Are You Mom Enough? Are you kidding me? Excuse me, what I meant to say is ARE YOU F*&#ING KIDDING ME!?
You’re, like, profoundly bad at giving presents, Time.
This just really sums it up, doesn’t it? The way the mainstream media talks about motherhood? Imaginary so-called “Mommy Wars” designed to turn valid personal choices into fake controversy. The constant sexualizing of motherhood, the endless public scolding and humiliation – all while portraying us as dumb, sanctimonious, narcissists. Or wait, was it selfish, heartless, bitches? Wait, what? Both? How can it be both? All of this served up piping hot and smothered in that old-timey misogyny that we mothers just can’t get enough of. It’s homemade! The actual “raising a kid” thing is a breeze compared to navigating this bullshit. And let’s ponder for a moment which task has us managing more excrement, shall we?
Shame on you, Time. None of the moms I know talk to each other like this. We’re more, “I can see what an awesome mom you are even when you can’t” types. We’re more into supporting each other and understanding that we need to make the best choices for our families. We’re not, you know, stupid, so we know that those choices can be different for each family and still be valid and good. I know! You’re shocked right?! Some of us went to college and everything.
I enjoy some made-up drama as much as the next gal, so I can totally see how you were trying to give me a good present. But this crap gives the larger population the sense that mothers actually talk to each other this way – the way you’re talking to us here. And this gives people the idea that they can talk to us moms that way (you know, like the way a confused lady pall tries to call her gay buddy “girlfriend”? Awkward). Had Tyra Banks written this piece and delivered it as a bizarre monologue-intro to a photo-shoot, I might be more amused and less, you know, stabby.
I am a mother who is deeply invested in my child and her wellbeing (other mothers also feel this way, just FYI), and my own wellbeing too for that matter. So it may shock you when I declare – and I mean this is a spirit of boundless support – that I do not DO NOT give a shit when, where and for how long a mother nurses/formula-feeds/bribes with cheetos her precious child. I don’t care where the kids take their dumps, provided that it’s not my lap, and you know what, scratch that because I can think of three kids who have pooped on my lap in recent memory and it’s been just fine. I don’t mind if the children get around tied to their moms’ bodies, french-braided into their hair, or via hovercraft. Even those godforsaken wheelie shoes are okay with me. It’s none of my business where the precious babes sleep (though if someone is using a kitchen cupboard as bunkbeds, I do want to see a photo). However moms go about loving their kids into adults is okay with me. Whatever decisions they make, be they thoughtful, intuitive, or born of necessity are almost positively valid. Those moms who had been previously relying on Time Magazine to tell them how to (or as is usually the case, how NOT to) parent are understandably reeling, so they should take a minute if they need to. Oh, it was nobody? Oh, okay.
But I care a great deal that some assholes are trying their best to keep moms busy discussing this garbage rather than making our nation a decent place to exist as parents. Want to give me something for Mothers Day, Time? Cool. Thanks. How about a national spotlight on decent maternity/paternity leave? Maybe something on educating all these kids in a productive way? Affordable health or childcare? Hell, I’d take a recipe at this point. But this? This I cannot abide. You owe me and every other mom I know an apology, Time. Because we are above talking to and about each other like this. Thank God we don’t see ourselves the way you see us. Because if we did there’s no way we could raise our kids well. We’d be too busy feeling crappy about ourselves. Wait a minute… I think I might be on to something here.
So, Happy Mothers Day everybody! On the up side, I can almost guarantee that whatever my daughter has glued googly eyes to and will present to me on Sunday morning will be loads better than this steaming pile of shit from Time.
P.S. In case you are looking for a decent mothers day present from the media, I present this little gem for your consideration courtesy of the good people at Saturday Night Live.
