I’m not proud. I mean, okay, I am, but I can at least admit my faults, my mistakes, and the things that I suck at. For instance, I suck at making pancakes. Manlegs makes the pancakes here because I just cannot do it properly. I also suck at not eating every bowl of homemade chocolate pudding in the house. I allow myself to make chocolate pudding only once a year, because I know that I will eat it all in a single day.
For the most part, I feel like I’ve got this parenting thing nailed. I mean, I’m no parent of the year or anything, but I feel like I’m going in the right direction. That said, while I feel like I’m rocking being a parent, there are definitely some things that I fail completely at as a Mom, specifically. In a startling turn of events, some of these things also made the list of Teenage Girl Things I Sucked At. Huh. I guess that’s when you know that it’s you, and it’s not actually everyone else who is weird.
Now, don’t get all steamed up when you read this. I’m not saying that these mom things suck. I’m saying that I suck at them. I’m not saying that all moms do these things. I’m saying that I do not do these things. Get over it and stop being dramatic. I don’t do well with that.
Guess what? I’m also going to do a Mom Things I Rock At post as well. That will have it’s very own disclaimer against people getting offended, so…just….you…wait.
So, pride aside, here we go: Mom Things I Suck At…
1), 2), AND 3) Mom Talk. I totally suck at Mom talk. I suck so bad at it that it is actually the top three things on this list. It’s also a major one, because it is the biggest way I alienate myself from other moms. This one also belongs on the Teenage Girl list, because I totally sucked at talking with other teenage girls back in the day, and yet I somehow survived my adolescence.
You know what, Other Moms? I don’t go to garage sales. I can’t imagine a worse way to spend a Saturday morning than by rifling through other people’s used crap that they want you to pay money for. Guess what else, Other Moms. I don’t feel the estrogen-fueled need to go shopping with the girls. I don’t drink wine. I don’t drink coffee or herbal teas with names full of Zs and Qs. I don’t own trinkets. I don’t decorate for holidays. I don’t think that things are “kuh-yuuuuuuute!” I don’t complain about how my ass is as flat as the pancakes I make, all while hoping you’ll say, “oh stop.” I don’t own a pair of pink underwear. I don’t carry a purse or wear makeup. I don’t do Elf on the Shelf. I don’t get angry at my husband for stupid things. I don’t get angry at my neighbor for stupid things. I don’t get angry at my child for stupid things. I don’t gossip, I don’t gush, I don’t flatter. I don’t listen to Beyonce, I couldn’t tell you the name of a single Kardashian, and I don’t even know what a Nikki Minaj is. I DON’T CARE ABOUT ANY OF THOSE THINGS, THEREFORE I SUCK AT TALKING ABOUT THOSE THINGS.
Seriously, I feel like when Other Moms get together they usually end up complaining (read “talking”) about their kids, their husband, their job, and their body compared to the bodies of others, while they are shopping at the mall, “doing lunch” or gossiping at Starbucks over What’s-Her-Name missing church again. I suck at that stuff. I suck at making mom friends.
My husband is great, my kid is freakin’ awesome, I love my job, and my body is what it is. I really only drink water, I’ve never even been in a Starbucks, and shockingly, I’m happy pretty much all of the time. You know how crappy you feel when everyone is doing the complaining round robin and it’s your turn and you’re all, “Uh. No. I mean, everything’s great. You know. Things are awesome.” That kind of speech is what keeps you from getting invited to the parties.
And so, it has become clear to me that I suck at Mom Talk.
4) Play Dates. Firstly, don’t call them that. See, even my resistance to the name shows you immediately how much I suck at this. You know what? My kid is 9. She doesn’t have dates.
We can probably toss sleepovers onto this list as well. I love having kids over to play or spend the night. However, I’m not the fount of entertainment here. If kids are going to come play with Turbo, they shouldn’t need me there every second to entertain them. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t leave or anything, but come on, I don’t need to be an appendage for someone else’s kids. Secondly, I’m not a restaurant, and I expect guests to eat what they’re given. All of what they’re given. I’m not into the “Can I just eat three bites” business. No. You can eat the food you are served, and you can be grateful. I expect kids to help clean up the messes that are made. I’m not buying frozen pizzas. I’m not buying junk food. I’m not buying candy rolled in sugar dipped in food coloring and slathered in pixy stix. I’m not okay with sass. I’m not falling for manipulation. I’m not giving you a pedicure. There is no makeup.
This is why I suck at play dates and sleepovers.
5) Mom Fashion. Okay. I get that for some unfathomable reason the new hipster look is oversized spectacles, a messy bun, baggy sweatpants with Pink or some other nonsense written on the backside and Ugg boots. Guess what? No. When you leave the house, put some pants on. I absolutely loathe seeing people, even kids, wandering around in baggy, saggy, depressing sweatpants. FYI, pajama pants qualify as sweats. Ugg boots are the footwear equivalent of sweatpants. Turbo is barely allowed out of her bedroom in pjs, and there is never a time when she can leave the house that way. Ever. It is completely unacceptable and here’s why: When I see someone in sweatpants, I see someone for whom I have very low expectations. I mean, this person has already failed when it comes to starting the day. You wake up, you get dressed. How hard is that? Oh, it’s your day off and you just want to wear something comfortable? I get that. But, hey, when you go out in public, get dressed, brush your hair, and put on some real shoes. I will never understand how sweatpants have become socially acceptable attire in public. They will never be acceptable to me. I will not exit the bedroom that way, Turbo will not exit the house that way, and when I see Other Moms at the park in their sweats and Uggs having senseless Mom Talk while their kids are on a play date, my body starts to internally hemorrhage.
I suck at Mom fashion.
6) Mommy Wars. I just can’t even go here. You know, no one is going to win the mommy race. No one is ever going to actually be crowned “World’s Best Mom.” I just don’t care. Shut up. I don’t want to compare hobbies, income, vehicles, children, or any of that crap. I’m happy with my life and my family, and I don’t require justification from anyone else to tell me that I should be. Wouldn’t it be incredible if women actually spent time boosting each other up and being supportive, and being encouraging, and being loving? Wouldn’t it be incredible to see how strong women could be for each other? It would be incredible. But it’s not that way. We are our own worst enemies, unless you’re like me and just don’t care. Again, this is why you don’t get invited to the parties. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m interested! I love to hear about what kids are doing, and I love hearing about exciting events for families and everything, but I just don’t want to play the comparison game. What my kid does is irrelevant to what your kid does. What I do on my day off has nothing to do with what you do on yours. Who cares if I used cloth diapers and you used Huggies? Who cares if I eat organic produce and you don’t? I don’t care, that’s for sure, but some Other Moms seem to be keeping a tally of awesome points, and I just don’t get why…it’s stupid and a waste of energy that could be used to other, better, purposes.
I don’t do Mommy Wars.
So, there you have it. The mom things that I suck at. I know there are more, but these seem to be the most prevalent. I’m not mean. I am cynical, but I have a big heart and I love fiercely. I just won’t let myself get swept up into the nonsense…and that is one of the Mom Things I Rock At.