Heather from Word To Your Mother tagged me to take part in the Rocking Motherhood blog challenge. According to Heather, “the idea of Rocking Motherhood started with Patricia at White Camellias as a way for mothers to look at the job they are doing, raising the next generation, and celebrate all the ways they’re killing it!” And let’s face it, I’m killin’ it so much I write about it three times a week. So here we go …
This weekend I spent a few hours sitting in the driveway and talking to a neighbor-friend about reminding ourselves that social media is a bullshit scheme. It’s all about the presentation and how it looks to other people. It’s hard to remember (even for someone as fucking amazing as me) that what people present on Facebook is a part of the act. It’s even harder to not compare yourself to people you know. I try not to be jealous of my neighbors who are having a pool put in or my other neighbors with the garage that’s furnished nicer than my living room. And what about all of the sappy Mother’s Day posts written by other husbands when mine completely ignores the fact that a holiday exists at all. Social media doesn’t do us any favors.
But then you snap out of the fucking haze and realize that you’re doing a bang-up jobs for reasons you don’t even recognize on a daily basis. So here’s my list:
8 Ways I’m Rockin’ Motherhood
(Eight seems like a totally abstract number. Let’s go with that.)
1. I’m living as authentically as I can. This probably just ends up alienating people at best but I try to stay no bullshit as much as I can because it’s good for my soul, just like chicken soup. This is something I’m (hopefully) imparting on the spawn. Be yourself – even if nobody else likes you.
2. I’ve kept my kid alive for 100 months. And that’s not even counting when she was in utero. I guess being the real life version of that toothy, grimacy face emoji has paid off! And even though I pee my pants on a semi-regular basis now thanks to pregnancy and even though the kid just had a cast removed that was helping to heal both a broken elbow and wrist – 100 months of success, guys!
3. I’m finally doing what I love. Sure, I don’t get paid for most of my writing, aside from a freelance job here and there but blogging has pretty much filled the void that’s existed for a long time while I did something for money that felt like prostitution without any of the thrill. Kids see this. They notice. Go to art school; money comes and goes.
4. I refuse to lie to my kid. When she finally questioned Santa and The Easter Bunny, I told the truth, even though some kids believe for three or four more years. If she asks, I answer, even when that answer is “Yeah, his mom is probably an asshole too.”
5. I hate the term “Mama Bear” but I will fucking maul you, claw your eyeballs out and eat your insides if you mess with my kid. Period. Hard stop.
6. I have spent countless hours at dance competitions for the past four seasons applying makeup, buns and hair pieces. Sure, there are the baseball moms, swim moms and soccer moms (complete with their glitter bling t-shirts) but being in a school or auditorium with women who are brave enough to wear six inch heels on 14-hour dance days is a whole other experience. And when I’m not armed with 20 different makeup brushes I’m not completely sure I’m using correctly – I’m screaming at the top of my lungs for the next would-be Disney Channel superstar.
7. I let my daughter be herself. Even though I’m cognizant of the fact that I’m a complete and total control freak, those clothes don’t match, and my eye has developed a twitch because she just said “mouses” instead of “mice.” It hurts but I really try.
8. I recognize the fact that I’m a consummate screw-up. There’s no way to do it right but there are plenty of times I hear the Homer “Doh!” in my head minutes after a parenting decision.
And now I guess I’m supposed to tag some other bloggers but instead of doing that and in honor of Mother’s Day this past weekend, all of you breeder-moms on Facebook should definitely take part in the #ROCKINGMOTHERHOOD challenge. Comment on the blog or post it to your wall. Or mine. Or someone else’s entirely. Just throw that shit out there for the entire world to see out of context. Use the tag and feed your ego. You deserve it. Well, most of you anyway.