Call Me Anarchist Single Mommy Blogger and Why I Like Bad Moms Best

I can’t remember ever wanting to be the greatest anything. In fact, even now although I’d like to be “known” for something great, I don’t need to be the greatest. This means I’m okay if when I’m gone, people say “she sure was the most awesomest friend”, “she had an enormous heart”,  ”she inspired me to be better”, “she was smart as hell”,  ”she dressed pretty okay for a Walmart shopper” etc etc.

Admittedly,  I had wished for and searched for the secret recipe for becoming the greatest mom on earth. Realizing that I wanted to be great at something after spending at least 20 years comfortably slacking and underachieving, makes things a bit complicated. I have always been able to be great at a bunch of things, I just never wanted to be because let’s face it, slackery and underachievement have its benefits.

Don’t Call Me a Mommy Blogger

I hate pity parties. I can’t stand Facebook friends whose daily status updates consist of “my life sucks” or “boo hoo me”.  I will unfriend someone because of whining and if that translates into “I ditched you because your life sucks” than so be it. We all, each one of us have a million reasons to cry. Ask those people in Japan how they’re feeling right now. How do you think the family members of the Libyan protesters that were mowed down by Gaddafi feel? Unless someone is dying or is very ill, I don’t want to read about your petty shit every day. STOP feeling sorry for yourself, get off Facebook, and fix your sucky life.

Anyway, I was going somewhere with that. Oh okay. I hate mommy bloggers for being the exact opposite. Blog posts about how touching and exciting it was that Tommy smeared poop all over his crib or blog posts about 10 Ways to Get Kids to Eat Broccoli are annoying and furthermore as a mother, I can’t relate at all. I’m the messed up mommy. The one that wanted to be the greatest but settled for pretty okay.

Which means, I like the moms that admit they don’t know what the hell is going on. The ones that don’t have a problem telling the world that they don’t get this shit either. The ones that admit that they messed something up but yet, do not boohoo about it on Facebook. Maybe I don’t really like “good” moms because I’m jealous, I don’t know. I sure don’t want to be friends with any of them.

The best mommies are the ones who:

• have showed up at parent/student lunch an hour after lunch (awkward and hungry, no less)
• don’t use the Count to 10 Rule before spazzing out in public
• are known by her children and any other children as “Crazy”
• have forgotten to play Easter Bunny until the daughter cried that the Easter Bunny didn’t come. And then lied and told her he was running late and will probably stop by the house when she goes to church
• suggest all the kids at the birthday party play dead just for them to be quiet
• explained why the Tooth Fairy left the tooth in mommy’s dresser but still left the daughter 5 bucks as “Uh. I don’t know. We’ll talk about it later.”

I have and I have and I will and since I consider myself fairly intelligent and serious about parenting, I’m going with this is normal. I’m  calling bullshit on perfect moms that insist they don’t make mistakes. There’s no way you figured out ways to making kids eat raisins by pretending like they’re chocolate chips. Referring to your children as whatever SpongeBob character they suggest does not make them behave in the grocery store. And NO kid skips happily to bed at bedtime. Claiming to be a professional mommy…is not normal.

So, when I’m gone I will not likely be known as the greatest mom in the world. I may be considered a bad mom, which in my mind actually means good (somehow).

I guess I’m pretty okay with that.

And furthermore, rock on mommies that make mistakes.  I don’t get this shit either.