This will be brief. I don’t have the energy to fully commit to the subject what with the abject slavery I experience every day in my truly horrific and devastating existence as a mother. Woe is me. My life is literal shit.
That’s the message every single fucking time this topic comes up, and each time it does, I get less and less invested. Because I’m bored. I’m bored being draped with the hollow praise of a corporation basing said praise in the pursuit of my dollars, those ones I didn’t earn by being a mom.
Here’s the secret: being a mom is great. It can also suck diaper sack. Here’s the super secret sub-secret: in that way, it’s no different than any other major aspect of life. Ultimately rewarding with big chunks of suck is also how one could describe work, marriage, friendship and eating dairy. It’s just life. Thanks for the fucking back-pat, American Greetings, but your message is just like your product: immediately disposable.
I love my kid. She’s a crazy boatload of ridiculous and my favorite thing in the world. And no one needs to act like keeping her alive and happy is the equivalent of mining for fucking blood diamonds, and even if it was, I still don’t want someone patronizing to me just to get me to buy laundry detergent or a $4 piece of paper.
I am a mom. I’m also a woman, a writer, a professional, a wife, an eater of pizza, a daughter, a former dancer, a viewer of television and someone who has seen every Saw movie. All of those things have given me varying degrees of highs and lows and none of them define me or any other person.
Stick that on a greeting card, seal it, stamp it and mail it up your ass.