I hate a lot of things. Like. A lot. Mayonnaise, Michael McDonald, abortion protests, peep toe booties, the months of July and August, pets, dirty dishes, Pretty Woman, overbearing parents. (An abbreviated list for sure.) But in that “overbearing parents” category is the “mama bear.” And to the mama bear, I say, “Ugh, shut the fuck up.” Continue reading
It happened last night. The moment every step-parent-type knows will happen, but wishes never will. The moment I’ve been lucky enough to dodge for 7 months. The “you aren’t my mother” moment. And it just about killed me.
Cal is obsessed with Mario – he has all of the games and toys and clothes. He’s obsessed with finding cheat codes to unlock…things. And, this was something I learned after meeting Cal, people will record themselves playing games, upload them to YouTube, then other people watch them to learn things. I’m not a gamer, never have been, so none of this really makes sense to me, but it’s Cal’s life.
Scott has an older iPod touch that now basically belongs to Cal. He uses it to watch his videos and learn his cheats and…stuff. He’s a good kid, his autism really keeps him locked in on Mario (and now Pokemon as well), we trust him – so we don’t monitor every single video he watches. Which is how all of this got started.
I used to roll my eyes when friends complained about “mommy blogs”. “Why do you care what some twat said about raising kids? You’re doing a good job; just don’t read her stuff anymore.” I didn’t understand why it was such a big freaking deal. I mean, I didn’t go around reading sites praising George W. Bush. That’s how the internet is, you pick and choose and everyone else can go to hell. Or wherever.
Then, this really strange thing happened. I started dating a single father. And then I fell in love like a dummy. Now we live together and I’m suddenly a mom-type. So I spend a lot of time online, researching and finding new things to try out with them. And that’s when I found out how hideous the mommy blogs really can be. All of the sudden, I was the one feeling judged for working full time. For allowing chemical-filled cleaning sprays into our home. I was the horrible parent that used food as a reward. I let them watch tv all day, and play video games, and have pizza rolls for dinner on the regs. And I curse! Sometimes in front of the boys, sometimes as I yell at them to PUT SOME DAMN PANTS ON.
As much as I tried to take my own (dismissive, bitchy) advice of just don’t look at it, that’s really difficult. Because everywhere you turn there’s some stay at home mom with a lot more time, money, and patience making me feel like Asshole of the Year. Which is BULLSHIT because I’m a great parent. Even if I drink and smoke and curse and eat fast food, I still love those boys with all of me and they know it. We have a home filled with laughter and joy and craziness, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. (At least not permanently, but if someone wanted to give me an all-inclusive week to a resort all alone, I’d so do it.)