty righteous fucking mom and a cool ass grandmother to boot.
My kids talk to me about drug use, abortion, politics, birth control (though my daughter keeps kind of missing the mark on that one) and all kinds of other bullshit that most kids don’t talk to their moms about. I’m friends with my kids on facebook mainly because their friends find me a huge source of entertainment. Yeah, I talk about blow jobs and lube and spicing up the old marital bed. And you know what? They laugh at me. They think I’m funny. Their friends think I’m the cool mom and say “man, I wish I had a mom like yours”.
So, fuck mommy bloggers who don’t accept me because I don’t fall into the Betty Crocker book of how to be a mom. And fuck granny bloggers who don’t feel that a one year old grandchild possibly qualifies me as an experienced grandmother.
No one in my house is going to Harvard, but both my babies are/have gone to college. My daughter made it to 17 before losing her virginity to the boy she was dating for two years. Her next great love of her life…she married. She’s Pro Life, much to my dismay…but someday, her own daughter may give her a lesson that changes her mind. And my son? He’s a democrat in the making. Average grades. Great musical talent…rocks the fucking guitar like no ones business and all self-taught.
Basically, for a mother who has done absolutely nothing to nurture her kids, my children are Fan fucking tastic. People tell me “CP, you must have done SOMETHING right”. And maybe I did…just by always being honest with them. I never made them believe in Santa or the fucking tooth fairy. I give them their Channukah presents unwrapped with the tags still on them in case they want to take shit back.
So no, I have no clue about the best kindergartens to send your little prodigies to. I have no idea how to make cupcakes for Spirit Day. I let my son dress up as a serial killer for Halloween because it was fucking hysterical. My daughter had more make up at age 14 than I have ever had in my 43 years of life. I just loved buying her girly shit.
But my kids are LOVED. I mean, LOVED. Like, I can’t get through a day without them hugging me or kissing me or at very least texting me. They definitely got the raw end of the deal with me for a mother. But I taught them how NOT to be…and that in itself is a lesson learned.
I shall leave this off with my favorite quote from Roseanne, Domestic Goddess who taught me all I know about mothering Jewish children:
“They’re all mine. . . . Of course, I’d trade any one of them for a dishwasher.”
Or a nice set of Louis Vuitton luggage.
I am still a Jewish Princess, after all.