Ann Romney, Please Have A Seat

Have a seat Ann Romney.  No seriously, you deserve to sit down after the hard life you’ve had to endure raising five boys and supporting your family while your husband pursued his career.  Your fight with multiple sclerosis and precancer earns you an even softer chair in which to have a seat.  I applaud any mother who puts their own personal interests aside for the good of their family, because putting yourself last is a difficult and occasionally noble, decision to make.  Our political views, race, and economic status separates us, but the tie that binds us – motherhood – is something that will never end.  It’s too bad that you don’t realize, Ann Romney, that your struggles don’t exactly put all of us mothers in the same place.  I will never demean what you have had to overcome, but you must understand why many of us believe you need way more people to make us believe how hard your life actually was.  Right now, you don’t have enough.

The choice to have five children and live your life as a homemaker rests solely on you and your husband (and God, if you will…which I know you will).  Many mothers don’t have a choice about their situations.  Some of us were thrust into single motherhood unexpectedly due to circumstances we could have never imagined.  Some of us are forced to work because our spouses can not find employment.  Some of us only have one child with a disability so debilitating, we are forced to stay home to raise him or her.  Many of us don’t have the luxury of being a stay-at-home mom by choice, but are STILL faced with the responsibilities of being a mother.  We don’t have the privilege of being able to witness every developmental milestone of our children’s lives; sometimes they say their first word or take their first step while we’re at work or asleep between the two jobs we work.  Some of us don’t have a choice about the situations that we are placed in, but we make do with the resources we have.  A husband with the ability to support the entire family on his own isn’t always one of those resources.

Being a stay-at-home mother is a luxury and a privilege that not everyone has.  Attending Harvard is not a privilege that everyone has.  Owing horses valued at a $250,000 is not a privilege that everyone has.  Hell, being a mother at all is not a privilege that everyone has.  Wanting the rest of us to understand and empathize with your struggle is a bit of a joke with your “women at home work” belief as the biggest punchline.  Being a working mother is difficult – mentally, physically, and emotionally.  The day I returned to work after maternity leave was the saddest day of my life.  Funny thing is, I didn’t stop being a mother because I was teaching a group of kindergarteners that weren’t my own child.  I wish I could appreciate the struggle of stay at home mothers just a little bit more.  I really wish I could, but I guess I have that working mother struggle holding me back.  Until you’ve driven to work in tears, 20 minutes late because it was so hard to say goodbye, your stay at home mother struggle means nothing to me.  Not a single bit.  I’m not saying the struggle doesn’t exist, I’m simply saying you’re going to need way more people to convince me to feel sorry for you.

Mama’s Baby, Daddy’s…Maybe?

I'm pretty frigging super...peep the S on my chest.

I’m pretty frigging super…peep the S on my chest.


Recently, my girl sent me an article she read and asked for my opinion.  I was a bit taken aback because I’m not used to people asking me what I think about things; usually I let folks know what I think without them asking me anything.  Apparently, a woman – who I think is from Vermont which may or may not have anything to do with anything – gets a little pissy when people refer to fathers as “Superdads” when, in her opinion, they are just meeting her high standards of parenthood.  If you were too lazy to read the entire article, she’s not impressed by her husband carving pumpkins and taking out the trash.  This is what he’s supposed to do because no one pops her collar when she does things like wash dishes and stuff.  Since I was asked for my opinion, I’m going to give it: Someone is a bitter bitch who needs to appreciate her husband just a teensy bit more before a grateful skank like me finds out who this man is and snatches him right from under her snide ass nose. 

Every single morning, I wake up and get my daughter ready for school…alone.  When she gets home from school, I help Cinda with her homework…alone.  I get her dinner ready…alone.  I give her a bath…alone.  I read her a bedtime story…alone.  Am I Supermom?  Hell yeah. Would I be Supermom if I wasn’t a divorced mother with a not so helpful ex-husband?  Hell yeah.  Now here’s the $64,000 question: Would my ex-husband be Superdad if he were the one helping with homework and reading bedtime stories?  Hell yeah. You see, being a Superparent isn’t up to adults. Cinda thinks I’m a Supermom and she’s the only person I need to be super for. Some people get so wrapped up in their standards, they forget who being a parent is truly about. I remember days of driving my mother apeshit doing random bad ass kid shit and then being a perfect angel when my daddy came home from work. He would hug us and make us a bowl of Frosted Flakes and dun dunnanun!! Suuupeeerrdadddyy!!!!!!!!!! All he had to do was pour some sugar coated reconstituted corn flakes into a bowl and add milk. My mother never complained that she spent the entire day trying to discover a way to bash our heads in without leaving a trace of her parent brutality because we superglued pennies to our bedroom walls. Instead, her role as the stay-at-home mom meant that she never got praise for doing her job. It was the sacrifice she made when she became a mother. Today, as an adult, I realize how super she truly was. Does that take away from my father’s awesomeness for merely showing up? Not at all. He was pretty super, too.

Today’s family is nothing like those of the Good Times/Cosby Show eras. Instead of two parents one home, the norm is two parents two homes or in my case one parent one home. Dads wear capes while moms lament on Father’s Day about being the mother AND the father (impossible you faux hermaphrodites). Is it fair? Abso-fucking-lutely!!! I proudly pat myself on the back for being so awesome and laud parents, moms AND dads, who have sacrificed their livelihood to raise respectful, responsible children. Women who complain about men getting accolades for doing what they consider to be what fathers are supposed to do fail to realize that mothers ALWAYS receive praise for doing a good job…even when they feed their children McDonald’s four meals a week. Some ladies like to believe that simply raising a child alone makes them Supermom. Sorry bitches, it takes more than getting knocked up by a deadbeat for me to say you’re a rockstar parent. So what you’re saying is that I can’t cheer your baby daddy on for taking the kids trick or treating but I have to praise you for having random ass babies with a man who thinks he should be cheered on for taking his kids trick or treating? Anyone who is bothered by someone else being praised for the work that they do is a hater (I refuse to stop using hater…I like the way it works in so many situations…kinda like the word “fuck”). The trouble with discounting fathers for doing dad stuff is that it sends the message that what they do simply isn’t worthy of praise. I’m not saying fathers should get a medal and a call from the president for cooking breakfast, but by belittling their necessity in the home, in a healthy capacity, Little Mrs. My Husband Ain’t Super is disregarding her husband’s importance in her home and for her children. I’m pretty sure he’s looked at her a few times and said, “Wow, my wife is pretty dope/awesome/neato.” He’s probably pretty shocked to find out that she thinks he ain’t shit.

So to all my Superparents – Supermoms and Superdads – my hat’s off to you. I appreciate everything that you do to make your children happy. From remembering to pick them up from school on time to buying their school supplies, you are awesome. Cooking dinner, folding laundry, getting the dead mouse from behind the fridge, carrying in the Christmas tree, and teaching the kids to ride a bike. You are wonderful. Reading stories, throwing snowballs, tickle hugs, and pep talks. You are amazing. Being a parent is hard work. Being a mother is difficult…and yet, being a father is never enough to some. To me, you’re pretty damn super and if your wife/girlfriend/babymama doesn’t appreciate you…I do…(Call me boo…)

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